(A Servant enters.) Gentlemen, the fire-works are ready.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
What be they?

LOVEL
The work of London artists, which our host has provided in honour of
this day.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
’Sdeath, who would part with his wine for a rocket?

LOVEL Why truly, gentlemen, as our kind host has been at the pains to provide this spectacle, we can do no less than be present at it.  It will not take up much time.  Every man may return fresh and thirsting to his liquor.

THIRD GENTLEMAN
There is reason in what he says.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
Charge on then, bottle in hand.  There’s husbandry in that.

(They go out, singing.  Only Level remains, who observes Woodvil.)

    JOHN (still talking to himself)
    This Lovel here’s of a tough honesty,
    Would put the rack to the proof.  He is not of that sort,
    Which haunt my house, snorting the liquors,
    And when their wisdoms are afloat with wine,
    Spend vows as fast as vapours, which go off
    Even with the fumes, their fathers.  He is one,
    Whose sober morning actions
    Shame not his o’ernight’s promises;
    Talks little, flatters less, and makes no promises;
    Why this is he, whom the dark-wisdom’d fate
    Might trust her counsels of predestination with,
    And the world be no loser. 
    Why should I fear this man?
         (Seeing Lovel.)
    Where is the company gone?

LOVEL
To see the fire-works, where you will be expected to follow.  But I
perceive you are better engaged.

JOHN I have been meditating this half-hour On all the properties of a brave friendship, The mysteries that are in it, the noble uses, Its limits withal, and its nice boundaries. Exempli gratia, how far a man May lawfully forswear himself for his friend; What quantity of lies, some of them brave ones, He may lawfully incur in a friend’s behalf; What oaths, blood-crimes, hereditary quarrels, Night brawls, fierce words, and duels in the morning, He need not stick at, to maintain his friend’s honor, or his cause.

    LOVEL
    I think many men would die for their friends.

    JOHN
    Death! why ’tis nothing.  We go to it for sport,
    To gain a name, or purse, or please a sullen humour,
    When one has worn his fortune’s livery threadbare,
    Or his spleen’d mistress frowns.  Husbands will venture on it,
    To cure the hot fits and cold shakings of jealousy. 
    A friend, sir, must do more.

    LOVEL
    Can he do more than die?

    JOHN
    To serve a friend this he may do.  Pray mark me. 
    Having a law within (great spirits feel one)
    He cannot, ought not to be bound by any
    Positive laws or ord’nances extern,
    But may reject all these:  by the law of friendship