[She walks about. Beau.
Hah, a Woman! Perhaps the same he looks for- I'll counterfeit his
Voice and try my Chance- Fortune may set us even. Aria. Hah, is not
that a Man? Yes- and a Chair waiting. [She peeps. Beau. Who's there?
Aria. A Maid. Beau. A Miracle- Oh art thou come, Child? Aria. 'Tis he,
you are a civil Captain, are you not, to make a longing Maid expect
thus? What Woman has detain'd you? Beau. Faith, my Dear, tho Flesh and
Blood be frail, yet the dear Hopes of thee has made me hold out with a
Herculean Courage- Stay, where shall I carry her? not to my own
Apartment; Ariadne may surprize me: I'll to the Mountebank here i'th'
Piazza, he has a Cure for all things, even for longing Love, and for a
Pistole or two will do Reason.- Hah, Company: Here, step into this
Chair. [She goes in, they go off just as Will. enters. Will. Hum, a
Woman of Quality and jilt me- Egad, that's strange now- Well, who
shall a Man trust in this wicked World? Enter La Nuche as before. La
Nu. This should be he, he saunters about like an expecting Lover.
[Will. peeping and approaching. Will. By this Light a Woman, if she be
the right- but right or wrong so she be Feminine: harkye, Child, I
fancy thee some kind thing that belongs to me. La Nu. Who are you? [In
a low tone. Will. A wandering Lover that has lost his Heart, and I
have shreud Guess 'tis in thy dear Bosom, Child.
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