CHARLES. 'Fore Heaven, 'tis true!—there is the great Degeneracy of the age—many of our acquaintance have Taste—Spirit, and Politeness—but plague on't they won't drink——
CARELESS. It is so indeed—Charles—they give into all the substantial Luxuries of the Table—and abstain from nothing but wine and wit—Oh, certainly society suffers by it intolerably—for now instead of the social spirit of Raillery that used to mantle over a glass of bright Burgundy their conversation is become just like the Spa water they drink which has all the Pertness and flatulence of champaine without its spirit or Flavour.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. But what are they to do who love Play better than wine——
CARELESS. True—there's Harry diets himself—for gaming and is now under a hazard Regimen.
CHARLES. Then He'll have the worst of it—what you wouldn't train a horse for the course by keeping him from corn—For my Part egad I am never so successful as when I'm a little—merry—let me throw on a Bottle of Champaine and I never lose—at least I never feel my losses which is exactly the same thing.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. Aye that may be—but it is as impossible to follow wine and play as to unite Love and Politics.
CHARLES. Pshaw—you may do both—Caesar made Love and Laws in a Breath—and was liked by the Senate as well as the Ladies—but no man can pretend to be a Believer in Love, who is an abjurer of wine—'tis the Test by which a Lover knows his own Heart—fill a dozen Bumpers to a dozen Beauties, and she that floats atop is the maid that has bewitched you.
CARELESS. Now then Charles—be honest and give us yours——
CHARLES. Why I have withheld her only in compassion to you—if I toast her you should give a round of her Peers, which is impossible! on earth!
CARELESS. O, then we'll find some canonized Vestals or heathen Goddesses that will do I warrant——