or tumbled, not I,
I'll tell all your tricks, that I will, if I die.

_He._ Nay, never dissemble, nor smother that Fire;
Your Blushes, and Eyes betray your Desire.
The Practis'd, not Innocent, dally with Bliss,
Then prithee be kind, and taste what it is.

_She._ Let me die now, you're grown a strange sort of a Man,
To force a young Maid, let her do what she can;
I fear now I blush to think what we're doing,
And is this the end of all you Men's wooing?

_He._ At this Pleasure all aim, both Godly and Sinners,
And none of 'em blush for't but poor young Beginners.
In Pleasure both Sexes, all Ages agree,
And those that take most, most happy will be.

_Chorus_. In Pleasure both Sexes, &c.

ACT III.

SCENE I. A rich Chamber.

Enter _Olivia_ as a Man, _Teresia_ in Masquerade; the Scene
opens, and discovers Lady _Youthly_, Lady _Blunder_, _Mirtilla_,
_Manage_, Prince _Frederick_ in a rich Habi, _Welborn_ in one like
his, with a Cloke over him, stands aside, and several others of
both Sexes.

_Oliv._ Oh, my dear _Teresia_, I'm lost in Love! I've seen a Man,--or
rather 'tis an Angel! so gay, so soft, so charming, and so witty; so
dress'd! so shap'd! and danc'd with such an Air!

_Ter._ Hey day! Prithee where's this Wonder to be seen?

_Oliv._ Why dost thou ask? Hast thou not seen a Man of Dress, and
Movement of uncommon Fashion?

_Ter._ A great many, very odd, and fantastick, I'm sure my dear Man is
none of 'em.
[Sighs.

_Oliv._ Thy Heart when fir'd burns easily, and soft, but I am all
impatient, Darts, and Flames, and all the effects of Love are panting in
my Heart, yet never saw his Face: but see, he comes, and I must find a
way to let him know the mischiefs he has done.

_Mir._ _Endimion_, where's Sir _Morgan_?

_Oliv._ At his usual Diversion, Madam, drinking.

_Mir._ Do you wait near me to Night, I may perhaps have kinder Business
for you e'er the Morning.

_Oliv._ You heap too many Blessings on me, Madam.

_Prince._ Oh, turn thy lovely Eyes upon thy Slave, that waits and
watches for a tender Look.

_Mir._ Oh, Sir, why do you press a yielding Heart too much, undone by
what you've said already?

_Oliv._ Those soft Addresses must be those of Love. [Aside.

_Mir._ My Honour was in danger when I promis'd--and yet I blush to tell
you I was pleas'd, and blest the dear necessity that forc'd me.

_Oliv._ Ha! 'tis the Man I love--and courts _M