Car. Sirrah, none of your Jests, this must be by diabolical Art, and shall cost the Seignior dear—Men of my Garb affronted—my Jennet vanisht—most miraculous—by St. _Jago_ I’ll be revenged—hah, what’s here—_La Nuche_— [Surveys her at a distance. Enter _La Nuche_, _Aurelia_, _Sancho_. La Nu. We are pursu’d by _Beaumond_, who will certainly hinder our speaking to _Willmore_, should we have the good fortune to see him in this Crowd—and yet there’s no avoiding him. Beau. ’Tis she, how carefully she shuns me! Aur. I’m satisfied he knows us by the jealous Concern which appears in that prying Countenance of his. Beau. Stay, Cruel, is it Love or Curiosity, that wings those nimble Feet? [Holds her. [_Lucia_ above and _Ariadne_.] Aria. _Beaumond_ with a Woman! Beau. Have you forgot this is the glorious Day that ushers in the Night shall make you mine? the happiest Night that ever favour’d Love! La Nu. Or if I have, I find you’ll take care to remember me. Beau. Sooner I could forget the Aids of Life, sooner forget how first that Beauty charm’d me. La Nu. Well, since your Memory’s so good, I need not doubt your coming. Beau. Still cold and unconcern’d! How have I doated, and how sacrific’d, regardless of my Fame, lain idling here, when all the Youth of _Spain_ were gaining Honour, valuing one Smile of thine above their Laurels! La Nu. And in return, I do submit to yield, preferring you above those fighting Fools, who safe in Multitudes reap Honour cheaper. 147 Beau. Yet there is one—one of those fighting Fools which should’st thou see, I fear I were undone; brave, handsome, gay, and all that Women doat on, unfortunate in every good of Life, but that one Blessing of obtaining Women: Be wise, for if thou seest him thou art lost—Why dost thou blush? La Nu. Because you doubt my Heart—’tis _Willmore_ that he means. [Aside.] We’ve Eyes upon us, Don _Carlo_ may grow jealous, and he’s a powerful Rival—at night. I shall expect ye. Beau. Whilst I prepare my self for such a Blessing. [Ex. _Beau._ Car. Hah! a Cavalier in conference with _La Nuche!_ and entertain’d without my knowledge! I must prevent this Lover, for he’s young—and this Night will surprise her. [Aside. Will. And you would be restor’d? [To _Petro._ Pet. Yes, if there be that Divinity in your Baths of Reformation. Will. There are. New Flames shall sparkle in those Eyes; And these grey Hairs flowing and bright shall rise: These Cheeks fresh Buds of Roses wear, And all your withered Limbs so smooth and clear, As shall a general Wonder move, And wound a thousand Hearts with Love. Pet. A Blessing on you, Sir, there’s fifty Pistoles for you, and as I earn it you shall have more. [They lift her down. [Exit _Willmore_ bowing. Shift. Messieurs, ’tis late, and the Seignior’s Patients stay for him at his Laboratory, to morrow you shall see the conclusion of this Experiment, and so I humbly take my leave at this time.