Hell. O’ my Conscience, that will be our Destiny, because we are both of one humour; I am as inconstant as you, for I have considered, Captain, that a handsom Woman has a great deal to do whilst her Face is good, for then is our Harvest-time to gather Friends; and should I in these days of my Youth, catch a fit of foolish Constancy, I were undone; ’tis loitering by day-light in our great Journey: therefore declare, I’ll allow but one year for Love, one year for Indifference, and one year for Hate—and then—go hang your self—for I profess myself the gay, the kind, and the inconstant—the Devil’s in’t if this won’t please you. Will. Oh most damnably!—I have a Heart with a hole quite thro it too, no Prison like mine to keep a Mistress in. Ang. Perjur’d Man! how I believe thee now! [Aside. Hell. Well, I see our Business as well as Humours are alike, yours to cozen as many Maids as will trust you, and I as many Men as have Faith—See if I have not as desperate a lying look, as you can have for the heart of you. [Pulls off her Vizard; he starts. —How do you like it, Captain? Will. Like it! by Heav’n, I never saw so much Beauty. Oh the Charms of those sprightly black Eyes, that strangely fair Face, full of Smiles and Dimples! those soft round melting cherry Lips! and small even white Teeth! not to be exprest, but silently adored!—Oh one Look more, and strike me dumb, or I shall repeat nothing else till I am mad. [He seems to court her to pull off her Vizard: she refuses. 49 Ang. I can endure no more—nor is it fit to interrupt him; for if I do, my Jealousy has so destroy’d my Reason,—I shall undo him—Therefore I’ll retire. And you _Sebastian_ [To one of her Bravoes] follow that Woman, and learn who ’tis; while you tell the Fugitive, I would speak to him instantly. [To the other Bravo. [Exit. [This while _Flor._ is talking to _Belvile_, who stands sullenly. _Fred._ courting Valeria. Val. Prithee, dear Stranger, be not so sullen; for tho you have lost your Love, you see my Friend frankly offers you hers, to play with in the mean time. Belv. Faith, Madam, I am sorry I can’t play at her Game. Fred. Pray leave your Intercession, and mind your own Affair, they’ll better agree apart; he’s a model Sigher in Company, but alone no Woman escapes him. Flor. Sure he does but rally—yet if it should be true—I’ll tempt him farther—Believe me, noble Stranger, I’m no common Mistress—and for a little proof on’t—wear this Jewel—nay, take it, Sir, ’tis right, and Bills of Exchange may sometimes miscarry. Belv. Madam, why am I chose out of all Mankind to be the Object of your Bounty? Val. There’s another civil Question askt. Fred. Pox of’s Modesty, it spoils his own Markets, and hinders mine. Flor. Sir, from my Window I have often seen you; and Women of Quality have so few opportunities for Love, that we ought to lose none.