Bel. To thee, Celinda! all my Good I owe, My Life, my Fortune, and my Honour too, Since all had perish’d by a broken Vow.
Flaunt. What, am I like to lose my Timmy? Canst thou have the Heart to leave me for ever? I who have been true and constant to you?
Sir Tim. Alas! now I must melt again, by Fortune—thou art a Fool, dost think I wou’d have had her, but for her Fortune? which shall only serve to make thee out-flaunt all the Cracks in Town—go—go home and expect me, thou’lt have me all to thy self within this Day or two:
Since Marriage but a larger Licence is
For every Fop of Mode to keep a Miss.
EPILOGUE.
Spoken by Sir Timothy Tawdrey.
Sir Timothy, Gallants, at last is come
To know his Sentence, and receive his Doom,
But pray before you are resolv’d to be
Severe, look on your selves, and then on me;
Observe me well, I am a Man of Show,
Of Noise, and Nonsense, as are most of you.
Though all of you don’t share with me in Title,
In Character you differ very little.
Tell me in what you find a Difference?
It may be you will say, you’re Men of Sense;
But Faith—
Were one of you o’th’ Stage, and I i’th’ Pit,
He might be thought the Fop, and I the Wit.
On equal Grounds you’ll scarce know one from t’other;
We are as like, as Brother is to Brother.
To judge against me then wou’d be Ill-Nature,
For Men are kind to those they’re like in Feature.
For Judges therefore I accept you all;
By you, Sir Timothy will stand or fall.
He’s too faint-hearted that his Sentence fears,
Who has the Honour to be try’d by’s Peers.
Written by Mr. E.R.