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 Bayes. The hardest in the world, I gad; and has puzzled this pate very much. What say you, Mr. Smith?

Smi. Why, truly, Mr. Bayes, if it might stand with your justice, I should now spare 'em both.

Bayes. I gad, and I think ha why then, I'l make him hinder her from killing her self. Ay, it shall be so. Come, come, bring in the Funeral.

Lay it down there: no, here, Sir. So, now speak.

K. Ush. Set down the Funeral Pile, and let our grief Receive, from its embraces, some relief.

K. Phys. Was't not unjust to ravish hence her breath, And, in life's stead, to leave us nought but death? The world discovers now its emptiness, And, by her loss, demonstrates we have less.

Bayes. Is not that good language now? is not that elevate? It's my non ultra, I gad. You must know they were both in love with her.

Smi. With her? with whom?

Bayes. Why, this is Lardella's Funeral.

Smi. Lardella! I, who is she?

Bayes. Why, Sir, the Sister of Drawcansir. A Ladie that was drown'd at Sea, and had a wave for her winding-sheet.

K. Ush. Lardella, O Lardella, from above, Behold the Tragick issue of our Love. Pitie us, sinking under grief and pain, For thy being cast away upon the Main.

Bayes. Look you now, you see I told you true.

Smi. I, Sir, and I thank you for it, very kindly.

Bayes. Ay, I gad, but you will not have patience; honest Mr. a you will not have patience.

Johns. Pray, Mr. Bayes, who is that Drawcansir?

Bayes. Why, Sir, a fierce Hero, that frights his Mistriss, snubs up Kings, baffles Armies, and does what he will, without regard to good manners, justice or numbers.

Johns. A very prettie Character.