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Show The Conftant Couple. 2-» to a Black. Did not Sir Harry himfelf tell me, that he found out by you where I lodg'd ? Stand. You're all Lies: Firft, your Heart is falfe, your Eyes are double ; one Look belies another : And then your Tongue does contradict them all. Madam, I fee a little Devil ;uft now hammering out a Lie in your Pericranium. Lure. As I hope for Mercy, he's in the right on't. [Aftdc.] Hold, Sir, you have got the Play-houfe Cant upon your Tongue; and think, that Wit may privilege your Railing : But I muft tell you, Sir, that what is Satyr upon the Stage, is ill Manners here. Stand. W h a t is feign'd upon the Stage, is here in reality real Falfhood. Ye?, yes, Madam, - I expos'd you to the Courtfhip of your Fool Clincher, too : I hope your Female Wiles will impofethat upon me alfo. Lure. Gincher! Nay, now you're ftark mad. I know no fuch Perfon. Stand. O W o m a n in Perfection ! not know him ! 'Slife, M a d a m , can m y Eyes, m y piercing jealous Eyes, be fo deluded ? Nay, Madam, m y Nofe could not miftake him; for I fmelt the Fop by his Pulvilio from the Balcony down to the Street. Lure. The Balcony! Ha, ha, ha, the Balcony ! I'll be hang'd but he has miftaken Sir Harry Wildair's Footman with a new French Livery, for a Beau. Standi 'Sdeath, M a d a m , what is there in m e that looks like a Cully ? Did I not lee him ? Lure. N o , no, you cou'd not fee him; you're dreaming , Colonel. Will you believe your Eyes, now, that I have rubb'd them open ? Here, you Friend. Enter Errand in Clincher'* Goaths. Stand. This islllufion all: M y Eyes confpire againft them-felves. 'Tis Legerdemain. Lure. Legerdemain ! Is that all your Acknowledgment for your rude Behaviour ? • Oh, what a Curfe.is it to love as 1 do ! But don't prefume too far, Sir, on m y Affection : For fuch ungenerous Ufage will foon return m y tir'd Heart. • Begone, Sir, [To the Porter.] to your impertinent M a fter, and tell him I fhall never be atleifure to receive any of his troublefome Vifits; fend to m e to know, when I fhould be at home ! Be gone, Sir: I a m fure he has made m e an unfortunate W o m a n . (Weeps. Stand, Nay, then there is no certainty in Nature ; and Truth is only Falfhood well difguis'd, n |