Med. Whither away, Sir Fopling?
Sir Fop. I have business with Courtage—
Med. He’ll but put the ladies into their coach, and come up again.
O. Bell. In the meantime I’ll call for a bottle.
[Exit O
Enter Y
Med. Where’s Dorimant?
Y. Bell. Stolen home; he has had business waiting for him there all this night, I believe, by an impatience I observed in him.
Med. Very likely; ’tis but dissembling drunkenness, railing at his friends, and the kind soul will embrace the blessing and forget the tedious expectation.
Sir Fop. I must speak with him before I sleep.
Y. Bell. Emilia and I are resolved on that business.
Med. Peace, here’s your father.
Enter O
O. Bell. The women are all gone to bed. Fill, boy; Mr. Medley, begin a health.
Med. [whispers]. To Emilia.
O. Bell. Out, a pise! she’s a rogue, and I’ll not pledge you.
Med. I know you will.
O. Bell. Adod, drink it then.
Sir Fop. Let us have the new bachique.
O. Bell. Adod, that is a hard word; what does it mean, sir?
Med. A catch or drinking song.
O. Bell. Let us have it then.
Sir Fop. Fill the glasses round, and draw up in a body. Hey! music!
T
To perfect our happiness wisely we join.
We to beauty all day
Give the sovereign sway,
And her favourite nymphs devoutly obey.
At the plays we are constantly making our court,
And when they are ended we follow the sport,
To the Mall and the Park,
Where we love till ’tis dark;
Then sparkling champagne
Puts an end to their reign;
It quickly recovers
Poor languishing lovers,
Makes us frolic and gay, and drowns all our sorrow;
But, alas! we relapse again on the morrow.
Let ev’ry man stand
With his glass in his hand,
And briskly discharge at the word of command.
Here’s a health
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