_Geo._ Faith, let’s set out for it, and try; if we lose our Labour, we shall, like Searchers for the Philosophers Stone, find something that will recompense our pains.-- [Lady _Youthly_ sees her, and sends her Woman to take her from him. Ha, gone--I must not part so with you--I’ll have you in my Eye. [The _Spanish_ Dance: Whilst they dance, the _Prince_ talks to _Mirtilla_. _Mir._ This Night gives you an Assignation--I tremble at the thought--Ah, why will you pursue me thus to Ruin? Why with resistless Charms invade my Heart, that cannot stand their Force--alone--without my Woman?--the Enterprize with you would be too dangerous. _Prince._ Dangerous to be ador’d! and at your Feet behold your Slave making eternal Vows? _Mir._ If I were sure that you would pass no further-- _Prince._ Let the fond God of Love be my Security--will you not trust a Deity? _Mir._ Whom should she trust, that dares not trust her self? _Geo._ That is some Lover, whom I must observe. [Aside. _Mir._ Alas, the Foe’s within that will betray me, Ambition, and our Sex’s Vanity--Sir, you must prevail-- _Prince._ And in return, for ever take my Soul. _Mir._ Anon I’ll feign an Illness, and retire to my Apartment, whither this faithful Friend shall bring you, Sir. [Pointing to _Manage_. _Geo._ Hum!--that looks like some Love Bargain, and _Manage_ call’d to Witness. By Heav’n, gay Sir, I’ll watch you. _Ter._ But hark ye, my Fellow-Adventurer, are you not marry’d? _Geo._ Marry’d--that’s a Bug-word--prithee if thou hast any such Design, keep on thy Mask, lest I be tempted to Wickedness. _Ter._ Nay, truth is, ‘tis a thousand pities to spoil a handsom man, to make a dull Husband of: I have known an old batter’d Bully of Seventy, unmarry’d, more agreeable for a Gallant, than any scurvy, out-of-humour’d Husband at Eight and Twenty. _Geo._ Gad, a thousand times. _Ter._ Know, I have Five Hundred Pounds a Year. _Geo._ Good. _Ter._ And the Devil and all of Expectations from an old Woman. _Geo._ Very good. _Ter._ And this Youth, and little Beauty to lay out in love. [Pulls off her Mask. _Geo._ _Teresia!_ the lovely Maid design’d for my Mother! now, what a Dog am I? that gives me the greater Gust to her, and wou’d fain cuckold my Father. [Talks to her aside. _Mirtilla_ seems to faint. _Man._ My Lady faints--help, help. _Mir._ Only the Heat oppresses me--but let it not disturb the Company, I’ll take the Air a little, and return. [Goes out with _Manage_. _Geo._ Is this design’d or real?--perhaps she is retir’d for me--Mrs. _Manage_.-- [_Manage_ re-enters, he pulls her by the Sleeve. _Man._ Hah! Monsieur _Lejere_! what shall I feign to put him off withal. [Aside. _Geo._ Why dost thou start? How does my dear _Mirtilla_? _Man._ Reposing, Sir, awhile, but anon I’ll wait on her for your admittance. [Prince _Frederick_ puts on _Welborn’s_ Cloke, goes out, and _Welborn_ enters into the Company dress’d like the _Prince_.