Volume I Part 53 (2/2)

[A clas.h.i.+ng of Swords within. Enter _Willm._ fighting, prest back by three or four Men, and _Abevile_, _Aria._ and _Luc._ run out.

_Beau._ Hah, set on by odds; hold, tho thou be'st my Rival, I will free thee, on condition thou wilt meet me to morrow morning in the Piazza by day break.

[Puts himself between their Swords, and speaks to _Will._ Aside.

_Will._ By Heaven I'll do it.

_Beau._ Retire in safety then, you have your pa.s.s.

_Abev._ Fall on, fall on, the number is increas'd. [Fall on Beau.

_Beau._ Rascals, do you not know me?

[Falls in with 'em and beats them back, and goes out with them.

_Will._ Nay, and you be so well acquainted, I'll leave you-- unfortunate still I am; my own well meaning, but ill Management, is my eternal Foe: Plague on 'em, they have wounded me-- yet not one drop of Blood's departed from me that warm'd my Heart for Woman, and I'm not willing to quit this Fairy-ground till some kind Devil have been civil to me.

Enter _Ariadne_ and _Lucia_.

_Aria._ I say, 'tis he: thou'st made so many dull Mistakes to Night, thou darest not trust thy Senses when they're true-- How do you, Sir?

_Will._ That Voice has Comfort in't, for 'tis a Woman's: hah, more Interruption?

_Aria._ A little this way, Sir.

[Ex. _Aria_, and _Will._ into the Garden.

Enter _Beaumond_, _Abevile_ in a submissive Posture.

_Beau._ No more excuses-- By all these Circ.u.mstances, I know this _Ariadne_ is a Gipsy. What difference then beween a money-taking Mistress and her that gives her Love? only perhaps this sins the closer by't, and talks of Honour more: What Fool wou'd be a Slave to empty Name, or value Woman for dissembling well? I'll to _La Nuche_-- the honester o'th' two-- _Abevile_-- get me my Musick ready, and attend me at _La Nuche's_.

[Ex. severally.

_Luc._ He's gone, and to his Mistress too.

Enter _Ariadne_ pursu'd by _Willmore_.

_Will._ My little _Daphne_, 'tis in vain to fly, unless like her, you cou'd be chang'd into a Tree: _Apollo's_ self pursu'd not with more eager Fire than I.

[Holds her.

_Aria._ Will you not grant a Parly e'er I yield?

_Will._ I'm better at a Storm.

_Aria._ Besides, you're wounded too.

_Will._ Oh leave those Wounds of Honour to my Surgeon, thy Business is to cure those of Love. Your true bred Soldier ever fights with the more heat for a Wound or two.

_Aria._ Hardly in Venus' Wars.

_Will._ Her self ne'er thought so when she s.n.a.t.c.ht her Joys between the rough Encounters of the G.o.d of War. Come, let's pursue the Business we came for: See the kind Night invites, and all the ruffling Winds are husht and still, only the Zephirs spread their tender Wings, courting in gentle Murmurs the gay Boughs; 'twas in a Night like this, Diana taught the Mysteries of Love to the fair Boy Endymion. I am plaguy full of History and Simile to night.

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