_Will._ Intirely-- come, let's withdraw: where I'll renew my Vows,-- and breathe 'em with such Ardour, thou shall not doubt my Zeal.
_Ang._ Thou hast a Power too strong to be resisted.
[Ex. _Will._ and _Angelica_.
_Moret._ Now my Curse go with you-- Is all our Project fallen to this?
to love the only Enemy to our Trade? Nay, to love such a Shameroon, a very Beggar; nay, a Pirate-Beggar, whose Business is to rifle and be gone, a No-Purchase, No-Pay Tatterdemalion, an _English_ Piccaroon; a Rogue that fights for daily Drink, and takes a Pride in being loyally lousy-- Oh, I could curse now, if I durst-- This is the Fate of most Whores.
_Trophies, which from believing Fops we win, Are Spoils to those who cozen us again._
ACT III.
SCENE I. _A Street._
Enter _Florinda_, _Valeria_, _Hellena_, in Antick different Dresses from what they were in before, _Callis_ attending.
_Flor._ I wonder what should make my Brother in so ill a Humour: I hope he has not found out our Ramble this Morning.
_Hell._ No, if he had, we should have heard on't at both Ears, and have been mew'd up this Afternoon; which I would not for the World should have happen'd-- Hey ho! I'm sad as a Lover's Lute.
_Val._ Well, methinks we have learnt this Trade of Gipsies as readily as if we had been bred upon the Road to _Loretto_: and yet I did so fumble, when I told the Stranger his Fortune, that I was afraid I should have told my own and yours by mistake-- But methinks _Hellena_ has been very serious ever since.
_Flor._ I would give my Garters she were in love, to be reveng'd upon her, for abusing me-- How is't, _Hellena_?
_Hell._ Ah!-- would I had never seen my mad Monsieur-- and yet for all your laughing I am not in love-- and yet this small Acquaintance, o my Conscience, will never out of my Head.
_Val._ Ha, ha, ha-- I laugh to think how thou art fitted with a Lover, a Fellow that, I warrant, loves every new Face he sees.
_Hell._ Hum-- he has not kept his Word with me here-- and may be taken up-- that thought is not very pleasant to me-- what the Duce should this be now that I feel?
_Val._ What is't like?
_Hell._ Nay, the Lord knows-- but if I should be hanged, I cannot chuse but be angry and afraid, when I think that mad Fellow should be in love with any Body but me-- What to think of my self I know not-- Would I could meet with some true damn'd Gipsy, that I might know my Fortune.
_Val._ Know it! why there's nothing so easy; thou wilt love this wandring Inconstant till thou find'st thy self hanged about his Neck, and then be as mad to get free again.
_Flor._ Yes, _Valeria_; we shall see her bestride his Baggage-horse, and follow him to the Campaign.
_Hell._ So, so; now you are provided for, there's no care taken of poor me-- But since you have set my Heart a wishing, I am resolv'd to know for what. I will not die of the Pip, so I will not.
_Flor._ Art thou mad to talk so? Who will like thee well enough to have thee, that hears what a mad Wench thou art?
_Hell._ Like me! I don't intend, every he that likes me shall have me, but he that I like: I shou'd have staid in the Nunnery still, if I had lik'd my Lady Abbess as well as she lik'd me. No, I came thence, not (as my wise Brother imagines) to take an eternal Farewel of the World, but to love and to be belov'd; and I will be belov'd or I'll get one of your Men, so I will.
_Val._ Am I put into the Number of Lovers?
_Hell._ You! my Couz, I know thou art too good natur'd to leave us in any Design: Thou wou't venture a Cast, tho thou comest off a Loser, especially with such a Gamester-- I observ'd your Man, and your willing Ears incline that way; and if you are not a Lover, 'tis an Art soon learnt-- that I find.
[Sighs.
_Flor._ I wonder how you learnt to love so easily, I had a thousand Charms to meet my Eyes and Ears, e'er I cou'd yield; and 'twas the knowledge of _Belvile's_ Merit, not the surprising Person, took my Soul-- Thou art too rash to give a Heart at first sight.
_Hell._ Hang your considering Lover; I ne'er thought beyond the Fancy, that 'twas a very pretty, idle, silly kind of Pleasure to pass ones time with, to write little, soft, nonsensical Billets, and with great difficulty and danger receive Answers; in which I shall have my Beauty prais'd, my Wit admir'd (tho little or none) and have the Vanity and Power to know I am desirable; then I have the more Inclination that way, because I am to be a Nun, and so shall not be suspected to have any such earthly Thoughts about me-- But when I walk thus-- and sigh thus-- they'll think my Mind's upon my Monastery, and cry, how happy 'tis she's so resolv'd!-- But not a Word of Man.
_Flor._ What a mad Creature's this!
_Hell._ I'll warrant, if my Brother hears either of you sigh, he cries (gravely)-- I fear you have the Indiscretion to be in love, but take heed of the Honour of our House, and your own unspotted Fame; and so he conjures on till he has laid the soft-wing'd God in your Hearts, or broke the Birds-nest-- But see here comes your Lover: but where's my inconstant? let's step aside, and we may learn something.
[Go aside.
Enter _Belvile_, _Fred._ and _Blunt_.
_Belv._ What means this? the Picture's taken in.
_Blunt._ It may be the Wench is good natur'd, and will be kind _gratis_.
Your Friend's a proper handsom Fellow.
_Belv._ I rather think she has cut his Throat and is fled: I am mad he should throw himself into Dangers-- Pox on't, I shall want him to night-- let's knock and ask for him.
_Hell._ My heart goes a-pit a-pat, for fear 'tis my Man they talk of.
[Knock, _Moretta_ above.
_More._ What would you have?
_Belv._ Tell the Stranger that enter'd here about two Hours ago, that his Friends stay here for him.
_Moret._ A Curse upon him for _Moretta_, would he were at the Devil-- but he's coming to you.
[Enter _Wilmore_.
_Hell._ I, I, 'tis he. Oh how this vexes me.
_Belv._ And how, and how, dear Lad, has Fortune smil'd? Are we to break her Windows, or raise up Altars to her! hah!
_Will._ Does not my Fortune sit triumphant on my Brow? dost not see the little wanton God there all gay and smiling? have I not an Air about my Face and Eyes, that distinguish me from the Croud of common Lovers? By Heav'n, _Cupid's_ Quiver has not half so many Darts as her Eyes-- Oh such a _Bona Rota_, to sleep in her Arms is lying in Fresco, all perfum'd Air about me.
_Hell._ Here's fine encouragement for me to fool on. [Aside.
_Will._ Hark ye, where didst thou purchase that rich Canary we drank to-day? Tell me, that I may adore the Spigot, and sacrifice to the Butt: the Juice was divine, into which I must dip my Rosary, and then bless all things that I would have bold or fortunate.
_Belv._ Well, Sir, let's go take a Bottle, and hear the Story of your Success.
_Fred._ Would not _French_ Wine do better?
_Will._ Damn the hungry Balderdash; cheerful Sack has a generous Virtue in't, inspiring a successful Confidence, gives Eloquence to the Tongue, and Vigour to the Soul; and has in a few Hours compleated all my Hopes and Wishes. There's nothing left to raise a new Desire in me-- Come let's be gay and wanton-- and, Gentlemen, study, study what you want, for here are Friends,-- that will supply, Gentlemen,-- hark! what a charming sound they make-- 'tis he and she Gold whilst here, shall beget new Pleasures every moment.
_Blunt._ But hark ye, Sir, you are not married, are you?
_Will._ All the Honey of Matrimony, but none of the Sting, Friend.