Belv. Well, Sir, let's go
take a Bottle, and hear the Story of your Success. Fred. Would not
French Wine do better? Will. Damn the hungry Balderdash; cheerful Sack
has a generous Virtue in't, inspiring a successful Confidence, gives
Eloquence to the Tongue, and Vigour to the Soul; and has in a few
Hours compleated all my Hopes and Wishes. There's nothing left to
raise a new Desire in me- Come let's be gay and wanton- and,
Gentlemen, study, study what you want, for here are Friends,- that
will supply, Gentlemen,- hark! what a charming sound they make- 'tis
he and she Gold whilst here, shall beget new Pleasures every moment.
Blunt. But hark ye, Sir, you are not married, are you? Will. All the
Honey of Matrimony, but none of the Sting, Friend. Blunt.
'Sheartlikins, thou'rt a fortunate Rogue. Will. I am so, Sir, let
these inform you.- Ha, how sweetly they chime! Pox of Poverty, it
makes a Man a Slave, makes Wit and Honour sneak, my Soul grew lean and
rusty for want of Credit. Blunt. 'Sheartlikins, this I like well, it
looks like my lucky Bargain! Oh how I long for the Approach of my
Squire, that is to conduct me to her House again. Why! here's two
provided for. Fred. By this light y're happy Men. Blunt. Fortune is
pleased to smile on us, Gentlemen,- to smile on us. Enter Sancho, and
pulls Blunt by the Sleeve.
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