Sure. But will you drink Punch in a Morning?
Ran. Punch! ’tis my Morning’s Draught, my Table-drink, my Treat, my [Regalio], my every thing; ah, my dear Surelove, if thou wou’d but refresh and cheer thy Heart with Punch in a Morning, thou wou’dst not look thus cloudy all the day.
Enter Pipes and a great Bowl, she falls to smoaking.
Sure. I have reason, Madam, to be melancholy, I have receiv’d a Letter from my Husband, who gives me an account that he is worse in England than when he was here, so that I fear I shall see him no more, the Doctors can do no good on him.
Ran. A very good hearing. I wonder what the Devil thou hast done with him so long? an old fusty weatherbeaten Skeleton, as dried as Stock-fish, and much of the Hue.—Come, come, here’s to the next, may he be young, Heaven, I beseech thee. Drinks.
Sure. You have reason to praise an old Man, who dy’d and left you worth fifty thousand [Pound].
Ran. Ay, Gad—and what’s better, Sweetheart, dy’d in good time too, and left me young enough to spend this fifty thousand [Pound] in better Company—rest his Soul for that too.
Chris. I doubt ’twill be all laid out in Bacon’s mad Lieutenant General Daring.
Ran. Faith, I think I could lend it the Rogue on good Security.
Chris. What’s that, to be bound Body for Body?