_Shr_. Shall we adjourn to the _Rose_, the Drawer's my particular Friend, and will give us _French_ Wine for Eighteen Pence a Bottle. _Tot_. But lets ha' some Sack, do. _Knap_. Ay, and Sugar, my brave Boy, thou shall't have any thing; we'll be merry as mony'd Sailors over a Bowl o'Rum Punch, fluster'd as their Whores, and frolicksom, 'till we have spent all, drink Confusion to all Grand-mothers, and if the old Cat pretends to Ptysick it much longer, we'll get an Act of Parliament to poyson her. _Tot_. With all my Heart! they say the Parliament can do any thing. [_Exeunt._ SCENE, _A Drawing-Room._ _Enter the_ Collonel, _and_ Lady Rodomont _rising from Play_. L. _Rod_. Fling up the Cards, good _Collonel_, after two Games, the Pleasure becomes a Business; like my Lady _Shuffler_ that gits her living at 'em. _Col_. Your Ladyship's a Chymist in Diversions, extracts the quintessence of ev'ry Pleasure, and leaves the drossy Part upon the World; Agreements, when too tedious pall the Fancy, when short they quicken and refine our Appetites; and the sublimest Joy to Mortals known, evaporates the Moment that 'tis tasted. L. _Rod_. Variety alone supports dull Life, the light Amusements that connect and change, Spur on the creeping Circle of the Year; I love to humour an unbounded Genius, to give a lose to ev'ry spring of Fancy, to rove, to range, to sport with different Countries, and share the Revels of the Universe. _Col_. My Genius fain wou'd Court superiour Blessings; those Passions are too hurrying to last; Vapours that start from a Mercurial Brain, whose wild Chimera's flush the lighter Faculties, which tir'd i'th'vain pursuit of fancy'd Pleasures; a Passion more substantial Courts our Reason, solid, persuasive, elegant, sublime, where ev'ry Sense crowds to the luscious Banquet, and ev'ry nobler Faculty's imploy'd. L. _Rod_. That Passion you describe's a sleeping Potion, a lazy, stupid, lethargy of Mind, that nums our Faculties, destroys our Reason, and to our Sex the bane of all Agreements; shou'd I whom Fortune, lavish of her store, has given the means to glut insatiate Wishes, out-vie my Sex, and Lord it o'er Mankind, constrain my rambling Pleasures, check my Liberty for an insipid Cooing sort of Life, which marry'd Fools think Heav'n, and cheat each other. _Col_. Are Love and Pleasure, Madam, so incongruous?--Methinks the very name of Love exhilerates; meaner delights were meant but to persuade us, Toys to provoke and heighten our desires, which Love confirms and Crowns with mightier extasie.