A Pox upon this needless Scorn!
Silvia, for shame the Cheat give o’er;
The end to which the fair are born,
Is not to keep their Charms in store,
But lavishly dispose in haste,
Of Joys — which none but Youth improve;
Joys which decay when Beauty’s past:
And who when Beauty’s past will love?
When Age those Glories shall deface,
Revenging all your cold Disdain,
And Silvia shall neglected pass,
By every once admiring Swain;
And we can only Pity pay,
When you in vain too late shall burn:
If Love increase, and Youth delay,
Ah, Silvia, who will make return?
Then haste, my Silvia, to the Grove,
Where all the Sweets of May conspire,
To teach us every Art of Love,
And raise our Charms of Pleasure higher;
Where, whilst imbracing we should lie
Loosely in Shades, on Banks of Flowers:
The duller World whilst we defy,
Years will be Minutes, Ages Hours.
Beau. ‘Sdeath, that’s my Page’s Voice: Who the Devil is’t that ploughs with my Heifer!
Aur. Don Henrick, Don Henrick —
[The Door opens, Beau. goes up to’t; Will. puts him by, and
offers to go in, he pulls him back.
Will. How now, what intruding Slave art thou?
Beau. What Thief art thou that basely, and by dark, rob’st me of all my Rights?
[Strikes him, they fight, and Blows light on Fetherfool who hangs
down.
[Sancho throws Fetherfool’s Clothes out, Harlequin takes ‘em
up in confusion; they fight out Beaumond, all go off, but Will.
gets into the House: Harlequin and Feth. remain. Feth. gets
down, runs against Harlequin in the dark, both seem frighted.
Harl. Que questo.
Feth. Ay, un pouer dead Home, murder’d, kill’d.
Harl. (In Italian.) You are the first dead Man I ever saw walk.
Feth. Hah, Seignior Harlequin!
Harl. Seignior Nicholas!
Feth. A Pox Nicholas ye, I have been mall’d and beaten within doors, and hang’d and bastinado’d without doors, lost my Clothes, my Money, and all my Moveables; but this is nothing to the Secret taking Air. Ah, dear Seignior, convey me to the Mountebanks, there I may have Recruit and Cure under one.