BEN. We’re merry folks, we sailors: we han’t much to care for. Thus we live at sea; eat biscuit, and drink flip, put on a clean shirt once a quarter; come home and lie with our landladies once a year, get rid of a little money, and then put off with the next fair wind. How d’ye like us?
MRS. FRAIL. Oh, you are the happiest, merriest men alive.
MRS. FORE. We’re beholden to Mr. Benjamin for this entertainment. I believe it’s late.
BEN. Why, forsooth, an you think so, you had best go to bed. For my part, I mean to toss a can, and remember my sweet-heart, afore I turn in; mayhap I may dream of her.
MRS. FORE. Mr. Scandal, you had best go to bed and dream too.
SCAN. Why, faith, I have a good lively imagination, and can dream as much to the purpose as another, if I set about it. But dreaming is the poor retreat of a lazy, hopeless, and imperfect lover; ’tis the last glimpse of love to worn-out sinners, and the faint dawning of a bliss to wishing girls and growing boys.
There’s nought but willing, waking love, that can
Make blest the ripened maid and finished man.
ACT IV.—SCENE I.
Valentine’s lodging.
Scandal and Jeremy.