Will. Have a care of your Persons of Quality, _Ned_. [Goes to _La Nuche_. —Those lovely Eyes were never made to throw their Darts in vain. La Nu. The Conquest would be hardly worth the Pain. Will. Hah, _La Nuche!_ with what a proud Disdain she flung away—stay, I will not part so with you— [Holds her. 128 Enter _Ariadne_ and _Lucia_ with Footmen. Aria. Who are these before us, _Lucia?_ Luc. I know not, Madam; but if you make not haste home, you’ll be troubled with _Carlo_ your importunate Lover, who is just behind us. Aria. Hang me, a lovely Man! what Lady’s that? stay. Pet. What Insolence is this! This Villain will spoil all— Feth. Why, Captain, are you quite distracted?—dost know where thou art? Prithee be civil— Will. Go, proud and cruel! [Turns her from him. Enter _Carlo_, and two or three _Spanish_ Servants following: _Petronella_ goes to him. Car. Hah, affronted by a drunken Islander, a saucy Tramontane!—Draw— [To his Servants whilst he takes _La Nuche_. whilst I lead her off—fear not, Lady, you have the Honour of my Sword to guard ye. Will. Hah, _Carlo_—ye lye—it cannot guard the boasting Fool that wears it—be gone—and look not back upon this Woman. [Snatches her from him] One single Glance destroys thee— [They draw and fight; _Carlo_ getting hindmost of his _Spaniards_, the _English_ beat ’em off: The Ladies run away, all but _Ariadne_ and _Lucia_. Luc. Heav’ns, Madam, why do ye stay? Aria. To pray for that dear Stranger—And see, my Prayers are heard, and he’s return’d in safety—this Door shall shelter me to o’er-hear the Quarrel. [Steps aside. Enter _Will._ _Blunt_, _Feth._ looking big, and putting up his Sword. Feth. The noble Captain be affronted by a starch’d Ruff and Beard, a Coward in querpo, a walking Bunch of Garlick, a pickl’d Pilchard! abuse the noble Captain, and bear it off in State, like a Christmas Sweet-heart; these things must not be whilst _Nicholas Fetherfool_ wears a Sword. 129 Blunt. Pox o’ these Women, I thought no good would come on’t: besides, where’s the Jest in affronting honest Women, if there be such a thing in the Nation? Feth. Hang’t,’twas the Devil and all— Will. Ha, ha, ha! Why, good honest homespun Country Gentlemen, who do you think those were? Feth. Were! why, Ladies of Quality going to their Devotion; who should they be? Blunt. Why, faith, and so I thought too. Will. Why, that very one Woman I spoke to is ten Whores in _Surrey_. Feth. Prithee speak softly, Man: ’Slife, we shall be poniarded for keeping thee company. Will. Wise Mr. Justice, give me your Warrant, and if I do not prove ’em Whores, whip me. Feth. Prithee hold thy scandalous blasphemous Tongue, as if I did not know Whores from Persons of Quality. Will. Will you believe me when you lie with her? for thou’rt a rich Ass, and may’st do it. Feth. Whores—ha, ha— Will. ’Tis strange Logick now, because your Band is better that mine, I must not know a Whore better than you.