Blunt. ’Dsheartlikins, I wonder in what Country our kinder Stars rule: In _England_ plunder’d, sequester’d, imprison’d and banish’d; in _France_, starv’d, walking like the Sign of the naked Boy, with _Plymouth_ Cloaks in our Hands; in _Italy_ and _Spain_ robb’d, beaten, and thrown out at Windows. Feth. Well, how happy am I, in having so true a Friend to condole me in Affliction— [Weeps.] I am oblig’d to Seignior _Harlequin_ too, for bringing me hither to the Mountebank’s, where I shall not only conceal this Catastrophe from those fortunate Rogues our Comrades, but 199 procure a little Album Græcum for my Backside. Come, Seignior, my Clothes—but, Seignior—_un Portavera Poco palanca_. [Dresses himself. Harl. Seignior. Feth. _Entende vos Signoria Englesa?_ Harl. _Em Poco, em Poco_, Seignior. Feth. _Per quelq arts_, did your Seigniorship escape Cudgeling? Harl. _La art de transformatio._ Feth. _Transformatio_—Why, wert thou not born a Man? Harl. No, Seignior, _un vieule Femme_. Feth. How, born an old Woman? Blunt. Good Lord! born an old Woman! And so by transformation became invulnerable. Feth. Ay—in—invulnerable—what would I give to be invulnerable? and egad, I am almost weary of being a Man, and subject to beating: wou’d I were a Woman, a Man has but an ill time on’t: if he has a mind to a Wench, the making Love is so plaguy tedious—then paying is to my Soul insupportable. But to be a Woman, to be courted with Presents, and have both the Pleasure and the Profit—to be without a Beard, and sing a fine Treble—and squeak if the Men but kiss me—’twere fine—and what’s better, I am sure never to be beaten again. Blunt. Pox on’t, do not use an old Friend so scurvily; consider the Misery thou’lt indure to have the Heart and Mind of a jilting Whore possess thee: What a Fit of the Devil must he suffer who acts her Part from fourteen to fourscore! No,’tis resolv’d thou remain _Nicholas Fetherfool_ still, shalt marry the Monster, and laugh at Fortune. Feth. ’Tis true, should I turn Whore to the Disgrace of my Family—what would the World say? who wou’d have thought it, cries one? I cou’d never have believ’d it, cries another. No, as thou say’st, I’ll remain as I am—marry and live honestly. Blunt. Well resolv’d, I’ll leave you, for I was just going 200 to serenade my Fairy Queen, when I met thee at the Door—some Deeds of Gallantry must be perform’d, Seignior, _Bonus Nochus_. [Ex. _Blunt_./ Enter _Shift_ with Light. Feth. Hah, a Light, undone! Harl. _Patientia, Patientia_, Seignior. Shift. Where the Devil can this Rogue _Hunt_ be? Just now all things are ready for marrying these two Monsters; they wait, the House is husht, and in the lucky Minute to have him out of the way: sure the Devil owes me a spite. [Runs against _Harlequin_, puts out his Candle. Harl. _Qui est là?_ Shift. ’Tis _Harlequin_: Pox on’t, is’t you? Harl. Peace, here’s _Fetherfool_, I’ll secure him, whilst you go about your Affair. [Ex. _Shift_.