Will. I am so much
thy Friend, another time I might be drawn to take a bad Bargain off
thy Hands- but I have other Business at present: wo't do a kind thing,
Harry,- lend me thy Aid to carry off my Woman to night? 'tis hard by
in the Piazza, perhaps we may find Resistance. Beau. My self and Sword
are yours. I have a Chair waits below too, may do you Service. Will. I
thank ye- Madam- your Servant. La Nu. Left by both! Beau. You see our
Affairs are pressing. [Bows, and smiles carelesly. Ex. Will. singing,
and Beau. La Nu. Gone! where's all your Power, ye poor deluded Eyes?
Curse on your feeble Fires, that cannot warm a Heart which every
common Beauty kindles. Oh- he is gone for ever. Enter Petronella. Pet.
Yes, he is gone, to your eternal Ruin: not all the Race of Men cou'd
have produc'd so bountiful and credulous a Fool. La Nu. No, never;
fetch him back, my Petronella: Bring me my wild Inconstant, or I die-
[Puts her out. Pet. The Devil fetch him back for Petronella, is't he
you mean? you've had too much of him; a Curse upon him, he'as ruin'd
you. La Nu. He has, he shall, he must compleat my ruin. Pet. She
raves, the Rogue has given her a Spanish Philtre. La Nu. My Coach, my
Veil- or let 'em all alone; undrest thus loosely to the Winds commit
me to darkness, and no Guide but pitying Cupid.
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