_Sir Jol._ No, no more it was not, I dare swear. [_Aside._ _Sir Dav._ See, see, my neighbour weeps too; he's troubled to see thee thus. _L. Dunce._ Oh, but revenge! _Sir Dav._ Why, thou shalt have revenge; I'll have him murdered; I'll have his throat cut before to-morrow morning, child: rise now, pr'ythee rise. _Sir Jol._ Ay, do, madam, and smile upon Sir Davy. _L. Dunce._ But will you love me then as well as e'er you did? _Sir Dav._ Ay, and the longest day I live too. _L. Dunce._ And shall I have justice done me on that prodigious monster? _Sir Dav._ Why, he shall be crows'-meat by to-morrow night; I tell thee he shall be crows'-meat by midnight, chicken. _L. Dunce._ Then I will live; since so, 'tis something pleasant: When I in peace may lead a happy life With such a husband-- _Sir Dav._ I with such a wife. [_Exeunt._ [Illustration] [Illustration] FOOTNOTES: [40] Rosamond's Pond (not Ponds) was at the S.W. side of St. James's Park. It was filled up more than a century ago. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE 1.--_A Tavern._ _Enter_ BEAUGARD, COURTINE, _and_ Drawer. _Draw._ Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome, sir; will you please to walk up one pair of stairs? _Beau._ Get the great room ready presently; carry up too a good stock of bottles before-hand, with ice to cool our wine, and water to refresh our glasses. _Draw._ It shall be done, sir.--Coming, coming there, coming: speak up in the Dolphin, somebody. [_Exit._ _Beau._ Ah, Courtine, must we be always idle? must we never see our glorious days again? when shall we be rolling in the lands of milk and honey; encamped in large luxuriant vineyards, where the loaded vines cluster about our tents; drink the rich juice, just pressed from the plump grape; feeding on all the fragrant golden fruit that grow in fertile climes, and ripened by the earliest vigour of the sun? _Cour._ Ah, Beaugard, those days have been, but now we must resolve to content ourselves at an humble rate. Methinks it is not unpleasant to consider how I have seen thee in a large pavilion, drowning the heat of the day in champagne wines, sparkling sweet as those charming beauties whose dear remembrance every glass recorded, with half a dozen honest fellows more; friends, Beaugard; faithful hearty friends; things as hard to meet with as preferment here; fellows that would speak truth boldly, and were proud on't; that scorned flattery, loved honesty, for 'twas their portion; and never yet learned the trade of ease and lying: but now-- _Beau._ And now we are at home in our natural hives, and sleep like drones; but there's a gentleman on the other side the water,[41] that may make work for us all one day. _Cour._ But in the meanwhile--