SONG. _Wake! thou Son of Dullness, wake!_ _From thy drowsy senses shake_ _All the spells that Care employs,_ _Cheating Mortals of their joys._ II. _Light-wing'd Spirits, hither haste!_ _Who prepare for mortal taste_ _All the gifts that Pleasure sends,_ _Every bliss that youth attends._ III. _Touch his feelings, rouze his soul,_ _Whilst the sparkling moments roll;_ _Bid them wake to new delight,_ _Crown the magic of the night._ _Dor._ By Heaven, the same sweet creature! _Let._ You have chosen an odd situation for study. Fashion and Taste preside in this spot:--they throw their spells around you:--ten thousand delights spring up at their command;--and you, a Stoic--a being without senses, are wrapt in reflection. _Dor._ And you, the most charming being in the world, awake me to admiration. Did you come from the Stars? _Let._ Yes, and I shall reascend in a moment. _Dor._ Pray shew me your face before you go. _Let._ Beware of imprudent curiosity; it lost Paradise. _Dor._ Eve's curiosity was rais'd by the Devil;--'tis an Angel tempts mine.--So your allusion is not in point. _Let._ But _why_ would you see my face? _Dor._ To fall in love with it. _Let._ And what then? _Dor._ Why, then--Aye, curse it! there's the rub. [_Aside._] _Let._ Your Mistress will be angry;--but, perhaps, you have no Mistress? _Dor._ Yes, yes; and a sweet one it is! _Let._ What! is she old? _Dor._ No. _Let._ Ugly? _Dor._ No. _Let._ What then? _Dor._ Pho! don't talk about _her_; but shew me your face. _Let._ My vanity forbids it;--'twould frighten you. _Dor._ Impossible! Your Shape is graceful, your Air bewitching, your Bosom transparent, and your Chin would tempt me to kiss it, if I did not see a pouting red Lip above it, that demands---- _Let._ You grow too free. _Dor._ Shew me your face then--only half a glance. _Let._ Not for worlds. _Dor._ What! you will have a little gentle force? [_Attempts to seize her Mask._ _Let._ I am gone for ever! [_Exit._ _Dor._ 'Tis false;--I'll follow to the end. [_Exit._ Flutter, _Lady_ Frances, _and_ Saville _advance_. _Lady Fran._ How can you be thus interested for a stranger? _Sav._ Goodness will ever interest; its home is Heaven: on earth 'tis but a Wanderer. Imprudent Lady! why have you left the side of your Protector? Where is your Husband? _Flut._ Why, what's that to him? _Lady Fran._ Surely it can't be merely his habit;----there's something in him that awes me. _Flut._ Pho! 'tis only his grey beard.--I know him; he keeps a Lottery-office on Cornhill. _Sav._ My province, as an Enchanter, lays open every secret to me. Lady! there are dangers abroad--Beware! [_Exit._ _Lady Fran._ 'Tis very odd; his manner has made me tremble. Let us seek Sir George. _Flut._ He is coming towards us. Courtall _comes forward, habited like Sir_ George.