La Nu. And will you never see that Woman neither, whom you’re this Night to visit? Will. Damn all the rest of thy weak Sex, when thou look’st thus, and art so soft and charming. [Offers to lead her out. La Nu. _Sancho_—my Coach. [Turns in scorn. Will. Take heed, what mean ye? La Nu. Not to be pointed at by all the envying Women of the Town, who’l laugh and cry, Is this the high-priz’d Lady, now fall’n so low, to doat upon a Captain? a poor disbanded Captain? defend me from that Infamy. Will. Now all the Plagues—but yet I will not curse thee, ’tis lost on thee, for thou art destin’d damn’d. [Going out. La Nu. Whither so fast? Will. Why,—I am so indifferent grown, that I can tell thee now—to a Woman, young, fair and honest; she’ll be kind and thankful—farewel, Jilt—now should’st thou die for one sight more of me, thou should’st not ha’t; nay, should’st thou sacrifice all thou hast couzen’d other 171 Coxcombs of, to buy one single visit, I am so proud, by Heaven, thou shouldst not have it—To grieve thee more, see here, insatiate Woman [Shews her a Purse or hands full of Gold] the Charm that makes me lovely in thine Eyes: it had all been thine hadst thou not basely bargain’d with me, now ’tis the Prize of some well-meaning Whore, whose Modesty will trust my Generosity. [Goes out. La Nu. Now I cou’d rave, t’have lost an opportunity which industry nor chance can give again—when on the yielding point, a cursed fit of Pride comes cross my Soul, and stops the kind Career—I’ll follow him, yes I’ll follow him, even to the Arms of her to whom he’s gone. Aur. Madam, ’tis dark, and we may meet with Insolence. La Nu. No matter: _Sancho_, let the Coach go home, and do you follow me— Women may boast their Honour and their Pride, But Love soon lays those feebler Powr’s aside. [Exeunt. ACT IV. Scene I. The Street, or Backside of the Piazza dark. Enter _Willmore_ alone. Will. A Pox upon this Woman that has jilted me, and I for being a fond believing Puppy to be in earnest with so great a Devil. Where be these Coxcombs too? this _Blunt_ and _Fetherfool?_ when a Man needs ’em not, they are plaguing him with their unseasonable Jests—could I but light on them, I would be very drunk to night—but first I’ll try my Fortune with this Woman—let me see—hereabouts is the Door. [Gropes about for the Door. Enter _Beaumond_, follow’d by _La Nuche_, and _Sancho_. La Nu. ’Tis he, I know it by his often and uneasy pauses— Beau. And shall I home and sleep upon my injury, whilst this more happy Rover takes my right away?—no, 172 damn me then for a cold senseless Coward. [Pauses and pulls out a Key. Will. This Damsel, by the part o’th’ Town she lives in, shou’d be of Quality, and therefore can have no dishonest design on me, it must be right down substantial Love, that’s certain. Beau. Yet I’ll in and arm my self for the Encounter, for ’twill be rough between us, tho we’re Friends. [Groping about, finds the Door.