Y'are deceiv'd in me, Sir, I am none Of those receivers. John. Have I not sworn unto you, "Tis none of mine, and shew'd you how I found it? Land. Ye found an easy fool, that let you get it. John. Will you hear me? Land. Oaths! What care you for oaths to gain your ends, When ye are high and pamper'd? What faint know ye? Or what religion, but your purpos'd lewdness, John. Heaven forbid, mother. Land. Nay, I am very fick. John. Who waits there? Pet. Sir? (within.) John. Bring down the bottle of Canary wine. I must e'en make her drunk; nay, gentle mother. You You fetch'd your evening walks for your devotions, For this pretended holiness? no weather, Not before day, could hold ye from the mattins. Were these your bo-peep prayers? y've pray'd well, And with a learn'd zeal watch'd well too: your faint It seems was pleas'd as well: still sicker, sicker! Enter Peter with a bottle of wine. John. There is no talking to her till I have drench'd her. Give me; here, mother, take a good round draught, "Twill purge spleen from your fpirits: deeper, mother. Land. Ay, ay, fon; you imagine this will mend all. John. All, ay faith, mother. Land. I confefs the wine Will do his part. John. I'll pledge ye. Land. But, fon John. John. I know your meaning, mother; touch it Alas! once more. you look not well, take a round draught, 1 L2 It It warms the blood well, and reftores the colour, And then we'll talk at large. Land. A civil gentleman! A ftranger! one the town holds a good regard of! John. Nay I will filence the there. Land. One that should weigh his fair name! oh, a ftitch! John. There's nothing better for a stitch, good mother; Make no fpare of it; as you love your health, Land. As I faid, a gentleman, Lodged in my houfe! now heaven's my comfort, Signior! John. I look'd for this. Land. I did not think you would have us'd me thus; A woman of my credit; one, heaven knows, That loves you but too tenderly. John. Dear mother, I ever found your kindness, and acknowledge it. Land. No, no, I am a fool to counfel you. Where's the infant? Come, let's fee your workmanship. John. John. None of mine, mother; But there 'tis, and a lufty one. Land. Heav'n bless thee, Thou hadst a hafty making; but the best is, John. I am glad on't. Land. Blefs, me, what things are these? Was not all loft, 'tis gold, and these are jewels, Land. Well, well, fon John, I fee ye're a woodman, and can chufe Your deer, tho' it be i'th' dark, all your difcretion Do where you may be done to, 'tis a wisdom, traffic L3 Sometimes Sometimes this flippery way, take fure hold, Sig nior, Trade with no broken merchants, make your lading As you would make your reft, adventurously, John. All this time, mother, The child wants looking to, wants meat and nurses, John. Yes of thefe jewels, I must by your good leave, mother; these are yours, Land. No more words, Nor any more children, good fon, as you love me. This may do well. John. I fhall obferve your morals. But where's Don Frederick, mother? Land. Ten to one About the like adventure; he told me [Exit. John. |