Liss. Would it not? Humph! Ah! But—but—but—I believe I shan't marry yet a while.
Flo. You shan't, you say; very well! I suppose you design that ring for Inis?
Liss. No, no, I never bribe an old acquaintance. Perhaps I might let it sparkle in the eyes of a stranger a little, till we come to a right understanding. But then, like all other mortal things, it would return from whence it came.
Flo. Insolent! Is that your manner of dealing?
Liss. With all but thee—kiss me, you little rogue, you.
(Hugging her.)
Flo. Little rogue! Prithee, fellow, don't be so familiar, (pushing him away,) if I mayn't keep your ring, I can keep my kisses.
Liss. You can, you say! Spoke with the air of a chambermaid.
Flo. Reply'd with the spirit of a serving-man.
D'Urfey is said to have been the first, and Carey the last of those who at this period united the professions of musician, dramatist and song writer. The latter was the natural son of the Marquis of Halifax, who presented the crown to William III. He wrote the popular song "Sally in our Alley," and ridiculed Ambrose Philips in a poem called "Namby Pamby." Overcome either by embarrassed circumstances, or the envy of rivals, he died by his own hand in 1743. He has much that is clever mingled with extravagant fancies. Most of his songs are amorous, though never indelicate. Some are for drinking bouts.