_Bayes._ "At night, into your bosom I will creep, And buz but softly if you chance to sleep: Yet in your dreams, I will pass sweeping by, And then both hum and buz before your eye." _Johns._ By my troth, that's a very great promise. _Smith._ Yes, and a most extraordinary comfort to boot. _Bayes._ "Your bed of love from dangers I will free; But most from love of any future bee. And when with pity your heart-strings shall crack, With empty arms I'll bear you on my back." _Smith._ A pick-a-pack, a pick-a-pack. _Bayes._ Ay, egad, but is not that _tuant_ now, ha? is it not _tuant_? Here's the end. "Then at your birth of immortality, Like any wingéd archer hence I'll fly, And teach you your first fluttering in the sky." _Johns._ Oh, rare! this is the most natural, refined fancy that ever I heard, I'll swear. _Bayes._ Yes, I think, for a dead person, it is a good way enough of making love; for, being divested of her terrestrial part, and all that, she is only capable of these little, pretty, amorous designs that are innocent, and yet passionate. Come, draw your swords. _K. Phys._ Come, sword, come sheath thyself within this breast, Which only in Lardella's tomb can rest. _K. Ush._ Come, dagger, come and penetrate this heart, Which cannot from Lardella's love depart. _Enter_ PALLAS. _Pal._ Hold, stop your murd'ring hands At Pallas's commands: For the supposéd dead, O kings, Forbear to act such deadly things. Lardella lives; I did but try If princes for their loves could die. Such celestial constancy Shall, by the gods, rewarded be: And from these funeral obsequies, A nuptial banquet shall arise. [_The coffin opens, and a banquet is discovered._ _Bayes._ So, take away the coffin. Now 'tis out. This is the very funeral of the fair person which Volscius sent word was dead; and Pallas, you see, has turned it into a banquet. _Smith._ Well, but where is this banquet? _Bayes._ Nay, look you, sir; we must first have a dance, for joy that Lardella is not dead. Pray, sir, give me leave to bring in my things properly at least. _Smith._ That, indeed, I had forgot; I ask your pardon. _Bayes._ Oh, d'ye so, sir? I am glad you will confess yourself once in an error, Mr. Smith. [_Dance._] _K. Ush._ Resplendent Pallas, we in thee do find The fiercest beauty, and a fiercer mind: And since to thee Lardella's life we owe, We'll supple statues in thy temple grow. _K. Phys._ Well, since alive Lardella's found, Let in full bowls her health go round. [_The two Usurpers take each of them a bowl in their hands._ _K. Ush._ But where's the wine?