_Guil_. Or else, two Morning Stars, All other Beauties are but Soot to her.
_Jul_. But shou'd my Husband--
_Car_. He's safe for one dear half hour, I'll warrant you, come.
_Fran_. Um--my Wife here still, must I begin to thunder.
_Jul_. Lord, and you be so froward, I'll be gone.--
_Car_. So, her Husband, kind heart, lest she should be cruel, has himself given me the dear opportunity.--[_Aside_.--Be sure you keep the old Fellow in discourse awhile.
_Guil_. Be you as sure to cuckold him.-- [_Ex_. Car. _and_ Jul.
--Old Fellow,--prithee what Person of Quality is that?
_Fran_. Person of Quality! alas, my Lord, 'tis a silly Citizen's Daughter.
_Guil_. A Citizen's! what clod of Earth cou'd bring forth such a Beauty?
_Fran_. Alas, my Lord, I am that clod of Earth, and to Earth, if you call it so, she must return again, for she's to be married to a Citizen this Morning.
_Guil_. Oh! I am doubly wounded, first with her harmonious Eyes, Who've fir'd my Heart to that Degree, No Chimney ever burnt like me.
Fair Lady,--suffer the Broom of my Affection to sweep all other Lovers from your heart.
_Isa_. Ah, my Lord, name it not, I'm this day to be married.
_Guil_. To day! name me the Man; Man did I say? the Monster, that dares lay claim to her I deign to love,--none answer me,--I'll make him smoak, by _Vulcan_--and all the rest of the Goddesses.
_Fran_. Bless me, what a furious thing this Love is?
_Guil_. By this bright Sword, that is so used to slaughter, he dies; [_Draws_.] old Fellow, say--the Poltroon's name.
_Fran_. Oh, fearful--alas, dread Sir!
_Isa_. Ah! sheath your Sword, and calm your generous Rage.
_Guil_. I cannot brook a Rival in my Love, the rustling Pole of my Affection is too strong to be resisted.
_Runs raging up and down the Stage with his Sword in his hand_.
_Isa_. I cannot think, my Lord, so mean a Beauty can so suddenly charm a Heart so great as yours.
_Guil_. Oh! you're mistaken, as soon as I cast my eyes upon the Full-moon of your Countenance, I was struck blind and dumb.
_Fran_. Ay, and deaf too, I'll be sworn, he cou'd neither hear, see nor understand; this Love's a miraculous thing.
_Guil_. And that Minute, the most renoun'd Don _Gulielmo Roderigo de Chimeny Sweperio_, became your Gally-Slave,--I say no more, but that I do love,--and I will love,--and that if you are but half so willing as I, I will dub you, Viscountess _de Chimeny Sweperio_.
_Isa_. I am in Heaven, ah! I die, _Jacinta_. How can I credit this, that am so much unworthy?
_Guil_. I'll do't, say no more, I'll do't.
_Fran_. Do't, but, my Lord, and with what face can I put off Signior _Antonio_, hum.
_Guil_. _Antonio_,--hy, Pages, give order that _Antonio_ be instantly run through the Lungs--d'ye hear?
_Fran_. Oh, hold, hold, my Lord! run through the Lungs!
_Page_. It shall be done, my Lord! but what _Antonio_?
_Guil_. Why, any _Antonio_; all the _Antonio's_ that you find in _Cadiz_.
_Fran_. Oh, what bloody-minded Monsters these Lords are!--But, my Lord, I'll ne'er give you the trouble of killing him, I'll put him off with a handsom Compliment; as thus,--Why, look ye, Friend _Antonio_, the business is this, my Daughter _Isabella_ may marry a Lord, and you may go fiddle.--
_Guil_. Ay, that's civil,--and if he do not desist, I'll unpeople _Spain_ but I'll kill him; for, Madam, I'll tell you what happened to me in the Court of _France_--there was a Lady in the Court in love with me,--she took a liking to my Person which--I think,--you will confess--
_Isa_. To be the most accomplisht in the World.
_Guil_. I had some sixscore Rivals, they all took Snuff; that is, were angry--at which I smiled;--they were incensed; at which I laught, ha, ha, ha,--i'faith; they rag'd, I--when I met 'em,--Cockt, thus--_en passant_--justled 'em--thus,--[_Overthrows_ Fran.] They turn'd and frown'd,--thus,--I drew.--
_Fran_. What, on all the sixscore, my Lord?
_Guil_. All, all; sa, sa, quoth I, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa.
[_Fences him round the Stage_.
_Fran_. Hold, hold, my Lord, I am none of the sixscore.
_Guil_. And run 'em all through the Body!
_Fran_. Oh Heavens! and kill'd 'em all.
_Guil_. Not a Man,--only run 'em through the body a little, that's all, my two Boys were by, my Pages here.
_Isa_. Is it the fashion, Sir, to be attended by Pages so big?
_Guil_. Pages of Honour always;--these were stinted at nurse, or they had been good proper Fellows.
_Fran_. I am so frighted with this relation, that I must up to my Wife's Chamber for a little of that strong Cordial that recovered her this morning.
[_Going out_ Guil. _stays him_.
_Guil_. Why, I'll tell you, Sir, what an odd sort of a Wound I received in a Duel the other day,--nay, Ladies, I'll shew it you; in a very odd place--in my back parts.
[_Goes to untuck his Breeches, the Ladies squeak_.
_Isa_. Ah.
_Page_. Shew a Wound behind, Sir! the Ladies will think you are a Coward.
_Guil_. Peace, Child, peace, the Ladies understand Dueling as little as my self; but, since you are so tender-hearted, Ladies, I'll not shew you my wound; but faith, it spoiled my dancing.
_Page comes in_.