_Chris._ I’m not so much afflicted for my Confinement, as I am that I cannot hear of _Friendly_.
_Sure._ Art not persecuted with _Daring_?
_Chris._ Not at all; though he tells me daily of his Passion, I rally him, and give him neither Hope nor Despair,--he’s here.
Enter _Daring_, _Fear._ _Rant._ and _Jenny_.
_Dar._ Madam, the Complaisance I show in bringing you my Rival, will let you see how glad I am to oblige you every way.
_Ran._ I hope the Danger I have exposed my self to for the Honour of kissing your Hand, Madam, will render me something acceptable--here are my Credentials-- [Gives her a Letter.
Dear Creature, I have taken this Habit to free you from an impertinent Lover, and to secure the damn’d Rogue _Daring_ to my self: receive me as sent by Colonel _Surelove_ from _England_ to marry you--favour me--no more--
--Hah, _Ranter_? [Aside.] --Sir, you have too good a Character from my Cousin Colonel Surelove, not to receive my Welcome. [Gives _Surelove_ the Letter.
_Ran._ Stand by, General-- [Pushes away _Daring_, looks big, and takes _Chrisante_ by the Hand, and kisses it.
_Dar._ ‘Sdeath, Sir, there’s room enough--at first sight so kind! Oh Youth, Youth and Impudence, what Temptations are you to Villanous Woman?
_Chris._ I confess, Sir, we Women do not love these rough fighting Fellows, they’re always scaring us with one Broil or other.
_Dar._ Much good may it do you with your tame Coxcomb.
_Ran._ Well, Sir, then you yield the Prize?
_Dar._ Ay, Gad, were she an Angel, that can prefer such a callow Fop as thou before a Man--take her and domineer. [They all laugh. --’Sdeath, am I grown ridiculous?
_Fear._ Why hast thou not found the Jest? by Heaven, ‘tis _Ranter_, ‘tis she that loves you; carry on the humour. [Aside. Faith, Sir, if I were you, I wou’d devote my self to Madam _Ranter_.
_Chris._ Ay, she’s the fittest Wife for you, she’ll fit your Humour.
_Dar._ _Ranter_--Gad, I’d sooner marry a she-Bear, unless for a Penance for some horrid Sin; we should be eternally challenging one another to the Field, and ten to one she beats me there; or if I should escape there, she wou’d kill me with drinking.
_Ran._ Here’s a Rogue--does your Country abound with such Ladies?
_Dar._ The Lord forbid, half a dozen wou’d ruin the Land, debauch all the Men, and scandalize all the Women.