_Lucy._ Oh! Sir, your Commission won't reach so high as the Head: I believe my Lady will excuse little Matters: You can undress, I suppose. _Lud._ Oh! the best and the quickest of any Man in _Venice_. But a Pox on't--Can'st find no other way?----I, I, I,----I like Petticoats in their proper Places, but I don't care to have my Legs in 'em. _Lucy._ And so you resolve against it? Ha---- _Lud._ No, not absolutely resolve, Child: But--a---- _Lucy._ But what, Sir! _Lud._ Nothing--I will follow thy Directions, whatever comes on't. Now lead the way, for nothing suits better with my Humour than a Friend, a Bottle, a new Mistress and a convenient Place. [_Exit_ Lucy, Ludovico. SCENE IV. Pizalto's _Lodgings_. _Enter_ Pizalto _with a Bond in his Hand_. _Piz._ Well--My Wife's a fine Woman! a very fine Woman! But a Pox she's a Wife still, and this young Jade runs in my Head plaguily: Well----here 'tis under my Hand; a Thousand Pistoles----A great Sum for a Maidenhead, as Maidenheads go now-a-days----Ah, had I been young now. _A Fiddle and a Treat had bore the Prize away,_ _But when we old Fools doat, they make us pay._ _Enter_ Lucy. Oh! are you come! Here, here, _Lucy_: Here's a Fortune for thee, worth twenty Maidenheads, adod! I have not so much Money by me at present, but there's Security. [_Gives her the Bond._ _Lucy._ Your Lordship's Bond's sufficient----Well, but that I am satisfied my Reputation is safe with your Lordship, or twice the Sum should not have prevail'd--Go to my Chamber, my Lord, I'll but step and see if my Lady wants any thing, and I'll be with you instantly. _Piz._ You won't stay, _Lucy_? Ah, Girl, buss thy Lady's Chucky; now, do now---- _Lucy._ Oh! Lord! not here, we shall be discovered. _Piz._ Well, thou art a cunning Sinner: make haste, _Lucy_, dost hear? [_Exit_ Pizalto. _Lucy._ You're in mighty Haste, old Gentleman! but I shall deceive you, _My End is gain'd; I have my Fortune made,_ _Man has not me, but I have Man betray'd._ _The End of the_ THIRD ACT. ACT IV. SCENE I. Armando's _Lodgings_. _Enter_ Armando, Placentia. _Pla._ Oh! _Armando_! Thou more than Friend to the distress'd _Placentia_! Say, how shall I regain my lost _Bassino_, My false, perfidious Husband? [_Weeps._ _Arm._ Dear Madam, moderate your Sorrow: Reserve those Tears to move _Bassino_'s Heart, Mine is all Pity: You may rest secure Of all the Arguments a Friend can use To bring him back to your endearing Arms. Virtue's not quite extinguish'd in his Breast, Therefore I hope the sight of bright _Placentia_ Will rouze his slumb'ring Reason----