_Fred._ No Friend to Love like a long Voyage at Sea.
_Blunt._ Except a Nunnery, _Fred_.
_Will._ Death! but will they not be kind, quickly be kind? Thou know'st I'm no tame Sigher, but a rampant Lion of the Forest.
_Two Men drest all over with Horns of several sorts, making Grimaces at one another, with Papers pinn'd on their Backs, advance from the farther end of the Scene._
_Belv._ Oh the fantastical Rogues, how they are dress'd! 'tis a Satir against the whole Sex.
_Will._ Is this a Fruit that grows in this warm Country?
_Belv._ Yes: 'Tis pretty to see these _Italian_ start, swell, and stab at the Word _Cuckold_, and yet stumble at Horns on every Threshold.
_Will._ See what's on their Back-- _Flowers for every Night._ [Reads.
--Ah Rogue! And more sweet than Roses of ev'ry Month! This is a Gardiner of _Adam's_ own breeding.
[They dance.
_Belv._ What think you of those grave People?-- is a Wake in _Essex_ half so mad or extravagant?
_Will._ I like their sober grave way, 'tis a kind of legal authoriz'd Fornication, where the Men are not chid for't, nor the Women despis'd, as amongst our dull _English_; even the Monsieurs want that part of good Manners.
_Belv._ But here in _Italy_ a Monsieur is the humblest best-bred Gentleman-- Duels are so baffled by Bravo's that an age shews not one, but between a _Frenchman_ and a Hang-man, who is as much too hard for him on the Piazza, as they are for a _Dutchman_ on the new Bridge-- But see another Crew.
Enter _Florinda_, _Hellena_, and _Valeria_, drest like Gipsies; _Callis_ and _Stephano_, _Lucetta_, _Phillippo_ and _Sancho_ in Masquerade.
_Hell._ Sister, there's your _Englishman_, and with him a handsom proper Fellow-- I'll to him, and instead of telling him his Fortune, try my own.
_Will._ Gipsies, on my Life-- Sure these will prattle if a Man cross their Hands. [Goes to _Hellena_] --Dear pretty (and I hope) young Devil, will you tell an amorous Stranger what Luck he's like to have?
_Hell._ Have a care how you venture with me, Sir, lest I pick your Pocket, which will more vex your _English_ Humour, than an _Italian_ Fortune will please you.
_Will._ How the Devil cam'st thou to know my Country and Humour?
_Hell._ The first I guess by a certain forward Impudence, which does not displease me at this time; and the Loss of your Money will vex you, because I hope you have but very little to lose.
_Will._ Egad Child, thou'rt i'th' right; it is so little, I dare not offer it thee for a Kindness-- But cannot you divine what other things of more value I have about me, that I would more willingly part with?
_Hell._ Indeed no, that's the Business of a Witch, and I am but a Gipsy yet-- Yet, without looking in your Hand, I have a parlous Guess, 'tis some foolish Heart you mean, an inconstant _English_ Heart, as little worth stealing as your Purse.
_Will._ Nay, then thou dost deal with the Devil, that's certain-- Thou hast guess'd as right as if thou hadst been one of that Number it has languisht for-- I find you'll be better acquainted with it; nor can you take it in a better time, for I am come from Sea, Child; and _Venus_ not being propitious to me in her own Element, I have a world of Love in store-- Wou'd you would be good-natur'd, and take some on't off my Hands.
_Hell._ Why-- I could be inclin'd that way-- but for a foolish Vow I am going to make-- to die a Maid.
_Will._ Then thou art damn'd without Redemption; and as I am a good Christian, I ought in charity to divert so wicked a design-- therefore prithee, dear Creature, let me know quickly when and where I shall begin to set a helping hand to so good a Work.
_Hell._ If you should prevail with my tender Heart (as I begin to fear you will, for you have horrible loving Eyes) there will be difficulty in't that you'll hardly undergo for my sake.
_Will._ Faith, Child, I have been bred in Dangers, and wear a Sword that has been employ'd in a worse Cause, than for a handsom kind Woman-- Name the Danger-- let it be any thing but a long Siege, and I'll undertake it.
_Hell._ Can you storm?
_Will._ Oh, most furiously.
_Hell._ What think you of a Nunnery-wall? for he that wins me, must gain that first.
_Will._ A Nun! Oh how I love thee for't! there's no Sinner like a young Saint-- Nay, now there's no denying me: the old Law had no Curse (to a Woman) like dying a Maid; witness _Jephtha's_ Daughter.
_Hell._ A very good Text this, if well handled; and I perceive, Father Captain, you would impose no severe Penance on her who was inclin'd to console her self before she took Orders.
_Will._ If she be young and handsom.
_Hell._ Ay, there's it-- but if she be not--
_Will._ By this Hand, Child, I have an implicit Faith, and dare venture on thee with all Faults-- besides, 'tis more meritorious to leave the World when thou hast tasted and prov'd the Pleasure on't; then 'twill be a Virtue in thee, which now will be pure Ignorance.
_Hell._ I perceive, good Father Captain, you design only to make me fit for Heaven-- but if on the contrary you should quite divert me from it, and bring me back to the World again, I should have a new Man to seek I find; and what a grief that will be-- for when I begin, I fancy I shall love like any thing: I never try'd yet.
_Will._ Egad, and that's kind-- Prithee, dear Creature, give me Credit for a Heart, for faith, I'm a very honest Fellow-- Oh, I long to come first to the Banquet of Love; and such a swinging Appetite I bring-- Oh, I'm impatient. Thy Lodging, Sweetheart, thy Lodging, or I'm a dead man.
_Hell._ Why must we be either guilty of Fornication or Murder, if we converse with you Men?-- And is there no difference between leave to love me, and leave to lie with me?
_Will._ Faith, Child, they were made to go together.
_Lucet._ Are you sure this is the Man? [Pointing to _Blunt_.
_Sancho._ When did I mistake your Game?
_Lucet._ This is a stranger, I know by his gazing; if he be brisk he'll venture to follow me; and then, if I understand my Trade, he's mine: he's _English_ too, and they say that's a sort of good natur'd loving People, and have generally so kind an opinion of themselves, that a Woman with any Wit may flatter 'em into any sort of Fool she pleases.
_Blunt._ 'Tis so-- she is taken-- I have Beauties which my false Glass at home did not discover.
[She often passes by _Blunt_ and gazes on him; he struts, and cocks, and walks, and gazes on her.
_Flor._ This Woman watches me so, I shall get no Opportunity to discover my self to him, and so miss the intent of my coming-- But as I was saying, Sir-- by this Line you should be a Lover.
[Looking in his Hand.
_Belv._ I thought how right you guess'd, all Men are in love, or pretend to be so-- Come, let me go, I'm weary of this fooling.
[Walks away.
_Flor._ I will not, till you have confess'd whether the Passion that you have vow'd _Florinda_ be true or false.
[She holds him, he strives to get from her.
_Belv._ _Florinda_! [Turns quick towards her.
_Flor._ Softly.
_Belv._ Thou hast nam'd one will fix me here for ever.