Sir JOSEPH WITTOL L. BLUFF E. By the immortal Thunder of great Guns, 'tis falfe--- he fucks not vital Air, who dares affirm it to this Face. you [Looks big. Sir JOSEPH WITTO L L. To that Face I grant you Captain- -No, no, I grant Not to that Face, by the Lord Harry ---- If you had put on your fighting Face before, you had done his Bufinefs he durft as foon have kift you, as kickt you to your Face But a Man can no more help what's done behind his Back, than what's faid Come we'll think no more of what's past. 1306 BLUFF E. I'll call a Council of War within to confider of my Re venge to come. SYLVIA. Indeed it is very fine I could look upon 'em all HEARTWELL. Day. Well, has this prevail'd for me, and will you look uponme? SYLVIA. If you could Sing and Dance fo, I should love to look. upon you too. HEARTWELL. Why 'twas I fung and danc'd; I gave Mufick to the Voice, and Life to their Meafures Look you here Sylvia, [Pulling out a Purfe and chinking it.] here are Songs and Dances, Poetry and Mufick one Guinea rhymes to another hark! how fweetly and how they dance to the Mufick of their own Chink. This buys all the t'other and this thou fhalt have; this, and all that I am worth for the Purchase of thy Love it mine then, ha? Speak Syren Say, is Oons why do I look on her! Yet I must- Speak dear Angel, Devil, Saint, Witch; do not rack me with Sufpence.. SYLVIA. Nay don't ftare at me fo I cannot look. You make me blush HEARTWELL. Oh Manhood, where art thou! What am I come to? A Woman's Toy; at thefe Years! Death, a bearded Baby for a Girl to dandle. O Dotage, Dotage! That ever that noble Paffion, Luft, should ebb to this degree------No reAlux of vigorous Blood: But milky Love fupplies the emp-ty Channels; and prompts me to the Softness of a Child a meer Infant and would fuck. Sylvia? speak. SYLVI A. I dare not fpeak 'till I believe you, and indeed I'm afraid to believe you yet. HEARTS HEARTWELL. Death, how her Innocence torments and pleases me ! Lying, Child, is indeed the Art of Love; and Men are ge nerally Mafters in it: But I'm so newly entred, you cannot distrust me of any Skill in the treacherous Mystery— Now by my Soul I cannot lye, though it were to ferve a Friend or gain a Mistress. SYLVIA. Muft you lye then, if you fay you love me? No, no, dear Ignorance, thou beauteous Changeling-I tell thee I do love thee, and tell it for Truth, a naked Truth, which I am ashamed to discover. SYLVIA. But Love, they fay, is a tender thing, that will smooth Frowns, and make calm an angry Face; will foften a rugged Temper, and make ill-humoured People good: You look ready to fright one, and talk as if your Paffion were not Love, but Anger. HEARTWELL. 'Tis both; for I am angry with my felf when I am pleafed with you And a Pox upon me for loving thee fo well I must on yet 'Tis a bearded Arrow, and will more eafily be thrust forward than drawn back. SYLVIA. Indeed if I were well affur'd you lov'd; but how can I be well affur'd? HEARTWELL. Take the Symptoms and ask all the Tyrants of thy Sex, if their Fools are not known by this Party-coloured Livery I am Melancholick, when thou art abfent; look like an Afs, when thou art prefent; wake for thee, when I should fleep; and even dream of thee, when I am awake ; figh much, drink little, eat lefs, court Solitude, am grown very entertaining to my self, and (as I am informed) ven ry Ty troublesome to every body else. If this be not Love, it is Madness, and then it is pardonable -- Nay yet a more certain fign than all this; I give thee my Mony. SYLVI A. Ay, but that is no fign; for they fay, Gentlemen will give Money to any naughty Woman to come to Bed to O Gemini, I hope you don't mean so-.--for I won't be a Whore. them HEARTWELL. The more is the pity. SYLVI A. [Afule. Nay, if you would marry me, you should not come to bed to me---. you have such a Beard, and would so prickle one. But do you intend to marry me? HEARTWELL. That a Fool fhould ask fuch a malicious Queftion! Death, I fhall be drawn in, before I know where I am ---- •However, I find I am pretty sure of her Consent, If I am put to it. [Afide.] Marry you? no, no, I'll love you SYLVI A. Nay, but if you love me, you must marry me; what don't I know my Father lov'd my Mother, and was married to her? HEART WELL. Ay, ay, in old Days People married where they lov❜d; but that Fashion is chang'd, Child, SYLVI A. Never tell me that, I know it is not chang'd by my felf; for I love you, and would marry you. HEARTWELL. I'll have my Beard shav'd, it shan't hurt thee, and we'll go to Bed.... SYLVI A. No, no, I'm not fuch a Fool neither, but I can keep my felf honeft; Here, I won't keep any thing that's yours, yours, I hate you now, [Throws the Purse] and I'll never fee you again, 'cause you'd have me be naught. [Going. HEARTWELL. Damn her let her go, and a good riddance fo much Tendernefs and Beauty 1040 Yet and Honefty together is a Jewel Stay Sylvia But then to marry Why every Man plays the Fool once in his Life: But to marry is playing the Fool all ones Life along. SYLVI A. What did you call me for? HEARTWELL. I'll give thee all I have: And thou fhalt live with me in every thing fo like my Wife, the World fhall believe it: Nay, thou shalt think fo thy felf ---- Only let me not think fo. SYLVI A. No, I'll die before I'll be your Whore love you. HEARTWELL, Afide. A Woman, and ignorant, may be honest, when 'tis out of Obftinacy and Contradiction But 'Sdeath it is but a may be, and upon fcurvy Terms- Well, farewell then if I can get out of Sight I may get the better of my felf. Well-good by. SYLVI A. HEARTWELL. Ha! Nay come, we'll kifs at parting. Heav'n her Kifs is fweeter than Liberty · thee in that Kifs [Turns and Weeps. [Kiffes her.] By I will marry there thou hast don't. All my Refolves melted - once more. But when? SYLVI A. HEARTWELL. I'm impatient 'till it be done; I will not give my felf Liberty |