The Ladies run away, all but
Ariadne and Lucia. Luc. Heav'ns, Madam, why do ye stay? Aria. To pray
for that dear Stranger- And see, my Prayers are heard, and he's
return'd in safety- this Door shall shelter me to o'er-hear the
Quarrel. [Steps aside. Enter Will. Blunt, Feth. looking big, and
putting up his Sword. Feth. The noble Captain be affronted by a
starch'd Ruff and Beard, a Coward in querpo, a walking Bunch of
Garlick, a pickl'd Pilchard! abuse the noble Captain, and bear it off
in State, like a Christmas Sweet-heart; these things must not be
whilst Nicholas Fetherfool wears a Sword. Blunt. Pox o' these Women, I
thought no good would come on't: besides, where's the Jest in
affronting honest Women, if there be such a thing in the Nation? Feth.
Hang't, 'twas the Devil and all- Will. Ha, ha, ha! Why, good honest
homespun Country Gentlemen, who do you think those were? Feth. Were!
why, Ladies of Quality going to their Devotion; who should they be?
Blunt. Why, faith, and so I thought too. Will. Why, that very one
Woman I spoke to is ten Whores in Surrey. Feth. Prithee speak softly,
Man: 'Slife, we shall be poniarde for keeping thee company. Will. Wise
Mr. Justice, give me your Warrant, and if I do not prove 'em Whores,
whip me. Feth. Prithee hold thy scandalous blasphemous Tongue, as if I
did not know Whores from Persons of Quality.
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