the Chaplain play _Jumping Joan_ upon the Base Viol.

_Shr_. Shall we adjourn to the _Rose_, the Drawer's my particular Friend,
and will give us _French_ Wine for Eighteen Pence a Bottle.

_Tot_. But lets ha' some Sack, do.

_Knap_. Ay, and Sugar, my brave Boy, thou shall't have any thing; we'll be
merry as mony'd Sailors over a Bowl o'Rum Punch, fluster'd as their
Whores, and frolicksom, 'till we have spent all, drink Confusion to all
Grand-mothers, and if the old Cat pretends to Ptysick it much longer,
we'll get an Act of Parliament to poyson her.

_Tot_. With all my Heart! they say the Parliament can do any thing.
[_Exeunt._



SCENE, _A Drawing-Room._

_Enter the_ Collonel, _and_ Lady Rodomont _rising from Play_.

L. _Rod_. Fling up the Cards, good _Collonel_, after two Games, the
Pleasure becomes a Business; like my Lady _Shuffler_ that gits her living
at 'em.

_Col_. Your Ladyship's a Chymist in Diversions, extracts the quintessence
of ev'ry Pleasure, and leaves the drossy Part upon the World; Agreements,
when too tedious pall the Fancy, when short they quicken and refine our
Appetites; and the sublimest Joy to Mortals known, evaporates the Moment