Will. Harkye, Harry- the- Woman- the almighty Whore- thou
told'st me of to day. Beau. Death, do'st thou mock my Grief- unhand me
strait, for tho I cannot blame thee, I must hate thee. [Goes out.
Will. What the Devil ails he? Aria. You will be sure to come. Will. At
night in the Piazza; I have an Assignation with a Woman, that once
dispatch'd, I will not fail ye, Sir. Luc. And will you leave him with
her? Aria. Oh, yes, he'll be ne'er the worse for my use when he has
done with her. [Ex. Luc. and Aria. Will. looks with scorn on La Nuche.
Will. Now you may go o'ertake him, lie with him- and ruin him: the
Fool was made for such a Destiny- if he escapes my Sword. [He offers
to go. La Nu. I must prevent his visit to this Woman- but dare not
tell him so. [Aside. -I would not have ye meet this angry Youth. Will.
Oh, you would preserve him for a farther use. La Nu. Stay- you must
not fight- by Heaven, I cannot see- that Bosom- wounded. [Turns and
weeps. Will. Hah! weep'st thou? curse me when I refuse a faith to that
obliging Language of thy Eyes- Oh give me one proof more, and after
that, thou conquerest all my Soul; Thy Eyes speak Love- come, let us
in, my Dear, e'er the bright Fire allays that warms my Heart. [Goes to
lead her out. La Nu. Your Love grows rude, and saucily demands it.
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