Mir. What a purblinde Puppy was I; now I remember him.
All the whole cast on's face, though 'twere umber'd,
And mask'd with patches: what a dunder-whelp
To let him domineer thus: how he strutted,
And what a load of Lord he clapt upon him!
Would I had him here again, I would so bounce him,
I would so thank his Lordship for his lewd plot:
Do they think to carry it away, with a great band made of bird-pots,
And a pair of pin-buttockt breeches? Ha! 'Tis he again.
He comes, he comes, he comes; have at him.
Enter de-Gard, Oriana, &c.
Sings. My Savoy Lord, why dost thou frown on me?
And will that favour never sweeter be?
Wilt thou I say, for ever play the fool?
de-Gard be wise, and Savoy go to School.
My Lord de-Gard, I thank ye for your Antick;
My Lady bright, that will be sometimes Frantick;
You worthy Train, that wait upon this Pair,
'Send you more wit, and they a bouncing Baire
And so I take my humble leave of your honours. [Exit.
de-Ga. We are discover'd, there's no remedy
Lilia Biancha's man upon my life,
In stubbornness, because Lugier corrected him.
(A shameless slaves plague on him for a Rascal.)
Ori. I was in a perfect hope; the bane on't is now,
He will make mirth on mirth, to persecute us.
de-Ga. We must be patient; I am vext to the proof too,
I'le try once more; then if I fail: Here's one speaks.
Ori. Let me be lost, and scorn'd first.
de-Ga. Well, we'll consider,
Away, and let me shift; I shall be hooted else. [Exeunt.