The comical revenge, or, Love in a tub acted at His Highness the Duke of York's Theatre in Lincolns-Inn-Fields.

SCEN. III.

Scene, A Garden.

Enter Graciana and Letitia severally; Letitia with a Nosegay in her Hand.

Grac.

Letitia, what hast thou been doing here?

Let.

Cropping the beauty of the youthful year.

Grac.

How innocently dost thouspend thy hours, ••ecting from the crowd the choicest Flowers! Where is thy Mistress?

Let.

Madam, she's with the wounded Colonel.

Grac.

Come then into this Arbour, Girl, and there With thy sweet voice refresh my wearied soul.

They walk into an Arbour.

SONG.

LAdies, though to your Conqu'ring eyes

Let. sings.

Love owes his chiefest Victories, And borrows those bright Arms from you With which he does the world subdue. Yet you your selves are not above The Empire nor the Griefs of Love.

Then wrack not Lovers with disdain, Lest Love on you revenge their Pain; You are not free because y'are fair; The Boy did not his Mother spare. Beauty's but an offensive dart; It is no Armour for the heart.

Grae.

Dear Girl, thou art my little Confident; I oft to thee have breath'd my discontent;

And thy sweet voice as oft has eas'd my care: But now thy breath is like infectious Air;

Enter Beaufort.

It feeds the secret cause of my disease, And does enrage what it did use t' appease.

Beauf.

starting.

Hark, that was Graciana's voice.

Grac.

Oh Beaufort!

Beauf.

She calls on me, and does advance this way; I will conceal my self within this Bower; she may The secret causes of my grief betray.

Beaufort goes into an Arbour, and Graciana and Letitia come upon the Stage.

Grac.

Too rigidly my Honour I pursue; Sure somthing from me to my Love is due: Within these private shades for him I'le mourn, Whom I in Publique am oblig'd to scorn.

Let.

Why shou'd you, Madam, thus indulge your grief? Love never yet in Sorrow found relief: These Sighs, like Northern winds to th' early Spring, Destruction to your blooming Beauty bring.

Grac.

Letitia, peace; my Beauty I despise: Wou'd you have me preserve these fatal eyes?

Let.

Had you less beauteous been, y'ad known less care; Ladies are happiest moderately fair: But now shou'd you your Beauty waste, which way Cou'd you the debt it has contracted pay?

Grac.

Beaufort, didst thou but know I weep for thee, Thou would'st not blame my scorn, but pity me.

Let.

When Honour first made you your Love decline, You from the Centre drew a crooked line; You were to Beaufort too severe, I fear, Lest to your Love you partial might appear.

Grac.

I did what I in honour ought to do;

I yet to Beaufort and my love am true; And if his Rival live, I'le be his Bride, Joy shall unite whom Grief does now divide; But if for love of me brave Bruce does die, I am contracted to his Memory. Oh, Beaufort!

Beauf.

Oh, Graciana! here am I (By what I've heard) fix'd in an extasie.

Grac.

We are surpriz'd; unlucky accident! Fresh Sorrow's added to my discontent.

Exeunt Graciana and Letitia leasurely.

Beaufort Enters.

Beauf.

Graciana, stay, you can no more contend, Since Fortune joyns with Love to be my Friend; There is no fear of Bruce his death; the wound By abler Chyr'gions is not mortal found. She will not stay: My Joys, like waters swell'd into a flood, Bear down whate're their usual streams withstood.

Exit Beaufort.