Enter Sir Feeble, Leticia, Sir Cautious, Bearjest, Diana, Noisey.
Sir Feeble sings and salutes ‘em.
Sir Feeb. Welcome, Joan Sanderson, welcome, welcome. [Kisses the
Bride. Ods bobs, and so thou art, Sweet-heart. [So to the rest.
Bear. Methinks my Lady Bride is very melancholy.
Sir Cau. Ay, ay, Women that are discreet, are always thus upon their
Wedding-day.
Sir Feeb. Always by day-light, Sir Cautious.
But when bright Phoebus does retire,
To Thetis’ Bed to quench his fire.
And do the thing we need not name,
We Mortals by his influence do the same.
Then then the blushing Maid lays by
Her simpering, and her Modesty;
And round the Lover clasps and twines
Like Ivy, or the circling Vines.
Sir Feeb. 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. Gots so, go to, Rogue, go to, that shall be, Knave, that shall be the morrow morning; he—ods bobs, we’ll do’t, Sweet heart; here’s to’t. [Drinks again.
Let. I die but to imagine it, wou’d I were dead indeed.