of Spices,
When the soft Winds display the opening Buds:
--Come, haste, my Soul, to Bed--

_La Nu._ You can be soft I find, when you wou'd conquer absolutely.

_Will._ Not infant Angels, not young sighing _Cupids_
Can be more; this ravishing Joy that thou hast promis'd me,
Has form'd my Soul to such a Calm of Love,
It melts e'en at my Eyes.

_La Nu._ What have I done? that Promise will undo me.
--This Chamber was prepar'd, and I was drest,
To give Admittance to another Lover.

_Will._ But Love and Fortune both were on my side-- Come, come to
Bed-- consider nought but Love--
[They going out, one knocks.

_La Nu._ Hark!

_Beau._ (_without._) By Heav'n I will have entrance.

_La Nu._ 'Tis he whom I expect; as thou lov'st Life
And me, retire a little into this Closet.

_Will._ Hah, retire!

_La Nu._ He's the most fiercely jealous of his Sex,
And Disappointment will inrage him more.

_Will._ Death: let him rage whoe'er he be; dost think
I'll hide me from him, and leave thee to his Love?
Shall I, pent up, thro the thin Wainscot hear
Your Sighs, your amorous Words, and sound of Kisses?
No, if thou canst cozen me, do't, but discreetly,
And I shall think thee true:
I have thee now, and when I tamely part
With thee, may Cowards huff and bully me. [Knocks again.

_La Nu._ And must I be undone because I love ye?
This is the Mine from whence I fetcht my Gold.

_Will._ Damn the base Trash: I'll have thee poor, and mine;
'Tis nobler far, to starve with him thou lov'st
Than gay without, and pining all within.
[Knocking, breaking the Door, _Will._ snatches up his Sword.

_La Nu._ Heavens, here will be murder done-- he must not see him.
[As _Beau._ breaks open the Door, she runs away with the Candle,
they are by dark, _Beau._ enters with his Sword drawn.

_Will._ What art thou?

_Beau._ A Man. [They fight.

Enter _Petron._ with Light, _La Nuche_ following, _Beau._ runs
to her.

Oh thou false Woman, falser than thy Smiles,
Which serve but to delude good-natur'd Man,
And when thou hast him fast, betray'st his Heart!

_Will._ _Beaumond!_

_Beau._ _Willmore!_ Is it with thee I must tug for Empire? For I lay
claim to all this World of Beauty.
[Takes _La Nuche_, looking with scorn on Willmore.

_La Nu._ Heavens, how got this Ruffian in?

_Will._ Hold, hold, dear _Harry_, lay no Hands on her till thou can'st
make thy