Volume I Part 41 (1/2)

_Will._ So is the Pox, good Matron, of which you can afford good Penniworths.

_La Nu._ He charms me even with his angry Looks, and will undo me yet.

_Pet._ Let's leave this Place, I'll tell you my Success as we go.

[Ex. all, some one way, some another, the Forepart of the Church shuts over, except _Will._ _Blunt_, _Aria_, and _Lucia_.

_Will._ She's gone, and all the Plagues of Pride go with her.

_Blunt._ Heartlikins, follow her-- Pox on't, an I'd but as good a Hand at this Game as thou hast, I'll venture upon any Chance--

_Will._ d.a.m.n her, come, let's to Dinner. Where's _Fetherfool_?

_Blunt._ Follow'd a good Woodman, who gave him the Sign: he'll lodge the Deer e'er night.

_Will._ Follow'd her-- he durst not, the Fool wants Confidence enough to look on her.

_Blunt._ Oh you know not how a Country Justice may be improved by Travel; the Rogue was hedg'd in at home with the Fear of his Neighbours and the Penal Statutes, now he's broke loose, he runs neighing like a Stone-Horse upon the Common.

_Will._ However, I'll not believe this-- let's follow 'em.

[Ex. _Will._ and _Blunt_.

_Aria._ He is in love, but with a Courtezan-- some Comfort that. We'll after him-- 'Tis a faint-hearted Lover, Who for the first Discouragement gives over.

[Ex. _Ariadne_ and _Lucia_.

ACT II.

SCENE I. _The Street._

Enter _Fetherfool_ and _Sancho_, pa.s.sing over the Stage; after them _Willmore_ and _Blunt_, follow'd by _Ariadne_ and _Lucia_.

_Will._ 'Tis so, by Heaven, he's chaffering with her Pimp. I'll spare my Curses on him for having her, he has a Plague beyond 'em.

--Harkye, I'll never love, nor lie with Women more, those Slaves to l.u.s.t, to Vanity and Interest.

_Blunt._ Ha, Captain! [Shaking his Head and smiling.

_Will._ Come, let's go drink d.a.m.nation to 'em all.

_Blunt._ Not all, good Captain.

_Will._ All, for I hate 'em all--

_Aria._ Heavens! if he should indeed! [Aside.

_Blunt._ But, _Robert_, I have found you most inclined to a Damsel when you had a Bottle in your Head.

_Will._ Give me thy Hand, _Ned_-- Curse me, despise me, point me out for Cowardice if e'er thou see'st me court a Woman more: Nay, when thou knowest I ask any of the s.e.x a civil Question again-- a Plague upon 'em, how they've handled me-- come, let's go drink, I say-- Confusion to the Race-- A Woman!-- no, I will be burnt with my own Fire to Cinders e'er any of the Brood shall lay my Flame--