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Dryden, John, 1631-1700

"The works of John Dryden, $c now first collected in eighteen volumes. $p Volume 02"

Give you joy, cousin, give you joy!
_Lov_. Married!
_Isa_. And in Diana's grove, boy.
_Lov_. Why, 'tis fine, by Heaven; 'tis wondrous fine; as the poet
goes on sweetly.
_Tim_. I am sure they had gagged me, and bound me, and stripped
me almost stark naked, and locked me up as fast as a butterfly, 'till
she came and made me a man again; and therefore I have reason to love
her the longest day I have to live.
_Isa_. Ay, and the longest night too, or you are to blame. And
you have one argument I love you, if the proverb be true, for I took
you almost in your bare shirt.
_Burr_. So much for us, Failer!
_Const_. Well, my lord, it had as good out at first as at last:
I must beg your lordship's blessing for this gentleman and myself.
[_Both kneel_.
_Non_. Why, you are not married to him, I hope! he's married to
the devil.
_Lov_. 'Twas a white devil of your lordship's getting, then; Mr
Setstone and the reverend here can witness it.
_Set. Par_. We must speak truth, my lord.
_Non_. Would I had another child for your sake! you should ne'er
see a penny of my money.
_Lov_. Thank you, my lord; but methinks 'tis much better as it
is.
_Isa_. Come, nuncle, 'tis in vain to hold out, now 'tis past
remedy: 'Tis like the last act of a play, when people must marry; and
if fathers will not consent then, they should throw oranges at them
from the galleries.


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