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My joys are turbulent, iny hopes shew like
fruition, These high and gusty relishes of life, sure, Have no allayings of mortality in them. I am too hot now and o'ercapable, For the tedious processes, and creeping wisdom, Of human acts, and enterprizes of a man. I want some seasonings of adversity, Some strokes of the old mortifier Calamity, To take these swellings down, divines call vanity.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. Mr. Woodvil, Mr. Woodvil.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. Where is Woodvil ?
GRAY. Let him alone. I have seen him in these lunes before. His abstractions must not taint the good mirth.
JOHN. (continuing to soliloquize.) O for some friend now, To conceal nothing from, to have no secrets. How fine and noble a thing is confidence, How reasonable too, and almost godlike! Fast cement of fast friends, band of society, Old natural go-between in the world's business, Where civil life and order, wanting this cement,
Would presently rush back
(A Servant enters.) Gentlemen, the fire-works are ready.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. What be they?
LOVEL. The work of London artists, which our host has provided in honour of this day.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Sdeath, who would part with his wine for a rocket?
LOVEL. Why truly, gentlemen, as our kind host has been at the pains to provide this spectacle, we can do no less than be present at it.
It will not take up much time. Every man may return fresh and thirsting to his liquor.
THIRD GENTLEMAN, There is reason in what he says.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. Charge on then, bottle in hand. There's husbandry in that, (They go out, singing. Only Lovel remains, JOHN. (Still talking to him self.) This Lovel here's of a tough honesty, Would put the rack to the proof. He is not of
who observes Woodvil.
that sort, Which haunt my house, snorting the liquors, And when their wisdoms are afloat with wine, Spend vows as fast as vapours,
LOVEL. To see the fire-works, where you will be expected to follow. But I perceive you are better engaged.
Exempli gratia, how far a man
morning, He need not stick at, to maintain his friend's honor, or his cause.
humour, When one has worn his fortune's livery thread
bare, Or his spleen'd mistress frowns. Husbands will
venture on it, To cure the hot fits and cold shakings of jealousy. A friend, sir, must do more.
LOVEL. Can he do more than die ?
JOHN. To serve a friend this he may do. Pray mark me. Having a law within (great spirits feel one)
He cannot, ought not to be bound by any