La Nu. Hah,
'tis Beaumond's Voice!- Now for an Art to turn the trick upon him; I
must not lose his Friendship. [Aside. Enter Willmore softly, peeping
behind. Will. What a Devil have we here, more Mischief yet;- hah- my
Woman with a Man- I shall spoil all- I ever had an excellent knack of
doing so. Beau. Oh Modesty, where art thou? Is this the effect of all
your put on Jealousy, that Mask to hide your own new falshood in?
New!- by Heaven, I believe thou'rt old in cunning, that couldst
contrive, so near thy Wedding-night, this, to deprive me of the Rites
of Love. La Nu. Hah, what says he? [Aside. Will. How, a Maid, and
young, and to be marry'd too! a rare Wench this to contrive Matters so
conveniently: Oh, for some Mischief now to send him neatly off.
[Aside. Beau. Now you are silent; but you could talk to day loudly of
Virtue, and upbraid my Vice: oh how you hated a young keeping Husband,
whom neither Beauty nor Honour in a Wife cou'd oblige to reason- oh,
damn your Honour, 'tis that's the sly pretence of all your domineering
insolent Wives- Death- what thou see in me, should make thee think
that I would be a tame contented Cuckold? [Going, she holds him. La
Nu. I must not lose this lavish loving Fool- [Aside. Will. So, I hope
he will be civil and withdraw, and leave me in possession- Beau.
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