Beau. Wou’d! by Heaven, thou hast—he is not to be fool’d, Or sooth’d into belief of distant Joys, As easy as I have been: I’ve lost so kind An Opportunity, where Night and Silence both Conspire with Love, had made him rage like Waves Blown up by Storms:—no more—I know he has —Oh what, _La Nuche!_ robb’d me of all that I Have languish’d for— La Nu. If it were so, you should not dare believe it— [Angrily turns away, he kneels and holds her. Beau. Forgive me; oh so very well I love, Did I not know that thou hadst been a Whore, I’d give thee the last proof of Love—and marry thee. Will. The last indeed—for there’s an end of Loving; Do, marry him, and be curst by all his Family: Marry him, and ruin him, that he may curse thee too. —But hark ye, Friend, this is not fair; ’tis drawing Sharps on a Man that’s only arm’d with the defensive Cudgel, 194 I’m for no such dead doing Arguments; if thou art for me, Child, it must be without the folly, for better for worse; there’s a kind of Nonsense in that Vow Fools only swallow. La Nu. But when I’ve worn out all my Youth and Beauty, and suffer’d every ill of Poverty, I shall be compell’d to begin the World again without a Stock to set up with. No faith, I’m for a substantial Merchant in Love, who can repay the loss of Time and Beauty; with whom to make one thriving Voyage sets me up for ever, and I need never put to Sea again. [Comes to _Beau._ Beau. Nor be expos’d to Storms of Poverty, the _Indies_ shall come to thee—See here—this is the Merchandize my Love affords. [Gives her a Pearl, and Pendants of Diamond. La Nu. Look ye, Sir, will not these Pearls do better round my Neck, than those kind Arms of yours? these Pendants in my Ears, than all the Tales of Love you can whisper there? Will. So—I am deceiv’d—deal on for Trash—and barter all thy Joys of Life for Baubles—this Night presents me one Adventure more—I’ll try thee once again, inconstant Fortune; and if thou fail’st me then—I will forswear thee [Aside.] Death, hadst thou lov’d my Friend for his own Value, I had esteem’d thee; but when his Youth and Beauty cou’d not plead, to be the mercenary Conquest of his Presents, was poor, below thy Wit: I cou’d have conquer’d so, but I scorn thee at that rate—my Purse shall never be my Pimp—Farewel, _Harry_. Beau. Thou’st sham’d me out of Folly—stay— Will. Faith—I have an Assignation with a Woman—a Woman Friend! young as the infant-day, and sweet as Roses e’er the Morning Sun have kiss’d their Dew away. She will not ask me Money neither. La Nu. Hah! stay— [Holds him, and looks on him. Beau. She loves him, and her Eyes betray her Heart. Will. I am not for your turn, Child—Death, I shall lose my Mistress fooling here—I must be gone. [She holds him, he shakes his Head and sings. 195 No, no, I will not hire your Bed, Nor Tenant to your Favours be; I will not farm your White and Red, You shall not let your Love to me: I court a Mistress—not a Landlady. [bis.