Belv. Thou art mistaken, I have Interest enough in that lovely Virgin’s Heart, to make me proud and vain, were it not abated by the Severity of a Brother, who perceiving my Happiness— Fred. Has civilly forbid thee the House? Belv. ’Tis so, to make way for a powerful Rival, the Vice-Roy’s Son, who has the advantage of me, in being a Man of Fortune, a _Spaniard_, and her Brother’s Friend; which gives him liberty to make his Court, whilst I have recourse only to Letters, and distant Looks from her Window, which are as soft and kind as those which Heav’n sends down on Penitents. Blunt. Hey day! ’Sheartlikins, Simile! by this Light the Man is quite spoil’d—_Frederick_, what the Devil are we made of, that we cannot be thus concern’d for a Wench?—’Sheartlikins, our _Cupids_ are like the Cooks of the Camp, they can roast or boil a Woman, but they have none of the fine Tricks to set ’em off, no Hogoes to make the Sauce pleasant, and the Stomach sharp. Fred. I dare swear I have had a hundred as young, kind and handsom as this _Florinda_; and Dogs eat me, if they were not as troublesom to me i’th’ Morning as they were welcome o’er night. Blunt. And yet, I warrant, he wou’d not touch another Woman, if he might have her for nothing. Belv. That’s thy Joy, a cheap Whore. Blunt. Why, ’dsheartlikins, I love a frank Soul—When did you ever hear of an honest Woman that took a Man’s Mony? I warrant ’em good ones—But, Gentlemen, you may be free, you have been kept so poor with Parliaments and Protectors, that the little Stock you have is not worth preserving—but I thank my Stars, I have more Grace than to forfeit my Estate by Cavaliering. 18 Belv. Methinks only following the Court should be sufficient to entitle ’em to that. Blunt. ’Sheartlikins, they know I follow it to do it no good, unless they pick a hole in my Coat for lending you Mony now and then; which is a greater Crime to my Conscience, Gentlemen, than to the Common-wealth. Enter _Willmore_. Will. Ha! dear _Belvile!_ noble Colonel! Belv. _Willmore!_ welcome ashore, my dear Rover!—what happy Wind blew us this good Fortune? Will. Let me salute you my dear _Fred_, and then command me—How is’t honest Lad? Fred. Faith, Sir, the old Complement, infinitely the better to see my dear mad _Willmore_ again—Prithee why camest thou ashore? and where’s the Prince? Will. He’s well, and reigns still Lord of the watery Element—I must aboard again within a Day or two, and my Business ashore was only to enjoy my self a little this Carnival. Belv. Pray know our new Friend, Sir, he’s but bashful, a raw Traveller, but honest, stout, and one of us. [Embraces _Blunt_. Will. That you esteem him, gives him an Interest here. Blunt. Your Servant, Sir.