Guinea.

_Knap_. How I long too, to wheedle in with some Buxom Widow, that keeps a
Victualling-House, to provide me with Meat, Drink, Washing and Lodging--to
find out some delicious Chamber-Maid, that will pawn her best Mohair-Gown,
sell even her Silver-Thimble, and rob her Mistress to shew how truly she
loves me; or intrigue with some Heroick Sempstress, that will call me her
_Artaxerxes_, her _Agamemnon_, and give me six new Shirts.

Sir _Har_. And now the tedious Summer is elaps'd, and Winter ushers in
neglected Joys; Armies march home victorious from the Field, Ladies from
Parks and Plains that mourn'd their absence; a Croud of Pleasures glut the
varying Appetite, and Friends long absent meet with gayest Transports.

_Col_. Ay, Winter is the gay, the happy Season: I hate a Solitary Rural
Life, as if one were at variance with the World; to walk with Arms
a-cross, admire Nature's Works in Woods and Groves, talk to the Streams,
and tell the Trees our Passion, while Eccho's make a Mock at all we say--
Give me the shining Town, the glittering Theatres; there Nature best is
seen in Beauteous Boxes, where Beaus transported with the Heavenly Sight,
the little God sits pleas'd in ev'ry Eye, and Actors dart new Vigour from
the Stage, supported By the Spirit of full Pay--But what great Fortunes
buz about the Town; Red-Coats have carry'd off good store of Heiresses,
and that's the sure, tho' not the sweetest Game; besides, Sir _Harry_,
they talk of Peace, and we that have nothing but the Sword to trust to,
ought to provide against that dreadful Day.

_Knap_. Really, Sir, I have had some Thoughts of Marriage too; there's
nothing like being settl'd, to have a House of one's own, and Attendants
about one; besides, I'm the last Male, of a very ancient Family, and