Volume I Part 8 (1/2)
_Fred._ No Friend to Love like a long Voyage at Sea.
_Blunt._ Except a Nunnery, _Fred_.
_Will._ Death! but will they not be kind, quickly be kind? Thou know'st I'm no tame Sigher, but a rampant Lion of the Forest.
_Two Men drest all over with Horns of several sorts, making Grimaces at one another, with Papers pinn'd on their Backs, advance from the farther end of the Scene._
_Belv._ Oh the fantastical Rogues, how they are dress'd! 'tis a Satir against the whole s.e.x.
_Will._ Is this a Fruit that grows in this warm Country?
_Belv._ Yes: 'Tis pretty to see these _Italian_ start, swell, and stab at the Word _Cuckold_, and yet stumble at Horns on every Threshold.
_Will._ See what's on their Back-- _Flowers for every Night._ [Reads.
--Ah Rogue! And more sweet than Roses of ev'ry Month! This is a Gardiner of _Adam's_ own breeding.
[They dance.
_Belv._ What think you of those grave People?-- is a Wake in _Ess.e.x_ half so mad or extravagant?
_Will._ I like their sober grave way, 'tis a kind of legal authoriz'd Fornication, where the Men are not chid for't, nor the Women despis'd, as amongst our dull _English_; even the Monsieurs want that part of good Manners.
_Belv._ But here in _Italy_ a Monsieur is the humblest best-bred Gentleman-- Duels are so baffled by Bravo's that an age shews not one, but between a _Frenchman_ and a Hang-man, who is as much too hard for him on the Piazza, as they are for a _Dutchman_ on the new Bridge-- But see another Crew.
Enter _Florinda_, _h.e.l.lena_, and _Valeria_, drest like Gipsies; _Callis_ and _Stephano_, _Lucetta_, _Phillippo_ and _Sancho_ in Masquerade.
_h.e.l.l._ Sister, there's your _Englishman_, and with him a handsom proper Fellow-- I'll to him, and instead of telling him his Fortune, try my own.
_Will._ Gipsies, on my Life-- Sure these will prattle if a Man cross their Hands. [Goes to _h.e.l.lena_] --Dear pretty (and I hope) young Devil, will you tell an amorous Stranger what Luck he's like to have?
_h.e.l.l._ Have a care how you venture with me, Sir, lest I pick your Pocket, which will more vex your _English_ Humour, than an _Italian_ Fortune will please you.
_Will._ How the Devil cam'st thou to know my Country and Humour?
_h.e.l.l._ The first I guess by a certain forward Impudence, which does not displease me at this time; and the Loss of your Money will vex you, because I hope you have but very little to lose.
_Will._ Egad Child, thou'rt i'th' right; it is so little, I dare not offer it thee for a Kindness-- But cannot you divine what other things of more value I have about me, that I would more willingly part with?
_h.e.l.l._ Indeed no, that's the Business of a Witch, and I am but a Gipsy yet-- Yet, without looking in your Hand, I have a parlous Guess, 'tis some foolish Heart you mean, an inconstant _English_ Heart, as little worth stealing as your Purse.
_Will._ Nay, then thou dost deal with the Devil, that's certain-- Thou hast guess'd as right as if thou hadst been one of that Number it has languisht for-- I find you'll be better acquainted with it; nor can you take it in a better time, for I am come from Sea, Child; and _Venus_ not being propitious to me in her own Element, I have a world of Love in store-- Wou'd you would be good-natur'd, and take some on't off my Hands.
_h.e.l.l._ Why-- I could be inclin'd that way-- but for a foolish Vow I am going to make-- to die a Maid.
_Will._ Then thou art d.a.m.n'd without Redemption; and as I am a good Christian, I ought in charity to divert so wicked a design-- therefore prithee, dear Creature, let me know quickly when and where I shall begin to set a helping hand to so good a Work.
_h.e.l.l._ If you should prevail with my tender Heart (as I begin to fear you will, for you have horrible loving Eyes) there will be difficulty in't that you'll hardly undergo for my sake.
_Will._ Faith, Child, I have been bred in Dangers, and wear a Sword that has been employ'd in a worse Cause, than for a handsom kind Woman-- Name the Danger-- let it be any thing but a long Siege, and I'll undertake it.
_h.e.l.l._ Can you storm?