Volume I Part 39 (1/2)

_Will._ I beg your Pardon now, dear _Beaumond_-- I having lately nothing else to do, took a Command of Horse from the General at the last Siege, from which I am just arriv'd, and my Baggage is behind, which I must take order for.

_Feth._ Pox on't now there's a Dinner lost,'twas ever an unlucky Rascal.

_Beau._ To tempt thee more, thou shalt see my Wife that is to be.

_Will._ Pox on't, I am the leudest Company in Christendom with your honest Women-- but-- What, art thou to be noos'd then?

_Beau._ 'Tis so design'd by my Uncle, if an old Grandee my Rival prevent it not; the Wench is very pretty, young, and rich, and lives in the same House with me, for 'tis my Aunt's Daughter.

_Will._ Much good may it d'ye, _Harry_, I pity you, but 'tis the common Grievance of you happy Men of Fortune.

[Goes towards the House-door with _Beau._

Enter _La Nuche_, _Aurelia_, _Petronella_, _Sancho_, Women veil'd a little.

_Aur._ Heavens, Madam, is not that the _English_ Captain?

[Looking on _Will._

_La Nu._ 'Tis, and with him Don _Henrick_ the Amba.s.sador's Nephew-- how my Heart pants and heaves at sight of him! some Fire of the old Flames remaining, which I must strive to extinguish. For I'll not bate a Ducat of this Price I've set upon my self, for all the Pleasures Youth or Love can bring me-- for see _Aurelia_-- the sad Memento of a decay'd poor old forsaken Wh.o.r.e in _Petronella_; consider her, and then commend my Prudence.

_Will._ Hah, Women!--

_Feth._ Egad, and fine ones too, I'll tell you that.

_Will._ No matter, Kindness is better Sauce to Woman than Beauty!

By this Hand she looks at me-- Why dost hold me?

[_Feth._ holds him.

_Feth._ Why, what a Devil, art mad?

_Will._ Raging, as vigorous Youth kept long from Beauty; wild for the charming s.e.x, eager for Woman, I long to give a Loose to Love and Pleasure.

_Blunt._ These are not Women, Sir, for you to ruffle--

_Will._ Have a care of your Persons of Quality, _Ned_.

[Goes to _La Nuche_.

--Those lovely Eyes were never made to throw their Darts in vain.

_La Nu._ The Conquest would be hardly worth the Pain.

_Will._ Hah, _La Nuche_! with what a proud Disdain she flung away-- stay, I will not part so with you-- [Holds her.

Enter _Ariadne_ and _Lucia_ with Footmen.

_Aria._ Who are these before us, _Lucia_?

_Luc._ I know not, Madam; but if you make not haste home, you'll be troubled with _Carlo_ your importunate Lover, who is just behind us.

_Aria._ Hang me, a lovely Man! what Lady's that? stay.