Now, by all that's great and good, she is a charming Woman! In what Extasy of Joy she has left me! For she gave me Hope, did she not say she gave me Hope?--Hope! Ay: what Hope? Enough to make me let her go--Why, that's enough in Conscience. Or, no matter how 'twas spoke: Hope was the Word: it came from her, and it was said to me. _Enter ~Heartfree~._ Ha, _Heartfree_! Thou hast done me noble Service in prattling to the young Gentlewoman without there; come to my Arms, thou venerable Bawd, and let me squeeze thee [_Embracing him eagerly._] as a new Pair of Stays does a fat Country Girl, when she's carried to Court to stand for a Maid of Honour. _Heart._ Why, what the Devil's all this Rapture for? _Const._ Rapture! There's ground for Rapture, Man; there's Hopes, my _Heartfree_, Hopes, my Friend! _Heart._ Hopes! of what? _Const._ Why, Hopes that my Lady and I together (for 'tis more than one Body's Work) should make Sir _John_ a Cuckold. _Heart._ Pr'ythee, what did she say to thee? _Const._ Say? What did she not say? She said that----says she--she said--Zoons, I don't know what she said; but she look'd as if she said every thing I'd have her. And so, if thou'lt go to the Tavern, I'll treat thee with any thing that Gold can buy; I'll give all my Silver amongst the Drawers, make a Bonfire before the Door; say the Plenipo's have sign'd the Peace, and the Bank of _England_'s grown honest. [_Exeunt._ +SCENE+ _opens; Lord ~Rake~, Sir ~John~, &c. at a Table, drinking._ _All._ Huzza! _Lord Rake._ Come, Boys, charge again----So--Confusion to all Order! Here's Liberty of Conscience. _All._ Huzza! _Lord Rake._ I'll sing you a Song I made this Morning to this purpose. _Sir John._ 'Tis wicked, I hope. _Col. Bully._ Don't my Lord tell you he made it? _Sir John._ Well, then, let's ha't. Lord _Rake_ Sings. I. _What a Pother of late Have they kept in the State, About setting our Consciences free! A Bottle has more Dispensations in store, Than the King and the State can decree._ II. _When my Head's full of Wine, I o'erflow with Design, And know no ~Penal-Laws~ that can curb me: Whate'er I devise Seems good in my Eyes, And Religion ne'er dares to disturb me._ III. _No saucy Remorse Intrudes in my Course, Nor impertinent Notions of Evil; So there's Claret in store, In Peace I've my Whore, And in Peace I jog on to the Devil._ All sing. _So there's Claret_, &c. _Lord Rake._ [Rep.] _And in Peace I jog on to the Devil._ Well, how do you like it, Gentlemen? _All._ O, admirable! _Sir John._ I would not give a Fig for a Song that is not full of Sin and Impudence.