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Updated: May 22, 2025
We should be too happy were those stains not to be rub'd off, and had justly been, as they design'd us, the subject of their laughter, if we had suffer'd our selves to be so grossly impos'd on in a sham inscription." Tryphoena, who was not yet unmindful of our former amours, wou'd have pity'd us.
Here, Ralph, the Bottle, Rogue, of Sack, ye Rascal; hadst thou been a Butler worth hanging, thou wou'dst have met us at the door with it. Ods bods, Sweet-heart, thy health. Bear. Away with it, to the Bride's Haunce in Kelder. Sir Feeb. Let. I die but to imagine it, wou'd I were dead indeed. Sir Feeb. Hah hum how's this? Tears upon the Wedding day? Sir Cau.
What wou'd you with him, Friend? Post. I have a Letter here from the Hague for him. Bel. From the Hague! Perhaps here may be the second part of my Tragedy, I'm full of Mischief, Charles and have a mind to see this Fellow's Secrets.
And I wou'd leave it to themselves, whether they don't find their Account in it; whether the Town is not more favourable on any Occasion; so that it ought to be an Encouragement to persist in their Vertue.
I think I am your Friend indeed, Sir Cautious, or I wou'd not have been here upon my Wedding-Night. Sir Cau. His Wedding-Night there lies his Grief, poor Heart! Well, come, Brother many such things are done Sir Feeb. Done hum come, out with it; Brother what troubles you to Night? Sir Cau. Sir Feeb. I may perhaps restore you to the Rest you've lost. Sir Cau. The Rest; why, have I lost more since?
"Who ere wou'd with ambitious just desire, To mastery in so fire an art aspire, Must all extreams first diligently shun, And in a settled course of vertue run.
If realy one cannot live comfortably together, a wise and well concerted separation is preferable; but I think, considering the probability of my not troubling any party long in this world, the best for us all wou'd be to bear those ills we have rather than flie to those we know not of. I have fairly stated what I have on my mind. There is no time for nonsense or trifling.
Hum, from the Moon, and that may be. Scar. Lord, d'ye think I wou'd deceive your Reverence? Doct. Scar. Why, Sir, 'Tis Doct. Hold up the Candles higher, and nearer. He takes a Perspective, and looks through it; and coming nearer Harlequin, who is placed on a Tree in the Hangings, hits him on the Head with his Trunchion. He starts and looks about. Harlequin sits still. Scar. Sir Doct.
Heav'ns! he repents his Cruelty to her, And never mentions me! Ah then 'tis time to die. Cel. Bel. Gods! Happy! whilst I am wretched. Oh, what an Ague chills my shivering Limbs, Turns my hot Rage to softest Love, and Shame! Were I not here to die here at her Feet, I wou'd not stand the Shock of her Reproaches.
If I have Honour, I must die with Rage; Reproaching gently, and complaining madly. It is resolv'd, I'll hang my self No, when did I ever hear of a Hero that hang'd him self? No, 'tis the Death of Rogues. What if I drown my self? No, Useless Dogs and Puppies are drown'd; a Pistol or a Caper on my own Sword wou'd look more nobly, but that I have a natural Aversion to Pain.
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