Cyp. Fire and fury! a fine blunder you've made with your ftupid mimicries-Peggy, fure you won't throw yourself away,upon that Irish adven turer, Par. Be quiet, or I'll ask your fore the whole bleffed bevy here pardon beDon't wait for legacies of dead men's fhoes, but buy new pumps to dance at the four weddings of us two. (Takes Clifford's band) Julia. Ah, Charles, amidst the duplicity of a deceitful world, a generous confidence should be the lover's fecurity. Clif. Come, come, my lovely Julia-forget and forgive-now I'll give an entertainment at Tilts, and who knows but Cupid and Bacchus may light the torch of Hymen! Par. Yes, when my dowager gets a fup in her eye, she'll be able to fee all my perfections double and while the bottle goes round, my only imitations fhall be to take off my glafs! and our glaffes fhall jingle to this chorus, that Brighton may be the Country Seat of the Goddess of Health, whilft animated by a fummer vifit from the Auguft Perfonage, who fweetens the magnificence of the Prince with the affability of the Gentleman. PARROTS. Merry I, fo you fing, CHORUS. Merry I, fo you fing, &c. COLIN. Here I've eat fine wheat ears, CHORUS. Merry I, fo you fing, &e: JULIA. Light is my dragooning, CHORUS. Merry I, fo you fing, &c. CYPRESS. I myself could kill! fo Vex'd, I'll make my will tho That's myfelf, I'll leave all. CHORUS. CHORUS. Merry I, fo you fing, &c. MISS MELCOMBE. Farewell Paregoric! Gentle tales of Yorick Luil me foft to flumber! Sweet delights we'll number. (to Parrots.) CHORUS. Merry I, fo you fing, &c. PARROTS. Sweet our moon of honey, CHORUS. Merry I, fo you fing, &c. THE END. |