Love does all day the Soul’s great Empire keep,
But Wine at night lulls the soft God asleep. [Exeunt.
Enter Blunt and Lucetta with a Light.
Luc. Now we are safe and free, no fears of the coming home of my old jealous Husband, which made me a little thoughtful when you came in first—but now Love is all the business of my Soul.
Blunt. I am transported—Pox on’t, that I had but some fine things to say to her, such as Lovers use—I was a Fool not to learn of Fred, a little by Heart before I came—something I must say.— [Aside. ’Sheartlikins, sweet Soul, I am not us’d to complement, but I’m an honest Gentleman, and thy humble Servant.
Luc. I have nothing to pay for so great a Favour, but such a Love as cannot but be great, since at first sight of that sweet Face and Shape it made me your absolute Captive.
Blunt. Kind heart, how prettily she talks! Egad I’ll show her Husband a Spanish Trick; send him out of the World, and marry her: she’s damnably in love with me, and will ne’er mind Settlements, and so there’s that say’d. [Aside.
Luc. Well, Sir, I’ll go and undress me, and be with you instantly.
Blunt. Make haste then, for ’dsheartlikins, dear Soul, thou canst not guess at the pain of a longing Lover, when his Joys are drawn within the compass of a few minutes.
Luc. You speak my Sense, and I’ll make haste to provide it. [Exit.
Blunt. ’Tis a rare Girl, and this one night’s enjoyment with her will be worth all the days I ever past in Essex.—Would she’d go with me into England, tho to say truth, there’s plenty of Whores there already.—But a pox on ’em they are such mercenary prodigal Whores, that they want such a one as this, that’s free and generous, to give ’em good Examples:—Why, what a House she has! how rich and fine!
Sancho. Sir, my Lady has sent me to conduct you to her Chamber.
Blunt. Sir, I shall be proud to follow—Here’s one of her Servants too: ’dsheartlikins, by his Garb and Gravity he might be a Justice of Peace in Essex, and is but a Pimp here. [Exeunt.
The Scene changes to a Chamber with an Alcove-Bed in it, a Table, &c. Lucetta in Bed. Enter Sancho and Blunt, who takes the Candle of Sancho at the Door.
Sanch. Sir, my Commission reaches no farther.
Blunt. Sir, I’ll excuse your Complement:—what, in Bed, my sweet Mistress?
Luc. You see, I still out-do you in kindness.
Blunt. And thou shall see what haste I’ll make to quit scores—oh the luckiest Rogue! [Undresses himself.
Luc. Shou’d you be false or cruel now!
Blunt. False, ’Sheartlikins, what dost thou take me for a Jew? an insensible Heathen,—A Pox of thy old jealous Husband: and he were dead, egad, sweet Soul, it shou’d be none of my fault, if I did not marry thee.
Luc. It never shou’d be mine.
Blunt. Good Soul, I’m the fortunatest Dog!
Luc. Are you not undrest yet?
Blunt. As much as my Impatience will permit. [Goes towards the Bed in his Shirt and Drawers.
Luc. Hold, Sir, put out the Light, it may betray us else.
Blunt. Any thing, I need no other Light but that of thine Eyes!—’sheartlikins, there I think I had it. [Aside. [Puts out the Candle, the Bed descends, he gropes about to find it.
—Why—why—where am I got? what, not yet?—where are you sweetest?—ah, the Rogue’s silent now—a pretty Love-trick this—how she’ll laugh at me anon!—you need not, my dear Rogue! you need not! I’m all on a fire already—come, come, now call me in for pity—Sure I’m enchanted! I have been round the Chamber, and can find neither Woman, nor Bed—I lockt the Door, I’m sure she cannot go that way; or if she cou’d, the Bed cou’d not—Enough, enough, my pretty Wanton, do not carry the Jest too far—Ha, betray’d! Dogs! Rogues! Pimps! help! help! [Lights on a Trap, and is let down.
Enter Lucetta, Philippo, and Sancho with a Light.
Phil. Ha, ha, ha, he’s dispatcht finely.
Luc. Now, Sir, had I been coy, we had mist of this Booty.
Phil. Nay when I saw ’twas a substantial Fool, I was mollified; but when you doat upon a Serenading Coxcomb, upon a Face, fine Clothes, and a Lute, it makes me rage.
Luc. You know I never was guilty of that Folly, my dear Philippo, but with your self—But come let’s see what we have got by this.
Phil. A rich Coat!—Sword and Hat!—these Breeches too—are well lin’d!—see here a Gold Watch!—a Purse—ha! Gold!—at least two hundred Pistoles! a bunch of Diamond Rings; and one with the Family Arms!—a Gold Box!—with a Medal of his King! and his Lady Mother’s Picture!—these were sacred Reliques, believe me!—see, the Wasteband of his Breeches have a Mine of Gold!—Old Queen Bess’s. We have a Quarrel to her ever since Eighty Eight, and may therefore justify the Theft, the Inquisition might have committed it.
Luc. See, a Bracelet of bow’d Gold, these his Sister ty’d about his Arm at parting—but well—for all this, I fear his being a Stranger may make a noise, and hinder our Trade with them hereafter.
Phil. That’s our security; he is not only a Stranger to us, but to the Country too—the Common-Shore into which he is descended, thou know’st, conducts him into another Street, which this Light will hinder him from ever finding again—he knows neither your Name, nor the Street where your House is, nay, nor the way to his own Lodgings.
Luc. And art not thou an unmerciful Rogue, not to afford him one Night for all this?—I should not have been such a Jew.
Phil. Blame me not, Lucetta, to keep as much of thee as I can to my self—come, that thought makes me wanton,—let’s to Bed,—Sancho, lock up these.
This is the Fleece which Fools do bear,
Design’d for witty Men to sheer. [Exeunt.
The Scene changes, and discovers Blunt, creeping out of a Common Shore, his Face, &c., all dirty.
Blunt. Oh Lord! [Climbing up.
I am got out at last, and (which is a Miracle) without a Clue—and now to Damning and Cursing,—but if that would ease me, where shall I begin? with my Fortune, my self, or the Quean that cozen’d me—What a dog was I to believe in Women! Oh Coxcomb—ignorant conceited Coxcomb! to fancy she cou’d be enamour’d with my Person, at the first sight enamour’d—Oh, I’m a cursed Puppy,’tis plain, Fool was writ upon my Forehead, she perceiv’d it,—saw the Essex Calf there—for what Allurements could there be in this Countenance? which I can indure, because I’m acquainted with it—Oh, dull silly Dog! to be thus sooth’d into a Cozening! Had I been drunk, I might fondly have credited the young Quean! but as I was in my right Wits, to be thus cheated, confirms I am a dull believing English Country Fop.—But my Comrades! Death and the Devil, there’s the worst of all—then a Ballad will be sung to Morrow on the Prado, to a lousy Tune of the enchanted Squire, and the annihilated Damsel—But Fred, that Rogue, and the Colonel, will abuse me beyond all Christian patience—had she left me my Clothes, I have a Bill of Exchange at home wou’d have sav’d my Credit—but now all hope is taken from me—Well, I’ll home (if I can find the way) with this Consolation, that I am not the first kind believing Coxcomb; but there are, Gallants, many such good Natures amongst ye.
And tho you’ve better Arts to hide your Follies,
Adsheartlikins y’are all as errant Cullies.
Scene III. The Garden, in the Night.
Enter Florinda undres’d, with a Key, and a little Box.
Flor. Well, thus far I’m in my way to Happiness; I have got my self free from Callis; my Brother too, I find by yonder light, is gone into his Cabinet, and thinks not of me: I have by good Fortune got the Key of the Garden Back-door,—I’ll open it, to prevent Belvile’s knocking,—a little noise will now alarm my Brother. Now am I as fearful as a young Thief. [Unlocks the Door.] —Hark,—what noise is that?—Oh,’twas the Wind that plaid amongst the Boughs.—Belvile stays long, methinks—it’s time—stay—for fear of a surprize, I’ll hide these Jewels in yonder Jessamin. [She goes to lay down the Box.
Enter Willmore drunk.
Will. What the Devil is become of these Fellows, Belvile and Frederick? They promis’d to stay at the next corner for me, but who the Devil knows the corner of a full Moon?—Now—whereabouts am I?—hah—what have we here? a Garden!—a very convenient place to sleep in—hah—what has God sent us here?—a Female—by this light, a Woman; I’m a Dog if it be not a very Wench.—
Flor. He’s come!—hah—who’s there?
Will. Sweet Soul, let me salute thy Shoe-string.
Flor. ’Tis not my Belvile—good Heavens, I know him not.—Who are you, and from whence come you?
Will. Prithee—prithee, Child—not so many hard Questions—let it suffice I am here, Child—Come, come kiss me.
Flor. Good Gods! what luck is mine?
Will. Only good luck, Child, parlous good luck—Come hither,—’tis a delicate shining Wench,—by this Hand she’s perfum’d, and smells like any Nosegay.—Prithee, dear Soul, let’s not play the Fool, and lose time,—precious time—for as Gad shall save me, I’m as honest a Fellow as breathes, tho I am a little disguis’d at present.—Come, I say,—why, thou may’st be free with me, I’ll be very secret. I’ll not boast who ’twas oblig’d me, not I—for hang me if I know thy Name.
Flor. Heavens! what a filthy beast is this!
Will. I am so, and thou oughtst the sooner to lie with me for that reason,—for look you, Child, there will be no Sin in’t, because ’twas neither design’d nor premeditated; ’tis pure Accident on both sides—that’s a certain thing now—Indeed should I make love to you, and you vow Fidelity—and swear and lye till you believ’d and yielded—Thou art therefore (as thou art a good Christian) oblig’d in Conscience to deny me nothing. Now—come, be kind, without any more idle prating.
Flor. Oh, I am ruin’d—wicked Man, unhand me.
Will. Wicked! Egad, Child, a Judge, were he young and vigorous, and saw those Eyes of thine, would know ’twas they gave the first blow—the first provocation.—Come, prithee let’s lose no time, I say—this is a fine convenient place.
Flor. Sir, let me go, I conjure you, or I’ll call out.
Will. Ay, ay, you were best to call Witness to see how finely you treat me—do.—
Flor. I’ll cry Murder, Rape, or any thing, if you do not instantly let me go.
Will. A Rape! Come, come, you lye, you Baggage, you lye: What, I’ll warrant you would fain have the World believe now that you are not so forward as I. No, not you,—why at this time of Night was your Cobweb-door set open, dear Spider—but to catch Flies?—Hah come—or I shall be damnably angry.—Why what a Coil is here.—
Flor. Sir, can you think—
Will. That you’d do it for nothing? oh, oh, I find what you’d be at—look here, here’s a Pistole for you—here’s a work indeed—here—take it, I say.—
Flor. For Heaven’s sake, Sir, as you’re a Gentleman—
Will. So—now—she would be wheedling me for more—what, you will not take it then—you’re resolv’d you will not.—Come, come, take it, or I’ll put it up again; for, look ye, I never give more.—Why, how now, Mistress, are you so high i’th’ Mouth, a Pistole won’t down with you?—hah—why, what a work’s here—in good time—come, no struggling, be gone—But an y’are good at a dumb Wrestle, I’m for ye,—look ye,—I’m for ye.— [She struggles with him.
Enter Belvile and Frederick.
Bel. The Door is open, a Pox of this mad Fellow, I’m angry that we’ve lost him, I durst have sworn he had follow’d us.
Fred. But you were so hasty, Colonel, to be gone.
Flor. Help, help,—Murder!—help—oh, I’m ruin’d.
Belv. Ha, sure that’s Florinda’s Voice. [Comes up to them.
—A Man! Villain, let go that Lady.[A noise.
[Will. turns and draws, Fred. interposes.
Flor. Belvile! Heavens! my Brother too is coming, and ’twill be impossible to escape.—Belvile, I conjure you to walk under my Chamber-window, from whence I’ll give you some instructions what to do—This rude Man has undone us. [Exit.
Will. Belvile!
Enter Pedro, Stephano, and other Servants with Lights.
Ped. I’m betray’d; run, Stephano, and see if Florinda be safe. [Exit Steph.
So whoe’er they be, all is not well, I’ll to Florinda’s Chamber. [They fight, and Pedro’s Party beats ’em out; going out, meets Stephano.
Steph. You need not, Sir, the poor Lady’s fast asleep, and thinks no harm: I wou’d not wake her, Sir, for fear of frightning her with your danger.
Ped. I’m glad she’s there—Rascals, how came the Garden-Door open?
Steph. That Question comes too late, Sir: some of my Fellow-Servants Masquerading I’ll warrant.
Ped. Masquerading! a leud Custom to debauch our Youth—there’s something more in this than I imagine. [Exeunt.
Scene IV. Changes to the Street.
Enter Belvile in Rage, Fred. holding him, and Willmore melancholy.
Will. Why, how the Devil shou’d I know Florinda?
Belv. Ah plague of your ignorance! if it had not been Florinda, must you be a Beast?—a Brute, a senseless Swine?
Will. Well, Sir, you see I am endu’d with Patience—I can bear—tho egad y’re very free with me methinks,—I was in good hopes the Quarrel wou’d have been on my side, for so uncivilly interrupting me.
Belv. Peace, Brute, whilst thou’rt safe—oh, I’m distracted.
Will. Nay, nay, I’m an unlucky Dog, that’s certain.
Belv. Ah curse upon the Star that rul’d my Birth! or whatsoever other Influence that makes me still so wretched.
Will. Thou break’st my Heart with these Complaints; there is no Star in fault, no Influence but Sack, the cursed Sack I drank.
Fred. Why, how the Devil came you so drunk?
Will. Why, how the Devil came you so sober?
Belv. A curse upon his thin Skull, he was always before-hand that way.
Fred. Prithee, dear Colonel, forgive him, he’s sorry for his fault.
Belv. He’s always so after he has done a mischief—a plague on all such Brutes.
Will. By this Light I took her for an errant Harlot.
Belv. Damn your debaucht Opinion: tell me, Sot, hadst thou so much sense and light about thee to distinguish her to be a Woman, and could’st not see something about her Face and Person, to strike an awful Reverence into thy Soul?
Will. Faith no, I consider’d her as mere a Woman as I could wish.
Belv. ’Sdeath I have no patience—draw, or I’ll kill you.
Will. Let that alone till to morrow, and if I set not all right again, use your Pleasure.
Belv. To morrow, damn it.
The spiteful Light will lead me to no happiness.
To morrow is Antonio’s, and perhaps
Guides him to my undoing;—oh that I could meet
This Rival, this powerful Fortunate.
Will. What then?
Belv. Let thy own Reason, or my Rage instruct thee.
Will. I shall be finely inform’d then, no doubt; hear me, Colonel—hear me—shew me the Man and I’ll do his Business.
Belv. I know him no more than thou, or if I did, I should not need thy aid.
Will. This you say is Angelica’s House, I promis’d the kind Baggage to lie with her to Night. [Offers to go in.
Enter Antonio and his Page. Ant. knocks on the Hilt of his Sword.
Ant. You paid the thousand Crowns I directed?
Page. To the Lady’s old Woman, Sir, I did.
Will. Who the Devil have we here?
Belv. I’ll now plant my self under Florinda’s Window, and if I find no comfort there, I’ll die. [Ex. Belv. and Fred.
Enter Moretta.
Moret. Page!
Page. Here’s my Lord.
Will. How is this, a Piccaroon going to board my Frigate! here’s one Chase-Gun for you. [Drawing his Sword, justles Ant. who turns and draws. They fight, Ant. falls.
Moret. Oh, bless us, we are all undone! [Runs in, and shuts the Door.
Page. Help, Murder! [Belvile returns at the noise of fighting.
Belv. Ha, the mad Rogue’s engag’d in some unlucky Adventure again.
Enter two or three Masqueraders.
Masq. Ha, a Man kill’d!
Will. How! a Man kill’d! then I’ll go home to sleep. [Puts up, and reels out. Ex. Masquers another way.
Belv. Who shou’d it be! pray Heaven the Rogue is safe, for all my Quarrel to him. [As Belvile is groping about, enter an Officer and six Soldiers.
Sold. Who’s there?
Offic. So, here’s one dispatcht—secure the Murderer.
Belv. Do not mistake my Charity for Murder:
I came to his Assistance. [Soldiers seize on Belvile.
Offic. That shall be tried, Sir.—St. Jago, Swords drawn in the Carnival time! [Goes to Antonio.
Ant. Thy Hand prithee.
Offic. Ha, Don Antonio! look well to the Villain there.—How is’t, Sir?
Ant. I’m hurt.
Belv. Has my Humanity made me a Criminal?
Offic. Away with him.
Belv. What a curst Chance is this! [Ex. Soldiers with Belv.
Ant. This is the Man that has set upon me twice— carry him to my Apartment till you have further Orders from me. [To the Officer. Ex. Ant. led.
Discovers Belvile, as by Dark alone.
Belv. When shall I be weary of railing on Fortune, who is resolv’d never to turn with Smiles upon me?—Two such Defeats in one Night—none but the Devil and that mad Rogue could have contriv’d to have plagued me with—I am here a Prisoner—but where?—Heaven knows—and if there be Murder done, I can soon decide the Fate of a Stranger in a Nation without Mercy—Yet this is nothing to the Torture my Soul bows with, when I think of losing my fair, my dear Florinda.—Hark—my Door opens—a Light—a Man—and seems of Quality—arm’d too.—Now shall I die like a Dog without defence.
Enter Antonio in a Night-Gown, with a Light; his Arm in a Scarf, and a Sword under his Arm: He sets the Candle on the Table.
Ant. Sir, I come to know what Injuries I have done you, that could provoke you to so mean an Action, as to attack me basely, without allowing time for my Defence.
Belv. Sir, for a Man in my Circumstances to plead Innocence, would look like Fear—but view me well, and you will find no marks of a Coward on me, nor any thing that betrays that Brutality you accuse me of.
Ant. In vain, Sir, you impose upon my Sense,
You are not only he who drew on me last Night,
But yesterday before the same House, that of Angelica.
Yet there is something in your Face and Mein—
Belv. I own I fought to day in the defence of a Friend of mine, with whom you (if you’re the same) and your Party were first engag’d.
Ant. No, Sir, I’ll make you fit for a Defence with this. [Gives him the Sword.
Belv. This Gallantry surprizes me—nor know I how to use this Present, Sir, against a Man so brave.
Ant. You shall not need;
For know, I come to snatch you from a Danger
That is decreed against you;
Perhaps your Life, or long Imprisonment:
And ’twas with so much Courage you offended,
I cannot see you punisht.
Belv. How shall I pay this Generosity?
Ant. It had been safer to have kill’d another,
Than have attempted me:
To shew your Danger, Sir, I’ll let you know my Quality;
And ’tis the Vice-Roy’s Son whom you have wounded.
Belv. The Vice-Roy’s Son!
Death and Confusion! was this Plague reserved
To compleat all the rest?—oblig’d by him!
The Man of all the World I would destroy. [Aside.
Ant. You seem disorder’d, Sir.
Belv. Yes, trust me, Sir, I am, and ’tis with pain
That Man receives such Bounties,
Who wants the pow’r to pay ’em back again.
Ant. To gallant Spirits ’tis indeed uneasy;
—But you may quickly over-pay me, Sir.
Belv. Then I am well—kind Heaven! but set us even,
That I may fight with him, and keep my Honour safe. [Aside.
—Oh, I’m impatient, Sir, to be discounting
The mighty Debt I owe you; command me quickly—
Ant. I have a Quarrel with a Rival, Sir,
About the Maid we love.
Belv. Death,’tis Florinda he means—
That Thought destroys my Reason, and I shall kill him— [Aside.
Ant. My Rival, Sir.
Is one has all the Virtues Man can boast of.
Belv. Death! who shou’d this be? [Aside.
Ant. He challeng’d me to meet him on the Molo,
As soon as Day appear’d; but last Night’s quarrel
Has made my Arm unfit to guide a Sword.
Belv. I apprehend you, Sir, you’d have me kill the Man
That lays a claim to the Maid you speak of.
—I’ll do’t—I’ll fly to do it.
Ant. Sir, do you know her?
Belv. —No, Sir, but ’tis enough she is admired by you.
Ant. Sir, I shall rob you of the Glory on’t,
For you must fight under my Name and Dress.
Belv. That Opinion must be strangely obliging that makes
You think I can personate the brave Antonio,
Whom I can but strive to imitate.
Ant. You say too much to my Advantage.
Come, Sir, the Day appears that calls you forth.
Within, Sir, is the Habit. [Exit Antonio.
Belv. Fantastick Fortune, thou deceitful Light,
That cheats the wearied Traveller by Night,
Tho on a Precipice each step you tread,
I am resolv’d to follow where you lead. [Exit.
Enter Florinda and Callis in Masques, with Stephano.
Flor. I’m dying with my fears; Belvile’s not coming,
As I expected, underneath my Window,
Makes me believe that all those Fears are true. [Aside.
—Canst thou not tell with whom my Brother fights?
Steph. No, Madam, they were both in Masquerade, I was by when they challeng’d one another, and they had decided the Quarrel then, but were prevented by some Cavaliers; which made ’em put it off till now—but I am sure ’tis about you they fight.
Flor. Nay then ’tis with Belvile, for what other Lover have I that dares fight for me, except Antonio? and he is too much in favour with my Brother—If it be he, for whom shall I direct my Prayers to Heaven? [Aside.
Steph. Madam, I must leave you; for if my Master see me, I shall be hang’d for being your Conductor.—I escap’d narrowly for the Excuse I made for you last night i’th’ Garden.
Flor. And I’ll reward thee for’t—prithee no more. [Exit. Steph.
Enter Don Pedro in his Masquing Habit.
Pedro. Antonio’s late to day, the place will fill, and we may be prevented. [Walk about.
Flor. Antonio! sure I heard amiss. [Aside.
Pedro. But who would not excuse a happy Lover.
When soft fair Arms confine the yielding Neck;
And the kind Whisper languishingly breathes,
Must you be gone so soon?
Sure I had dwelt for ever on her Bosom.
—But stay, he’s here.
Enter Belvile drest in Antonio’s Clothes.
Flor. ’Tis not Belvile, half my Fears are vanisht.
Pedro. Antonio!—
Belv. This must be he. [Aside.] You’re early, Sir,—I do not use to be out-done this way.
Pedro. The wretched, Sir, are watchful, and ’tis enough
You have the advantage of me in Angelica.
Belv. Angelica!
Or I’ve mistook my Man! Or else Antonio,
Can he forget his Interest in Florinda,
And fight for common Prize? [Aside.
Pedro. Come, Sir, you know our terms—
Belv. By Heaven, not I. [Aside.] —No talking, I am ready, Sir.
[Offers to fight. Flor. runs in.
Flor. Oh, hold! whoe’er you be, I do conjure you hold.
If you strike here—I die— [To Belv.
Pedro. Florinda!
Belv. Florinda imploring for my Rival!
Pedro. Away, this Kindness is unseasonable. [Puts her by, they fight; she runs in just as Belv. disarms Pedro.
Flor. Who are you, Sir, that dare deny my Prayers?
Belv. Thy Prayers destroy him; if thou wouldst preserve him.
Do that thou’rt unacquainted with, and curse him. [She holds him.
Flor. By all you hold most dear, by her you love,
I do conjure you, touch him not.
Belv. By her I love!
See—I obey—and at your Feet resign
The useless Trophy of my Victory. [Lays his sword at her Feet.
Pedro. Antonio, you’ve done enough to prove you love Florinda.
Belv. Love Florinda!
Does Heaven love Adoration, Pray’r, or Penitence?
Love her! here Sir,—your Sword again. [Snatches up the Sword, and gives it him.
Upon this Truth I’ll fight my Life away.
Pedro. No, you’ve redeem’d my Sister, and my Friendship.
Belv. Don Pedro!
[He gives him Flor. and pulls off his Vizard to shew his Face, and puts it on again.
Pedro. Can you resign your Claims to other Women,
And give your Heart intirely to Florinda?
Belv. Intire, as dying Saints Confessions are.
I can delay my happiness no longer.
This minute let me make Florinda mine:
Pedro. This minute let it be—no time so proper,
This Night my Father will arrive from Rome,
And possibly may hinder what we propose.
Flor. Oh Heavens! this Minute! [Enter Masqueraders, and pass over.
Belv. Oh, do not ruin me!
Pedro. The place begins to fill; and that we may not be observ’d, do you walk off to St. Peter’s Church, where I will meet you, and conclude your Happiness.
Belv. I’ll meet you there—if there be no more Saints Churches in Naples. [Aside.
Flor. Oh stay, Sir, and recall your hasty Doom:
Alas I have not yet prepar’d my Heart
To entertain so strange a Guest.
Pedro. Away, this silly Modesty is assum’d too late.
Belv. Heaven, Madam! what do you do?
Flor. Do! despise the Man that lays a Tyrant’s Claim
To what he ought to conquer by Submission.
Belv. You do not know me—move a little this way. [Draws her aside.
Flor. Yes, you may even force me to the Altar,
But not the holy Man that offers there
Shall force me to be thine. [Pedro talks to Callis this while.
Belv. Oh do not lose so blest an opportunity!
See—’tis your Belvile—not Antonio,
Whom your mistaken Scorn and Anger ruins. [Pulls off his Vizard.
Flor. Belvile!
Where was my Soul it cou’d not meet thy Voice,
And take this knowledge in?
[As they are talking, enter Willmore finely drest, and Frederick.
Will. No Intelligence! no News of Belvile yet—well I am the most unlucky Rascal in Nature—ha!—am I deceiv’d—or is it he—look, Fred.—’tis he—my dear Belvile.
[Runs and embraces him. Belv. Vizard falls out on’s Hand.
Belv. Hell and Confusion seize thee!
Pedro. Ha! Belvile! I beg your Pardon, Sir. [Takes Flor. from him.
Belv. Nay, touch her not, she’s mine by Conquest, Sir. I won her by my Sword.
Will. Did’st thou so—and egad, Child, we’ll keep her by the Sword. [Draws on Pedro, Belv. goes between.
Belv. Stand off.
Thou’rt so profanely leud, so curst by Heaven,
All Quarrels thou espousest must be fatal.
Will. Nay, an you be so hot, my Valour’s coy,
And shall be courted when you want it next. [Puts up his Sword.
Belv. You know I ought to claim a Victor’s Right, [To Pedro.
But you’re the Brother to divine Florinda,
To whom I’m such a Slave—to purchase her,
I durst not hurt the Man she holds so dear.