While in a lovely bowl I drown my care,
She'll cease to be, or I to think her, fair. [Exeunt.
ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.—Covent Garden.
Enter Young Bookwit and Latine.
Young Book. This Roebuck has almost done my business. Rigby's an honest fellow, and would not poison us. The wine had good-humour, mirth, and joy in it. My blood beats high and frolic. What says my dear lackey? Ha!
Lat. Why, sir, I say, sir, that I am in so noble, so exalted a condition, that I almost forget I am your honour's footman.
Y. Book. Do but your business well to-night.
Lat. Who says the tongue stutters, legs falter, and eyes fail with drink? 'Tis false, my dear master, my tongue runs faster than ever; my legs so brisk and nimble, that I can't stand still; and my eyes are better than ever they were; for I see everything double—But the letter, the letter, I warrant I give it her.