Beau. Silver kisses, or golden joys? Come, let us make stakes a little.
Enter Sir Jolly Jumble, unobserved.
Sir Jol. Ah rogue, ah rogue! are you there? Have I caught you in faith, now, now, now? [Aside.
L. Dunce. And who shall keep them?
Beau. You, till Sir Davy returns from supper.
L. Dunce. That may be long enough; for our engine Fourbin has orders not to give him over suddenly, I assure you.
Beau. And is't to yourself, then, I'm obliged for this blest opportunity? Let us improve it to love's best advantage.
Sir Jol. Ah—ah! [Aside.
Beau. Let's vow eternal, and raise our thoughts to expectation of immortal pleasures: in one another's eyes let's read our joys, till we've no longer power o'er our desires, drunk with this dissolving. Oh!