crowd about a sea-coal fire, and talk over old matters. WOODVIL. While each should feel, what neither cared to acknowledge, that stories oft repeated may, at last, come to lose some of their grace by the repetition. LOVEL. Which both of you may yet live long enough to discover. For, take my word for it, Margaret is a bird that will come back to you without a lure. WOODVIL. Never, never, Lovel. Spite of my levity, with tears I confess it, she was a lady of most confirmed honour, of an unmatchable spirit, and determinate in all virtuous resolutions; not hasty to anticipate an affront, nor slow to feel, where just provocation was given. LOVEL. What made you neglect her, then? WOODVIL. Mere levity and youthfulness of blood, a malady incident to young men, physicians call it caprice. Nothing else. He, that slighted her, knew her value: and 'tis odds, but, for thy sake, Margaret, John will yet go to his grave a bachelor. (A noise heard, as of one drunk and singing.) LOVEL. Here comes one, that will quickly dissipate these humours. (Enter one drunk.) DRUNKEN MAN. Good-morrow to you, gentlemen. Mr. Lovel, I am your humble servant. Honest Jack Woodvil, 1 will get drunk with you to morrow. WOODVIL. And why to-morrow, honest Mr. Freeman? DRUNKEN MAN. I scent a traitor in that question. A beastly question. Is it not his Majesty's birth-day? the day, of all days in the year, on which King Charles the second was graciously pleased to be born. (Sings) "Great pity 'tis such days as those should come but once a year." LOVEL. Drunk in a morning! foh! how he stinks! DRUNKEN MAN. And why not drunk in a morning? can'st tell, bully? WOODVIL. Because, being the sweet and tender infancy of the day, methinks, it should ill endure such early blightings. DRUNKEN MAN. I grant you, 'tis in some sort the youth and tender nonage of the day. Youth is bashful, and I give it a cup to encourage it. (Sings) "Ale that will make Grimalkin prate."-At noon I drink for thirst, at night for fellowship, but, above all, I love to usher in the bashful morning under the auspices of a freshening stoop of liquor. (Sings)" Ale in a Saxon rumkin then makes valour burgeon in tall men." But, I crave pardon. I fear I keep that gentleman from serious thoughts. There be those that wait for me in the cellar. Who are they? WOODVIL. DRUNKEN MAN. Gentlemen, my good friends, Cleveland, Delaval, and Truby. I know by this time they are all clamorous for me. (Exit, singing.) WOODVIL. This keeping of open house acquaints a man with strange companions. (Enter, at another door, Three calling for Harry Freeman.) Harry Freeman, Harry Freeman. He is not here. Let us go look for him. Where is Freeman? Where is Harry? (Exeunt the Three, calling for Freeman.) WOODVIL. Did you ever see such gentry? (laughing) These are they that fatten on ale and tobacco in a morning, drink burnt brandy at noon to promote digestion, and piously conclude with quart bumpers after supper, to prove their loyalty. LOVEL. Come, shall we adjourn to the Tennis Court? WOODVIL. No, you shall go with me into the gallery, where I will shew you the Vandyke I have purchased. "The late King taking leave of his children." LOVEL. I will but adjust my dress, and attend you. (Exit Lovel.) JOHN WOODVIL, alone. Now Universal England getteth drunk For joy that Charles, her monarch, is restored: The baffled factions in their houses sculk: They and their dreams have ended. Fools do sing, Where good men yield God thanks; but politic spirits, Who live by observation, note these changes ends. Then why not I? What's Charles to me, or Oliver, But as my own advancement hangs on one of them? I to myself am chief.I know, Some shallow mouths cry out, that I am smit With the gauds and shew of state, the point of place, And trick of precedence, the ducks, and nods, |