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Show 44 The R E H E A R S A L. Bayes. A y , I'gad, but is not that tuant now, ha? Is it not tuant ? Here's the end. Then at your Birth of Immortality, Like any winged Archer hence I'll fly, ( And teach you your firft fiutt'ring in the Sky. J Johnf. O rare ! This is the moft nacural, reia'd Fancy that ever I heard, I'll fwear. " Bayes. Yes, I think, for a dead Perfon, it is a good wav enough of making love : for being diverted of her terreftrial Part, and all that, fhe is only capable of thefe little, pretty amorous Defigns that are innocent, and yet palhonate' Come, draw your Swords. K. Phyf Come, Sword, come fheath thyfelf within this Breaft, Which only in Lardella's T o m b can reft. K. Vfh. C o m e , Dagger, come, and penetrate this Heart Which cannot from Lardella's Love depart. Enter Pallas. Pal. Hold, flop your murd'ring Hands At Palias's Commands : For the fuppofed dead, O Kings, Forbear to act fuch deadly things. Lardella lives ; I did but try If Princes for their Loves could die. Such ceieftial Conftancy Shall by the Gods rewarded be: And from thefe Fun'/al Obfequies A Nuptial Banquet fhall arife. [The Coffin opens, and a Banquet is difcvver'L Ba^es. So take away tlie Coffin : now it's out. This is the very Funeral of the fair Perfon which Volfcius fent word wa ; and Pallas, you fee, has turn'd it into a Banquet. Smith. Well, but where is this Banquet? Bayes. Nay, look you, Sir, w e muft firft have a Dance fcr joy that Lardella is not dead. Pray, Sir, give me leave to bring in m y things properly at leaft. Smith. That, indeed, 1 had forgot: I afk your pardon. Bayes. O , d'ye fo, Sir ? 1 a m glad you will o yourfelf-once in an Error, M r . Smith. D A N C E. K. UJh, Refplcndent Pallas, w e in thee do find The f erceil Beauty, and a fiercer Mind: And The R E H E A R S A L . 45 And fincarto thee Lardella s Life w e owe, We'll fupple Statues in thy Temple grow*. K. Phjf. Well, fince alive sLardel/a's found, Let in full Bowls her Health go round. [The two Ufurpers take each of them a Bowl in their Hands. K. Ufh. But where's the Wine ? Pal. That fhall be mine. Lo, from this conquering Lance C Fills the Does flow the pureft Wine of France : \ Bowls out And to appeafe your Hunger, I \ °f her Have in m y Helmet brought a Pye : (_ Lance. Laftly, to bear a Part with thefe, Behold a Buckler made of Chee.e. [Vanifh Pallas. Bayes. There's the Banquet. Are you fatisfy'd now, Sir ? Johnf. By m y troth now, that is new, and more than I expected. Bayes. Yes, I knew this would pleafe you: for the chief Art in Poetry, is to elevate your Expectation, and then bring you off fome extraordinary way. Enter Drawcanfir. K. Phyf. W h a t M a n is this that dares difturb ourFcaft ? Draw. He that dares drink, and fcr that Drink dares die ; And knowing this, dares yet drink on, a m I. Johnf That is, Mr. Bayes, as much as to fay, that tho' he would rather die than not drink, yet he wou'd fain drink for all that too. Bayes. Right; that's the Conceit on't. Johnf. 'Tis a marvellous good one, 1 fwear. Bayes. N o w , there are fome Criticks that have advis'd me to put out the fecond Dare, and print Mujl in the place on't; but, I'gad, I think 'tis better thus a great deal. Johnf. W h o o ! a thoufand times. Bayes. G o on then. K. Up. Sir, if you pleafe, w e fhould be glad to know, H o w long you here will ftay, h o w f )on you'll go ? Bayes. Is not that now Hke a well-breJ Ptrfo.i, I'gad ? So modeft, fo gent! Smith. O very like. Dr |