Volume I Part 17 (2/2)
--Why-- why-- where am I got? what, not yet?-- where are you sweetest?-- ah, the Rogue's silent now-- a pretty Love-trick this-- how she'll laugh at me anon!-- you need not, my dear Rogue! you need not! I'm all on a fire already-- come, come, now call me in for pity-- Sure I'm enchanted!
I have been round the Chamber, and can find neither Woman, nor Bed-- I lockt the Door, I'm sure she cannot go that way; or if she cou'd, the Bed cou'd not-- Enough, enough, my pretty Wanton, do not carry the Jest too far-- Ha, betray'd! Dogs! Rogues! Pimps! help! help!
[Lights on a Trap, and is let down.
Enter _Lucetta_, _Philippo_, and _Sancho_ with a Light.
_Phil._ Ha, ha, ha, he's dispatcht finely.
_Luc._ Now, Sir, had I been coy, we had mist of this Booty.
_Phil._ Nay when I saw 'twas a substantial Fool, I was mollified; but when you doat upon a Serenading c.o.xcomb, upon a Face, fine Clothes, and a Lute, it makes me rage.
_Luc._ You know I never was guilty of that Folly, my dear _Philippo_, but with your self-- But come let's see what we have got by this.
_Phil._ A rich Coat!-- Sword and Hat!-- these Breeches too-- are well lin'd!-- see here a Gold Watch!-- a Purse-- ha! Gold!-- at least two hundred Pistoles! a bunch of Diamond Rings; and one with the Family Arms!-- a Gold Box!-- with a Medal of his King! and his Lady Mother's Picture!-- these were sacred Reliques, believe me!-- see, the Wasteband of his Breeches have a Mine of Gold!-- Old Queen _Bess's_. We have a Quarrel to her ever since _Eighty Eight_, and may therefore justify the Theft, the Inquisition might have committed it.
_Luc._ See, a Bracelet of bow'd Gold, these his Sister ty'd about his Arm at parting-- but well-- for all this, I fear his being a Stranger may make a noise, and hinder our Trade with them hereafter.
_Phil._ That's our security; he is not only a Stranger to us, but to the Country too-- the Common-Sh.o.r.e into which he is descended, thou know'st, conducts him into another Street, which this Light will hinder him from ever finding again-- he knows neither your Name, nor the Street where your House is, nay, nor the way to his own Lodgings.
_Luc._ And art not thou an unmerciful Rogue, not to afford him one Night for all this?-- I should not have been such a _Jew_.
_Phil._ Blame me not, _Lucetta_, to keep as much of thee as I can to my self-- come, that thought makes me wanton,-- let's to Bed,-- Sancho, lock up these.
_This is the Fleece which Fools do bear, Design'd for witty Men to sheer._ [Exeunt.
_The Scene changes, and discovers _Blunt_, creeping out of a Common Sh.o.r.e, his Face, &c., all dirty._
_Blunt._ Oh Lord! [Climbing up.] I am got out at last, and (which is a Miracle) without a Clue-- and now to d.a.m.ning and Cursing,-- but if that would ease me, where shall I begin? with my Fortune, my self, or the Quean that cozen'd me-- What a dog was I to believe in Women! Oh c.o.xcomb-- ignorant conceited c.o.xcomb! to fancy she cou'd be enamour'd with my Person, at the first sight enamour'd-- Oh, I'm a cursed Puppy,'tis plain, Fool was writ upon my Forehead, she perceiv'd it,-- saw the _Ess.e.x_ Calf there-- for what Allurements could there be in this Countenance? which I can indure, because I'm acquainted with it-- Oh, dull silly Dog! to be thus sooth'd into a Cozening! Had I been drunk, I might fondly have credited the young Quean! but as I was in my right Wits, to be thus cheated, confirms I am a dull believing _English_ Country Fop.-- But my Comrades! Death and the Devil, there's the worst of all-- then a Ballad will be sung to Morrow on the _Prado_, to a lousy Tune of the enchanted Squire, and the annihilated Damsel-- But _Fred_, that Rogue, and the Colonel, will abuse me beyond all Christian patience-- had she left me my Clothes, I have a Bill of Exchange at home wou'd have sav'd my Credit-- but now all hope is taken from me-- Well, I'll home (if I can find the way) with this Consolation, that I am not the first kind believing c.o.xcomb; but there are, Gallants, many such good Natures amongst ye.
_And tho you've better Arts to hide your Follies, Adsheartlikins y'are all as errant Cullies._
SCENE III. _The Garden, in the Night._
Enter _Florinda_ undres'd, with a Key, and a little Box.
_Flor._ Well, thus far I'm in my way to Happiness; I have got my self free from _Callis_; my Brother too, I find by yonder light, is gone into his Cabinet, and thinks not of me: I have by good Fortune got the Key of the Garden Back-door,-- I'll open it, to prevent _Belvile's_ knocking,-- a little noise will now alarm my Brother. Now am I as fearful as a young Thief. [Unlocks the Door.] --Hark,-- what noise is that?-- Oh,'twas the Wind that plaid amongst the Boughs.-- _Belvile_ stays long, methinks-- it's time-- stay-- for fear of a surprize, I'll hide these Jewels in yonder Jessamin.
[She goes to lay down the Box.
Enter _Willmore_ drunk.
_Will._ What the Devil is become of these Fellows, _Belvile_ and _Frederick_? They promis'd to stay at the next corner for me, but who the Devil knows the corner of a full Moon?-- Now-- whereabouts am I?-- hah-- what have we here? a Garden!-- a very convenient place to sleep in-- hah-- what has G.o.d sent us here?-- a Female-- by this light, a Woman; I'm a Dog if it be not a very Wench.--
_Flor._ He's come!-- hah-- who's there?
_Will._ Sweet Soul, let me salute thy Shoe-string.
_Flor._ 'Tis not my _Belvile_-- good Heavens, I know him not.-- Who are you, and from whence come you?
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