Come, City Wives, come, buy. Feth. A most prodigious Fellow!
[They buy, he sits, the other Part is danc'd. Will. But here, behold
the Life and Soul of Man! this is the amorous Pouder, which Venus made
and gave the God of Love, which made him first a Deity; you talk of
Arrows, Bow, and killing Darts; Fables, poetical Fictions, and no
more: 'tis this alone that wounds and fires the Heart, makes Women
kind, and equals Men to Gods; 'tis this that makes your great Lady
doat on the ill-favour'd Fop; your great Man be jilted by his little
Mistress, the Judge cajol'd by his Semstress, and your Politican by
his Comedian; your young lady doat on her decrepid Husband, your
Chaplain on my Lady's Waiting-Woman, and the young Squire on the
Landry-Maid- In fine, Messieurs, 'Tis this that cures the Lover's
Pain, And Celia of her cold Disdain. Feth. A most devilish Fellow
this! Blunt. Hold, shartlikins, Fetherfool, let's have a Dose or two
of this Pouder for quick Dispatch with our Monsters. Feth. Why Pox,
Man, Jugg my Giant would swallow a whole Cart-Load before 'twould
operate. Blunt. No hurt in trying a Paper or two however. Car. A most
admirable Receit, I shall have need on't. Will. I need say nothing of
my divine Baths of Reformation, nor the wonders of the old Oracle of
the Box, which resolves all Questions, my Bills sufficiently declare
their Virtue.
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