and who us'd to make the General so jealous.

_Moret._ Is this he that us'd to prance before our Window and take such
care to shew himself an amorous Ass? if I am not mistaken, he is the
likeliest Man to give your Price.

_Ang._ The Man is brave and generous, but of an Humour so uneasy and
inconstant, that the victory over his Heart is as soon lost as won;
a Slave that can add little to the Triumph of the Conqueror: but
inconstancy's the Sin of all Mankind, therefore I'm resolv'd that
nothing but Gold shall charm my Heart.

_Moret._ I'm glad on't; 'tis only interest that Women of our Profession
ought to consider: tho I wonder what has kept you from that general
Disease of our Sex so long, I mean that of being in love.

_Ang._ A kind, but sullen Star, under which I had the Happiness to be
born; yet I have had no time for Love; the bravest and noblest of
Mankind have purchas'd my Favours at so dear a Rate, as if no Coin but
Gold were current with our Trade-- But here's Don _Pedro_ again, fetch
me my Lute-- for 'tis for him or Don _Antonio_ the Vice-Roy's Son, that
I have spread my Nets.

Enter at one Door Don _Pedro_, and _Stephano_; Don _Antonio_ and
_Diego_ [his page], at the other Door, with People following him
in Masquerade, antickly attir'd, some with Musick: they both go up
to the Picture.

_Ant._ A thousand Crowns! had not the Painter flatter'd her, I should
not think it dear.

_Pedro._ Flatter'd her! by Heaven he cannot. I have seen the Original,
nor is there one Charm here more than adorns her Face and Eyes; all this
soft and sweet, with a certain languishing Air, that no Artist can
represent.

_Ant._ What I heard of her Beauty before had fir'd my Soul, but this
confirmation of it has blown it into a flame.

_Pedro._ Ha!

_Pag._ Sir, I have known you throw away a Thousand Crowns on a worse
Face, and tho y' are near your Marriage, you may venture a little Love
here; _Florinda_-- will not miss it.

_Pedro._ Ha! _Florinda!_ Sure 'tis _Antonio_. [aside.

_Ant._ _Florinda_! name not those distant Joys, there's not one thought
of her will check my Passion here.

_Pedro._ _Florinda_ scorn'd! and all my Hopes defeated of the Possession
of _Angelica_! [A noise of a Lute above. _Ant._ gazes up.] Her Injuries
by Heaven he shall not boast of.
[Song to a Lute above.

SONG.

_When _Damon_ first began to love,
He languisht in a soft Desire,
And knew not how the Gods to