_Vols._ My blades encamp'd, and quit this urban throng.[28] _Smith._ But pray, Mr. Bayes, is not this a little difficult, that you were saying e'en now, to keep an army thus conceal'd in Knightsbridge? _Bayes._ In Knightsbridge? stay. _Johns._ No, not if the inn-keepers be his friends. _Bayes._ His friends! ay, sir, his intimate acquaintance; or else indeed I grant it could not be. _Smith._ Yes, faith, so it might be very easy. _Bayes._ Nay, if I do not make all things easy, egad, I'll give you leave to hang me. Now you would think that he's going out of town: but you shall see how prettily I have contriv'd to stop him presently. _Smith._ By my troth, sir, you have so amaz'd me, that I know not what to think. _Enter_ PARTHENOPE. _Vols._ Bless me! how frail are all my best resolves! How, in a moment, is my purpose chang'd! Too soon I thought myself secure from love. Fair madam, give me leave to ask her name,[29] Who does so gently rob me of my fame: For I should meet the army out of town, And if I fail, must hazard my renown. _Par._ My mother, sir, sells ale by the town-walls; And me her dear Parthenope she calls. _Bayes._ Now that's the Parthenope I told you of. _Johns._ Ay, ay, egad, you are very right. _Vols._ Can vulgar vestments high-born beauty shroud? Thou bring'st the morning pictur'd in a cloud.[30] _Bayes._ The morning pictur'd in a cloud! ah, gadzookers, what a conceit is there! _Par._ Give you good even, sir. [_Exit._ _Vols._ O inauspicious stars! that I was born To sudden love, and to more sudden scorn! _Ama._ } How! Prince Volscius in love? ha, ha, ha![31] _Clo._ } [_Exeunt laughing._ _Smith._ Sure, Mr. Bayes, we have lost some jest here, that they laugh at so. _Bayes._ Why, did you not observe? he first resolves to go out of town, and then as he's pulling on his boots, falls in love with her; ha, ha, ha! _Smith._ Well, and where lies the jest of that? _Bayes._ Ha? [_Turns to_ JOHNS. _Johns._ Why, in the boots: where should the jest lie? _Bayes._ Egad, you are in the right: it does lie in the boots---- [_Turns to_ SMITH. Your friend and I know where a good jest lies, though you don't, sir. _Smith._ Much good do't you, sir. _Bayes._ Here now, Mr. Johnson, you shall see a combat betwixt love and honour. An ancient author has made a whole play on't;[32] but I have dispatch'd it all in this scene. VOLSCIUS _sits down to pull on his boots:_ BAYES _stands by, and over-acts the part as he speaks it._ _Vols._ How has my passion made me Cupid's scoff! This hasty boot is on, the other off, And sullen lies, with amorous design, To quit loud fame, and make that beauty mine. _Smith._ Prithee, mark what pains Mr. Bayes takes to act this speech himself! _Johns._ Yes, the fool, I see, is mightily transported with it.