Bon. Ha! ha! ha! Mr. Martin, you’re very arch. This gentleman is only travelling towards Chester, and would be glad of your company, that’s all.—Come, captain, you’ll stay to-night, I suppose? I’ll show you a chamber—come, captain.

Gib. Farewell, friend!

Arch. Captain, your servant.—[Exeunt Boniface and Gibbet.] Captain! a pretty fellow! ‘Sdeath, I wonder that the officers of the army don’t conspire to beat all scoundrels in red but their own.

Re-enter Cherry.

Cher. [aside]. Gone, and Martin here! I hope he did not listen; I would have the merit of the discovery all my own, because I would oblige him to love me.—[Aloud.] Mr. Martin, who was that man with my father?

Arch. Some recruiting serjeant, or whipped-out trooper, I suppose.

Cher. All’s safe, I find.

[Aside.

Arch. Come, my dear, have you conned over the catechise I taught you last night?

Cher. Come, question me.

Arch. What is love?

Cher. Love is I know not what, it comes I know not how, and goes I know not when.

Arch. Very well, an apt scholar.—[Chucks her under the chin.] Where does love enter?

Cher. Into the eyes.

Arch. And where go out?

Cher. I won’t tell ye.

Arch. What are the objects of that passion?

Cher. Youth, beauty, and clean linen.

Arch. The reason?

Cher. The two first are fashionable in nature, and the third at court.

Arch. That’s my dear.—What are the signs and tokens of that passion?

Cher. A stealing look, a stammering tongue, words improbable, designs impossible, and actions impracticable.

Arch. That’s my good child, kiss me.—What must a lover do to obtain his mistress?

Cher. He must adore the person that disdains him, he must bribe the chambermaid that betrays him, and court the footman that laughs at him. He must—he must—

Arch. Nay, child, I must whip you if you don’t mind your lesson; he must treat his—