_Alb._ Madam, I go, surpriz'd with Love and Wonder. [Ex. _Alb._
_Ism._ You'll be more surpriz'd, when you know [Aside.
That you are cheated too as well as _Antonio_.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Street.
Enter _Curtius_ disguis'd in a black Peruke and Beard, with _Pietro_ disguised also.
_Cur._ Well, what hast thou learn'd?
_Piet._ News enough, Sir, but none good; That the Prince's Wounds are small, So that he intends to take the Air this Evening; That he sollicits _Laura_ hard; And, Sir, that you are proclaim'd Traitor.
_Cur._ So, what says the Messenger you sent to _Cloris_?
_Piet._ Sir, he brings sad tidings back.
_Cur._ What tidings? is she dead?
That would revive my Soul, And fortify my easy Nature with some wicked Notions, As deep as those this flattering Prince made use of, When he betray'd my Sister, pretty _Cloris_: --Come, speak it boldly, for nothing else Will make me do her Justice.
_Piet._ No, Sir, she is not dead, But fled, and none knows whither; Only _Guilliam_ attends her.
_Cur._ Worse and worse; but what of _Laura_?
_Piet._ She, Sir, is kept a Prisoner by her Father, And speaks with none but those that come from _Frederick_.
_Cur._ _Laura_ confin'd too! 'tis time to hasten then, With my, till now, almost disarmed Revenge: --Thus I may pass unknown the Streets of _Florence_, And find an opportunity to reach this Prince's Heart, --Oh, Vengeance! luxurious Vengeance!
Thy Pleasures turn a Rival to my Love, And make the mightier Conquest o'er my Heart.
--_Cloris_, I will revenge thy Tears and Sufferings; And to secure the Doom of him that wrong'd thee, I'll call on injur'd _Laura_ too.
--Here take these Pictures--and where thou see'st [Gives him Boxes.
A knot of Gallants, open one or two, as if by stealth, To gaze upon the Beauties, and then straight close them-- But stay, here comes the only Man I could have wish'd for; he'll proclaim my Business Better than a Picture or a Trumpet. [They stand by.
[_Curtius_ takes back the Pictures.
Enter _Lorenzo_ and _Guilliam_ dressed in fineish Clothes, but the same high-crown'd Hat.
_Lor._ Did, ha, ha, ha, did, ha, ha; did ever any Mortal Man behold such a Figure as thou art now?
Well, I see 'tis a damnable thing not to Be born a Gentleman; the Devil himself Can never make thee truly jantee now.
--Come, come, come forward; these Clothes become Thee, as a Saddle does a Sow; why com'st thou not?
--Why--ha, ha, I hope thou hast not Hansel'd thy new Breeches, Thou look'st so filthily on't. [He advances, looking sourly.
_Guil._ No, Sir, I hope I have more manners than so; But if I should, 'tis not my fault; For the necessary Houses are hard To be met withal here at Court.
_Lor._ Very well, Sirrah; you begin already to be Witty with the Court: but I can tell you, it has as Many necessary Places in't, as any Court in Christendom --But what a Hat thou hast?
_Guil._ Why, Sir, though I say't, this is accounted of In our Village; but I had another but now, Which I blew off in a high Wind; and I never mist it, Till I had an occasion to pluck it off to a young Squire, they call a Lacquey; and, Fegs, I had none at all: and because I would not lose My Leg for want of a Hat, I fetch'd this; And I can tell you, Sir, it has a fashionable Brim.
_Lor._ A Fool's head of your own, has it not?
The Boys will hoot at us as we pass--hah, Who be these, who be these-- [Goes towards _Cur._ and _Piet._
_Cur._ Here--this to _Don Alonso_--this to the _English_ Count; and this you may shew to the Young _German_ Prince--and this-- I will reserve for higher Prices. [Gives _Piet._ Pictures.
_Piet._ Will you shew none to the Courtiers, Sir?
_Cur._ Away, you Fool, I deal in no such Trash.
_Lor._ How, Sir, how was that? pray how came we to Gain your dis-favour?
_Cur._ I cry you mercy, Sir, pray what are you;
_Lor._ A Courtier, Sir, I can assure you, And one of the best Rank too; I have the Prince's ear, Sir.
--What have you there, hah?--Pictures? let me see-- What, are they to be bought?
_Cur._ Sir, they are Copies of most fair Originals, Not to be bought but hired.
_Lor._ Say you so, Friend? the Price, the Price.
_Cur._ Five thousand Crowns a Month, Sir.
_Lor._ The Price is somewhat saucy.
_Cur._ Sir, they be curious Pieces, were never blown upon, Have never been in Courts, nor hardly Cities.
_Lor._ Upon my word, that's considerable; Friend, pray where do they live?
_Cur._ In the _Piazzo_, near the Palace.
_Lor._ Well, put up your Ware, shew not a face of them Till I return! for I will bring you The best Chapman in all _Florence_, Except the Duke himself.
_Cur._ You must be speedy then, For I to morrow shall be going towards _Rome_.
_Lor._ A subtle Rascal this: thou think'st, I warrant, To make a better Market amongst the Cardinals.
--But take my word, ne'er a Cardinal of them all Comes near this Man, I mean, to bring you in Matters of Beauty--so, this will infallibly make My Peace again: [Aside.] Look ye, Friend --Be ready, for 'tis the Prince, the noble generous _Frederick_, That I design your Merchant. [Goes out.
_Cur._ Your Servant, Sir,--that is _Guilliam_; I cannot be mistaken in him, go call him back.
[_Pietro_ fetches him back, who puts on a surly Face.
--Friend, what art thou?
_Guil._ What am I? why, what am I? dost thou not see What I am? a Courtier, Friend.
_Cur._ But what's thy Name?
_Guil._ My Name, I have not yet considered.
_Cur._ What was thy Name?
_Guil._ What was my Name?