Volume Ii Part 103 (1/2)

[_Lets go the Bucket, and is running frighted away_.

_Enter_ Fillamour _and_ Page, _he returns_.

--How, a Man! was ever wretched Wight so miserable, the Devil at one hand, and a _Roman_ Night-walker at the other; which danger shall I chuse?

[_Gets to the door of the House_.

_Tick_. So, I am got up at last--thanks to my Knight, for I am sure 'twas he! hah, he's here--I'll hear his Business.

[_Goes near to_ Fillamour.

_Fil_. Confound this Woman, this bewitching Woman: I cannot shake her from my sullen Heart; Spite of my Soul I linger hereabouts, and cannot to _Viterbo_.

_Tick_. Very good; a dainty Rascal this!

_Enter_ Galliard _with a Lanthorn, as from_ Silvia's _House, held by_ Philippa.

_Fil_.--Hah, who's this coming from her House? Perhaps 'tis _Galliard_.

_Gal_. No Argument shall fetch me back, by Heaven.

_Fil_. 'Tis the mad Rogue.

_Tick_. Oh Lord, 'tis _Galliard_, and angry too; now cou'd I but get off, and leave Sir _Signal_ to be beaten, 'twere a rare project--but 'tis impossible without discovery.

_Phil_. But will you hear her, Signior?

_Gal_. That is, will I lose more time about her? Plague on't, I have thrown away already such Songs and Sonnets, such Madrigals and Posies, such Night-walks, Sighs, and direful Lovers looks, as wou'd have mollify'd any Woman of Conscience and Religion; and now to be popt i'th'

mouth with Quality! Well, if ever you catch me lying with any but honest well-meaning Damsels hereafter, hang me:--farewel, old Secret, farewel.

[_Ex_. Philippa.

--Now am I asham'd of being cozen'd so d.a.m.nably, _Fillamour_, that virtuous Rascal, will so laugh at me; s'heart, cou'd I but have debaucht him, we had been on equal terms.--but I must help my self with lying, and swear I have--a--

_Fil_. You shall not need, I'll keep your Counsel, Sir.

_Gal_. Hah--_estes vous la_?--

_Tick_. How, _Fillamour_ all this while! some Comfort yet, I am not the only Professor that dissembles: but how to get away--

_Gal_. Oh _Harry_, the most d.a.m.nably defeated!

[_A Noise of Swords_.

_Fil_. Hold! what Noise is that? two Men coming this way as from the house of the Curtezans.

_Enter_ Julio _backwards, fighting_ Octavio _and Bravoes_.

_Gal_. Hah, on retreating,--S'death, I've no Sword!

_Fil_. Here's one, I'll take my Page's.

[_Takes the Boy's Sword_.

_Gal_. Now am I mad for mischief; here, hold my Lanthorn, Boy.