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Show 164 The Provoked Wife. Conftant folus. N o w by all that's great and good, fhe's a charmin* Woman. In what Extafy of Joy fhe has left me ! For fhe gave m e Hope ; did fhe not fay fhe gave m e Hope? Hope ! Ay; what Hope enough to make me let her go Why that's enough in Confcience. Or, no matter how 'twas fpoke ; Hope was the Word • it came from her, and it was faid to me. Enter Heartfree. Ha, Heartfree ! Thou haft done m e noble Service in prattling to the young Gentlewoman without there ; come to m y Atms, thou venerable Bawd, and let me fqueeze thee (Embracing him eagerly) as a new Pair of Stays does a fat Country Girl, when fhe's carried to Court to ftand for a Maid of Honour. Heartf. Why, what the Devil's all this Rapture for ? Conft. Rapture ! There's ground for Rapture, Man; there's Hopes, m y Heartfree ; Hopes, m y Friend. Heartf. Hopes ! of what ? ^ ^ Conft. W h y , Hopes that m y Lady and I together (for tis more than one body's Work) fhould make Sir John a Cuckold. Heartf. Prithee, what did fhe fay to thee ? Conft, Say ? what did fhe not fay ? fhe faid that-- fays fhe fhe faid Zoons, 1 don't know what ftie find : But fhe look'd as if fhe faid every thing I'd have her; and fo if thou'lt go to the Tavern, I'll treat thee with any thing that Gold can buy : I'll give all my Silver amongft the Drawers, make a Bonfire before the Boor, fay the Plenipo's have fign'd the Peace, and the Lank of England's grown honeft. [ Exeunt. S C E N E. opens ; Lord Rake, Sir John, &c. at a Table, drinking. All. Huzza! Ld R. Come, Boys, charge again So--Con' fufiontoall Order. Here's Liberty of Confcience. All, Huzza ! Ld R, l'il fing y O U a Song I made this morning to this purpofe. Sir The Provoked W t W ^ Sir John. 'Tis wicked, I hope. 165 Lord Rake fingg, I. W H A T a Pother of late Have they kept m the State About fetting our ConfrUnces jree > A Bottle has more Difienfations in flore, Than the King and the State can decree II. When my Head's full of Wine 1 o'erftovj with Defign, And know no Penal Laws that can curb me : What e'er I devife, Seems good in my Eyes, And Religion ne'er dares to difturb me. III. No faucy Remorfe Intrudes in my Courfe, Nor impertinent Notions of Evil ; So there's Claret in flore, In peace I've my Whore, And in peace I jog on to the Devil. All fing. So there's Claret, dec, Ld R. (Rep.) And in Peace I jog on the Devil. Ld R, Well, how do you like it, Gentlemen ? All. O, admirable! Sir John. I wou'd not give a Fig for a Song that is not full of Sin and Impudence. Ld R. Then m y Mufe is to your Tafte. But drink away ; the Night fteals upon us ; we fhall Want time to be lewd in. • Hey, Page, fally out, Sirrah, and fee what's doing in the C a m p : we'll beat up their garters prefently. f Page. |
