University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

LOVEGIRLO, STORMANDRA, KISSINDA.
KISSINDA.
Where's my Lovegirlo? point him out, ye Stars,
Restore him panting to Kissinda's Arms.
Ha! do I see!

STORMANDRA.
Hast thou forgot to rail?
Now call me false, perfidious, and Ingrate,
Common as Air, as Dirt, or as thy self.
Beneath my Rage, hast thou forsaken me?
All my full Meals of luscious Love, to starve
At the lean Table of a Girl like that?

KISSINDA.
That Girl you mention with so forc'd a Scorn,
Envies not all the large Repasts you boast,
A little Dish oft furnishes enough;
And sure Enough is equal to a Feast.

STORMANDRA.
The puny Wretch such little Plates may choose,
Give me the Man who knows a stronger Taste.

KISSINDA.
Sensual and base! to such as you we owe
That Harlot is a Title of Disgrace,
The worst of Scandals on the best of Trades.

STORMANDRA.
That Shame more justly to the Wretch belongs,
Who gives those Favours which she cannot sell.

KISSINDA.
But harder is the wretched Harlot's Lot,
Who offers them for nothing and in vain.

STORMANDRA.
Shew me the Man, who thus accuses me,
I own I chose Lovegirlo, own I lov'd him,
But then I chose and lov'd him as a Cull;
Therefore prefer'd him to all other Men,
Because he better paid his Girls than they.
Oh! I despise all Love but that of Gold,
Throw that aside and all Men are alike.

KISSINDA.
And I despise all other Charms but Love.
Nothing could bribe me from Lovegirlo's Arms;
Him, in a Cellar, wou'd my Love prefer
To Lords in Houses of six Rooms a Floor.
Oh! had I in the World a hundred Pound,
I'd give him all. Or did he, (Fate forbid!)
Want three half Crowns his Reckoning to pay,
I'd pawn my Under-petticoat to lend them.

LOVEGIRLO.
Wou'dst thou, my Sweet? Now by the Powers of Love,
I'll mortgage all my Lands to deck thee fine.
Thou shalt wear Farms and Houses in each Ear,
Ten thousand Load of Timber shall embrace
Thy necklac'd Neck. I'll make thy glitt'ring Form
Shine thro' th'admiring Mall a blazing Star.
Neglected Virtue shall with Envy die,
The Town shall know no other Toast but thee.
So have I seen upon my Lord-Mayor's Day,
While Coaches after Coaches roll away,
The gazing Crowd admire by Turns and cry,
See such and such an Alderman pass by;
But when the mighty Magistrate appears,
No other Name is sounded in your Ears;
The Crowd all cry unanimous—see there,
Ye Citizens, behold the Coach of the Lord Mayor.