_Bayes._ Done it! ay, egad, these fellows are able to spoil the best things in Christendom. I'll tell you, Mr. Johnson, I vow to gad, I have been so highly disoblig'd by the peremptoriness of these fellows, that I'm resolved hereafter to bend my thoughts wholly for the service of the nursery, and mump your proud players, egad. So, now Prince Prettyman comes in, and falls asleep, making love to his mistress; which you know was a grand intrigue in a late play, written by a very honest gentleman, a knight.[14] SCENE III. _Enter_ PRINCE PRETTYMAN. _Pret._ How strange a captive am I grown of late! Shall I accuse my love, or blame my fate! My love, I cannot; that is too divine: And against fate what mortal dares repine?[15] _Enter_ CHLORIS. But here she comes. Sure 'tis some blazing comet! is it not! [_Lies down._ _Bayes._ Blazing comet! mark that, egad, very fine! _Pret._ But I am so surpris'd with sleep, I cannot speak the rest. [_Sleeps._ _Bayes._ Does not that, now, surprise you, to fall asleep in the nick? his spirits exhale with the heat of his passion, and all that, and swop he falls asleep, as you see. Now here she must make a simile. _Smith._ Where's the necessity of that, Mr. Bayes? _Bayes._ Because she's surpris'd. That's a general rule; you must ever make a simile when you are surpris'd; 'tis the new way of writing. _Cloris._[16] As some tall pine, which we on Ætna find T' have stood the rage of many a boist'rous wind, Feeling without that flames within do play, Which would consume his root and sap away; He spreads his worsted arms unto the skies, Silently grieves, all pale, repines and dies: So shrouded up, your bright eye disappears. Break forth, bright scorching sun, and dry my tears. [_Exit._ _Johns._ Mr. Bayes, methinks this simile wants a little application too. _Bayes._ No, faith; for it alludes to passion, to consuming, to dying, and all that; which, you know, are the natural effects of an amour. But I'm afraid this scene has made you sad; for, I must confess, when I writ it, I wept myself. _Smith._ No truly, sir, my spirits are almost exhal'd too, and I am likelier to fall asleep. PRINCE PRETTYMAN _starts up, and says_-- _Pret._ It is resolved! [_Exit._ _Bayes._ That's all. _Smith._ Mr. Bayes, may one be so bold as to ask you one question, now, and you not be angry? _Bayes._ O Lord, sir, you may ask me anything; what you please; I vow to gad, you do me a great deal of honour: you do not know me, if you say that, sir. _Smith._ Then pray, sir, what is it that this prince here has resolved in his sleep?