_Aim._ Aimwell! call me Oroondates, Cesario, Amadis, all that romance can in a lover paint, and then I'll answer. O, Archer, I read her thousands in her looks! she looked like Ceres in her harvest; corn, wine, and oil, milk and honey; gardens, groves, and purling streams, played on her plenteous face. _Arch._ Her face!--her pocket, you mean. The corn, wine, and oil, lies there. In short, she has twenty thousand pounds, that's the English on't. _Aim._ Her eyes---- _Arch._ Are demicannons, to be sure; so I won't stand their battery. [_Going._ _Aim._ Pray excuse me; my passion must have vent. _Arch._ Passion! what a plague, d'ye think these romantic airs will do your business? Were my temper as extravagant as yours, my adventures have something more romantic by half. _Aim._ Your adventures! _Arch._ Yes-- The nymph, that with her twice ten hundred pounds, With brazen engine hot, and coif clear starch'd, Can fire the guest in warming of the bed-- There's a touch of sublime Milton for you, and the subject, but an innkeeper's daughter. I can play with a girl, as an angler does with his fish; he keeps it at the end of his line, runs it up the stream, and down the stream, till at last, he brings it to hand, tickles the trout, and so whips it into his basket. _Enter_ BONIFACE. _Bon._ Mr. Martin, as the saying is--yonder's an honest fellow below, my Lady Bountiful's butler, who begs the honour, that you would go home with him, and see his cellar. _Arch._ Do my _baissemains_ to the gentleman, and tell him, I will do myself the honour to wait on him immediately, as the saying is. _Bon._ I shall do your worship's commands, as the saying is. [_Exit, bowing obsequiously._ _Aim._ What do I hear? soft Orpheus play, and fair Toftida sing. _Arch._ Pshaw! damn your raptures; I tell you, here's a pump going to be put into the vessel, and the ship will get into harbour, my life on't. You say, there's another lady very handsome there? _Aim._ Yes, faith. _Arch._ I'm in love with her already. _Aim._ Can't you give me a bill upon Cherry in the mean time. _Arch._ No, no, friend; all her corn, wine, and oil, is ingrossed to my market--And, once more, I warn you, to keep your anchorage clear of mine; for if you fall foul on me, by this light, you shall go to the bottom.--What! make prize of my little frigate, while I am upon the cruize for you! [_Exit._ _Enter_ BONIFACE. _Aim._ Well, well, I won't--Landlord, have you any tolerable company in the house? I don't care for dining alone. _Bon._ Yes, sir, there's a captain below, as the saying is, that arrived about an hour ago. _Aim._ Gentlemen of his coat are welcome every where;--will you make him a compliment from me, and tell him, I should be glad of his company. _Bon._ Who shall I tell him, sir, would---- _Aim._ Ha! that stroke was well thrown in----I'm only a traveller, like himself, and would be glad of his company, that's all.