ds, d'ye see.

[Exeunt _Prince_, and _Olivia_.

Enter a _Servant_.

_Const._ Stand: Who goes there?

Sir _Morg._ _Philip_--Lookye, d'ye see, he shall along with us to the
Tavern.

_Serv._ Sir _Morgan_, I came to seek you: your Lady Mother sent me back
on purpose; she has spoil'd her Beauty with crying for you.

Sir _Morg._ And wash'd off all her Paint?--Or so, de see! Gad sa' me,
_Philip_, this is ill Luck. Come, let us go drink down Sorrow.

_Serv._ Being sent of such an Errand, as your Safety, Sir, I dare not
stay and drink now, before I've satisfy'd your Mother.

Sir _Mer._ Not drink! I charge you in the King's Name, Mr. Constable,
bring him along.
[The _Constable_ and Watch seize him.

Sings.

_Wise Coxcombs be damn'd, here's a Health to the Man,
That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. _The _Prince's_ Lodgings_.

Enter Page with Lights, sets 'em on the Table. [Ex.

Enter _Mirtilla_, led by Mrs. _Manage_.

_Mir._ Ha! where am I, _Manage_?

_Man._ Heav'n be thanked, Madam, at the Prince's Lodgings.

_Mir._ What happy Star conducted us, and sav'd us from the Fury of the
Flames?

_Man._ Those whose Influence are always gracious to your Ladyship.

_Mir._ But where's the Prince? where's my illustrious Lover?

_Man._ Waiting the Return of the Chair, Madam.

_Mir._ But my _Endimion_?--Is _Endimion_ safe?

_Man._ Madam, he is: I saw him in the Garden.

_Mir._ Then perish all the rest--Go send to search him out, and let him
instantly be brought to me--Hah--_Lejere_.

Enter _George_.

_Geo._ Baud, stand aside--and do your Office yonder--
[Puts away _Manage_.
Why are you frighted, Madam, because I'm not the Lover you expected?

_Mir._ What Lover! be witness, Heaven--

_Geo._ That thou art false, false as the insatiate Seas, that smiling
tempt the vain Adventurer, whom flattering, far from any saving there,
swell their false Waves to a destructive Storm.

_Mir._ Why all this mighty Rage?--Because I disappointed you to night?

_Geo._ No, by Heaven, I dully cou'd have waited for the Hour; have
hop'd, and wish'd, and languish'd out an Age. But, oh _Mirtilla_! Oh
thou perjur'd Fair!--But vanish all the Softness of my Soul, I will be
satirical.

_A Plague, a Torment, to your fickle Sex,_
_Those smiling, sighing, weeping Hypocrites._

_Mir._ And can you think my Flight is criminal? because I sav'd