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Show 42 The R E H E A R S A L . K. Vfh. Set down the Funeral Pile, and let our r • e Keceive from its Embraces fome Relief K. P^j/ Was't not unjuft to ravifh hence her Breath And, in Life's ftead, to leave us nought but deatl - The World difcovers now its Emptinefs And by her Lofs demonftrates w e have W o Bayes. Is not this good Langaage now ? is rr" , w i were both m love with her. < Smith. With her ! with w h o m ? Bayes. Why, this is Lardella* s Funeral. Smith. Lardella ! Av, who is fhe ? Bayes. W h y Sir, the Sifter of Drawcanfir: a Ladv *hat wasdrown'dat Sea, and had a W a v e for her W i n d i n g K. C^. ZW,//*, O Lardella, from above S Behold the tragick Iffues of our Love • Pity us, finking under Grief and Pain' For thy being caft away upon the Main Bayes Look you now, you fee I told you true Smth. Ay, Sir, and I thank you for it very kindly neft Mr' Y' gad' bUt 7^ wiH n0t have IWl *» % 7 ~ a 70^ will not have patience. Johnf Pray, Mr. Bayes, who is that Drawcanfir ? frl?"' ^ ' S i r » afierce Hero, that frights his Miftrefs, inubs up Kings, baffles Armies, and does what he will without regard to Numbers, good Manners, or Juftice. ' Johnf. A very pretty Character. Smith. But, Mr. Bayes, I thought your Heroes had ever been M e n of great Humanity and Juftice. Bayes Yes, they have been fo ; but for m y part, I prefer that one Quality of fingly beating of whole Armies, above all your moral Virtues put together, I'gad. You inall fee hmi come in prefently. Zookers, why don't you read the Paper? [To the Players. -£• lh?f- O, cry you mercy. [Goes to take the Paper. Bayes. Pifti ? nay, you are fuch a Fumbler. Come I'll read it myfelf. [Takes a Paper from off the Coffin. Stay, it's an ill hand, I muft ufe m y Spectacles. This now is a Copy of Verfes, which I make Lardella compofe juft as ihe is dying, with defign to have it pinn'd upon her Coffin, and fo read by one of the Ufurpers, who is her Coufin. Smith, The R E H E A R S A L . 43 Smith. A very fhrewd Defign that, upon m y word, Mr- Bayes. Bayes. And what do you think now, I fancy her to make Love like, here, in this Paper ? Smith. Like a W o m a n : what fhould fhe make Love like ? Bayes. O' m y Word you are out tho', Sir ; I'gad you are. Smith. What then, like a M a n ? Bases. N o , Sir ; like a Humble-Bee. Smith. I confefs, that I fhould not have fancy'd. Bayes. It may be fo, Sir ; but it is tho', in order to the Opinion of fome of your antient Philofophers, who held the Transmigration of the Soul. Smith. Very fine. Bayes. I'll read the Title. To my dear Couz, King Phyf. Smith. That's a little too familiar with a King, tho', Sir, by your favour, for a Humble-Bee. Bayes. M r . Smith, in other things, I grant your Know. ledge may be above m e ; but as for Poetry, give m e leave to fay, I underftand that better : it has been longer m y Practice : it has indeed, Sir. Smith. Your Servant, Sir. Bayes. Pray mark it. [Reads, Since Death m y earthly Part will thus remove, I'll come a Humble-Bee to your chafte Love: With filent Wings I'll follow you, dear Couz ; Or elfe, before you, in the Sun-beams, buz. And when to melancholy Groves you come, A n airy Ghoft, you'll know m e by m y H u m ; For Sound, being Air, a Ghoft does well become. Smith. (After a Paufe.) Admirable. Bayes. At night, into your Bofom I will creep, And buz but foftly, if you chance to fleep : Yet in your Dreams I will pafs fweeping by, And then both h u m and buz before your Eye. Johnf. By m y troth that's a very great Promife. Smith. Yes, and a moft extraordinary Comfort to boot. Bayes. Your bed of Love from Dangers I will free ; But moft from Love of any future Bee. And when with Pity your Heart-Strings fhall crack, With empty Arms I'll bear you on m y Back. Smith. A pick-a-pack, a pick-a-pack. Bayes. |