_Blunt._ Took it! 'Sheartlikins, we'll have the great one too; 'tis ours
by Conquest.-- Prithee, help me up, and I'll pull it down.--

_Ang._ Stay, Sir, and e'er you affront me further, let me know how you
durst commit this Outrage-- To you I speak, Sir, for you appear like a
Gentleman.

_Will._ To me, Madam?-- Gentlemen, your Servant. [_Belv._ stays him.

_Belv._ Is the Devil in thee? Do'st know the danger of entring the house
of an incens'd Curtezan?

_Will._ I thank you for your care-- but there are other matters in hand,
there are, tho we have no great Temptation.-- Death! let me go.

_Fred._ Yes, to your Lodging, if you will, but not in here.-- Damn these
gay Harlots-- by this Hand I'll have as sound and handsome a Whore for a
Patacoone.-- Death, Man, she'll murder thee.

_Will._ Oh! fear me not, shall I not venture where a Beauty calls?
a lovely charming Beauty? for fear of danger! when by Heaven there's
none so great as to long for her, whilst I want Money to purchase her.

_Fred._ Therefore 'tis loss of time, unless you had the thousand Crowns
to pay.

_Will._ It may be she may give a Favour, at least I shall have the
pleasure of saluting her when I enter, and when I depart.

_Belv._ Pox, she'll as soon lie with thee, as kiss thee, and sooner stab
than do either-- you shall not go.

_Ang._ Fear not, Sir, all I have to wound with, is my Eyes.

_Blunt._ Let him go, 'Sheartlikins, I believe the Gentle-woman means
well.

_Belv._ Well, take thy Fortune, we'll expect you in the next Street.--
Farewell Fool,-- farewell--

_Will._ B'ye Colonel-- [Goes in.

_Fred._ The Rogue's stark mad for a Wench. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. _A Fine Chamber._

Enter _Willmore_, _Angelica_, and _Moretta_.

_Ang._ Insolent Sir, how durst you pull down my Picture?

_Will._ Rather, how durst you set it up, to tempt poor amorous Mortals
with so much Excellence? which I find you have but too well consulted by
the unmerciful price you set upon't.-- Is all this Heaven of Beauty
shewn to move Despair in those that cannot buy? and can you think the
effects of that Despair shou'd be less extravagant than I have shewn?

_Ang._ I sent for you to ask my Pardon, Sir, not to aggravate your
Crime.-- I thought I shou'd have seen you at my Feet imploring it.

_Will._ You are deceived, I came to rail at you, and talk such Truths,
too, as shall let you see the Vanity of that Pride, which taught you how
to set such a Price o