Hunt. I apprehend you now—

[Whilst they are lifting Petronella on the Mountebank's Stage, they go into the Crowd, shoulder up Carlo's Saddle. Harlequin leads the Horse forward, whilst Carlo is gazing, and turning up his Mustachios; they hold him up a little while, then let him drop: he rises and stares about for his Horse.

Car. This is flat Conjuration.

Shift. What's your Worship on foot?

Hunt. I never saw his Worship on foot before.

Car. Sirrah, none of your Jests, this must be by diabolical Art, and shall cost the Seignior dear— Men of my Garb affronted— my Jennet vanisht— most miraculous— by St. Jago I'll be revenged— hah, what's here— La Nuche— [Surveys her at a distance.

Enter La Nuche, Aurelia, Sancho.

La Nu. We are pursu'd by Beaumond, who will certainly hinder our speaking to Willmore, should we have the good fortune to see him in this Crowd— and yet there's no avoiding him.

Beau. 'Tis she, how carefully she shuns me!

Aur. I'm satisfied he knows us by the jealous Concern which appears in that prying Countenance of his.

Beau. Stay, Cruel, is it Love or Curiosity, that wings those nimble Feet? [Holds her.

[Lucia above and Ariadne.]

Aria. Beaumond with a Woman!

Beau. Have you forgot this is the glorious Day that ushers in the Night shall make you mine? the happiest Night that ever favour'd Love!

La Nu. Or if I have, I find you'll take care to remember me.

Beau. Sooner I could forget the Aids of Life, sooner forget how first that Beauty charm'd me.

La Nu. Well, since your Memory's so good, I need not doubt your coming.

Beau. Still cold and unconcern'd! How have I doated, and how sacrific'd, regardless of my Fame, lain idling here, when all the Youth of Spain were gaining Honour, valuing one Smile of thine above their Laurels!

La Nu. And in return, I do submit to yield, preferring you above those fighting Fools, who safe in Multitudes reap Honour cheaper.

Beau. Yet there is one— one of those fighting Fools which should'st thou see, I fear I were undone; brave, handsome, gay, and all that Women doat on, unfortunate in every good of Life, but that one Blessing of obtaining Women: Be wise, for if thou seest him thou art lost— Why dost thou blush?

La Nu. Because you doubt my Heart— 'tis Willmore that he means. [Aside.] We've Eyes upon us, Don Carlo may grow jealous, and he's a powerful Rival— at night. I shall expect ye.

Beau. Whilst I prepare my self for such a Blessing. [Ex. Beau.

Car. Hah! a Cavalier in conference with La Nuche! and entertain'd without my knowledge! I must prevent this Lover, for he's young— and this Night will surprise her. [Aside.

Will. And you would be restor'd? [To Petro.

Pet. Yes, if there be that Divinity in your Baths of Reformation.

Will. There are.

New Flames shall sparkle in those Eyes; And these grey Hairs flowing and bright shall rise: These Cheeks fresh Buds of Roses wear, And all your withered Limbs so smooth and clear, As shall a general Wonder move, And wound a thousand Hearts with Love.

Pet. A Blessing on you, Sir, there's fifty Pistoles for you, and as I earn it you shall have more. [They lift her down.

[Exit Willmore bowing.

Shift. Messieurs, 'tis late, and the Seignior's Patients stay for him at his Laboratory, to morrow you shall see the conclusion of this Experiment, and so I humbly take my leave at this time.

Enter Willmore, below sees La Nuche, makes up to her, whilst the last part of the Dance is dancing.

La Nu. What makes you follow me, Sir? [She goes from him, he pursues.

Will. Madam, I see something in that lovely Face of yours, which if not timely prevented will be your ruin: I'm now in haste, but I have more to say— [Goes off.

La Nu. Stay, Sir— he's gone— and fill'd me with a curiosity that will not let me rest till it be satisfied: Follow me, Aurelia, for I must know my Destiny. [Goes out.

[The Dance ended, the Bank removes, the People go off.

Feth. Come, Ned, now for our amorous Visit to the two Lady Monsters.

[Ex. Feth. and Blunt.

SCENE II. Changes to a fine Chamber.

Enter Ariadne and Lucia.

Aria. I'm thoughtful: Prithee, Cousin, sing some foolish Song—

SONG.

Phillis, whose Heart was unconfin'd And free as Flowers on Meads and Plains, None boasted of her being kind, 'Mongst all the languishing and amorous Swains: No Sighs nor Tears the Nymph could move [bis. To pity or return their Love.

Till on a time, the hapless Maid Retired to shun the heat o'th' Day, Into a Grove, beneath whose Shade Strephon, the careless Shepherd, sleeping lay: But oh such Charms the Youth adorn, [bis. Love is revenged for all her Scorn.

Her Cheeks with Blushes covered were, And tender Sighs her Bosom warm; A softness in her Eyes appear, Unusual Pains she feels from every Charm: To Woods and Echoes now she cries, [bis. For Modesty to speak denies.

Aria. Come, help to undress me, for I'll to this Mountebank, to know what success I shall have with my Cavalier. [Unpins her things before a great Glass that is fasten'd.

Luc. You are resolv'd then to give him admittance?

Aria. Where's the danger of a handsom young Fellow?

Luc. But you don't know him, Madam.

Aria. But I desire to do, and time may bring it about without Miracle.

Luc. Your Cousin Beaumond will forbid the Banes.

Aria. No, nor old Carlos neither, my Mother's precious Choice, who is as sollicitous for the old Gentleman, as my Father-in-Law is for his Nephew. Therefore, Lucia, like a good and gracious Child, I'll end the Dispute between my Father and Mother, and please my self in the choice of this Stranger, if he be to be had.

Luc. I should as soon be enamour'd on the North Wind, a Tempest, or a Clap of Thunder. Bless me from such a Blast.

Aria. I'd have a Lover rough as Seas in Storms, upon occasion; I hate your dull temperate Lover, 'tis such a husbandly quality, like Beaumond's Addresses to me, whom neither Joy nor Anger puts in motion; or if it do, 'tis visibly forc'd— I'm glad I saw him entertain a Woman to day, not that I care, but wou'd be fairly rid of him.

Luc. You'll hardly mend your self in this.

Aria. What, because he held Discourse with a Curtezan?

Luc. Why, is there no danger in her Eyes, do ye think?

Aria. None that I fear, that Stranger's not such a fool to give his Heart to a common Woman; and she that's concern'd where her Lover bestows his Body, were I the Man, I should think she had a mind to't her self.

Luc. And reason, Madam: in a lawful way 'tis your due.

Aria. What all? unconscionable Lucia! I am more merciful; but be he what he will, I'll to this cunning Man, to know whether ever any part of him shall be mine.

Luc. Lord, Madam, sure he's a Conjurer.

Aria. Let him be the Devil, I'll try his Skill, and to that end will put on a Suit of my Cousin Endymion; there are two or three very pretty ones of his in the Wardrobe, go carry 'em to my Chamber, and we'll fit our selves and away— Go haste whilst I undress. [Ex. Lucia.

[Ariadne undressing before the Glass.

Enter Beaumond tricking himself, and looks on himself.

Beau. Now for my charming Beauty, fair La Nuche— hah— Ariadne— damn the dull Property, how shall I free my self? [She turns, sees him, and walks from the Glass, he takes no notice of her, but tricks himself in the Glass, humming a Song.

Aria. Beaumond! What Devil brought him hither to prevent me? I hate the formal matrimonial Fop. [He walks about and sings. Sommes nous pas trop heureux, Belle Irise, que nous ensemble.

A Devil on him, he may chance to plague me till night, and hinder my dear Assignation. [Sings again.

La Nuit et le Sombre voiles Coverie nos desires ardentes; Et l'Amour et les Etoiles Sont nos secrets confidents.

Beau. Pox on't, how dull am I at an excuse? [Sets his Wig in the Glass, and sings. A Pox of Love and Woman-kind, And all the Fops adore 'em. [Puts on his Hat, cocks it, and goes to her. How is't, Cuz?

Aria. So, here's the saucy freedom of a Husband Lover— a blest Invention this of marrying, whoe'er first found it out.

Beau. Damn this English Dog of a Perriwig-maker, what an ungainly Air it gives the Face, and for a Wedding Perriwig too— how dost thou like it, Ariadne? [Uneasy.

Aria. As ill as the Man— I perceive you have taken more care for your Perriwig than your Bride.

Beau. And with reason, Ariadne, the Bride was never the care of the Lover, but the business of the Parents; 'tis a serious Affair, and ought to be manag'd by the grave and wise: Thy Mother and my Uncle have agreed the Matter, and would it not look very sillily in me now to whine a tedious Tale of Love in your Ear, when the business is at an end? 'tis like saying a Grace when a Man should give Thanks.

Aria. Why did you not begin sooner then?

Beau. Faith, Ariadne, because I know nothing of the Design in hand; had I had civil warning, thou shouldst have had as pretty smart Speeches from me, as any Coxcomb Lover of 'em all could have made thee.

Aria. I shall never marry like a Jew in my own Tribe; I'll rather be possest by honest old doating Age, than by saucy conceited Youth, whose Inconstancy never leaves a Woman safe or quiet.

Beau. You know the Proverb of the half Loaf, Ariadne; a Husband that will deal thee some Love is better than one who can give thee none: you would have a blessed time on't with old Father Carlo.

Aria. No matter, a Woman may with some lawful excuse cuckold him, and 'twould be scarce a Sin.

Beau. Not so much as lying with him, whose reverend Age wou'd make it look like Incest.

Aria. But to marry thee— would be a Tyranny from whence there's no Appeal: A drinking whoring Husband! 'tis the Devil—

Beau. You are deceiv'd, if you think Don Carlo more chaste than I; only duller, and more a Miser, one that fears his Flesh more, and loves his Money better.— Then to be condemn'd to lie with him— oh, who would not rejoice to meet a Woollen-Waistcoat, and knit Night-Cap without a Lining, a Shirt so nasty, a cleanly Ghost would not appear in't at the latter Day? then the compound of nasty Smells about him, stinking Breath, Mustachoes stuft with villainous snush, Tobacco, and hollow Teeth: thus prepar'd for Delight, you meet in Bed, where you may lie and sigh whole Nights away, he snores it out till Morning, and then rises to his sordid business.

Aria. All this frights me not: 'tis still much better than a keeping Husband, whom neither Beauty nor Honour in a Wife can oblige.

Beau. Oh, you know not the good-nature of a Man of Wit, at least I shall bear a Conscience, and do thee reason, which Heaven denies to old Carlo, were he willing.

Aria. Oh, he talks as high, and thinks as well of himself as any young Coxcomb of ye all.

Beau. He has reason, for if his Faith were no better than his Works, he'd be damn'd.

Aria. Death, who wou'd marry, who wou'd be chaffer'd thus, and sold to Slavery? I'd rather buy a Friend at any Price that I could love and trust.

Beau. Ay, could we but drive on such a Bargain.

Aria. You should not be the Man; You have a Mistress, Sir, that has your Heart, and all your softer Hours: I know't, and if I were so wretched as to marry thee, must see my Fortune lavisht out on her; her Coaches, Dress, and Equipage exceed mine by far: Possess she all the day thy Hours of Mirth, good Humour and Expence, thy Smiles, thy Kisses, and thy Charms of Wit. Oh how you talk and look when in her Presence! but when with me, A Pox of Love and Woman-kind, [Sings. And all the Fops adore 'em.

How it's, Cuz— then slap, on goes the Beaver, which being cock'd, you bear up briskly, with the second Part to the same Tune— Harkye, Sir, let me advise you to pack up your Trumpery and be gone, your honourable Love, your matrimonial Foppery, with your other Trinkets thereunto belonging; or I shall talk aloud, and let your Uncle hear you.

Beau. Sure she cannot know I love La Nuche. [Aside.] The Devil take me, spoil'd! What Rascal has inveigled thee? What lying fawning Coward has abus'd thee? When fell you into this Leudness? Pox, thou art hardly worth the loving now, that canst be such a Fool, to wish me chaste, or love me for that Virtue; or that wouldst have me a ceremonious Whelp, one that makes handsom Legs to Knights without laughing, or with a sneaking modest Squirish Countenance; assure you, I have my Maidenhead. A Curse upon thee, the very thought of Wife has made thee formal.

Aria. I must dissemble, or he'll stay all day to make his peace again— why, have you ne'er— a Mistress then?

Beau. A hundred, by this day, as many as I like, they are my Mirth, the business of my loose and wanton Hours; but thou art my Devotion, the grave, the solemn Pleasure of my Soul— Pox, would I were handsomly rid of thee too. [Aside.] —Come, I have business— send me pleas'd away.

Aria. Would to Heaven thou wert gone; [Aside.] You're going to some Woman now.

Beau. Oh damn the Sex, I hate 'em all— but thee— farewell, my pretty jealous-sullen-Fool. [Goes out.

Aria. Farewel, believing Coxcomb. [Enter Lucia.

Lucia. Madam, the Clothes are ready in your Chamber.

Aria. Let's haste and put 'em on then. [Runs out.



ACT III.

SCENE I. A House.

Enter Fetherfool and Blunt, staring about, after them Shift.

Shift. Well, Gentlemen, this is the Doctor's House, and your fifty Pistoles has made him intirely yours; the Ladies too are here in safe Custody— Come, draw Lots who shall have the Dwarf, and who the Giant. [They draw.

Feth. I have the Giant.

Blunt. And I the little tiny Gentlewoman.

Shift. Well, you shall first see the Ladies, and then prepare for your Uncle Moses, the old Jew Guardian, before whom you must be very grave and sententious: You know the old Law was full of Ceremony.

Feth. Well, I long to see the Ladies, and to have the first Onset over.

Shift. I'll cause 'em to walk forth immediately. [Goes out.

Feth. My Heart begins to fail me plaguily— would I could see 'em a little at a Distance before they come slap dash upon a Man. [Peeping. Hah!— Mercy upon us!— What's yonder!— Ah, Ned, my Monster is as big as the Whore of Babylon— Oh I'm in a cold Sweat— [Blunt pulls him to peep, and both do so. Oh Lord! she's as tall as the St. Christopher in Notre-dame at Paris, and the little one looks like the Christo upon his Shoulders— I shall ne'er be able to stand the first Brunt.

Blunt. 'Dsheartlikins, whither art going? [Pulls him back.

Feth. Why only— to— say my Prayers a little— I'll be with thee presently. [Offers to go, he pulls him.

Blunt. What a Pox, art thou afraid of a Woman—

Feth. Not of a Woman, Ned, but of a She Gargantua, I am of a Hercules in Petticoats.

Blunt. The less Resemblance the better. 'Shartlikins, I'd rather mine were a Centaur than a Woman: No, since my Naples Adventure, I am clearly for your Monster.

Feth. Prithee, Ned, there's Reason in all things—

Blunt. But villainous Woman— 'Dshartlikins, stand your Ground, or I'll nail you to't: Why, what a Pox are you so quezy stomach'd, a Monster won't down with you, with a hundred thousand Pound to boot. [Pulling him.

Feth. Nay, Ned, that mollifies something; and I scorn it should be said of Nich. Fetherfool that he left his Friend in danger, or did an ill thing: therefore, as thou say'st, Ned, tho she were a Centaur, I'll not budg an Inch.

Blunt. Why God a Mercy.

Enter the Giant and Dwarf, with them Shift as an Operator, and Harlequin attending.

Feth. Oh— they come— Prithee, Ned, advance— [Puts him forward.

Shift. Most beautiful Ladies.

Feth. Why, what a flattering Son of a Whore's this?

Shift. These are the illustrious Persons your Uncle designs your humble Servants, and who have so extraordinary a Passion for your Seignioraships.

Feth. Oh yes, a most damnable one: Wou'd I were cleanlily off the Lay, and had my Money again.

Blunt. Think of a Million, Rogue, and do not hang an Arse thus.

Giant. What, does the Cavalier think I'll devour him? [To Shift.

Feth. Something inclin'd to such a Fear.

Blunt. Go and salute her, or, Adsheartlikins, I'll leave you to her Mercy.

Feth. Oh, dear Ned, have pity on me— but as for saluting her, you speak of more than may be done, dear Heart, without a Scaling Ladder. [Exit Shift.

Dwarf. Sure, Seignior Harlequin, these Gentlemen are dumb.

Blunt. No, my little diminutive Mistress, my small Epitomy of Woman-kind, we can prattle when our Hands are in, but we are raw and bashful, young Beginners; for this is the first time we ever were in love: we are something aukard, or so, but we shall come on in time, and mend upon Incouragement.

Feth. Pox on him, what a delicate Speech has he made now— 'Gad, I'd give a thousand Pounds a Year for Ned's concise Wit, but not a Groat for his Judgment in Womankind.

Enter Shift with a Ladder, sets it against the Giant, and bows to Fetherfool.

Shift. Here, Seignior, Don, approach, mount, and salute the Lady.

Feth. Mount! why,'twould turn my Brains to look down from her Shoulders— But hang't, 'Gad, I will be brave and venture. [Runs up the Ladder, salutes her, and runs down again. And Egad this was an Adventure and a bold one— but since I am come off with a whole Skin, I am flesht for the next onset— Madam— has your Greatness any mind to marry? [Goes to her, speaks, and runs back; Blunt claps him on the Back.

Giant. What if I have?

Feth. Why then, Madam, without inchanted Sword or Buckler, I'm your Man.

Giant. My Man? my Mouse. I'll marry none whose Person and Courage shall not bear some Proportion to mine.

Feth. Your Mightiness I fear will die a Maid then.

Giant. I doubt you'll scarce secure me from that Fear, who court my Fortune, not my Beauty.

Feth. Hu, how scornful she is, I'll warrant you— why I must confess, your Person is something heroical and masculine, but I protest to your Highness, I love and honour ye.

Dwarf. Prithee, Sister, be not so coy, I like my Lover well enough; and if Seignior Mountebank keep his Word in making us of reasonable Proportions, I think the Gentlemen may serve for Husbands.

Shift. Dissemble, or you betray your Love for us. [Aside to the Giant.

Giant. And if he do keep his Word, I should make a better Choice, not that I would change this noble Frame of mine, cou'd I but meet my Match, and keep up the first Race of Man intire: But since this scanty World affords none such, I to be happy, must be new created, and then shall expect a wiser Lover.

Feth. Why, what a peevish Titt's this; nay, look ye, Madam, as for that matter, your Extraordinariness may do what you please— but 'tis not done like a Monster of Honour, when a Man has set his Heart upon you, to cast him off— Therefore I hope you'll pity a despairing Lover, and cast down an Eye of Consolation upon me; for I vow, most Amazonian Princess, I love ye as if Heaven and Earth wou'd come together.

Dwarf. My Sister will do much, I'm sure, to save the Man that loves her so passionately— she has a Heart.

Feth. And a swinger 'tis— 'Sbud— she moves like the Royal Sovereign, and is as long a tacking about. [Aside.

Giant. Then your Religion, Sir.

Feth. Nay, as for that, Madam, we are English, a Nation I thank God, that stand as little upon Religion as any Nation under the Sun, unless it be in Contradiction; and at this time have so many amongst us, a Man knows not which to turn his Hand to— neither will I stand with your Hugeness for a small matter of Faith or so— Religion shall shall break no squares.

Dwarf. I hope, Sir, you are of your Friend's Opinion.

Blunt. My little Spark of a Diamond, I am, I was born a Jew, with an Aversion to Swines Flesh.

Dwarf. Well, Sir, I shall hasten Seignior Doctor to compleat my Beauty, by some small Addition, to appear the more grateful to you.

Blunt. Lady, do not trouble your self with transitory Parts, 'Dshartlikins thou'rt as handsom as needs be for a Wife.

Dwarf. A little taller, Seignior, wou'd not do amiss, my younger Sister has got so much the Start of me.

Blunt. In troth she has, and now I think on't, a little taller wou'd do well for Propagation; I should be both the Posterity of the antient Family of the Blunts of Essex should dwindle into Pigmies or Fairies.

Giant. Well, Seigniors, since you come with our Uncle's liking, we give ye leave to hope, hope— and be happy— [They go out with Harlequin.

Feth. Egad, and that's great and gracious—

Enter Willmore and an Operator.

Will. Well, Gentlemen, and how like you the Ladies?

Blunt. Faith, well enough for the first Course, Sir.

Will. The Uncle, by my indeavour, is intirely yours— but whilst the Baths are preparing,'twould be well if you would think of what Age, Shape, and Complexion you would have your Ladies form'd in.

Feth. Why, may we chuse, Mr. Doctor?

Will. What Beauties you please.

Feth. Then will I have my Giant, Ned, just such another Gentlewoman as I saw at Church to day— and about some fifteen.

Blunt. Hum, fifteen— I begin to have a plaguy Itch about me too, towards a handsome Damsel of fifteen; but first let's marry, lest they should be boiled away in these Baths of Reformation.

Feth. But, Doctor, can you do all this without the help of the Devil?

Will. Hum, some small Hand he has in the Business? we make an Exchange with him, give him the clippings of the Giant for so much of his Store as will serve to build the Dwarf.

Blunt. Why, then mine will be more than three Parts Devil, Mr. Doctor.

Will. Not so, the Stock is only Devil, the Graft is your own little Wife inoculated.

Blunt. Well, let the Devil and you agree about this matter as soon as you please.

Enter Shift as an Operator.

Shift. Sir, there is without a Person of an extraordinary Size wou'd speak with you.

Will. Admit him.

Enter Harlequin, ushers in Hunt as a Giant.

Feth. Hah— some o'ergrown Rival, on my Life. [Feth. gets from it.

Will. What the Devil have we here? [Aside.

Hunt. Bezolos mano's, Seignior, I understand there is a Lady whose Beauty and Proportion can only merit me: I'll say no more— but shall be grateful to you for your Assistance.

Feth. 'Tis so.

Hunt. The Devil's in't if this does not fright 'em from a farther Courtship. [Aside.

Will. Fear nothing, Seignior— Seignior, you may try your Chance, and visit the Ladies. [Talks to Hunt.

Feth. Why, where the Devil could this Monster conceal himself all this while, that we should neither see nor hear of him?

Blunt. Oh— he lay disguis'd; I have heard of an Army that has done so.

Feth. Pox, no single House cou'd hold him.

Blunt. No— he dispos'd himself in several parcels up and down the Town, here a Leg, and there an Arm; and hearing of this proper Match for him, put himself together to court his fellow Monster.

Feth. Good Lord! I wonder what Religion he's of.

Blunt. Some heathen Papist, by his notable Plots and Contrivances.

Will. 'Tis Hunt, that Rogue— [Aside.] Sir, I confess there is great Power in Sympathy— Conduct him to the Ladies— [He tries to go in at the Door. —I am sorry you cannot enter at that low Door, Seignior, I'll have it broken down—

Hunt. No, Seignior, I can go in at twice.

Feth. How, at twice! what a Pox can he mean?

Will. Oh, Sir,'tis a frequent thing by way of Inchantment. Hunt being all Doublet, leaps off from another Man who is all Breeches, and goes out; Breeches follows stalking.

Feth. Oh Pox, Mr. Doctor, this must be the Devil.

Will. Oh fie, Sir, the Devil! no 'tis all done by an inchanted Girdle— These damn'd Rascals will spoil all by too gross an Imposition on the Fools. [Aside.

Feth. This is the Devil, Ned, that's certain— But hark ye, Mr. Doctor, I hope I shall not have my Mistress inchanted from me by this inchanted Rival, hah?

Will. Oh, no, Sir, the Inquisition will never let 'em marry, for fear of a Race of Giants,'twill be worse than the Invasion of the Moors, or the French: but go— think of your Mistresses Names and Ages, here's Company, and you would not be seen. [Ex. Blunt and Feth.

Enter La Nuche and Aurelia; Will. bows to her.

La Nu. Sir, the Fame of your excellent Knowledge, and what you said to me this day; has given me a Curiosity to learn my Fate, at least that Fate you threatened.

Will. Madam, from the Oracle in the Box you may be resolved any Question— [Leads her to the Table, where stands a Box full of Balls; he stares on her. —How lovely every absent minute makes her— Madam, be pleas'd to draw from out this Box what Ball you will. [She draws, he takes it, and gazes on her and on it. Madam, upon this little Globe is character'd your Fate and Fortune; the History of your Life to come and past— first, Madam— you're— a Whore.

La Nu. A very plain beginning.

Will. My Art speaks simple Truth; the Moon is your Ascendent, that covetous Planet that borrows all her Light, and is in opposition still to Venus; and Interest more prevails with you than Love: yet here I find a cross— intruding Line— that does inform me— you have an Itch that way, but Interest still opposes: you are a slavish mercenary Prostitute.

La Nu. Your Art is so, tho call'd divine, and all the Universe is sway'd by Interest: and would you wish this Beauty which adorns me, should be dispos'd about for Charity? Proceed and speak more Reason.

Will. But Venus here gets the Ascent again, and spite of— Interest, spite of all Aversion, will make you doat upon a Man— [Still looking on, and turning the Ball. Wild, fickle, restless, faithless as the Winds!— a Man of Arms he is— and by this Line— a Captain— [Looking on her.] for Mars and Venus were in conjunction at his Birth— and Love and War's his business.

La Nu. There thou hast toucht my Heart, and spoke so true, that all thou say'st I shall receive as Oracle. Well, grant I love, that shall not make me yield.

Will. I must confess you're ruin'd if you yield, and yet not all your Pride, not all your Vows, your Wit, your Resolution, or your Cunning, can hinder him from conquering absolutely: your Stars are fixt, and Fate irrevocable.

La Nu. No,— I will controul my Stars and Inclinations; and tho I love him more than Power or Interest, I will be Mistress of my fixt Resolves— One Question more— Does this same Captain, this wild happy Man love me?

Will. I do not— find— it here— only a possibility incourag'd by your Love— Oh that you cou'd resist— but you are destin'd his, and to be ruin'd. [Sighs, and looks on her, she grows in a Rage.

La Nu. Why do you tell me this? I am betray'd, and every caution blows my kindling Flame— hold— tell me no more— I might have guess'd my Fate, from my own Soul have guest it— but yet I will be brave, I will resist in spite of Inclinations, Stars, or Devils.

Will. Strive not, fair Creature, with the Net that holds you, you'll but intangle more. Alas! you must submit and be undone.

La Nu. Damn your false Art— had he but lov'd me too, it had excus'd the Malice of my Stars.

Will. Indeed, his Love is doubtful; for here— I trace him in a new pursuit— which if you can this Night prevent, perhaps you fix him.

La Nu. Hah, pursuing a new Mistress! there thou hast met the little Resolution I had left, and dasht it into nothing— but I have vow'd Allegiance to my Interest— Curse on my Stars, they cou'd not give me Love where that might be advanc'd— I'll hear no more. [Gives him Money.

Enter Shift.

Shift. Sir, there are several Strangers arriv'd, who talk of the old Oracle. How will you receive 'em?

Will. I've business now, and must be excus'd, a while.— Thus far— I'm well; but I may tell my Tale so often o'er, till, like the Trick of Love, I spoil the pleasure by the repetition.— Now I'll uncase, and see what Effects my Art has wrought on La Nuche, for she's the promis'd Good, the Philosophick Treasure that terminates my Toil and Industry. Wait you here. [Ex. Will.

Enter Ariadne in Mens Clothes, with Lucia so drest, and other Strangers.

Aria. How now, Seignior Operator, where's this renowned Man of Arts and Sciences, this Don of Wonders?— hah! may a Man have a Pistole's Worth or two of his Tricks? will he shew, Seignior?

Shift. Whatever you dare see, Sir.

Aria. And I dare see the greatest Bug-bear he can conjure up, my Mistress's Face in a Glass excepted.

Shift. That he can shew, Sir, but is now busied in weighty Affairs with a Grandee.

Aria. Pox, must we wait the Leisure of formal Grandees and Statesmen— ha, who's this?— the lovely Conqueress of my Heart, La Nuche. [Goes to her, she is talking with Aurel.

La Nu. What foolish thing art thou?

Aria. Nay, do not frown, nor fly; for if you do, I must arrest you, fair one.

La Nu. At whose Suit, pray?

Aria. At Love's— you have stol'n a Heart of mine, and us'd it scurvily.

La Nu. By what marks do you know the Toy, that I may be no longer troubled with it?

Aria. By a fresh Wound, which toucht by her that gave it bleeds anew, a Heart all over kind and amorous.

La Nu. When was this pretty Robbery committed?

Ana. To day, most sacrilegiously, at Church, where you debauch'd my Zeal; and when I wou'd have pray'd, your Eyes had put the Change upon my Tongue, and made it utter Railings: Heav'n forgive ye!

La Nu. You are the gayest thing without a Heart, I ever saw.

Aria. I scorn to flinch for a bare Wound or two; nor is he routed that has lost the day, he may again rally, renew the Fight, and vanquish.

La Nu. You have a good opinion of that Beauty, which I find not so forcible, nor that fond Prattle uttered with such Confidence.

Aria. But I have Quality and Fortune too.

La Nu. So had you need. I should have guest the first by your pertness; for your saucy thing of Quality acts the Man as impudently at fourteen, as another at thirty: nor is there any thing so hateful as to hear it talk of Love, Women and Drinking; nay, to see it marry too at that Age, and get itself a Play-fellow in its Son and Heir.

Aria. This Satyr on my Youth shall never put me out of countenance, or make me think you wish me one day older; and egad, I'll warrant them that tries me, shall find me ne'er an hour too young.

La Nu. You mistake my Humour, I hate the Person of a fair conceited Boy.

Enter Willmore drest, singing.

Will. Vole, vole dans cette Cage, Petite Oyseau dans cet bocage. —How now, Fool, where's the Doctor?

Shift. A little busy, Sir.

Will. Call him, I am in haste, and come to cheapen the Price of Monster.

Shift. As how, Sir?

Will. In an honourable way, I will lawfully marry one of 'em, and have pitcht upon the Giant; I'll bid as fair as any Man.

Shift. No doubt but you will speed, Sir: please you, Sir, to walk in.

Will. I'll follow— Vole, vole dans cette Cage, &c.

Luc. Why,'tis the Captain, Madam— [Aside to Aria.

La Nu. Hah— marry— harkye, Sir,— a word, pray. [As he is going out she pulls him.

Will. Your Servant, Madam, your Servant— Vole, vole, &c. [Puts his Hat off carelesly, and walks by, going out.

Luc. And to be marry'd, mark that.

Aria. Then there's one doubt over, I'm glad he is not married.

La Nu. Come back— Death, I shall burst with Anger— this Coldness blows my Flame, which if once visible, makes him a Tyrant—

Will. Fool, what's a Clock, fool? this noise hinders me from hearing it strike. [Shakes his Pockets, and walks up and down.

La Nu. A blessed sound, if no Hue and Cry pursue it.— what— you are resolv'd then upon this notable Exploit?

Will. What Exploit, good Madam?

La Nu. Why, marrying of a Monster, and an ugly Monster.

Will. Yes faith, Child, here stands the bold Knight, that singly, and unarm'd, designs to enter the List with Thogogandiga the Giant; a good Sword will defend a worse cause than an ugly Wife. I know no danger worse than fighting for my Living, and I have don't this dozen years for Bread.

La Nu. This is the common trick of all Rogues, when they have done an ill thing to face it out.

Will. An ill thing— your Pardon, Sweet-heart, compare it but to Banishment, a frozen Sentry with brown George and Spanish Pay; and if it be not better to be Master of a Monster, than Slave to a damn'd Commonwealth— I submit— and since my Fortune has thrown this good in my way—

La Nu. You'll not be so ungrateful to refuse it; besides then you may hope to sleep again, without dreaming of Famine, or the Sword, two Plagues a Soldier of Fortune is subject to.

Will. Besides Cashiering, a third Plague.

La Nu. Still unconcern'd!— you call me mercenary, but I would starve e'er suffer my self to be possest by a thing of Horror.

Will. You lye, you would by any thing of Horror: yet these things of Horror have Beauties too, Beauties thou canst not boast of, Beauties that will not fade; Diamonds to supply the lustre of their Eyes, and Gold the brightness of their Hair, a well-got Million to atone for Shape, and Orient Pearls, more white, more plump and smooth, than that fair Body Men so languish for, and thou hast set such Price on.

Aria. I like not this so well, 'tis a trick to make her jealous.

Will. Their Hands too have their Beauties, whose very mark finds credit and respect, their Bills are current o'er the Universe; besides these, you shall see waiting at my Door, four Footmen, a Velvet Coach, with Six Flanders Beauties more: And are not these most comely Virtues in a Soldier's Wife, in this most wicked peaceable Age?

Luc. He's poor too, there's another comfort. [Aside.

Aria. The most incouraging one I have met with yet.

Will. Pox on't, I grow weary of this virtuous Poverty. There goes a gallant Fellow, says one, but gives him not an Onion; the Women too, faith, 'tis a handsom Gentleman, but the Devil a Kiss he gets gratis.

Aria. Oh, how I long to undeceive him of that Error.

La Nu. He speaks not of me; sure he knows me not. [Aside.

Will. —No, Child, Money speaks sense in a Language all Nations understand, 'tis Beauty, Wit, Courage, Honour, and undisputable Reason— see the virtue of a Wager, that new philosophical way lately found out of deciding all hard Questions— Socrates, without ready Money to lay down, must yield.

Aria. Well, I must have this gallant Fellow. [Aside.

La Nu. Sure he has forgot this trival thing.

Will. —Even thou— who seest me dying unregarded, wou'd then be fond and kind, and flatter me. [Soft tone. By Heaven, I'll hate thee then; nay, I will marry to be rich to hate thee: the worst of that, is but to suffer nine Days Wonderment. Is not that better than an Age of Scorn from a proud faithless Beauty?

La Nu. Oh, there's Resentment left— why, yes faith, such a Wedding would give the Town diversion: we should have a lamentable Ditty made on it, entitled, The Captain's Wedding, with the doleful Relation of his being over-laid by an o'er-grown Monster.

Will. I'll warrant ye I escape that as sure as cuckolding; for I would fain see that hardy Wight that dares attempt my Lady Bright, either by Force or Flattery.

La Nu. So, then you intend to bed her?

Will. Yes faith, and beget a Race of Heroes, the Mother's Form with all the Father's Qualities.

La Nu. Faith, such a Brood may prove a pretty Livelihood for a poor decay'd Officer; you may chance to get a Patent to shew 'em in England, that Nation of Change and Novelty.

Will. A provision old Carlo cannot make for you against the abandon'd day.

La Nu. He can supply the want of Issue a better way; and tho he be not so fine a fellow as your self, he's a better Friend, he can keep a Mistress: give me a Man can feed and clothe me, as well as hug and all to bekiss me, and tho his Sword be not so good as yours, his Bond's worth a thousand Captains. This will not do, I'll try what Jealousy will do. [Aside.] Your Servant, Captain— your Hand, Sir. [Takes Ariadne by the Hand.

Will. Hah, what new Coxcomb's that— hold, Sir— [Takes her from him.

Aria. What would you, Sir, ought with this Lady?

Will. Yes, that which thy Youth will only let thee guess at— this— Child, is Man's Meat; there are other Toys for Children. [Offers to lead her off.

La Nu. Oh insolent! and whither would'st thou lead me?

Will. Only out of harm's way, Child, here are pretty near Conveniences within: the Doctor will be civil— 'tis part of his Calling— Your Servant, Sir— [Going off with her.

Aria. I must huff now, tho I may chance to be beaten— come back— or I have something here that will oblige ye to't. [Laying his hand on his Sword.

Will. Yes faith, thou'rt a pretty Youth; but at this time I've more occasion for a thing in Petticoats— go home, and do not walk the Streets so much; that tempting Face of thine will debauch the grave men of business, and make the Magistrates lust after Wickedness.

Aria. You are a scurvy Fellow, Sir. [Going to draw.

Will. Keep in your Sword, for fear it cut your Fingers, Child.

Aria. So 'twill your Throat, Sir— here's Company coming that will part us, and I'll venture to draw. [Draws, Will. draws.

Enter Beaumond.

Beau. Hold, hold— hah, Willmore! thou Man of constant mischief, what's the matter?

La Nu. Beaumond! undone!

Aria. —Beaumond!—

Will. Why, here's a young Spark will take my Lady Bright from me; the unmanner'd Hot-spur would not have patience till I had finish'd my small Affair with her. [Puts up his Sword.

Aria. Death, he'll know me— Sir, you see we are prevented. [Draws him aside. —or— [Seems to talk to him, Beau. gazes on La Nuche, who has pull'd down her Veil.

Beau. 'Tis she! Madam, this Veil's too thin to hide the perjur'd Beauty underneath. Oh, have I been searching thee, with all the diligence of impatient Love, and am I thus rewarded, to find thee here incompass'd round with Strangers, fighting, who first should take my right away?— Gods! take your Reason back, take all your Love; for easy Man's unworthy of the Blessings.

Will. Harkye, Harry— the— Woman— the almighty Whore— thou told'st me of to day.

Beau. Death, do'st thou mock my Grief— unhand me strait, for tho I cannot blame thee, I must hate thee.— [Goes out.

Will. What the Devil ails he?

Aria. You will be sure to come.

Will. At night in the Piazza; I have an Assignation with a Woman, that once dispatch'd, I will not fail ye, Sir.

Luc. And will you leave him with her?

Aria. Oh, yes, he'll be ne'er the worse for my use when he has done with her. [Ex. Luc. and Aria. Will. looks with scorn on La Nuche.

Will. Now you may go o'ertake him, lie with him— and ruin him: the Fool was made for such a Destiny— if he escapes my Sword. [He offers to go.

La Nu. I must prevent his visit to this Woman— but dare not tell him so. [Aside.] —I would not have ye meet this angry Youth.

Will. Oh, you would preserve him for a farther use.

La Nu. Stay— you must not fight— by Heaven, I cannot see— that Bosom— wounded. [Turns and weeps.

Will. Hah! weep'st thou? curse me when I refuse a faith to that obliging Language of thy Eyes— Oh give me one proof more, and after that, thou conquerest all my Soul; Thy Eyes speak Love— come, let us in, my Dear, e'er the bright Fire allays that warms my Heart. [Goes to lead her out.

La Nu. Your Love grows rude, and saucily demands it. [Flings away.

Will. Love knows no Ceremony, no respect when once approacht so near the happy minute.

La Nu. What desperate easiness have you seen in me, or what mistaken merit in your self, should make you so ridiculously vain, to think I'd give myself to such a Wretch, one fal'n even to the last degree of Poverty, whilst all the World is prostrate at my Feet, whence I might chuse the Brave, the Great, the Rich? [He stands spitefully gazing at her. —Still as he fires, I find my Pride augment, and when he cools I burn. [Aside.

Will. Death, thou'rt a— vain, conceited, taudry Jilt, who wou'st draw me in as Rooks their Cullies do, to make me venture all my stock of Love, and then you turn me out despis'd and poor— [Offers to go.

La Nu. You think you're gone now—

Will. Not all thy Arts nor Charms shall hold me longer.

La Nu. I must submit— and can you part thus from me?— [Pulls him.

Will. I can— nay, by Heaven, I will not turn, nor look at thee. No, when I do, or trust that faithless Tongue again— may I be—

La Nu. Oh do not swear—

Will. Ever curst— [Breaks from her, she holds him.

La Nu. You shall not go— Plague of this needless Pride, [Aside. —stay— and I'll follow all the dictates of my Love.

Will. Oh never hope to flatter me to faith again. [His back to her, she holding him.

La Nu. I must, I will; what wou'd you have me do?

Will. [turning softly to her.] Never— deceive me more, it may be fatal to wind me up to an impatient height, then dash my eager Hopes. [Sighing. Forgive my roughness— and be kind, La Nuche, I know thou wo't—

La Nu. Will you then be ever kind and true?

Will. Ask thy own Charms, and to confirm thee more, yield and disarm me quite.

La Nu. Will you not marry then? for tho you never can be mine that way, I cannot think that you should be another's.

Will. No more delays, by Heaven, 'twas but a trick.

La Nu. And will you never see that Woman neither, whom you're this Night to visit?

Will. Damn all the rest of thy weak Sex, when thou look'st thus, and art so soft and charming. [Offers to lead her out.

La Nu. Sancho— my Coach. [Turns in scorn.

Will. Take heed, what mean ye?

La Nu. Not to be pointed at by all the envying Women of the Town, who'l laugh and cry, Is this the high-priz'd Lady, now fall'n so low, to doat upon a Captain? a poor disbanded Captain? defend me from that Infamy.

Will. Now all the Plagues— but yet I will not curse thee, 'tis lost on thee, for thou art destin'd damn'd. [Going out.

La Nu. Whither so fast?

Will. Why,— I am so indifferent grown, that I can tell thee now— to a Woman, young, fair and honest; she'll be kind and thankful— farewel, Jilt— now should'st thou die for one sight more of me, thou should'st not ha't; nay, should'st thou sacrifice all thou hast couzen'd other Coxcombs of, to buy one single visit, I am so proud, by Heaven, thou shouldst not have it— To grieve thee more, see here, insatiate Woman [Shews her a Purse or hands full of Gold] the Charm that makes me lovely in thine Eyes: it had all been thine hadst thou not basely bargain'd with me, now 'tis the Prize of some well-meaning Whore, whose Modesty will trust my Generosity. [Goes out.

La Nu. Now I cou'd rave, t'have lost an opportunity which industry nor chance can give again— when on the yielding point, a cursed fit of Pride comes cross my Soul, and stops the kind Career— I'll follow him, yes I'll follow him, even to the Arms of her to whom he's gone.

Aur. Madam, 'tis dark, and we may meet with Insolence.

La Nu. No matter: Sancho, let the Coach go home, and do you follow me—

Women may boast their Honour and their Pride, But Love soon lays those feebler Powr's aside. [Exeunt.



ACT IV.

SCENE I. The Street, or Backside of the Piazza dark.

Enter Willmore alone.

Will. A Pox upon this Woman that has jilted me, and I for being a fond believing Puppy to be in earnest with so great a Devil. Where be these Coxcombs too? this Blunt and Fetherfool? when a Man needs 'em not, they are plaguing him with their unseasonable Jests— could I but light on them, I would be very drunk to night— but first I'll try my Fortune with this Woman— let me see— hereabouts is the Door. [Gropes about for the Door.

Enter Beaumond, follow'd by La Nuche, and Sancho.

La Nu. 'Tis he, I know it by his often and uneasy pauses—

Beau. And shall I home and sleep upon my injury, whilst this more happy Rover takes my right away?— no, damn me then for a cold senseless Coward. [Pauses and pulls out a Key.

Will. This Damsel, by the part o'th' Town she lives in, shou'd be of Quality, and therefore can have no dishonest design on me, it must be right down substantial Love, that's certain.

Beau. Yet I'll in and arm my self for the Encounter, for 'twill be rough between us, tho we're Friends. [Groping about, finds the Door.

Will. Oh, 'tis this I'm sure, because the Door is open.

Beau. Hah— who's there?— [Beau. advances to unlock the Door, runs against Will. draws.

Will. That Voice is of Authority, some Husband, Lover, or a Brother, on my Life— this is a Nation of a word and a blow, therefore I'll betake me to Toledo— [Draws. [Willmore in drawing hits his Sword against that of Beaumond, who turns and fights, La Nuche runs into the Garden frighted.

Beau. Hah, are you there?

Sanc. I'll draw in defence of the Captain— [Sancho fights for Beau. and beats out Will.

Will. Hah, two to one? [Turns and goes in.

Beau. The Garden Door clapt to; sure he's got in; nay, then I have him sure.

The Scene changes to a Garden, La Nuche in it, to her Beau. who takes hold of her sleeve.

La Nu. Heavens, where am I?

Beau. Hah— a Woman! and by these Jewels— should be Ariadne. [feels.] 'Tis so! Death, are all Women false? [She struggles to get away, he holds her. —Oh,'tis in vain thou fly'st, thy Infamy will stay behind thee still.

La Nu. Hah, 'tis Beaumond's Voice!— Now for an Art to turn the trick upon him; I must not lose his Friendship. [Aside.

Enter Willmore softly, peeping behind.

Will. What a Devil have we here, more Mischief yet;— hah— my Woman with a Man— I shall spoil all— I ever had an excellent knack of doing so.

Beau. Oh Modesty, where art thou? Is this the effect of all your put on Jealousy, that Mask to hide your own new falshood in? New!— by Heaven, I believe thou'rt old in cunning, that couldst contrive, so near thy Wedding-night, this, to deprive me of the Rites of Love.

La Nu. Hah, what says he? [Aside.

Will. How, a Maid, and young, and to be marry'd too! a rare Wench this to contrive Matters so conveniently: Oh, for some Mischief now to send him neatly off. [Aside.

Beau. Now you are silent; but you could talk to day loudly of Virtue, and upbraid my Vice: oh how you hated a young keeping Husband, whom neither Beauty nor Honour in a Wife cou'd oblige to reason— oh, damn your Honour, 'tis that's the sly pretence of all your domineering insolent Wives— Death— what didst thou see in me, should make thee think that I would be a tame contented Cuckold? [Going, she holds him.

La Nu. I must not lose this lavish loving Fool— [Aside.

Will. So, I hope he will be civil and withdraw, and leave me in possession—

Beau. No, tho my Fortune should depend on thee; nay, all my hope of future happiness— by Heaven, I scorn to marry thee, unless thou couldst convince me thou wer't honest— a Whore!— Death, how it cools my Blood—

Will. And fires mine extremely—

La Nu. Nay, then I am provok'd tho I spoil all— [Aside. And is a Whore a thing so much despis'd? Turn back, thou false forsworn— turn back, and blush at thy mistaken folly. [He stands amaz'd.

Beau. La Nuche!

Enter Aria. peeping, advancing cautiously undrest, Luc. following.

Aria. Oh, he is here— Lucia, attend me in the Orange-grove— [Ex. Lucia. Hah, a Woman with him!

Will. Hum— what have we here? another Damsel?— she's gay too, and seems young and handsom— sure one of these will fall to my share; no matter which, so I am sure of one.

La Nu. Who's silent now? are you struck dumb with Guilt? thou shame to noble Love; thou scandal to all brave Debauchery, thou Fop of Fortune; thou slavish Heir to Estate and Wife, born rich and damn'd to Matrimony.

Will. Egad, a noble Wench— I am divided yet.

La Nu. Thou formal Ass disguis'd in generous Leudness, see— when the Vizor's off, how sneakingly that empty form appears— Nay 'tis thy own— Make much on't, marry with it, and be damn'd. [Offers to go.

Will. I hope she'll beat him for suspecting her. [He holds her, she turns.

Aria. Hah— who the Devil can these be?

La Nu. What silly honest Fool did you mistake me for? what senseless modest thing? Death, am I grown so despicable? have I deserv'd no better from thy Love than to be taken for a virtuous Changeling?

Will. Egad, 'twas an Affront. [Aside.

La Nu. I'm glad I've found thee out to be an errant Coxcomb, one that esteems a Woman for being chaste forsooth! 'Sheart, I shall have thee call me pious shortly, a most— religious Matron!

Will. Egad, she has reason— [Aside.

Beau. Forgive me— for I took ye— for another. [Sighing.

La Nu. Oh did you so? it seems you keep fine Company the while— Death, that I should e'er be seen with such a vile Dissembler, with one so vain, so dull and so impertinent, as can be entertain'd by honest Women!

Will. A Heavenly Soul, and to my Wish, were I but sure of her.

Beau. Oh you do wondrous well t'accuse me first! yes, I am a Coxcomb— a confounded one, to doat upon so false a Prostitute; nay to love seriously, and tell it too: yet such an amorous Coxcomb I was born, to hate the Enjoyment of the loveliest Woman, without I have the Heart: the fond soft Prattle, and the lolling Dalliance, the Frowns, the little Quarrels, and the kind Degrees of making Peace again, are Joys which I prefer to all the sensual, whilst I endeavour to forget the Whore, and pay my Vows to Wit, to Youth and Beauty.

Aria. Now hang me, if it be not Beaumond.

Beau. Would any Devil less than common Woman have serv'd me as thou didst? say, was not this my Night? my paid for Night? my own by right of Bargain, and by Love? and hast not thou deceiv'd me for a Stranger?

Will. So— make me thankful, then she will be kind. Hugs himself.

Beau. —Was this done like a Whore of Honour think ye? and would not such an Injury make me forswear all Joys of Womankind, and marry in mere spite?

La Nu. Why where had been the Crime had I been kind?

Beau. Thou dost confess it then.

La Nu. Why not?

Beau. Those Bills of Love the oftner paid and drawn, make Women better Merchants than Lovers.

La Nu. And 'tis the better Trade.

Will. Oh Pox, there she dasht all again. I find they calm upon't, and will agree, therefore I'll bear up to this small Frigate and lay her aboard. [Goes to Ariadne.

La Nu. However I'm glad the Vizor's off; you might have fool'd me on, and sworn I was the only Conqueror of your Heart, had not Good-nature made me follow you, to undeceive your false Suspicions of me: How have you sworn never to marry? how rail'd at Wives, and satir'd Fools oblig'd to Wedlock? And now at last, to thy eternal Shame, thou hast betray'd thy self to be a most pernicious honourable Lover, a perjur'd— honest— nay, a very Husband. [Turns away, he holds her.

Aria. Hah, sure 'tis the Captain.

Will. Prithee, Child, let's leave 'em to themselves, they'l agree matters I'll warrant them when they are alone; and let us try how Love and Good-nature will provide for us.

Aria. Sure he cannot know me?— Us!— pray who are you, and who am I?

Will. Why look ye, Child, I am a very honest civil Fellow, for my part, and thou'rt a Woman for thine; and I desire to know no more at present.

Aria. 'Tis he, and knows not me to be the same he appointed to day— Sir, pursue that Path on your right Hand, that Grove of Orange-Trees, and I'll follow you immediately.

Will. Kind and civil— prithee make haste, dear Child. [Exit. Will.

Beau. And did you come to call me back again? [Lovingly.

La Nu. No matter, you are to be marry'd, Sir—

Beau. No more, 'tis true, to please my Uncle, I have talk'd of some such thing; but I'll pursue it no farther, so thou wilt yet be mine, and mine intirely— I hate this Ariadne— for a Wife— by Heaven I do.

Aria. A very plain Confession. [Claps him on the back.

Beau. Ariadne!

La Nu. I'm glad of this, now I shall be rid of him. [Aside.] —How is't, Sir? I see you struggle hard 'twixt Love and Honour, and I'll resign my Place— [Offers to go, Ariadne pulls her back.

Aria. Hold, if she take him not away, I shall disappoint my Man— faith, I'll not be out-done in Generosity. [Gives him to La Nuche. Here— Love deserves him best— and I resign him— Pox on't I'm honest, tho that's no fault of mine; 'twas Fortune who has made a worse Exchange, and you and I should suit most damnably together. [To Beau.

Beau. I am sure there's something in the Wind, she being in the Garden, and the Door left open. [Aside.] —Yes, I believe you are willing enough to part with me, when you expect another you like better.

Aria. I'm glad I was before-hand with you then.

Beau. Very good, and the Door was left open to give admittance to a Lover.

Aria. 'Tis visible it was to let one in to you, false as you are.

La Nu. Faith, Madam, you mistake my Constitution, my Beauty and my Business is only to be belov'd not to love; I leave that Slavery for you Women of Quality, who must invite, or die without the Blessing; for likely the Fool you make choice of wants Wit or Confidence to ask first; you are fain to whistle before the Dogs will fetch and carry, and then too they approach by stealth: and having done the Drudgery, the submissive Curs are turn'd out for fear of dirtying your Apartment, or that the Mungrils should scandalize ye; whilst all my Lovers of the noble kind throng to adore and fill my Presence daily, gay as if each were triumphing for Victory.

Aria. Ay this is something; what a poor sneaking thing an honest Woman is!

La Nu. And if we chance to love still, there's a difference, your Hours of Love are like the Deeds of Darkness, and mine like cheerful Birds in open Day.

Aria. You may, you have no Honour to lose.

La Nu. Or if I had, why should I double the Sin by Hypocrisy?

[Lucia squeaks within, crying, help, help.

Aria. Heavens, that's Lucia's Voice.

Beau. Hah, more caterwauling?

Enter Lucia in haste.

Luc. Oh, Madam, we're undone; and, Sir, for Heaven's sake do you retire.

Beau. What's the matter?

Luc. Oh you have brought the most villainous mad Friend with you— he found me sitting on a Bank— and did so ruffle me.

Aria. Death, she takes Beaumond for the Stranger, and will ruin me.

Luc. Nay, made love so loud, that my Lord your Father-in-law, who was in his Cabinet, heard us from the Orange-Grove, and has sent to search the Garden— and should he find a Stranger with you— do but you retire, Sir, and all's well yet. [To Beaumond.

Aria. The Devil's in her Tongue. [Aside.

Luc. For if Mr. Beaumond be in the House, we shall have the Devil to do with his Jealousy.

Aria. So, there 'tis out.

Beau. She takes me for another— I am jilted every where— what Friend?— I brought none with me.— Madam, do you retire— [To La Nuche.

La Nu. Glad of my Freedom too— [Goes out. [A clashing of Swords within. Enter Willm. fighting, prest back by three or four Men, and Abevile, Aria. and Luc. run out.

Beau. Hah, set on by odds; hold, tho thou be'st my Rival, I will free thee, on condition thou wilt meet me to morrow morning in the Piazza by day break. [Puts himself between their Swords, and speaks to Will. Aside.

Will. By Heaven I'll do it.

Beau. Retire in safety then, you have your pass.

Abev. Fall on, fall on, the number is increas'd. [Fall on Beau.

Beau. Rascals, do you not know me? [Falls in with 'em and beats them back, and goes out with them.

Will. Nay, and you be so well acquainted, I'll leave you— unfortunate still I am; my own well meaning, but ill Management, is my eternal Foe: Plague on 'em, they have wounded me— yet not one drop of Blood's departed from me that warm'd my Heart for Woman, and I'm not willing to quit this Fairy-ground till some kind Devil have been civil to me.

Enter Ariadne and Lucia.

Aria. I say, 'tis he: thou'st made so many dull Mistakes to Night, thou darest not trust thy Senses when they're true— How do you, Sir?

Will. That Voice has Comfort in't, for 'tis a Woman's: hah, more Interruption?

Aria. A little this way, Sir. [Ex. Aria, and Will. into the Garden.

Enter Beaumond, Abevile in a submissive Posture.

Beau. No more excuses— By all these Circumstances, I know this Ariadne is a Gipsy. What difference then beween a money-taking Mistress and her that gives her Love? only perhaps this sins the closer by't, and talks of Honour more: What Fool wou'd be a Slave to empty Name, or value Woman for dissembling well? I'll to La Nuche— the honester o'th' two— Abevile— get me my Musick ready, and attend me at La Nuche's. [Ex. severally.

Luc. He's gone, and to his Mistress too.

Enter Ariadne pursu'd by Willmore.

Will. My little Daphne, 'tis in vain to fly, unless like her, you cou'd be chang'd into a Tree: Apollo's self pursu'd not with more eager Fire than I. [Holds her.

Aria. Will you not grant a Parly e'er I yield?

Will. I'm better at a Storm.

Aria. Besides, you're wounded too.

Will. Oh leave those Wounds of Honour to my Surgeon, thy Business is to cure those of Love. Your true bred Soldier ever fights with the more heat for a Wound or two.

Aria. Hardly in Venus' Wars.

Will. Her self ne'er thought so when she snatcht her Joys between the rough Encounters of the God of War. Come, let's pursue the Business we came for: See the kind Night invites, and all the ruffling Winds are husht and still, only the Zephirs spread their tender Wings, courting in gentle Murmurs the gay Boughs; 'twas in a Night like this, Diana taught the Mysteries of Love to the fair Boy Endymion. I am plaguy full of History and Simile to night.

Aria. You see how well he far'd for being modest.

Will. He might be modest, but 'twas not over-civil to put her Goddessship to asking first; thou seest I'm better bred— Come let's haste to silent Grots that attend us, dark Groves where none can see, and murmuring Fountains.

Aria. Stay, let me consider first, you are a Stranger, inconstant too as Island Winds, and every day are fighting for your Mistresses, of which you've had at least four since I saw you first, which is not a whole day.

Will. I grant ye, before I was a Lover I ran at random, but I'll take up now, be a patient Man, and keep to one Woman a Month.

Aria. A Month!

Will. And a fair Reason, Child; time was, I wou'd have worn one Shirt, or one pair of Shoos so long as have let the Sun set twice upon the same Sin: but see the Power of Love; thou hast bewitched me, that's certain.

Aria. Have a care of giving me the ascendent over ye, for fear I make ye marry me.

Will. Hold, I bar that cast, Child; no, I'm none of those Spirits that can be conjur'd into a Wedding-ring, and dance in the dull matrimonial Circle all my Days.

Aria. But what think you of a hundred thousand Crowns, and a Beauty of sixteen?

Will. As of most admirable Blessings: but harkye, Child, I am plaguily afraid thou'rt some scurvy honest thing of Quality by these odd Questions of thine, and hast some wicked Design upon my Body.

Aria. What, to have and to hold I'll warrant.— No Faith, Sir, Maids of my Quality expect better Jointures than a Buff-coat, Scarf and Feather: such Portions as mine are better Ornaments in a Family than a Captain and his Commission.

Will. Why well said, now thou hast explain'd thy self like a Woman of Honour— Come, come, let's away.

Aria. Explain my self! How mean ye?

Will. —Thou say'st I am not fit to marry thee— and I believe this Assignation was not made to tell me so, nor yet to hear me whistle to the Birds.

Aria. Faith no, I saw you, lik'd ye, and had a mind to ye.

Will. Ay, Child—

Aria. In short, I took ye for a Man of Honour.

Will. Nay, if I tell the Devil take me.

Aria. I am a Virgin in Distress.

Will. Poor Heart.

Aria. To be marry'd within a Day or two to one I like not.

Will. Hum— and therefore wouldst dispose of a small Virgin Treasure (too good for silly Husbands) in a Friend's Hands: faith, Child— I was ever a good religious charitable Christian, and shall acquit my self as honestly and piously in this Affair as becomes a Gentleman.

Enter Abevile with Musick.

Abev. Come away, are ye all arm'd for the Business?

Aria. Hah, arm'd! we are surpriz'd again.

Will. Fear not. [Draws.

Aria. Oh God, Sir, haste a way, you are already wounded: but I conjure you, as a Man of Honour, be here at the Garden Gate to night again, and bring a Friend, in case of Danger, with you; and if possible I'll put my self into your Hands, for this Night's Work has ruin'd me— [Speaking quick, and pushing him forwards runs off.

Abev. My Master sure not gone yet— [Peeping advancing.

Will. Rascals, tho you are odds, you'll find hot Work in vanquishing.

[Falls on 'em.

Abev. Hold, Sir, I am your Page. Do you not know me? and these the Musick you commanded— shall I carry 'em where you order'd, Sir?

Will. They take me for some other, this was lucky. [Aside.] O, aye— 'tis well— I'll follow— but whither?— Plague of my dull Mistakes, the Woman's gone— yet stay— [Calls 'em. For now I think on't, this Mistake may help me to another— stay— I must dispose of this mad Fire about me, which all these Disappointments cannot lay— Oh for some young kind Sinner in the nick— How I cou'd souse upon her like a Bird of Prey, and worry her with Kindness. [Aside.] —Go on, I follow. [Exeunt.

Scene changes to La Nuche's House.

Enter Petronella and Aurelia with Light.

Aur. Well, the Stranger is in Bed, and most impatiently expects our Patrona, who is not yet returned.

Pet. Curse of this Love! I know she's in pursuit of this Rover, this English Piece of Impudence; Pox on 'em, I know nothing good in the whole Race of 'em, but giving all to their Shirts when they're drunk. What shall we do, Aurelia? This Stranger must not be put off, nor Carlo neither, who has fin'd again as if for a new Maidenhead.

Aur. You are so covetous, you might have put 'em off, but now 'tis too late.

Pet. Put off! Are these Fools to be put off think ye? a fine Fop Englishman, and an old doating Grandee?— No, I cou'd put the old trick on 'em still, had she been here but to have entertain'd 'em: but hark, one knocks, 'tis Carlo on my Life—

Enter Carlo, gives Petronella Gold.

Car. Let this plead for me.

Pet. Sweet Don, you are the most eloquent Person.

Car. I would regale to night— I know it is not mine, but I've sent five hundred Crowns to purchase it, because I saw another bargaining for't; and Persons of my Quality must not be refus'd: you apprehend me.

Pet. Most rightly— that was the Reason then she came so out of Humour home— and is gone to Bed in such a sullen Fit.

Car. To Bed, and all alone! I would surprize her there. Oh how it pleases me to think of stealing into her Arms like a fine Dream, Wench, hah.

Aur. 'Twill be a pleasant one, no doubt.

Pet. He lays the way out how he'll be cozen'd. [Aside.] —The Seigniora perhaps may be angry, Sir, but I'll venture that to accommodate you; and that you may surprize her the more readily, be pleased to stay in my Chamber, till you think she may be asleep.

Car. Thou art a perfect Mistress of thy Trade.

Pet. So, now will I to the Seigniora's Bed my self, drest and perfum'd, and finish two good Works at once; earn five hundred Crowns, and keep up the Honour of the House. [Aside.] —Softly, sweet Don. [Lights him out.

Aur. And I will do two more good things, and disappoint your Expectations; jilt the young English Fool, and have old Carlo well bang'd, if t'other have any Courage.

Enter La Nuche in Rage, and Sancho.

La Nu. Aurelia, help, help me to be reveng'd upon this wretched unconsidering Heart.

Aur. Heavens, have you made the Rover happy, Madam?

La Nu. Oh wou'd I had! or that or any Sin wou'd change this Rage into some easier Passion: Sickness and Poverty, Disgrace and Pity, all met in one, were kinder than this Love, this raging Fire of a proud amorous Heart.

Enter Petronella.

Pet. Heavens, what's the matter?

Aur. Here's Petronella, dissemble but your Rage a little.

La Nu. Damn all dissembling now, it is too late— The Tyrant Love reigns absolute within, And I am lost, Aurelia.

Pet. How, Love! forbid it Heaven! will Love maintain ye?

La Nu. Curse on your Maxims, will they ease my Heart? Can your wise Counsel fetch me back my Rover?

Pet. Hah, your Rover, a Pox upon him.

La Nu. He's gone— gone to the Arms of some gay generous Maid, who nobly follows Love's diviner Dictates, whilst I 'gainst Nature studying thy dull Precepts, and to be base and infamously rich, have barter'd all the Joys of human Life— Oh give me Love: I will be poor and love.

Pet. She's lost— but hear me—

La Nu. I won't, from Childhood thou hast trained me up in Cunning, read Lectures to me of the use of Man, but kept me from the knowledge of the Right; taught me to jilt, to flatter and deceive: and hard it was to learn th' ungrateful Lessons. But oh how soon plain Nature taught me Love, and shew'd me all the cheat of thy false Tenents— No— give me Love with any other Curse.

Pet. But who will give you that when you are poor? when you are wretchedly despis'd and poor?

La Nu. Hah!

Pet. Do you not daily see fine Clothes, rich Furniture, Jewels and Plate are more inviting than Beauty unadorn'd? be old, diseas'd, deform'd, be any thing, so you be rich and splendidly attended, you'll find your self lov'd and ador'd by all— But I'm an old fool still— Well, Petronella, had'st thou been half as industrious in thy Youth as in thy Age— thou hadst not come to this. [Weeps.

La Nu. She's in the right.

Pet. What can this mad poor Captain do for you, love you whilst you can buy him Breeches, and then leave you? A Woman has a sweet time on't with any Soldier-Lover of 'em all, with their Iron Minds, and Buff Hearts; feather'd Inamorato's have nothing that belongs to Love but his Wings, the Devil clip 'em for Petronella.

La Nu. True— he can ne'er be constant. [Pausing.

Pet. Heaven forbid he should! No, if you are so unhappy as that you must have him, give him a Night or two and pay him for't, and send him to feed again: But for your Heart, 'Sdeath, I would as soon part with my Beauty, or Youth, and as necessary a Tool 'tis for your Trade— A Curtezan and love! but all my Counsel's thrown away upon ye. [Weeps.

La Nu. No more, I will be rul'd— I will be wise, be rich; and since I must yield somewhere, and some time,

Beaumond shall be the Man, and this the Night; he's handsom, young, and lavishly profuse: This Night he comes, and I'll submit to Interest. Let the gilded Apartment be made ready, and strew it o'er with Flowers, adorn my Bed of State; let all be fine; perfume my Chamber like the Phoenix's Nest, I'll be luxurious in my Pride to Night, and make the amorous prodigal Youth my Slave.

Pet. Nobly resolv'd! and for these other two who wait your coming, let me alone to manage. [Goes out.

Scene changes to a Chamber, discovers Fetherfool in Bed.

Feth. This Gentlewoman is plaguy long in coming:— some Nicety now, some perfum'd Smock, or Point Night-Clothes to make her more lovely in my Eyes: Well, these Women are right City Cooks, they stay so long to garnish the Dish, till the Meat be cold— but hark, the Door opens.

Enter Carlo softly, half undrest.

Car. This Wench stays long, and Love's impatient; this is the Chamber of La Nuche, I take it: If she be awake, I'll let her know who I am; if not, I'll steal a Joy before she thinks of it.

Feth. Sure 'tis she, pretty modest Rogue, she comes i'th' dark to hide her Blushes— hum, I'm plaguy eloquent o'th' sudden— who's there? [Whispering.

Car. 'Tis I, my Love.

Feth. Hah, sweet Soul, make haste.— There 'twas again.

Car. So kind, sure she takes me for some other, or has some inkling of my Design— [To himself. Where are you, Sweetest?

Feth. Here, my Love, give me your Hand—

Puts out his Hand; Carlo kneels and kisses it.

Car. Here let me worship the fair Shrine before I dare approach so fair a Saint. [Kisses the Hand.

Feth. Hah, what a Pox have we here?— wou'd I were well out o' t'other side— perhaps— 'tis her Husband, and then I'm a dead Man, if I'm discover'd. [Removes to t'other side, Carlo holds his Hand.

Car. Nay, do not fly— I know you took me for some happier Person. [Feth. struggles, Car. rises and takes him in his Arms, and kisses him.

Feth. What, will you ravish me? [In a shrill Voice.

Car. Hah, that Voice is not La Nuche's— Lights there, Lights.

Feth. Nay, I can hold a bearded Venus, Sir, as well as any Man. [Holds Carlo.

Car. What art thou, Rogue, Villain, Slave? [They fall to Cuffs, and fight till they are bloody, fall from the Bed and fight on the Floor.

Enter Petronella, Sancho, and Aurelia.

Pet. Heaven, what noise is this?— we are undone, part 'em, Sancho. [They part 'em.

Feth. Give me my Sword; nay, give me but a Knife, that I may cut yon Fellow's Throat—

Car. Sirrah, I'm a Grandee, and a Spaniard, and will be reveng'd.

Feth. And I'm an English-man, and a Justice, and will have Law, Sir.

Pet. Say 'tis her Husband, or any thing to get him hence. [Aside to Sancho, who whispers him. These English, Sir, are Devils, and on my Life 'tis unknown to the Seigniora that he's i'th' House. [To Carlo aside.

Car. Come, I'm abus'd, but I must put it up for fear of my Honour; a Statesman's Reputation is a tender thing: Convey me out the back way. I'll be reveng'd. [Goes out.

Feth. (Aurelia whispers to him aside.) How, her Husband! Prithee convey me out; my Clothes, my Clothes, quickly—

Aur. Out, Sir! he has lock'd the Door, and designs to have ye murder'd.

Feth. Oh, gentle Soul— take pity on me— where, oh what shall I do?— my Clothes, my Sword and Money.

Aur. Quickly, Sancho, tie a Sheet to the Window, and let him slide down by that— Be speedy, and we'll throw your Clothes out after ye. Here, follow me to the Window.

Feth. Oh, any whither, any whither. That I could not be warn'd from whoring in a strange Country, by my Friend Ned Blunt's Example— if I can but keep it secret now, I care not. [Exeunt.

Scene, the Street, a Sheet tyd to the Balcony, and Feth. sitting cross to slide down.

Feth. So— now your Neck, or your Throat, chuse ye either, wise Mr. Nicholas Fetherfool— But stay, I hear Company. Now dare not I budg an Inch.

Enter Beaumond alone.

Beau. Where can this Rascal, my Page, be all this while? I waited in the Piazza so long, that I believed he had mistook my Order, and gone directly to La Nuche's House— but here's no sign of him—

Feth. Hah— I hear no noise, I'll venture down. [Goes halfway down and stops.

Enter Abevile, Harlequin, Musick and Willmore.

Will. Whither will this Boy conduct me?— but since to a Woman, no matter whither 'tis.

Feth. Hah, more Company; now dare not I stir up nor down, they may be Bravoes to cut my Throat.

Beau. Oh sure these are they—

Will. Come, my Heart, lose no time, but tune your Pipes. [Harlequin plays on his Guittar, and sings.

Beau. How, sure this is some Rival. [Goes near and listens.

Will. Harkye, Child, hast thou ne'er an amorous Ditty, short and sweet, hah—

Abev. Shall I not sing that you gave me, Sir?

Will. I shall spoil all with hard Questions— Ay, Child— that that. [Abev. sings, Beau. listens, and seems angry the while.

SONG. _A Pox upon this needless Scorn! _Silvia_, for shame the Cheat give o'er; The end to which the fair are born, Is not to keep their Charms in store, But lavishly dispose in haste, Of Joys— which none but Youth improve; Joys which decay when Beauty's past: And who when Beauty's past will love?

When Age those Glories shall deface, Revenging all your cold Disdain, And Silvia shall neglected pass, By every once admiring Swain; And we can only Pity pay, When you in vain too late shall burn: If Love increase, and Youth delay, Ah, Silvia, who will make return?

Then haste, my _Silvia_, to the Grove, Where all the Sweets of _May_ conspire, To teach us every Art of Love, And raise our Charms of Pleasure higher; Where, whilst imbracing we should lie Loosely in Shades, on Banks of Flowers: The duller World whilst we defy, Years will be Minutes, Ages Hours._

Beau. 'Sdeath, that's my Page's Voice: Who the Devil is't that ploughs with my Heifer!

Aur. Don Henrick, Don Henrick— [The Door opens, Beau. goes up to't; Will. puts him by, and offers to go in, he pulls him back.

Will. How now, what intruding Slave art thou?

Beau. What Thief art thou that basely, and by dark, rob'st me of all my Rights? [Strikes him, they fight, and Blows light on Fetherfool who hangs down.

[Sancho throws Fetherfool's Clothes out, Harlequin takes 'em up in confusion; they fight out Beaumond, all go off, but Will. gets into the House: Harlequin and Feth. remain. Feth. gets down, runs against Harlequin in the dark, both seem frighted.

Harl. Que questo.

Feth. Ay, un pouer dead Home, murder'd, kill'd.

Harl. (In Italian.) You are the first dead Man I ever saw walk.

Feth. Hah, Seignior Harlequin!

Harl. Seignior Nicholas!

Feth. A Pox Nicholas ye, I have been mall'd and beaten within doors, and hang'd and bastinado'd without doors, lost my Clothes, my Money, and all my Moveables; but this is nothing to the Secret taking Air. Ah, dear Seignior, convey me to the Mountebanks, there I may have Recruit and Cure under one.



ACT V.

SCENE I. A Chamber.

La Nuche on a Couch in an Undress, Willmore at her Feet, on his Knees, all unbraced: his Hat, Sword, &c. on the Table, at which she is dressing her Head.

Will. Oh Gods! no more! I see a yielding in thy charming Eyes; The Blushes on thy Face, thy trembling Arms, Thy panting Breast, and short-breath'd Sighs confess, Thou wo't be mine, in spite of all thy Art.

La Nu. What need you urge my Tongue then to repeat What from my Eyes you can so well interpret? [Bowing down her Head to him and sighing. —Or if it must— dispose me as you please—

Will. Heaven, I thank thee! [Rises with Joy. Who wou'd not plough an Age in Winter Seas, Or wade full seven long Years in ruder Camps, To find out this Rest at last?— [Leans on, and kisses her Bosom. Upon thy tender Bosom to repose; To gaze upon thy Eyes, and taste thy Balmy Kisses, [Kisses her. —Sweeter than everlasting Groves of Spices, When the soft Winds display the opening Buds: —Come, haste, my Soul, to Bed—

La Nu. You can be soft I find, when you wou'd conquer absolutely.

Will. Not infant Angels, not young sighing Cupids Can be more; this ravishing Joy that thou hast promis'd me, Has form'd my Soul to such a Calm of Love, It melts e'en at my Eyes.

La Nu. What have I done? that Promise will undo me. —This Chamber was prepar'd, and I was drest, To give Admittance to another Lover.

Will. But Love and Fortune both were on my side— Come, come to Bed— consider nought but Love— [They going out, one knocks.

La Nu. Hark!

Beau. (without.) By Heav'n I will have entrance.

La Nu. 'Tis he whom I expect; as thou lov'st Life And me, retire a little into this Closet.

Will. Hah, retire!

La Nu. He's the most fiercely jealous of his Sex, And Disappointment will inrage him more.

Will. Death: let him rage whoe'er he be; dost think I'll hide me from him, and leave thee to his Love? Shall I, pent up, thro the thin Wainscot hear Your Sighs, your amorous Words, and sound of Kisses? No, if thou canst cozen me, do't, but discreetly, And I shall think thee true: I have thee now, and when I tamely part With thee, may Cowards huff and bully me. [Knocks again.

La Nu. And must I be undone because I love ye? This is the Mine from whence I fetcht my Gold.

Will. Damn the base Trash: I'll have thee poor, and mine; 'Tis nobler far, to starve with him thou lov'st Than gay without, and pining all within. [Knocking, breaking the Door, Will. snatches up his Sword.

La Nu. Heavens, here will be murder done— he must not see him. [As Beau. breaks open the Door, she runs away with the Candle, they are by dark, Beau. enters with his Sword drawn.

Will. What art thou?

Beau. A Man. [They fight.

Enter Petron. with Light, La Nuche following, Beau. runs to her.

Oh thou false Woman, falser than thy Smiles, Which serve but to delude good-natur'd Man, And when thou hast him fast, betray'st his Heart!

Will. Beaumond!

Beau. Willmore! Is it with thee I must tug for Empire? For I lay claim to all this World of Beauty. [Takes La Nuche, looking with scorn on Willmore.

La Nu. Heavens, how got this Ruffian in?

Will. Hold, hold, dear Harry, lay no Hands on her till thou can'st make thy Claim good.

Beau. She's mine, by Bargain mine, and that's sufficient.

Will. In Law perhaps, it may for ought I know, but 'tis not so in Love: but thou'rt my Friend, and I'll therefore give thee fair Play— if thou canst win her take her: But a Sword and a Mistress are not to be lost, if a Man can keep 'em.

Beau. I cannot blame thee, thou but acts thy self— But thou fair Hypocrite, to whom I gave my Heart, And this exception made of all Mankind, Why would'st thou, as in Malice to my Love, Give it the only Wound that cou'd destroy it?

Will. Nay, if thou didst forbid her loving me, I have her sure.

Beau. I yield him many Charms; he's nobly born, Has Wit, Youth, Courage, all that takes the Heart, And only wants what pleases Women's Vanity, Estate, the only good that I can boast: And that I sacrifice to buy thy Smiles.

La Nu. See, Sir— here's a much fairer Chapman— you may be gone— [To Will.

Will. Faith, and so there is, Child, for me, I carry all about me, and that by Heaven is thine: I'll settle all upon thee, but my Sword, and that will buy us Bread. I've two led Horses too, one thou shalt manage, and follow me thro Dangers.

La Nu. A very hopeful comfortable Life; No, I was made for better Exercises.

Will. Why, every thing in its turn, Child, yet a Man's but a Man.

Beau. No more, but if thou valuest her, Leave her to Ease and Plenty.

Will. Leave her to Love, my Dear; one hour of right-down Love, Is worth an Age of living dully on: What is't to be adorn'd and shine with Gold, Drest like a God, but never know the Pleasure? —No, no, I have much finer things in store for thee. [Hugs her.

La Nu. What shall I do? Here's powerful Interest prostrate at my Feet, [Pointing to Beau. Glory, and all than Vanity can boast; —But there— Love unadorn'd, no covering but his Wings, [To Will. No Wealth, but a full Quiver to do mischiefs, Laughs at those meaner Trifles—

Beau. Mute as thou art, are not these Minutes mine? But thou— ah false— hast dealt 'em out already, With all thy Charms of Love, to this unknown— Silence and guilty Blushes say thou hast: He all disorder'd too, loose and undrest, With Love and Pleasure dancing in his Eyes, Tell me too plainly how thou hast deceiv'd me.

La Nu. Or if I have not,'tis a Trick soon done, And this ungrateful Jealousy wou'd put it in my Head. [Angrily.

Beau. Wou'd! by Heaven, thou hast— he is not to be fool'd, Or sooth'd into belief of distant Joys, As easy as I have been: I've lost so kind An Opportunity, where Night and Silence both Conspire with Love, had made him rage like Waves Blown up by Storms:— no more— I know he has —Oh what, La Nuche! robb'd me of all that I Have languish'd for—

La Nu. If it were so, you should not dare believe it— [Angrily turns away, he kneels and holds her.

Beau. Forgive me; oh so very well I love, Did I not know that thou hadst been a Whore, I'd give thee the last proof of Love— and marry thee.

Will. The last indeed— for there's an end of Loving; Do, marry him, and be curst by all his Family: Marry him, and ruin him, that he may curse thee too. —But hark ye, Friend, this is not fair; 'tis drawing Sharps on a Man that's only arm'd with the defensive Cudgel, I'm for no such dead doing Arguments; if thou art for me, Child, it must be without the folly, for better for worse; there's a kind of Nonsense in that Vow Fools only swallow.

La Nu. But when I've worn out all my Youth and Beauty, and suffer'd every ill of Poverty, I shall be compell'd to begin the World again without a Stock to set up with. No faith, I'm for a substantial Merchant in Love, who can repay the loss of Time and Beauty; with whom to make one thriving Voyage sets me up for ever, and I need never put to Sea again. [Comes to Beau.

Beau. Nor be expos'd to Storms of Poverty, the Indies shall come to thee— See here— this is the Merchandize my Love affords. [Gives her a Pearl, and Pendants of Diamond.

La Nu. Look ye, Sir, will not these Pearls do better round my Neck, than those kind Arms of yours? these Pendants in my Ears, than all the Tales of Love you can whisper there?

Will. So— I am deceiv'd— deal on for Trash— and barter all thy Joys of Life for Baubles— this Night presents me one Adventure more— I'll try thee once again, inconstant Fortune; and if thou fail'st me then— I will forswear thee [Aside.] Death, hadst thou lov'd my Friend for his own Value, I had esteem'd thee; but when his Youth and Beauty cou'd not plead, to be the mercenary Conquest of his Presents, was poor, below thy Wit: I cou'd have conquer'd so, but I scorn thee at that rate— my Purse shall never be my Pimp— Farewel, Harry.

Beau. Thou'st sham'd me out of Folly— stay—

Will. Faith— I have an Assignation with a Woman— a Woman Friend! young as the infant-day, and sweet as Roses e'er the Morning Sun have kiss'd their Dew away. She will not ask me Money neither.