Sir Row. Pray, Sir, who are you? that I may thank you for my Life.
Geo. One, Sir, whose Duty ’twas. Pulls off his Vizard.
Sir Row. What, my dear George!—I’ll go and cut off the Intail of my Estate presently, and thou shalt have it all, Boy, thou shalt—
Exeunt all but George.
Geo. Fortune is still my Friend: Had but Mirtilla been so! I wonder that she sends not to me: my Love’s impatient, and I cannot wait—while the dull Sot is boozing with his Brother-Fools in the Cellar, I’ll softly to the Chamber of my Love—Perhaps she waits me there—
Exit.
[ Scene II.] A Chamber, and Alcove, discovers Mirtilla and Prince Frederick.
Prince. Oh! I am ravish’d with excess of Joy.
Mir. Enough, my charming Prince! Oh, you have said enough.
Prince. Never, my Mirtilla!