tracted?-- dost know where thou
art? Prithee be civil--

_Will._ Go, proud and cruel! [Turns her from him.

Enter _Carlo_, and two or three _Spanish_ Servants following:
_Petronella_ goes to him.

_Car._ Hah, affronted by a drunken Islander, a saucy Tramontane!--
Draw--
[To his Servants whilst he takes _La Nuche_.
whilst I lead her off-- fear not, Lady, you have the Honour of my Sword
to guard ye.

_Will._ Hah, _Carlo_-- ye lye-- it cannot guard the boasting Fool that
wears it-- be gone-- and look not back upon this Woman. [Snatches her
from him] One single Glance destroys thee--

[They draw and fight; _Carlo_ getting hindmost of his _Spaniards_,
the _English_ beat 'em off: The Ladies run away, all but _Ariadne_
and _Lucia_.

_Luc._ Heav'ns, Madam, why do ye stay?

_Aria._ To pray for that dear Stranger-- And see, my Prayers are heard,
and he's return'd in safety-- this Door shall shelter me to o'er-hear
the Quarrel.
[Steps aside.

Enter _Will._ _Blunt_, _Feth._ looking big, and putting up
his Sword.

_Feth._ The noble Captain be affronted by a starch'd Ruff and Beard,
a Coward in querpo, a walking Bunch of Garlick, a pickl'd Pilchard!
abuse the noble Captain, and bear it off in State, like a Christmas
Sweet-heart; these things must not be whilst _Nicholas Fetherfool_ wears
a Sword.

_Blunt._ Pox o' these Women, I thought no good would come on't: besides,
where's the Jest in affronting honest Women, if there be such a thing in
the Nation?

_Feth._ Hang't,'twas the Devil and all--

_Will._ Ha, ha, ha! Why, good honest homespun Country Gentlemen, who do
you think those were?

_Feth._ Were! why, Ladies of Quality going to their Devotion; who should
they be?

_Blunt._ Why, faith, and so I thought too.

_Will._ Why, that very one Woman I spoke to is ten Whores in _Surrey_.

_Feth._ Prithee speak softly, Man: 'Slife, we shall be poniarded for
keeping thee company.

_Will._ Wise Mr. Justice, give me your Warrant, and if I do not prove
'em Whores, whip me.

_Feth._ Prithee hold thy scandalous blasphemous Tongue, as if I did not
know Whores from Persons of Quality.

_Will._ Will you believe me when you lie with her? for thou'rt a rich
Ass, and may'st do it.

_Feth._ Whores-- ha, ha--

_Will._ 'Tis strange Logick now, because your Band is better that mine,
I must not know a Whore better than you.

_Blunt._ If this be a Whore, as thou say'st, I understand not