de_.

_Enter Sir_ Timothy, Sham _and_ Sharp, _with Fidlers and Boy_.

Sir _Tim_. I believe this is the Bed-chamber Window where the Bride
and Bridegroom lies.

_Sham_. Well, and what do you intend to do, if it be, Sir?

Sir _Tim_. Why, first sing a Baudy Song, and then break the Windows,
in revenge for the Affront was put upon me to night.

_Sharp_. Faith, Sir, that's but a poor Revenge, and which every Footman
may take of his Lady, who has turn'd him away for filching--You know,
Sir, Windows are frail, and will yield to the lusty Brickbats; 'tis an
Act below a Gentleman.

Sir _Tim_. That's all one, 'tis my Recreation; I serv'd a Woman so the
other night, to whom my Mistress had a Pique.

_Sham_. Ay, Sir, 'tis a Revenge fit only for a Whore to take--And the
Affront you receiv'd to Night, was by mistake.

Sir _Tim_. Mistake! how can that be?

_Sham_. Why, Sir, did you not mind, that he that drew upon _Bellmour_,
was in the same Dress with you.

Sir _Tim_. How shou'd his be like mine?

_Sham_. Why, by the same Chance, that yours was like his--I suppose
sending to the Play-house for them, as we did, they happened to send
him such another Habit, for they have many such for dancing Shepherds.

Sir _Tim_. Well, I grant it a Mistake, and that shall reprieve the
Windows.

_Sharp_. Then, Sir, you shew'd so much Courage, that you may bless the
Minute that forc'd you to fight.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, but between you and I, 'twas well he kick'd me first,
and made me angry, or I had been lustily swing'd, by Fortune--But thanks
to my Spleen, that sav'd my Bones that bout--But then I did well--hah,
came briskly off, and the rest.

_Sham_. With Honour, Sir, I protest.

Sir _Tim_. Come then, we'll serenade him. Come, Sirrah, tune your Pipes,
and sing.

_Boy_. What shall I sing, Sir?

Sir _Tim_. Any thing sutable to the Time and Place.

SONG.

I.

_The happy Minute's come, the Nymph is laid,
Who means no more to rise a Maid.
Blushing, and panting, she expects th'Approach
Of Joys that kill with every touch:
Nor can her native Modesty and Shame
Conceal the Ardour of her Virgin Flame_.

II.

_And now the amorous Youth is all undrest,
Just ready for Love's mighty Feast;
With vigorous haste the Veil aside he throws,
That doth all Heaven at once disclose.
Swift as Desire, into her naked Arms
Himself he throws, and rifles all her Charms_.

Good morrow, Mr. _Bellmour_, and to