Volume I Part 18 (2/2)

_Ped._ I'm betray'd; run, _Stephano_, and see if _Florinda_ be safe.

[Exit _Steph._

So whoe'er they be, all is not well, I'll to _Florinda's_ Chamber.

[They fight, and _Pedro's_ Party beats 'em out; going out, meets _Stephano_.

_Steph._ You need not, Sir, the poor Lady's fast asleep, and thinks no harm: I wou'd not wake her, Sir, for fear of frightning her with your danger.

_Ped._ I'm glad she's there-- Rascals, how came the Garden-Door open?

_Steph._ That Question comes too late, Sir: some of my Fellow-Servants Masquerading I'll warrant.

_Ped._ Masquerading! a leud Custom to debauch our Youth-- there's something more in this than I imagine.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. _Changes to the Street._

Enter _Belvile_ in Rage, _Fred._ holding him, and _Willmore_ melancholy.

_Will._ Why, how the Devil shou'd I know _Florinda_?

_Belv._ Ah plague of your ignorance! if it had not been _Florinda_, must you be a Beast?-- a Brute, a senseless Swine?

_Will._ Well, Sir, you see I am endu'd with Patience-- I can bear-- tho egad y're very free with me methinks,-- I was in good hopes the Quarrel wou'd have been on my side, for so uncivilly interrupting me.

_Belv._ Peace, Brute, whilst thou'rt safe-- oh, I'm distracted.

_Will._ Nay, nay, I'm an unlucky Dog, that's certain.

_Belv._ Ah curse upon the Star that rul'd my Birth! or whatsoever other Influence that makes me still so wretched.

_Will._ Thou break'st my Heart with these Complaints; there is no Star in fault, no Influence but Sack, the cursed Sack I drank.

_Fred._ Why, how the Devil came you so drunk?

_Will._ Why, how the Devil came you so sober?

_Belv._ A curse upon his thin Skull, he was always before-hand that way.

_Fred._ Prithee, dear Colonel, forgive him, he's sorry for his fault.

_Belv._ He's always so after he has done a mischief-- a plague on all such Brutes.

_Will._ By this Light I took her for an errant Harlot.

_Belv._ d.a.m.n your debaucht Opinion: tell me, Sot, hadst thou so much sense and light about thee to distinguish her to be a Woman, and could'st not see something about her Face and Person, to strike an awful Reverence into thy Soul?

_Will._ Faith no, I consider'd her as mere a Woman as I could wish.

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