Ang. A kind, but sullen
Star, under which I had the Happiness to be born; yet I have had no
time for Love; the bravest and noblest of Mankind have purchas'd my
Favours at so dear a Rate, as if no Coin but Gold were current with
our Trade- But here's Don Pedro again, fetch me my Lute- for 'tis for
him or Don Antonio the Vice-Roy's Son, that I have spread my Nets.
Enter at one Door Don Pedro, and Stephano; Don Antonio and Diego [his
page], at the other Door, with People following him in Masquerade,
antickly attir'd, some with Musick: they both go up to the Picture.
Ant. A thousand Crowns! had not the Painter flatter'd her, I should
not think it dear. Pedro. Flatter'd her! by Heaven he cannot. I have
seen the Original, nor is there one Charm here more than adorns her
Face and Eyes; all this soft and sweet, with a certain languishing
Air, that no Artist can represent. Ant. What I heard of her Beauty
before had fir'd my Soul, but this confirmation of it has blown it
into a flame. Pedro. Ha! Pag. Sir, I have known you throw away a
Thousand Crowns on a worse Face, and tho y'are near your Marriage, you
may venture a little Love here; Florinda- will not miss it. Pedro. Ha!
Florinda! Sure 'tis Antonio. [aside. Ant. Florinda! name not those
distant Joys, there's not one thought of her will check my Passion
here.
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