Will. At night in the Piazza; I have an Assignation with a Woman, that once dispatch’d, I will not fail ye, Sir. Luc. And will you leave him with her? Aria. Oh, yes, he’ll be ne’er the worse for my use when he has done with her. [Ex. _Luc._ and _Aria._ _Will._ looks with scorn on _La Nuche_. Will. Now you may go o’ertake him, lie with him—and ruin him: the Fool was made for such a Destiny—if he escapes my Sword. [He offers to go. La Nu. I must prevent his visit to this Woman—but dare not tell him so. [Aside.] —I would not have ye meet this angry Youth. 169 Will. Oh, you would preserve him for a farther use. La Nu. Stay—you must not fight—by Heaven, I cannot see—that Bosom—wounded. [Turns and weeps. Will. Hah! weep’st thou? curse me when I refuse a faith to that obliging Language of thy Eyes—Oh give me one proof more, and after that, thou conquerest all my Soul; Thy Eyes speak Love—come, let us in, my Dear, e’er the bright Fire allays that warms my Heart. [Goes to lead her out. La Nu. Your Love grows rude, and saucily demands it. [Flings away. Will. Love knows no Ceremony, no respect when once approacht so near the happy minute. La Nu. What desperate easiness have you seen in me, or what mistaken merit in your self, should make you so ridiculously vain, to think I’d give myself to such a Wretch, one fal’n even to the last degree of Poverty, whilst all the World is prostrate at my Feet, whence I might chuse the Brave, the Great, the Rich? [He stands spitefully gazing at her. —Still as he fires, I find my Pride augment, and when he cools I burn. [Aside. Will. Death, thou’rt a—vain, conceited, taudry Jilt, who wou’st draw me in as Rooks their Cullies do, to make me venture all my stock of Love, and then you turn me out despis’d and poor— [Offers to go. La Nu. You think you’re gone now— Will. Not all thy Arts nor Charms shall hold me longer. La Nu. I must submit—and can you part thus from me?— [Pulls him. Will. I can—nay, by Heaven, I will not turn, nor look at thee. No, when I do, or trust that faithless Tongue again—may I be— La Nu. Oh do not swear— Will. Ever curst— [Breaks from her, she holds him. La Nu. You shall not go—Plague of this needless Pride, [Aside. 170 —stay—and I’ll follow all the dictates of my Love. Will. Oh never hope to flatter me to faith again. [His back to her, she holding him. La Nu. I must, I will; what wou’d you have me do? Will. [_turning softly to her._] Never—deceive me more, it may be fatal to wind me up to an impatient height, then dash my eager Hopes. [_Sighing._ Forgive my roughness—and be kind, _La Nuche_, I know thou wo’t— La Nu. Will you then be ever kind and true? Will. Ask thy own Charms, and to confirm thee more, yield and disarm me quite. La Nu. Will you not marry then? for tho you never can be mine that way, I cannot think that you should be another’s. Will. No more delays, by Heaven, ’twas but a trick.