_L. Flip._ [_Aside_] I shall discover myself--[_Aloud_] I mean, because I hold against it, you do the same in complaisance:--for I have heard say, cunning men think to bring the coy and untractable women to tameness as they do some mad people--by humouring their frenzies. _Ran._ I am none of those cunning men, yet have too much wit to entertain the presumption of designing upon you. _L. Flip._ 'Twere no such presumption neither. _Dap._ Come away; 'sdeath! don't you see your danger? _Ran._ Those aims are for Sir Simon.--Good night, madam. _L. Flip._ Will you needs go, then?--[_To_ Sir SIMON] The gentlemen are a-going, Sir Simon; will you let 'em? _Sir Sim._ Nay, madam, if you cannot keep 'em, how should I? _L. Flip._ Stay, sir; because you hate marriage, I'll sing you a new song against it. [_Sings._ A spouse I do hate, For either she's false or she's jealous; But give us a mate Who nothing will ask us or tell us. She stands on no terms, Nor chaffers, by way of indenture, Her love for your farms; But takes her kind man at a venture. If all prove not right, Without an act, process, or warning, From wife for a night You may be divorced in the morning. When parents are slaves, Their brats cannot be any other; Great wits and great braves Have always a punk[31] to their mother. Though it be the fashion for women of quality to sing any song whatever, because the words are not distinguished, yet I should have blushed to have done it now, but for you, sir. _Ran._ The song is edifying, the voice admirable--and, once more, I am your servant, madam. _L. Flip._ What, will you go too, Mr Dapperwit? _Sir Sim._ Pray, Mr. Dapperwit, do not you go too. _Dap._ I am engaged. _Sir Sim._ Well, if we cannot have their company, we will not have their room: ours is a private backroom; they have paid their reckoning, let's go thither again. _L. Flip._ But pray, sweet Mr. Dapperwit, do not go. Keep him, Sir Simon. _Sir Sim._ I cannot keep him. [_Exeunt_ VINCENT, RANGER, _and_ DAPPERWIT. It is impossible; (the world is so;) One cannot keep one's friend, and mistress too. [_Exeunt._ ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I.--_St. James's Park at night._ _Enter_ RANGER, VINCENT, _and_ DAPPERWIT. _Ran._ Hang me, if I am not pleased extremely with this new-fashioned caterwauling, this mid-night coursing in the park. _Vin._ A man may come after supper with his three bottles in his head, reel himself sober, without reproof from his mother, aunt, or grave relation. _Ran._ May bring his bashful wench, and not have her put out of countenance by the impudent honest women of the town. _Dap._ And a man of wit may have the better of the dumb show of well-trimmed vest or fair peruke:--no man's now is whitest. _Ran._ And now no woman's modest or proud; for her blushes are hid, and the rubies on her lips are dyed, and all sleepy and glimmering eyes have lost their attraction.