_Will._ Hum, a Woman of Quality and jilt me-- Egad, that's strange now-- Well, who shall a Man trust in this wicked World?
Enter _La Nuche_ as before.
_La Nu._ This should be he, he saunters about like an expecting Lover.
[_Will._ peeping and approaching.
_Will._ By this Light a Woman, if she be the right-- but right or wrong so she be Feminine: harkye, Child, I fancy thee some kind thing that belongs to me.
_La Nu._ Who are you? [In a low tone.
_Will._ A wandering Lover that has lost his Heart, and I have shreud Guess 'tis in thy dear Bosom, Child.
_La Nu._ Oh you're a pretty Lover, a Woman's like to have a sweet time on't, if you're always so tedious.
_Will._ By yon bright Star-light, Child, I walk'd here in short turns like a Centinel, all this live-long Evening, and was just going (Gad forgive me) to kill my self.
_La Nu._ I rather think some Beauty has detain'd you: Have you not seen _La Nuche_?
_Will._ _La Nuche!_-- Why, she's a Whore-- I hope you take me for a civiller Person, than to throw my self away on Whores-- No, Child, I lie with none but honest Women I: but no disputing now, come-- to my Lodging, my dear-- here's a Chair waits hard by.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. _Willmore's Lodging._
Enter _Harlequin_ with _Fetherfool's_ Clothes on his Shoulder, leading him halting by one Hand, _Blunt_ (drunk) by the other in the dark; _Fetherfool_ bloody, his Coat put over his Shoulders.
_Feth._ _Peano, Peano_, Seignior, gently, good _Edward_-- for I'll not halt before a Cripple; I have lost a great part of my agil Faculties.
_Blunt._ Ah, see the Inconstancy of fickle Fortune, _Nicholas_-- A Man to day, and beaten to morrow: but take comfort, there's many a proper fellow has been robb'd and beaten on this Highway of whoring.
_Feth._ Ay, _Ned_, thou speak'st by woful Experience-- but that I should miscarry after thy wholesom Documents-- but we are all mortal, as thou say'st, _Ned_-- Would I had never crost the Ferry from _Croydon_; a few such Nights as these wou'd learn a Man Experience enough to be a Wizard, if he have but the ill luck to escape hanging.
_Blunt._ 'Dsheartlikins, I wonder in what Country our kinder Stars rule: In _England_ plunder'd, sequester'd, imprison'd and banish'd; in _France_, starv'd, walking like the Sign of the naked Boy, with _Plymouth_ Cloaks in our Hands; in _Italy_ and _Spain_ robb'd, beaten, and thrown out at Windows.
_Feth._ Well, how happy am I, in having so true a Friend to condole me in Affliction-- [Weeps.] I am oblig'd to Seignior _Harlequin_ too, for bringing me hither to the Mountebank's, where I shall not only conceal this Catastrophe from those fortunate Rogues our Comrades, but procure a little Album Graecum for my Backside. Come, Seignior, my Clothes-- but, Seignior-- _un Portavera Poco palanca_.
[Dresses himself.
_Harl._ Seignior.
_Feth._ _Entende vos Signoria Englesa?_
_Harl._ _Em Poco, em Poco_, Seignior.
_Feth._ _Per quelq arts_, did your Seigniorship escape Cudgeling?
_Harl._ _La art de transformatio._
_Feth._ _Transformatio_-- Why, wert thou not born a Man?
_Harl._ No, Seignior, _un vieule Femme_.
_Feth._ How, born an old Woman?
_Blunt._ Good Lord! born an old Woman! And so by transformation became invulnerable.
_Feth._ Ay-- in-- invulnerable-- what would I give to be invulnerable?
and egad, I am almost weary of being a Man, and subject to beating: wou'd I were a Woman, a Man has but an ill time on't: if he has a mind to a Wench, the making Love is so plaguy tedious-- then paying is to my Soul insupportable. But to be a Woman, to be courted with Presents, and have both the Pleasure and the Profit-- to be without a Beard, and sing a fine Treble-- and squeak if the Men but kiss me-- 'twere fine-- and what's better, I am sure never to be beaten again.
_Blunt._ Pox on't, do not use an old Friend so scurvily; consider the Misery thou'lt indure to have the Heart and Mind of a jilting Whore possess thee: What a Fit of the Devil must he suffer who acts her Part from fourteen to fourscore! No,'tis resolv'd thou remain _Nicholas Fetherfool_ still, shalt marry the Monster, and laugh at Fortune.
_Feth._ 'Tis true, should I turn Whore to the Disgrace of my Family-- what would the World say? who wou'd have thought it, cries one? I cou'd never have believ'd it, cries another. No, as thou say'st, I'll remain as I am-- marry and live honestly.
_Blunt._ Well resolv'd, I'll leave you, for I was just going to serenade my Fairy Queen, when I met thee at the Door-- some Deeds of Gallantry must be perform'd, Seignior, _Bonus Nochus_.
[Ex. _Blunt_.
Enter _Shift_ with Light.
_Feth._ Hah, a Light, undone!
_Harl._ _Patientia, Patientia_, Seignior.
_Shift._ Where the Devil can this Rogue _Hunt_ be? Just now all things are ready for marrying these two Monsters; they wait, the House is husht, and in the lucky Minute to have him out of the way: sure the Devil owes me a spite.
[Runs against _Harlequin_, puts out his Candle.
_Harl._ _Qui est la?_
_Shift._ 'Tis _Harlequin_: Pox on't, is't you?
_Harl._ Peace, here's _Fetherfool_, I'll secure him, whilst you go about your Affair.
[Ex. _Shift_.
_Feth._ Oh, I hear a Noise, dear _Harlequin_ secure me; if I am discover'd I am undone-- hold, hold-- here's a Door-- [They both go in.
Scene changes to a Chamber, discovers the _She-Giant_ asleep in a great Chair.
Enter _Fetherfool_ and _Harlequin_.
_Feth._ Hah-- my Lady Monster! have I to avoid _Scylla_ run upon _Carybdis_?-- hah, she sleeps; now wou'd some magnanimous Lover make good Use of this Opportunity, take Fortune by the Fore-lock, put her to't, and make sure Work-- but Egad, he must have a better Heart, or a better Mistress than I.
_Harl._ Try your Strength, I'll be civil and leave you.
[In _Italian_ he still speaks.
_Feth._ Excuse me, Seignior, I should crackle like a wicker Bottle in her Arms-- no, Seignior, there's no venturing without a Grate between us: the Devil wou'd not give her due Benevolence-- No, when I'm marry'd, I'll e'en show her a fair pair of Heels, her Portion will pay Postage --But what if the Giant should carry her? that's to be fear'd, then I have cock'd and drest, and fed, and ventur'd all this while for nothing.
_Harl._ Faith, Seignior, if I were you, I wou'd make sure of something, see how rich she is in Gems.
_Feth._ Right, as thou say'st, I ought to make sure of something, and she is rich in Gems: How amiable looks that Neck with that delicious row of Pearls about it.
_Harl._ She sleeps.