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Show The Way to win him. Mir. Bravely faid, Father ; Let Mifers bend their Age with niggard Cares, And flarve themfelves to pamper hungry Heirs; W h o , living, flint their Sons wh^t Youth may crave, And make 'em Revel o'er a Father's Grave. The Stock on which I grew, does ftill difpenfe Its Genial Sap into the blooming Branch ; The Fruit, he knows, from his o w n Root is grown^ And therefore fooths thofe Paffions once his own. The End of the Firft ACT. A C T II. SCENE, Old Mirabel'* Houfe. Oriana and Bifarre. Bif. A N D you love this young Rake, d'ye ? r%- Ori. Yes. Bif. In fpight of all his ill Ufage. Ori. I can't help it. Bif. What's the matter w'ye ? Ori. Pfhaw ! Bif. Urn ! i before that any youn^, lying, fweating 1 flattering, rakehelly Fellow, fhou'd play luch Tricks with me, I wou'd wear m y Teeth to the (lumps with Lime and Chalk. O, the Devil take all your CaJJandra's and Cleopatra's for me. Prithee mind your Ayres, Modes, and Fafhions; your Stays, Gowns, and Fourbelov/s. Hark'e, m y Dear, have you got home your Fourbelow'd Smocks yet ? Ori. Prithee be quiet, Bifarre; you know I can be as m ad as you, when this Mirabel is out of m y head. Bif. Pfhaw, wou'd he were out, or in, or fome way to make you eafie. 1 warrant now, you'll play the Fool when he comes, and fay you love him; eh! Ori. Moft certainly; • I can't difTemble, Bifarr": • befides, 'tis paft that, we're contracted. Bif. Contracted! alack a day, poor thing. What, you have chang'd Rings, or broken an old Broad-piece between you 1 Heark'e, Child, ha'n't you broke fomething elfe between ye? Ori. No, no, I can afTure you. Bif. Then, what d e whine for ? Whilft I kept that in my Q power |
