L. _Youth._ Alas, good Man: What a Mercy 'tis, Mr. _Twang_, to have a
Back like an Elephant!

L. _Blun._ Of what wonderful Use it is upon occasion--

Sir _Row._ Ay--but--but I shall never see him more, Back nor Breast.
[Weeps.

_Twang._ Good Sir, discomfort not my Lady--Consider Man's a Flower--

Sir _Row._ Ay, but _George_ was such a Flower! He was, Mr. _Twang_, he
was the very Pink of Prentices. Ah! what a rare rampant Lord Mayor he
wou'd have made! And what a swinging Sheriff--
[Cries.

_Ter._ What, cry, so near your Wedding-day, Sir Rowland?

Sir _Row._ Well, if he be gone--Peace be with him: and, 'Ifaks,
Sweet-heart, we'll marry, and beget new Sons and Daughters--but--but I
shall ne'er beget another _George_.
[Cries.

_Ter._ This is but a Scurvy Tune for your hymenical Song, Sir.

Sir _Row._ Alas! Mrs. _Teresia_, my Instrument is untun'd, and good for
nothing now but to be hung upon the Willows.

_Cry within._ Murder, Murder, Murder!

Enter Footman. Sir _Merlin_ with his Sword drawn, and Sir
_Morgan_.

Sir _Row._ What's here, my Rogue?

_Twang._ What's the matter, Gentlemen, that ye enter the House in this
hostile manner?

Sir _Morg._ What, Mr. _Twang_, de see!

Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay--stand by Divinity--and know, that we, the Pillars of
the Nation, are come, de see--to ravish.

L. _Blun._ Oh, my dear Sir Morgan. [Embraces him.

Sir _Morg._ I do not intend to ravish, like a _Jew_, in my own Tribe--

L. _Youth._ What say they, Mr. _Twang_, ravish? Oh, save my Honour--lead
me to my Bed-Chamber, where, if they dare venture to come, they come
upon their Peril.
[_Twang_ leads her out. Sir _Morgan_ goes to _Ter._

Sir _Mer._ Old Fellow, do'st hear? Sir _Pandarus_ of _Troy_, deliver me
my _Cressida_, de see, peacefully, or I am resolved to bear her off _Vi
& Armis_.

L. _Blun._ Sweet Nephew, retire, we are just upon making your Peace.

Sir _Mer._ Ha--Old Queen _Gwiniver_, without her Ruff on?

[Sir _Merlin_ takes hold of her to bear her off; she cries out:
Sir _Rowland_ draws upon him. As they are going to fight, _George_
enters.

_Geo._ Is there a Man in Nature's Race so vile, dares lift a guilty Hand
against his Father?

Sir _Mer._ Father me no Fathers; I fight for _Teresia_, my lawfully
begotten Spouse.

_Geo._ That I once called you Brother, saves your Life; therefore resign
your Sword here at his reverend Feet.

Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you lye, Sirrah