Beau. Sure she cannot know I love La Nuche. [Aside.
The Devil take me, spoil'd! What Rascal has inveigled thee? What lying
fawning coward has abus'd thee? When fell you into this Leudness? Pox,
thou art hardly worth the loving now, that canst be such a Fool, to
wish me chaste, or love me for that Virtue; or that wouldst have me a
ceremonious help, one that makes handsom Legs to Knights without
laughing, or with a sneaking modest Squirish Countenance; assure you,
I have my Maidenhead. A Curse upon thee, the very thought of Wife has
made thee formal. Aria. I must dissemble, or he'll stay all day to
make his peace again- why, have you ne'er- a Mistress then? Beau. A
hundred, by this day, as many as I like, they are my Mirth, the
business of my loose and wanton Hours; but thou art my Devotion, the
grave, the solemn Pleasure of my Soul- Pox, would I were handsomly rid
of thee too. [Aside. -Come, I have business- send me pleas'd away.
Aria. Would to Heaven thou wert gone; [Aside. You're going to some
Woman now. Beau. Oh damn the Sex, I hate 'em all- but thee- farewell,
my pretty jealous- sullen- Fool. [Goes out. Aria. Farewel, believing
Coxcomb. [Enter Lucia. Lucia. Madam, the Clothes are ready in your
Chamber. Aria. Let's haste and put 'em on then. [Runs out. ACT III.
SCENE I. A House.
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