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Farewel, my dear Alcmena: Pray be careful o' the main Chance, and don't worry your self; you see you're gone your full time. I'm oblig'd to leave ye now,
and prithee take care o' the bringing up the Child.
What pressing Affairs can ye have, my Lord, to drive ye away in such haste?
Upon Honour, 'tis n't your Company, or any thing i'the House I'm weary of: But when a General's from his Army, Disorders will follow soone•…•… than good Discipline.
Troth, my Daddy's the cleveres•…•… Impostor. How sweetly he smuggles the Lady?
Yes, indeed, I find what a wonderful Kindness ye have for your poor Wife.
Why, I love ye more than any other o' your Sex; won't that satisfie ye?
Faith, Father mine; if your Lady shou'd find out the Cheat, I'll be sworn you'd gladly change your Ioveship to be plain Amphitryon.
I'd rather experience your Love, than fancy't. You leave me before you were well warm i'your Bed. You came to me at Mid-night, and presently after, you're gone; Is this kindly done?
I'll to her, and tickle her up as my Father has done.—
Rascal, I know your Tricks, Out o'my sight. How dare you meddle in our Business, Rogue? If I take my Cane, I'll—
Let him alone, my Dear.
Speak another Word, Sirrah—
My first wheadling Complement succeeded but very indifferently.
For what you complain of, my Dear, introth you must not be angry wi' me. I left my Army Incog∣nito, to fly to your Embraces, and be the first kind Mes∣senger o' my Fortune i'the Publick, and of all that pass'd abroad. Cou'd I ha' done this if I lov'd after an ord'na∣ry rate?
Just as I said. How this stroaking chears her.
I must return Incognito too; for if I'm once discover'd, the censorious World will say, I much pre∣ferr'd a Wife to the Publick.
'Tis a doleful Departure for your Alcmena.
Pray don't spoil those pretty Eyes. I'll be back in a moment.
'Twill be a long time to that moment.
'Tis wi' vast Regret I go, and part from ye thus.
So it seems, indeed, by your coming and part∣ing i'the same Night.
Why dost hold me? 'Tis high time now; for I must be out o'the City before Day-light. I' the mean time I present ye wi' this Golden Cup, the Reward o' my Success, and the very same that Pterelas drunk in, whom I slew wi' my own hand.
Now you keep close to your old Kindness.—By Heaven, a noble Gift, worthy o' the Giver.
A noble Gift indeed, and worthy o' the Receiver.
At it again, Rascal? Can I never beat y' into better Manners?
Pray, my Lord, ben't angry wi' poor Socia upo' my Account.
I can deny you nothing.
This same Gallanting has put him damnably out of Humour.
Dost want any thing else, my Love?
Nothing, my Lord, but t'have ye love me ab∣sent as well as present.
Let's be going, Sir; 'tis just Break o' Day.
Go you besote, Socia; I'll follow immediately.