Enter _Manage_. _Man._ Oh, Heavens! my Lady _Mirtilla’s_ Chamber’s all on Flame. Enter _Britton_. _Geo._ Ha,--the Prince! I had forgot his Danger. _Man._ Ah! look up, and see how it burns. _Geo._ _Britton_, a Million for a Ladder! _Man._ Blessing on you, Sir, if you dare venture through the House; there lies one in the Fore-Garden. _Britt._ The Passage is on fire, Sir, you cannot go. _Geo._ Revenge is vanish’d, and Love takes its place: Soft Love, and mightier Friendship seizes all. I’ll save him, though I perish in the Attempt. [Runs out, _Britton_ after him. Enter at another Door, Sir _Rowland_. L. _Blun._ A thousand Pound for him that saves Sir _Morgan_! Sir _Row._ And, do ye hear, let my Rogue lie; I’d rather he should be burnt, than hang’d on _Tyburn_ Road, for murdering his Father.--But where’s Boy _George_? Enter Men with Trunks. _Rog._ Safe, Sir, I hope; he was not in the House. Sir _Row._ So, so, away with these Trunks to my Lady _Youthly’s_ in _Southampton_-Square, and tell her we must trouble her to night. Come, Sister, let’s away. [Ex. Lady _Blunder_, and Sir _Rowland_. Prince _Frederick_ and _Mirtilla_, appear at the Window, the Flame behind ‘em. _Prince._ Help, help, and save _Mirtilla_! Ask any Price, my Life, my Fortune! All! _Mir._ Oh, Heav’ns, the Flame pursues us as we fly. _Prince._ No help! Oh Gods, I shall prevent the Flame, and perish by my Fears to see you die! _Mir._ Alas! Sir, you with ease may save your Life! This Window you may leap, but I want Courage. _Prince._ No, my _Mirtilla_, if it be thy Fate, I’ll grasp thee, ev’n in Flames, and die with thee. _Mir._ We die! we die! the Flame takes hold of us. Enter _George_ with a Ladder, and puts it to the Window. _Prince._ Ha! some pitying God takes care of us. Haste, haste, my Charmer; Heav’n has sent us Aid. [Puts her on the Ladder, she descends into _George’s_ Arms; after her, the _Prince_. _George_ puts her into _Manage’s_ Arms, she faints; he runs up to receive the _Prince_. _Prince._ _Lejere!_ dear Man of Luck--Some happy Star reign’d at thy glorious Birth; every thing is prosperous thou espousest.--How fares my Love, the Treasure of my Soul? _Man._ Only fainting with the Fright, but she recovers. _Prince._ My Chair there, quickly, that waits for me.-- Enter Chair; he puts her, and _Manage_ into it. Enter _Olivia_. Carry ‘em to Mr. _Welborn’s_, to my Lodgings there, and then return to me; for I am wondrous faint, and cannot walk. _Oliv._ Ha! by my Life, my Man! _Prince._ But if I might impose so much, _Lejere_, upon thy Friendship, I beg thou wouldst see her safely carry’d to my Lodgings at _Welborn’s_. _Geo._ You shall command me, Sir. [Exeunt Chair, _George_ and _Britton_. _Oliv._ You seem not well, Sir, pray repose upon my Arm a while. _Prince._ I thank you, Sir, indeed I am not well.