Sir _Sig_. Poor Devil, how fearful 'tis of losing me! [_Aside_.
_Gal_. That's some Atonement for thy other Sins,-- Come, break thy Word, and wash it quite away.
Sir _Sig_. That cogging won't do, my good Friend, that won't do.
_Gal_. Thou shall be just and perjur'd, and pay my Heart the debt of Love you owe it.
_Cor_. And wou'd you have the Heart--to make a Whore of me?
_Gal_. With all my Soul, and the Devil's in't if I can give thee a greater proof of my Passion.
_Cor_. I rather fear you wou'd debauch me into that dull slave call'd a Wife.
_Gal_. A Wife! have I no Conscience, no Honour in me?
Prithee believe I wou'd not be so wicked-- No,--my Desires are generous, and noble, To set thee up, that glorious insolent thing, That makes Mankind such Slaves, almighty Curtezan!
--Come, to thy private Chamber let us haste, The sacred Temple of the God of Love; And consecrate thy Power.
[_Offers to bear her off_.
_Cor_. Stay, do you take me then for what I seem?
_Gal_. I am sure I do, and wou'd not be mistaken for a Kingdom: But if thou art not, I can soon mend that fault, And make thee so.--Come, I'm impatient to begin the Experiment.
[_Offers again to carry her off_.
_Cor_. Nay, then I am in earnest,--hold, mistaken Stranger--I am of noble Birth; and shou'd I in one hapless loving Minute destroy the Honour of my House, ruin my Youth and Beauty, and all that virtuous Education my hoping Parents gave me?
_Gal_. Pretty dissembled Pride and Innocence! And wounds no less than smiles!--Come, let us in,--where I will give thee leave to frown and jilt; such pretty Frauds advance the Appetite.
[_Offers again_.
_Cor_. By all that's good, I am a Maid of Quality, Blest with a Fortune equal to my Birth.
_Gal_. I do not credit thee; or if I did, For once I wou'd dispense with Quality, And to express my Love, take thee with all these Faults.
_Cor_. And being so, can you expect I'll yield?
_Gal_. The sooner for that reason, if thou'rt wise; The Quality will take away the Scandal.
Do not torment me longer-- [_Offers to lead her again_.
_Cor_. Stay and be undeceiv'd,--I do conjure ye.--
_Gal_. Art thou no Curtezan?
_Cor_. Not on my life, nor do intend to be.
_Gal_. No Prostitute? nor dost intend to be?
_Cor_. By all that's good, I only feign'd to be so.
_Gal_. No Curtezan! hast thou deceiv'd me then?
Tell me, thou wicked honest cozening Beauty, Why didst thou draw me in, with such a fair Pretence, Why such a tempting Preface to invite, And the whole Piece so useless and unedifying?
--Heavens! not a Curtezan!
Why from thy Window didst thou take my Vows, And make such kind Returns? Oh, damn your Quality: What honest Whore but wou'd have scorn'd thy Cunning?
_Cor_. I make ye kind Returns?
_Gal_. Persuade me out of that too; 'twill be like ye.
_Cor_. By all my Wishes I never held Discourse with you--but this Evening, since I first saw your Face.
_Gal_. Oh, the Impudence of Honesty and Quality in Woman!
A plague upon 'em both, they have undone me!
Bear witness, oh thou gentle Queen of Night, Goddess of Shades, ador'd by Lovers most; How oft under thy Covert she has damn'd her self, With feigned Love to me! [_In Passion_.
_Cor_. Heavens! this is Impudence: that Power I call to witness too, how damnably thou injur'st me. [_Angry_.
_Gal_. You never from your Window talk'd of Love to me?
_Cor_. Never.
_Gal_. So, nor you're no Curtezan?
_Cor_. No, by my Life.
_Gal_. So, nor do intend to be, by all that's good?
_Cor_. By all that's good, never.
_Gal_. So, and you are real honest, and of Quality?
_Cor_. Or may I still be wretched.
_Gal_. So, then farewel Honesty and Quality--'Sdeath, what a Night, what Hopes, and what a Mistress, have I all lost for Honesty and Quality!
[_Offers to go_.
_Cor_. Stay.--
_Gal_. I will be rack'd first, let go thy hold!
[_In fury_.
--Unless thou wou'dst repent.-- [_In a soft tone_.
_Cor_. I cannot of my fixt Resolves for Virtue!
--But if you could but--love me--honourably-- For I assum'd this Habit and this Dress--
_Gal_. To cheat me of my Heart the readiest way: And now, like gaming Rooks, unwilling to give o'er till you have hook'd in my last stake, my Body too, you cozen me with Honesty.--Oh, damn the Dice--I'll have no more on't, I, the Game's too deep for me, unless you play'd upon the square, or I could cheat like you.-- Farewel, Quality-- [_Goes out_.
_Cor_. He's gone; _Philippa_, run and fetch him back; I have but this short Night allow'd for Liberty; Perhaps to morrow I may be a Slave.
[_Ex_. Phil.
--Now o' my Conscience there never came good of this troublesome Virtue-- hang't, I was too serious; but a Devil on't, he looks so charmingly--and was so very pressing, I durst trust my gay Humour and good Nature no farther.
[_She walks about, Sir_ Signal _peeps and then comes out_.