, her Hand, her Hair, a Majesty and
Grace in every Motion, compleated my Undoing; I rav'd, I burnt,
I languish'd with Desire, the holy Place cou'd scarce contain my
Madness: with Pain, with Torture, I restrain'd my Passion when she
retir'd, led sadly from the Altar. I, mixing with the Croud, enquir'd
her Name and Country; her Servant told me, that she was of Quality, and
liv'd in _England_, nay, in this very Town: this gave me Anguish not to
be conceiv'd, till I resolv'd to follow her, which is the cause you find
me here so soon. Thy Aid, thy Aid, _Lejere_, or I am lost.

_Geo._ I wish to live no longer than to serve your Highness: if she be,
Sir, a Maid of Quality, I shall soon find her out, and then you'll
easily conquer. You've all the Youth, and Beauty, that can charm; and
what gains most upon a Woman's Heart, you've a powerful Title, Sir,
a sort of Philter, that ne'er fails to win. But you've not told me yet
the Lady's Name.

_Prince._ I had forgot that;--'Tis in these Tablets written:
[Gives him the Tablets.
I'm now in haste, going to receive some Bills: I lodge at _Welborn's_,
who came over with me, being sent for to be marry'd.

_Geo._ I know the House, 'tis in _Southampton-Square_: I'll wait upon
your Highness--
[Exit _Prince_.
Let me see--Daughter to a deceas'd Lord; a Maid, and no Dowry, but
Beauty; living in _Lincoln's-Inn-Fields_.
[Opening the Tablets, reads.
--Ha!--her Name _Mirtilla_! _Mirtilla_! [Pauses.
Prince, thou hast paid thyself for all the Favours done me.
_Mirtilla!_
[Pauses.
Why, yes, _Mirtilla_! He takes but what she has given away already.--

Oh! damn her, she has broke her Faith, her Vows, and is no longer
mine--And thou'rt my Friend.
[Pauses again.

_Mirtilla's_ but my Mistress, and has taken all the Repose of my poor
Life away--Yes, let him take her, I'll resign her to him; and therefore
shut my Eyes against her Charms: fix her Inconstancy about my Heart, and
scorn whatever she can give me.
[Exit.

SCENE II. A Chamber.

Enter Sir _Morgan Blunder_ in a Night-Gown and Cap; to him
_Manage_ with a Caudle.

_Man._ Your Lady Mother has sent you a Caudle, Sir.

Sir _Morg._ Good Mrs. _Manage_, remember my kind Love to my Lady Mother,
and tell her, I thank her for her Posset, but never eat in a Morning
after hard drinking over night.

_Man._ Ah, Sir, but now you're marry'd to a fine Lady, you ought to make
much of your self.

Sir _M