Friend. Right—thine’s that of Dullman—who’s with you?
Dull. Only Timorous, Whimsey and Whiff, all valiantly running away from the Arch-Rebel that took us Prisoners.
Haz. Can you inform us where the Ladies are lodg’d?
Dull. In the hither Quarter, in Daring’s Tent; you’ll know them by Lanthorns on every corner—there was never better time to surprize them—for this day Daring’s married, and there’s nothing but Dancing and Drinking.
Haz. Married! to whom?
Dull. That I ne’er enquir’d.
Friend. ’Tis to Chrisante, Friend—and the Reward of my Attempt is lost. Oh, I am mad, I’ll fight away my Life, and my Despair shall yet do greater Wonders, than even my Love could animate me to. Let’s part our Men, and beset his Tents on both sides. Friendly goes out with a Party.
Haz. Come, Gentlemen, let’s on—
Whiff. On, Sir,—we on, Sir?—
Haz. Ay, you on, Sir—to redeem the Ladies.