Volume I Part 45 (1/2)

_Luc._ Your Cousin _Beaumond_ will forbid the Banes.

_Aria._ No, nor old _Carlos_ neither, my Mother's precious Choice, who is as sollicitous for the old Gentleman, as my Father-in-Law is for his Nephew. Therefore, _Lucia_, like a good and gracious Child, I'll end the Dispute between my Father and Mother, and please my self in the choice of this Stranger, if he be to be had.

_Luc._ I should as soon be enamour'd on the North Wind, a Tempest, or a Clap of Thunder. Bless me from such a Blast.

_Aria._ I'd have a Lover rough as Seas in Storms, upon occasion; I hate your dull temperate Lover, 'tis such a husbandly quality, like _Beaumond's_ Addresses to me, whom neither Joy nor Anger puts in motion; or if it do, 'tis visibly forc'd-- I'm glad I saw him entertain a Woman to day, not that I care, but wou'd be fairly rid of him.

_Luc._ You'll hardly mend your self in this.

_Aria._ What, because he held Discourse with a Curtezan?

_Luc._ Why, is there no danger in her Eyes, do ye think?

_Aria._ None that I fear, that Stranger's not such a fool to give his Heart to a common Woman; and she that's concern'd where her Lover bestows his Body, were I the Man, I should think she had a mind to't her self.

_Luc._ And reason, Madam: in a lawful way 'tis your due.

_Aria._ What all? unconscionable _Lucia_! I am more merciful; but be he what he will, I'll to this cunning Man, to know whether ever any part of him shall be mine.

_Luc._ Lord, Madam, sure he's a Conjurer.

_Aria._ Let him be the Devil, I'll try his Skill, and to that end will put on a Suit of my Cousin _Endymion_; there are two or three very pretty ones of his in the Wardrobe, go carry 'em to my Chamber, and we'll fit our selves and away-- Go haste whilst I undress.

[Ex. _Lucia_.

[_Ariadne_ undressing before the Gla.s.s.

Enter _Beaumond_ tricking himself, and looks on himself.

_Beau._ Now for my charming Beauty, fair _La Nuche_-- hah-- Ariadne-- d.a.m.n the dull Property, how shall I free my self?

[She turns, sees him, and walks from the Gla.s.s, he takes no notice of her, but tricks himself in the Gla.s.s, humming a Song.

_Aria._ _Beaumond!_ What Devil brought him hither to prevent me? I hate the formal matrimonial Fop.

[He walks about and sings.

_Sommes nous pas trop heureux, Belle Irise, que nous ensemble._

A Devil on him, he may chance to plague me till night, and hinder my dear a.s.signation.

[Sings again.

_La Nuit et le Sombre voiles Coverie nos desires ardentes; Et l'Amour et les Etoiles Sont nos secrets confidents._

_Beau._ Pox on't, how dull am I at an excuse?

[Sets his Wig in the Gla.s.s, and sings.

_A Pox of Love and Woman-kind, And all the Fops adore 'em._ [_Puts on his Hat, c.o.c.ks it, and goes to her._ How is't, Cuz?

_Aria._ So, here's the saucy freedom of a Husband Lover-- a blest Invention this of marrying, whoe'er first found it out.

_Beau._ d.a.m.n this _English_ Dog of a Perriwig-maker, what an ungainly Air it gives the Face, and for a Wedding Perriwig too-- how dost thou like it, _Ariadne_?

[Uneasy.