g
with me.
[_Takes_ Isa. _by the hand_.

_Isa_. Faugh! what means the Devil?

_Guil_. Devil; 'twas not long since you found me a human creature within
there.

_Isa_. Villain, Dog; help me to tear his Eyes out.

_Guil_. What, those Eyes, those lovely Eyes, that wounded you so deeply?

_Fran_. What's the meaning of all this? why, what, am I cozen'd? and is
my Daughter cozen'd?

_Guil_. Cozen'd! why, I am a Man, Sir.

_Fran_. The Devil you are, Sir, how shall I know that?

_Guil_. Your Daughter does, Sir; and that's all one.

_Isa_. Oh! I'm undone; am I no Viscountess then.

_Guil_. Hang Titles; 'twas my self you lov'd, my amiable sweet and
charming self: In fine, sweet-heart, I am your Husband; no Viscount, but
honest _Guiliom_, the Chimney-sweeper.--I heard your Father design'd to
marry you to a Tradesman, and you were for a Don; and to please you
both, you see how well I have managed matters.

_Fran_. I'll not give her a farthing.

_Guil_. No matter, her Love's worth a million; and, that's so great,
that I'm sure she'll be content to carry my Soot basket after me.

_Isa_. Ah! I die, I die.

_Guil_. What, and I so kind?
[_Goes and kisses her, and blacks her face_.

_Isa_. Help! murder, murder!

_Guil_. Well, Gentlemen, I am something a better fortune than you
believe me, by some thousands.
[_Shows_ Car. _his Writings_.

_Car_. Substantial and good! faith, Sir, I know not where you'll find a
better fortune for your Daughter, as cases stand. [_To_ Francisco.

_Guil_. And, for the Viscount, Sir, gay Clothes, Money and Confidence
will set me up for one, in any ground in Christendom.

_Car_. Faith, Sir, he's i'th' right; take him home to _Sevil_, your
Neighbours know him not, and he may pass for what you please to make
him; the Fellow's honest, witty and handsom.

_Fran_. Well, I have considered the matter: I was but a Leather-seller
my self, and am grown up to a Gentleman; and, who knows but he, being a
Chimney-sweeper, may, in time, grow up to a Lord? Faith, I'll trust to
Fortune, for once--here--take her and rid me of one Plague, as you, I
thank you, Sir, have done of another. [_To_ Carlos.

_Guil_. Prithee be pacified, thou shalt see me within this hour as
pretty a fluttering Spark as any's in Town.--My noble Lord, I give you
thanks and joy; for, you are happy too.

_Car_. As Love and Beauty can make me.

_Fran_. And I, as no damn'd W