Volume I Part 7 (1/2)

_Flor._ 'Tis well-- I'll write a Note, and if I chance to see _Belvile_, and want an opportunity to speak to him, that shall let him know what I've resolv'd in favour of him.

_h.e.l.l._ Come, let's in and dress us. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. _A Long Street._

Enter _Belvile_, melancholy, _Blunt_ and _Frederick_.

_Fred._ Why, what the Devil ails the Colonel, in a time when all the World is gay, to look like mere Lent thus? Hadst thou been long enough in _Naples_ to have been in love, I should have sworn some such Judgment had befall'n thee.

_Belv._ No, I have made no new Amours since I came to Naples.

_Fred._ You have left none behind you in Paris.

_Belv._ Neither.

_Fred._ I can't divine the Cause then; unless the old Cause, the want of Mony.

_Blunt._ And another old Cause, the want of a Wench-- Wou'd not that revive you?

_Belv._ You're mistaken, _Ned_.

_Blunt_ Nay, 'Sheartlikins, then thou art past Cure.

_Fred._ I have found it out; thou hast renew'd thy Acquaintance with the Lady that cost thee so many Sighs at the Siege of _Pampelona_-- pox on't, what d'ye call her-- her Brother's a n.o.ble _Spaniard_-- Nephew to the dead General-- _Florinda_-- ay, _Florinda_-- And will nothing serve thy turn but that d.a.m.n'd virtuous Woman, whom on my Conscience thou lov'st in spite too, because thou seest little or no possibility of gaining her?

_Belv._ Thou art mistaken, I have Interest enough in that lovely Virgin's Heart, to make me proud and vain, were it not abated by the Severity of a Brother, who perceiving my Happiness--

_Fred._ Has civilly forbid thee the House?

_Belv._ 'Tis so, to make way for a powerful Rival, the Vice-Roy's Son, who has the advantage of me, in being a Man of Fortune, a _Spaniard_, and her Brother's Friend; which gives him liberty to make his Court, whilst I have recourse only to Letters, and distant Looks from her Window, which are as soft and kind as those which Heav'n sends down on Penitents.

_Blunt._ Hey day! 'Sheartlikins, Simile! by this Light the Man is quite spoil'd-- _Frederick_, what the Devil are we made of, that we cannot be thus concern'd for a Wench?-- 'Sheartlikins, our _Cupids_ are like the Cooks of the Camp, they can roast or boil a Woman, but they have none of the fine Tricks to set 'em off, no Hogoes to make the Sauce pleasant, and the Stomach sharp.

_Fred._ I dare swear I have had a hundred as young, kind and handsom as this _Florinda_; and Dogs eat me, if they were not as troublesom to me i'th' Morning as they were welcome o'er night.

_Blunt._ And yet, I warrant, he wou'd not touch another Woman, if he might have her for nothing.

_Belv._ That's thy Joy, a cheap Wh.o.r.e.

_Blunt._ Why, 'dsheartlikins, I love a frank Soul-- When did you ever hear of an honest Woman that took a Man's Mony? I warrant 'em good ones-- But, Gentlemen, you may be free, you have been kept so poor with Parliaments and Protectors, that the little Stock you have is not worth preserving-- but I thank my Stars, I have more Grace than to forfeit my Estate by Cavaliering.

_Belv._ Methinks only following the Court should be sufficient to ent.i.tle 'em to that.

_Blunt._ 'Sheartlikins, they know I follow it to do it no good, unless they pick a hole in my Coat for lending you Mony now and then; which is a greater Crime to my Conscience, Gentlemen, than to the Common-wealth.

Enter _Willmore_.

_Will._ Ha! dear _Belvile_! n.o.ble Colonel!

_Belv._ _Willmore_! welcome ash.o.r.e, my dear Rover!-- what happy Wind blew us this good Fortune?