_Knap_. A sapless old Hen, you might as well have lain with a Paring-Shovel; but what think you of a young Woman, that's warm, tender and inviting. _Shr_. By this Light, here's _Betty_ the Orange Woman from the Play-house. _Enter_ Betty. [_They_ rise _Bett_. Ah! you Devils are you here, why did n't you come into the Pit to night, and eat an Orange,--who have you got with you, by my lost Maidenhead, a meer Country Widgeon, you sly Toads will bubble him finely; let me go snacks, or I'll discover it. Come, Fellows, drink about; positively it's very cold, fitting so behind at the Box Doors. _Shr_. Honest _Betty_, here's Success to thee in ev'ry thing. _Bett_. Ay, Faith, but there's little to do this Winter yet, now the Officers are come over, I hope, to have full Trade; I have had but one poor Shilling giv'n me to Night, and that was for carrying a Note from a Baronet in the Side Box to a Citizens Wife in the Gall'ry; but there was no harm in't, 'twas only to treat with her here by and by, about borrowing a hundred Pound of her Husband upon the Reversion of a Parsonage. [_To_ Knap.] Red Coat your Inclinations. [_To_ Tott.] Sir, prosperity t'you, you are got into hopeful Company. _Tott_. Thank you, Mrs. _Betty._ _Shr_. Prithee _Betty_ give us a Song. _Bett_. A Song, Pigsneyes, why, I have been roaring all Night with Six _Temple_ Rakes at the _Dog_ and _Partridge_ Tavern in _Wild-street_, and am so hoarse I cou'd not sing a Line, were the whole Town to subscribe for me. _Knap_. Take t'other Glass, _Betty_. _Bett_. T'other Glass, Fellow, by the Bishop of _Munster_, these Puppies have a Design upon me! but give it me, however, for all that know me, know I never baulk my Glass. _Shr_. But the Song, the Song, _Betty_. [_She Sings_ SONG. I. _How happy are we, Who from Virtue are free, That curbing Disease of the Mind, Can indulge ev'ry Taste, Love where we like best, Not by dull Reputation confin'd_. II. _When were Young, fit to toy, Gay Delights we enjoy, And have Crouds of new Lovers wooing; When were old and decay'd, We procure for the Trade, Still in ev'ry Age we are doing_. III. _If a Cully we meet, We spend what we get Ev'ry Day, for the next never think, When we die, where we go, We have no Sense to know, For a Bawd always dies in drink_. _Bett_. [_Aside to_ Shrimp.] Hark'e, Satan, where did you pick up this modest Youth; does he bleed? _Shr_. Oh! abundantly. _Bett_. That's well, dress him up, and send him _to Will_'s Coffee-House and he'll soon grow impudent. [_To_ Tott.] My dear, eat this Orange, and gi'me Half a Crown. _Tott_. Half a Crown for an Orange! I can buy one in the Country for two Pence. _Bett_. So you may in Town, lovely Swain, but ev'ry Smock I put upon my Back costs me nine Shillings an Ell.