[Offers her a Purse of Gold. Ang. Oh
that thou wert in earnest! So mean a Thought of me, Wou'd turn my Rage
to Scorn, and I shou'd pity thee, And give thee leave to live; Which
for the publick Safety of our Sex, And my own private Injuries, I dare
not do. Prepare- [Follows still, as before. -I will no more be tempted
with Replies. Will. Sure- Ang. Another Word will damn thee! I've heard
thee talk too long. [She follows him with a Pistol ready to shoot: he
retires still amaz'd. Enter Don Antonio, his Arm in a Scarf, and lays
hold on the Pistol. Ant. Hah! Angelica! Ang. Antonio! What Devil
brought thee hither? Ant. Love and Curiosity, seeing your Coach at
Door. Let me disarm you of this unbecoming Instrument of Death.-
[Takes away the Pistol. Amongst the Number of your Slaves, was there
not one worthy the Honour to have fought your Quarrel? -Who are you,
Sir, that are so very wretched To merit Death from her? Will. One,
Sir, that cou'd have made a better End of an amorous Quarrel without
you, than with you. Ant. Sure 'tis some Rival- hah- the very Man took
down her Picture yesterday- the very same that set on me last night-
Blest opportunity- [Offers to shoot him. Ang. Hold, you're mistaken,
Sir. Ant. By Heaven the very same! -Sir, what pretensions have you to
this Lady? Will.
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