_Lucy._ No, indeed, Sir--But I'm certain, an old Man's Business can't be great. [_Aside._ _Piz._ [_Gives her a Looking-glass._] Here, Child, this will tell thee--Look in't, look in't, I say----Ah! ah! thou hast a pretty pouting Lip, a delicate roguish Eye, such an Ogle, such a Cast----Ah! Rogue----Faith, thou'rt very pretty: And, in short, if any one rival thy Lady, it will be thee, _Lucy_----Egad, I have Fire in me, yet. _Lucy, aside._ O' my Conscience, and little too. I believe: Yet I wish he has enough to serve my Ends. I'll make my Fortune----Lord, Sir, what do you mean? I rival my Lady! Heaven forbid; I would not injure so good a Woman for the World---- _Piz._ Pshaw, pshaw--Where's the Injury done to her, Child? Adod, I'll give thee a hundred Crowns. _Lucy._ No Injury, say you, my Lord? Why, I wonder you should be so jealous of my Lady, and preach such religious Maxims to her, when your own Principles are quite opposite. _Piz._ Look ye, Child, a Man may do that, which would look abominable in a Wife----A Woman's Reputation is a nice Thing---- _Lucy._ 'Tis so----and therefore 'tis but Reason I should take Care of mine. _Piz._ Prithee, no more of that: Thy Reputation shall be safe; I'll marry thee to my Gentleman. _Lucy._ Gentleman--Valet! Faugh--And what Good will a hundred Crowns do me, when my Virginity is gone? Indeed, if you lov'd me as much as you say, and would make my Fortune, (for I should love extreamly to be a Lady) I cannot tell how far you might persuade me----I know my Reputation would be safe in your Hands. _Piz._ Make thy Fortune! Why, I've known some of our Nobles marry a Wife with less than a hundred Crowns----But adod, thou'rt a charming Girl, and therefore I'll make it a hundred Pistoles--What say'st thou now, _Lucy_? Ah! adod, I must buss thee; [_Kisses her._] Ah! Rogue, methinks I'm a young, lusty, vigorous Fellow again----Thou shalt find I am, Girl. _Lucy, aside._ I believe I shall fail you, old Gentleman. Well, my Lord, make it up a thousand Pistoles, and I am your's else I'll die a Maid, I'm resolv'd. _Piz._ A thousand Pistoles, why thou art the most unconscionable Wench in _Italy_: Why, 'tis a Price for a Duchess in some Countries. Come, come, prithee be reasonable, _Lucy_? _Lucy._ Reasonable! why you don't ask a reasonable Thing----Look you, you know my Mind, I'll not bate a Penny----I'll warrant my Lady will give me two hundred at least for my Discovery. [_Going._ _Piz. aside._ Udslife! she won't tell my Wife, sure, I'm ruin'd if she does; I'd rather give her two thousand----Hold, hold, _Lucy_, sweet _Lucy_, prithee come back----Faith, thou'rt so charming, I can deny thee nothing----Come, it shall be what thou wilt----Come now, Rogue, let's retire to thy Chamber---- _Lucy._ Nay, nay, no ent'ring the Premises, till you have paid the Purchase---- _Piz._ Adod, thou'rt a Wag----Come in then, and I'll discharge the Debt: Thou'rt a cunning Gipsy. [_Exit_ Pizal.