_Vizard._ You, colonel, have been very lavish in the beauty and virtue of your mistress; and Sir Harry here has been no less eloquent in the praise of his. Now will I lay you both ten guineas a-piece, that neither of them is so pretty, so witty, or so virtuous, as mine. _Colonel S._ 'Tis done. _Sir H._ I'll double the stakes--But, gentlemen, now I think on't, how shall we be resolved? For I know not where my mistress may be found; she left Paris about a month before me, and I had an account---- _Colonel S._ How, sir! left Paris about a month before you? _Sir H._ Yes, sir, and I had an account that she lodged somewhere in St. James's. _Vizard._ How! somewhere in St. James's say you? _Sir H._ Ay, sir, but I know not where, and perhaps may'nt find her this fortnight. _Colonel S._ Her name, pray, Sir Harry? _Vizard._ Ay, ay, her name; perhaps we know her. _Sir H._ Her name! Ay, she has the softest, whitest hand that ever was made of flesh and blood; her lips so balmy sweet---- _Colonel S._ But her name, sir? _Sir H._ Then her neck and---- _Vizard._ But her name, sir? her quality? _Sir H._ Then her shape, colonel? _Colonel S._ But her name I want, sir. _Sir H._ Then her eyes, Vizard! _Colonel S._ Pshaw, Sir Harry! her name, or nothing! _Sir H._ Then if you must have it, she's called the Lady----But then her foot, gentlemen! she dances to a miracle. Vizard, you have certainly lost your wager. _Vizard._ Why, you have certainly lost your senses; we shall never discover the picture, unless you subscribe the name. _Sir H._ Then her name is Lurewell. _Colonel S._ 'Sdeath! my mistress! [_Aside._ _Vizard._ My mistress, by Jupiter! [_Aside._ _Sir H._ Do you know her, gentlemen? _Colonel S._ I have seen her, sir. _Sir H._ Canst tell where she lodges? Tell me, dear colonel. _Colonel S._ Your humble servant, sir. [_Exit._ _Sir H._ Nay, hold, colonel; I'll follow you, and will know. [_Runs out._ _Vizard._ The Lady Lurewell his mistress! He loves her: but she loves me.----But he's a baronet, and I plain Vizard; he has a coach, and I walk on foot; I was bred in London, and he in Paris.----That very circumstance has murdered me----Then some stratagem must be laid to divert his pretensions. _Enter_ WILDAIR. _Sir H._ Pr'ythee, Dick, what makes the colonel so out of humour? _Vizard._ Because he's out of pay, I suppose. _Sir H._ 'Slife, that's true! I was beginning to mistrust some rivalship in the case. _Vizard._ And suppose there were, you know the colonel can fight, Sir Harry. _Sir H._ Fight! Pshaw--but he cannot dance, ha!--We contend for a woman, Vizard. 'Slife, man, if ladies were to be gained by sword and pistol only, what the devil should all we beaux do? _Vizard._ I'll try him farther. [_Aside._] But would not you, Sir Harry, fight for this woman you so much admire?