Volume I Part 11 (1/2)

--Hark you, Friend, does she take or give so much by the Month!

_Fred._ A Thousand Crowns! Why, 'tis a Portion for the _Infanta_.

_Blunt._ Hark ye, Friends, won't she trust?

_Brav._ This is a Trade, Sir, that cannot live by Credit.

_Enter _Don Pedro_ in Masquerade, follow'd by _Stephano_._

_Belv._ See, here's more Company, let's walk off a while.

[_Pedro_ Reads.

[Exeunt _English_.

Enter _Angelica_ and _Moretta_ in the Balcony, and draw a Silk Curtain.

_Ped._ Fetch me a Thousand Crowns, I never wish to buy this Beauty at an easier Rate.

[Pa.s.ses off.

_Ang._ Prithee what said those Fellows to thee?

_Brav._ Madam, the first were Admirers of Beauty only, but no purchasers; they were merry with your Price and Picture, laught at the Sum, and so past off.

_Ang._ No matter, I'm not displeas'd with their rallying; their Wonder feeds my Vanity, and he that wishes to buy, gives me more Pride, than he that gives my Price can make me Pleasure.

_Brav._ Madam, the last I knew thro all his disguises to be Don _Pedro_, Nephew to the General, and who was with him in _Pampelona_.

_Ang._ Don _Pedro_! my old Gallant's Nephew! When his Uncle dy'd, he left him a vast Sum of Money; it is he who was so in love with me at _Padua_, and who us'd to make the General so jealous.

_Moret._ Is this he that us'd to prance before our Window and take such care to shew himself an amorous a.s.s? if I am not mistaken, he is the likeliest Man to give your Price.

_Ang._ The Man is brave and generous, but of an Humour so uneasy and inconstant, that the victory over his Heart is as soon lost as won; a Slave that can add little to the Triumph of the Conqueror: but inconstancy's the Sin of all Mankind, therefore I'm resolv'd that nothing but Gold shall charm my Heart.

_Moret._ I'm glad on't; 'tis only interest that Women of our Profession ought to consider: tho I wonder what has kept you from that general Disease of our s.e.x so long, I mean that of being in love.

_Ang._ A kind, but sullen Star, under which I had the Happiness to be born; yet I have had no time for Love; the bravest and n.o.blest of Mankind have purchas'd my Favours at so dear a Rate, as if no Coin but Gold were current with our Trade-- But here's Don _Pedro_ again, fetch me my Lute-- for 'tis for him or Don _Antonio_ the Vice-Roy's Son, that I have spread my Nets.

Enter at one Door Don _Pedro_, and _Stephano_; Don _Antonio_ and _Diego_ [his page], at the other Door, with People following him in Masquerade, antickly attir'd, some with Musick: they both go up to the Picture.

_Ant._ A thousand Crowns! had not the Painter flatter'd her, I should not think it dear.

_Pedro._ Flatter'd her! by Heaven he cannot. I have seen the Original, nor is there one Charm here more than adorns her Face and Eyes; all this soft and sweet, with a certain languis.h.i.+ng Air, that no Artist can represent.

_Ant._ What I heard of her Beauty before had fir'd my Soul, but this confirmation of it has blown it into a flame.

_Pedro._ Ha!

_Pag._ Sir, I have known you throw away a Thousand Crowns on a worse Face, and tho y' are near your Marriage, you may venture a little Love here; _Florinda_-- will not miss it.

_Pedro._ Ha! _Florinda!_ Sure 'tis _Antonio_. [aside.

_Ant._ _Florinda_! name not those distant Joys, there's not one thought of her will check my Pa.s.sion here.

_Pedro._ _Florinda_ scorn'd! and all my Hopes defeated of the Possession of _Angelica_! [A noise of a Lute above. _Ant._ gazes up.] Her Injuries by Heaven he shall not boast of.