f Love.

_La Nu._ Hah, what says he? [Aside.

_Will._ How, a Maid, and young, and to be marry'd too! a rare Wench this
to contrive Matters so conveniently: Oh, for some Mischief now to send
him neatly off.
[Aside.

_Beau._ Now you are silent; but you could talk to day loudly of Virtue,
and upbraid my Vice: oh how you hated a young keeping Husband, whom
neither Beauty nor Honour in a Wife cou'd oblige to reason-- oh, damn
your Honour, 'tis that's the sly pretence of all your domineering
insolent Wives-- Death-- what didst thou see in me, should make thee
think that I would be a tame contented Cuckold?
[Going, she holds him.

_La Nu._ I must not lose this lavish loving Fool-- [Aside.

_Will._ So, I hope he will be civil and withdraw, and leave me in
possession--

_Beau._ No, tho my Fortune should depend on thee; nay, all my hope of
future happiness-- by Heaven, I scorn to marry thee, unless thou couldst
convince me thou wer't honest-- a Whore!-- Death, how it cools my
Blood--

_Will._ And fires mine extremely--

_La Nu._ Nay, then I am provok'd tho I spoil all-- [Aside.
And is a Whore a thing so much despis'd?
Turn back, thou false forsworn-- turn back, and blush at thy mistaken
folly.
[He stands amaz'd.

_Beau._ _La Nuche!_

Enter _Aria._ peeping, advancing cautiously undrest, _Luc._
following.

_Aria._ Oh, he is here-- _Lucia_, attend me in the Orange-grove--
[Ex. _Lucia_.
Hah, a Woman with him!

_Will._ Hum-- what have we here? another Damsel?-- she's gay too, and
seems young and handsom-- sure one of these will fall to my share; no
matter which, so I am sure of one.

_La Nu._ Who's silent now? are you struck dumb with Guilt? thou shame to
noble Love; thou scandal to all brave Debauchery, thou Fop of Fortune;
thou slavish Heir to Estate and Wife, born rich and damn'd to Matrimony.

_Will._ Egad, a noble Wench-- I am divided yet.

_La Nu._ Thou formal Ass disguis'd in generous Leudness, see-- when the
Vizor's off, how sneakingly that empty form appears-- Nay 'tis thy
own-- Make much on't, marry with it, and be damn'd.
[Offers to go.

_Will._ I hope she'll beat him for suspecting her.
[He holds her, she turns.

_Aria._ Hah-- who the Devil can these be?

_La Nu._ What silly honest Fool did you mistake me for? what senseless
modest thing? Death, am I grown so despicable? have I deserv'd no better
from thy Love than to be taken for a virtuous Changeli