Beau. A Man. [They fight. Enter _Petron._ with Light, _La Nuche_ following, _Beau._ runs to her. Oh thou false Woman, falser than thy Smiles, Which serve but to delude good-natur’d Man, And when thou hast him fast, betray’st his Heart! Will. _Beaumond!_ Beau. _Willmore!_ Is it with thee I must tug for Empire? For I lay claim to all this World of Beauty. [Takes _La Nuche_, looking with scorn on Willmore. La Nu. Heavens, how got this Ruffian in? Will. Hold, hold, dear _Harry_, lay no Hands on her till thou can’st make thy Claim good. Beau. She’s mine, by Bargain mine, and that’s sufficient. Will. In Law perhaps, it may for ought I know, but ’tis 192 not so in Love: but thou’rt my Friend, and I’ll therefore give thee fair Play—if thou canst win her take her: But a Sword and a Mistress are not to be lost, if a Man can keep ’em. Beau. I cannot blame thee, thou but acts thy self— But thou fair Hypocrite, to whom I gave my Heart, And this exception made of all Mankind, Why would’st thou, as in Malice to my Love, Give it the only Wound that cou’d destroy it? Will. Nay, if thou didst forbid her loving me, I have her sure. Beau. I yield him many Charms; he’s nobly born, Has Wit, Youth, Courage, all that takes the Heart, And only wants what pleases Women’s Vanity, Estate, the only good that I can boast: And that I sacrifice to buy thy Smiles. La Nu. See, Sir—here’s a much fairer Chapman—you may be gone— [To _Will._ Will. Faith, and so there is, Child, for me, I carry all about me, and that by Heaven is thine: I’ll settle all upon thee, but my Sword, and that will buy us Bread. I’ve two led Horses too, one thou shalt manage, and follow me thro Dangers. La Nu. A very hopeful comfortable Life; No, I was made for better Exercises. Will. Why, every thing in its turn, Child, yet a Man’s but a Man. Beau. No more, but if thou valuest her, Leave her to Ease and Plenty. Will. Leave her to Love, my Dear; one hour of right-down Love, Is worth an Age of living dully on: What is’t to be adorn’d and shine with Gold, Drest like a God, but never know the Pleasure? —No, no, I have much finer things in store for thee. [Hugs her. 193 La Nu. What shall I do? Here’s powerful Interest prostrate at my Feet, [Pointing to _Beau._ Glory, and all than Vanity can boast; —But there—Love unadorn’d, no covering but his Wings, [To _Will._ No Wealth, but a full Quiver to do mischiefs, Laughs at those meaner Trifles— Beau. Mute as thou art, are not these Minutes mine? But thou—ah false—hast dealt ’em out already, With all thy Charms of Love, to this unknown— Silence and guilty Blushes say thou hast: He all disorder’d too, loose and undrest, With Love and Pleasure dancing in his Eyes, Tell me too plainly how thou hast deceiv’d me. La Nu. Or if I have not,’tis a Trick soon done, And this ungrateful Jealousy wou’d put it in my Head. [Angrily.