Oh my careless Rover! I perceive all your hot
Shot is not yet spent in Battel, you have a Volley in reserve for me
still- Faith, Officer, the Town has wanted Mirth in your Absence.
Will. And so might all the wiser part for thee, who hast no Mirth, no
Gaiety about thee, and when thou wouldst design some Coxcomb's ruin;
to all the rest, a Soul thou hast so dull, that neither Love nor
Mirth, nor Wit or Wine can wake it to good Nature- thou'rt one who
lazily work'st in thy Trade, and sell'st for ready Mony so much
Kindness; a tame cold Sufferer only, and no more. La Nu. What, you
would have a Mistress like a Squirrel in a Cage, always in Action- one
who is as free of her Favours as I am sparing of mine- Well, Captain,
I have known the time when La Nuche was such a Wit, such a Humour,
such a Shape, and such a Voice, (tho to say Truth I sing but scurvily)
'twas Comedy to see and hear me. Will. Why, yes Faith for once thou
wert, and for once mayst be again, till thou know'st thy Man, and
knowest him to be poor. At first you lik'd me too, you saw me gay, no
marks of Poverty dwelt in my Face or Dress, and then I was the dearest
loveliest Man- all this was to my outside; Death, you made love to my
Breeches, caress'd my Garniture and Feather, and English Fool of
Quality you thought me- 'Sheart, I have known a Woman doat on Quality,
tho he has stunk thro all his Perfumes; one who never went all to Bed
to her, but left his Teeth, an Eye, false Back and Breast, sometimes
his Palate too upon her Toilet, whilst her fair Arms hug'd the
dismember'd Carcase, and swore him all Perfection, because of Quality.
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