CHARLES. Here then—Bumpers—you Rogues—Bumpers! Maria—Maria——
FIRST GENTLEMAN. Maria who?
CHARLES. Oh, damn the Surname 'tis too formal to be register'd in Love's calendar—but now Careless beware—beware—we must have Beauty's superlative.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. Nay Never study[,] Careless—we'll stand to the Toast—tho' your mistress should want an eye—and you know you have a song will excuse you——
CARELESS. Egad so I have—and I'll give him the song instead of the Lady.——
SONG.—AND CHORUS—[4]
Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen;
Here's to the widow of fifty;
Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean,
And here's to the housewife that's thrifty.
Chorus. Let the toast pass,—
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for a glass.
Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize;
Now to the maid who has none, sir;
Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes,
And here's to the nymph with but one, sir.
Chorus. Let the toast pass, &c.
Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow:
Now to her that's as brown as a berry:
Here's to the wife with a face full of woe,
And now to the damsel that's merry.
Chorus. Let the toast pass, &c.
For let 'em be clumsy, or let 'em be slim,
Young or ancient, I care not a feather;
So fill a pint bumper quite up to the brim,
So fill up your glasses, nay, fill to the brim,
And let us e'en toast them together.
Chorus. Let the toast pass, &c.
[Enter TRIP whispers CHARLES]
SECOND GENTLEMAN. Bravo Careless—Ther's Toast and Sentiment too.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. E' faith there's infinite charity in that song.——
CHARLES. Gentlemen, you must excuse me a little.—Careless, take the Chair, will you?
CARELESS. Nay prithee, Charles—what now—this is one of your Peerless Beauties I suppose—has dropped in by chance?