And likings of a ten days' growth, use courtesies, And shew red eyes at parting. Who bids "farewell"

In the same tone he cries "God speed you, Sir ?"

Or tells of joyful victories at sea,

Where he hath ventures? does not rather

muffle

His organs to emit a leaden sound,

To suit the melancholy dull "farewell,"
Which they in Heaven not use?—

So peevish, Margaret ?

But 'tis the cominon error of your sex,
When our idolatry slackens, or grows less,
(As who of woman born can keep his faculty
Of Admiration, being a decaying faculty,
For ever strain'd to the pitch? or can at plea-

sure

Make it renewable, as some appetites are,
As, namely, Hunger, Thirst ?) this being the

case,

They tax us with neglect, and love grown cold,
Coin plainings of the perfidy of men,

Which into maxims pass, and apothegms
To be retailed in ballads.---

I know them all.

They are jealous, when our larger hearts receive

More guests than one.

heart

) (Love in a woman's

Being all in one.) For me, I am sure I have room here

For more disturbers of my sleep than one.
Love shall have part, but Love shall not have all.
Ambition, Pleasure, Vanity, all by turns,
Shall lie in my bed, and keep me fresh and
waking;

Yet Love not be excluded.-Foolish wench,
I could have lov'd her twenty years to come,
And still have kept my liking. But since 'tis so,
Why, fare thee well, old play-fellow! I'll try
Το squeeze a tear for old acquaintance sake.
I shall not grudge so much.-

To him enters Lovel.

LOVEL.

Bless us, Woodvil! what is the matter? I protest, man, I thought you had been weeping.

WOODVIL.

Nothing is the matter, only the wench has forced some water into my eyes, which will quickly disband.

LOVEL.

I cannot conceive you.

WOODVIL.

Margaret is flown.

LOVEL.

Upon what pretence?

WOODVIL.

Neglect on my part: which it seems she has had the wit to discover, maugre all my pains to conceal it.

LOVEL.

Then, you confess the charge?

WOODVIL.

To say the truth, my love for her has of late stopt short on this side idolatry.

LOVEL.

As all good Christians' should, I think.

WOODVIL.

I am sure, I could have loved her still within the limits of warrantable love.

LOVEL.

A kind of brotherly affection, I take it.

WOODVIL.

We should have made excellent man and wife

in time.

LOVEL.

A good old couple, when the snows fell, to

crowd about a sea-coal fire, and talk over old matters.

WOODVIL.

While each should feel, what neither cared to acknowledge, that stories oft repeated may, at last, come to lose some of their grace by the repetition.

LOVEL.

Which both of you may yet live long enough to discover. For, take my word for it, Margaret is a bird that will come back to you without a lure.

WOODVIL.

Never, never, Lovel. Spite of my levity, with tears I confess it, she was a lady of most confirmed honour, of an unmatchable spirit, and determinate in all virtuous resolutions; not hasty to anticipate an affront, nor slow to feel, where just provocation was given.

LOVEL.

What made you neglect her, then?

WOODVIL.

Mere levity and youthfulness of blood, a malady incident to young men, physicians call it caprice. Nothing else. He, that slighted her, knew her value: and 'tis odds, but, for

thy sake, Margaret, John will yet go to his grave a bachelor.

(A noise heard, as of one drunk and singing.)

LOVEL.

Here comes one, that will quickly dissipate these humours.

(Enter one drunk.)

DRUNKEN MAN.

Good-morrow to you, gentlemen. Mr. Lovel, I am your humble servant. Honest Jack Woodvil, I will get drunk with you to

morrow.

WOODVIL.

And why to-morrow, honest Mr. Freeman?

DRUNKEN MAN.

I scent a traitor in that question. A beastly question. Is it not his Majesty's birth-day? the day, of all days in the year, on which King Charles the second was graciously pleased to be born. (Sings) "Great pity 'tis such days as those should come but once a year."

LOVEL.

Drunk in a morning! foh! how he stinks!

DRUNKEN MAN.

And why not drunk in a morning? can't tell,

bully?