_Bis._ Rather, always in a high road, because you travel all upon hills; but be't as it will, I'll jog along with you.
_Dur._ But we intend to sail to the East Indies.
_Bis._ East, or West, 'tis all one to me; I'm tight and light, and the fitter for sailing.
_Dur._ But suppose we take through Germany, and drink hard?
[Illustration: INCONSTANT ORIANA--I CANNOT; FOR I MUST BE UP AND GO TO CHURCH ACT IV. SCENE III]
_Bis._ Suppose I take through Germany and drink harder than you?
_Dur._ 'Sdeath, woman! will you go to the guard with me, and smoke a pipe?
_Dur._ The devil's in the woman!--Suppose I hang myself?
_Dur._ And a happy riddance: the gallows is welcome.
_Bis._ Hold, hold, sir, [_Catches him by the Arm, going._] one word before we part.
_Dur._ Let me go, madam,--or I shall think that you're a man, and, perhaps, may examine you.
_Bis._ Stir if you dare; I have still spirits to attend me, and can raise such a muster of fairies, as shall punish you to death.--Come, sir, stand there now, and ogle me: [_He frowns upon her._] Now a languishing sigh: [_He groans._] Now run, and take my fan,--faster. [_He runs, and takes it up._] Now play with it handsomely.
_Dur._ Ay, ay. [_He tears it all in pieces._
_Bis._ Hold, hold, dear, humorous coxcomb! Captain, spare my fan, and I'll--Why, you rude, inhuman monster! don't you expect to pay for this?
_Dur._ Yes, madam, there's twelve pence; for that is the price on't.
_Dur._ Well, madam, you shall have the sticks again. [_Throws them to her, and exit._
_Bis._ Ha! ha! ha! ridiculous, below my concern! I must follow him, however, to know if he can give me any news of Oriana. [_Exit._
_Y. Mir._ Bloody hell-hounds! I overheard you:--Was not I two hours ago, the happy, gay, rejoicing Mirabel? How did I plume my hopes in a fair, coming prospect, of a long scene of years! Life courted me with all the charms of vigour, youth, and fortune; and to be torn away from all my promised joys, is more than death;--the manner too, by villains!--O my Oriana, this very moment might have blessed me in thy arms!--and my poor boy! the innocent boy! Confusion!--But hush, they come--I must dissemble still.--No news of my wine, gentlemen?
_1 Bra._ No, sir, I believe your country booby has lost himself, and we can wait no longer for't:--True, sir, you're a pleasant gentleman, but, I suppose you understand our business?