Aria. Hold, dear Captain, I yield but on Conditions, which are these—I give you up a Maid of Youth and Beauty, ten thousand Pound in ready Jewels here—three times the value in Estate to come, of which here be the Writings, you delivering me a handsom proper fellow, Heart-whole and sound, that’s all—your Name I ask not till the Priest declare it, who is to seal the Bargain. I cannot deceive, for I let you know I am Daughter-in-law to the _English_ Ambassador. Beau. _Ariadne!_—How vain is all Man’s Industry and Care To make himself accomplish’d; When the gay fluttering Fool, or the half-witted rough unmanner’d Brute, Who in plain terms comes right down to the business, Out-rivals him in all his Love and Fortunes. [Aside. Aria. Methinks you cool upon’t, Captain. Beau. Yes, _Ariadne_. 206 Aria. _Beaumond!_ Beau. Oh what a World of Time have I mispent for want of being a Blockhead—’Sdeath and Hell, Wou’d I had been some brawny ruffling Fool, Some forward impudent unthinking Sloven, A Woman’s Tool; for all besides unmanageable. Come, swear that all this while you thought ’twas I. The Devil has taught ye Tricks to bring your Falshood off. Aria. Know ’twas you! no, Faith, I took you for as errant a right-down Captain as ever Woman wisht for; and ’twas uncivil egad, to undeceive me, I tell you that now. Enter _Willmore_ and _La Nuche_ by dark. Will. Thou art all Charms, a Heaven of Sweets all over, plump smooth round Limbs, small rising Breasts, a Bosom soft and panting—I long to wound each Sense. Lights there—who waits?—there yet remains a Pleasure unpossest, the sight of that dear Face—Lights there—where are my Vermin? [Ex. _Will._ Aria. My Captain with a Woman—and is it so— Enter _Will._ with Lights, sees _Aria_, and goes to her. Will. By Heaven, a glorious Beauty! now a Blessing on thee for shewing me so dear a Face—Come, Child, let’s retire and begin where we left off. La Nu. A Woman! Aria. Where we left off! pray, where was that, good Captain? Will. Within upon the Bed, Child—come—I’ll show thee. Beau. Hold, Sir. Will. _Beaumond!_ come fit to celebrate my Happiness; ah such a Woman-friend! Beau. Do ye know her? Will. All o’er, to be the softest sweetest Creature— Beau. I mean, do ye know who she is? 207 Will. Nor care; ’tis the last Question I ever ask a fine Woman. Beau. And you are sure you are thus well acquainted. Will. I cannot boast of much acquaintance—but I have pluckt a Rose from her Bosom—or so—and given it her again—we’ve past the hour of the Berjere together, that’s all— Beau. And do you know—this Lady is my—Wife? [Draw. Will. Hah! hum, hum, hum, hum— [Turns and sings, sees _La Nuche_, and returns quick with an uneasy Grimace. Beau. Did you not hear me? Draw. Will. Draw, Sir—what on my Friend? Beau. On your Cuckold, Sir, for so you’ve doubly made me: Draw, or I’ll kill thee— [Passes at him, he fences with his Hat, _La Nu._ holds Beau. Will. Hold, prithee hold.