Vanity and gay thoughts of wine do meet in him and engender madness.
[_While the rest are engaged in a wild kind of talk_, JOHN _advances to the front of the stage, and soliloquizes_.
_John_.

My spirits turn to fire, they mount so fast.
My joys are turbulent, my hopes show like fruition.
These high and gusty relishes of life, sure, Have no allayings of mortality in them.
I am too hot now, and o'ercapable, For the tedious processes, and creeping wisdom, Of human acts, and enterprises of a man.
I want some seasonings of adversity, Some strokes of the old mortifier Calamity, To take these swellings down, divines call vanity.
1_st Gent_.

Mr.Woodvil, Mr.Woodvil.
2_nd Gent_.

Where is Woodvil?
_Gray_.

Let him alone.