, pursue her as you wou'd a tatter'd
_Frenchman_, push her Attendants into the _Danube_, then seize her, and
clap her into a Coach--I'll baffle her at her own Argument, swear I'd not
wed a _Phoenix_ of her Sex, and laugh at Dress and Beauty, Wit and
Fortune, when purchas'd only at the Price of Liberty--then sweeten her
again with ogling Smiles, look Babies in her Eyes, and vow she's handsome;
and when she thinks each artful Glance has caught me, that now's the time
to Conquer, and to Laugh, and with malicious Cunning mentions Marriage,
I'll start, and change, and beg her not to name it, for 'tis a Thought
that rouses Madness in me, 'till out of Spight and Spleen, and Woman's
Curiosity, the Knot's abruptly ty'd, to prove my feign'd Resolves, and
boast her Power.

Sir _Har._ Tis well design'd, and may the Soldier animate the Lover: For
my part, I'm so devoted to my Pleasures, and so strangely bigotted to a
single Life, I have sold an Estate of Two thousand a Year, to buy an
Annuity of Four: I love to Rake and Rattle thro' the Town, and each
Amusement, as it happens, pleases. The Ladies call me Mad Sir _Harry_, a
Careless, Affable, Obliging Fellow, whom, when they want, they send for. I
wear good Cloaths to 'Squire'em up and down; have Wit enough to Chat, and
make'em Giggle, and Sense enough to keep their Favours secret--But from
Romantick Love, Good Heav'n defend me. A Moment's Joy's not worth an Age's
Courtship; and when the Nymph's Demure, and Dull and Shy, and Foolish and
Freakish, and Fickle, there are Billiards at the _Smyrna_, Bowles at
_Marybone_, and Dice at the _Groom-Porter_'s--Are you for the Noon-Park.

_Col._ With all my Heart.

Sir _Har._ There the _Beau-Monde_ appear in all their Splendour--Here,
_Shrimp_, [_Enters._] entertain the _Collonel_'s Servant--An Hour hence
you'll hear of us at _White_'s. [_Exeunt._

_Shr._ Mr. _Knapsack_, are you for a Dish of _Bohee_: My Master has been
just drinking, and the Water boils--
[_Goes out, and returns with a Tea-Table._

_Knap._ Not to incommode you about it, Mr. _Shrimp_.

_Shr._ Well, Mr. _Knapsack_, we brave _Britains_ conquer all before us:
Why you have done Wonders this Campaign.

_Knap._ Ay, Mr. _Shrimp_, the Name of an _English_ General Thunder-strikes
the _French_, as much as it invigorates the Allies; for when he comes, he
cuts you off Ten or Twenty thousand, with the same Ease as a Countryman
wou'd mow down an Acre of Corn; tho', after all, I was