Will. Yes faith, thou'rt a pretty
Youth; but at this time I've more occasion for a thing in Petticoats-
go home, and do not walk the Streets so much; that tempting Face of
thine will debauch the grave men of business, and make the Magistrates
lust after Wickedness. Aria. You are a scurvy Fellow, Sir. [Going to
draw. Will. Keep in your Sword, for fear it cut your Fingers, Child.
Aria. So 'twill your Throat, Sir- here's Company coming that will part
us, and I'll venture to draw. [Draws, Will. draws. Enter Beaumond.
Beau. Hold, hold- hah, Willmore! thou Man of constant mischief, what's
the matter? La Nu. Beaumond! undone! Aria. -Beaumond!- Will. Why,
here's a young Spark will take my Lady Bright from me; the unmanner'd
Hot-spur would not have patience till I had finish'd my small Affair
with her. [Puts up his Sword. Aria. Death, he'll know me- Sir, you see
we are prevented. [Draws him aside. -or- [Seems to talk to him, Beau.
gazes on La Nuche, who has pull'd down her Veil. Beau. 'Tis she!
Madam, this Veil's too thin to hide the perjur'd Beauty underneath.
Oh, have I been searching thee, with all the diligence of impatient
Love, and am I thus rewarded, to find thee here incompass'd round with
Strangers, fighting, who first should take my right away?- Gods! take
your Reason back, take all your Love; for easy Man's unworthy of the
Blessings.
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