Will. Nay, nay, I’ll teach you to spoil sport you will not make.—This small Ambassador comes not from a Person of Quality, as you imagine, and he says; but from a very errant Gipsy, the talkingst, pratingst, cantingst little Animal thou ever saw’st. Ang. What news you tell me! that’s the thing I mean. Hell. Wou’d I were well off the place.—If ever I go a Captain-hunting again.— [Aside. Will. Mean that thing? that Gipsy thing? thou may’st as well be jealous of thy Monkey, or Parrot as her: a German Motion were worth a dozen of her, and a Dream were a better Enjoyment, a Creature of Constitution fitter for Heaven than Man. Hell. Tho I’m sure he lyes, yet this vexes me. [Aside. Ang. You are mistaken, she’s a Spanish Woman Made up of no such dull Materials. Will. Materials! Egad, and she be made of any that will either dispense, or admit of Love, I’ll be bound to continence. Hell. Unreasonable Man, do you think so? [Aside to him. Will. You may Return, my little Brazen Head, and tell your Lady, that till she be handsom enough to be belov’d, or I dull enough to be religious, there will be small hopes of me. Ang. Did you not promise then to marry her? Will. Not I, by Heaven. Ang. You cannot undeceive my fears and torments, till you have vow’d you will not marry her. Hell. If he swears that, he’ll be reveng’d on me indeed for all my Rogueries. Ang. I know what Arguments you’ll bring against me, Fortune and Honour. Will. Honour! I tell you, I hate it in your Sex; and those that fancy themselves possest of that Foppery, are 77 the most impertinently troublesom of all Woman-kind, and will transgress nine Commandments to keep one: and to satisfy your Jealousy I swear— Hell. Oh, no swearing, dear Captain— [Aside to him. Will. If it were possible I should ever be inclin’d to marry, it should be some kind young Sinner, one that has Generosity enough to give a favour handsomely to one that can ask it discreetly, one that has Wit enough to manage an Intrigue of Love—oh, how civil such a Wench is, to a Man than does her the Honour to marry her. Ang. By Heaven, there’s no Faith in any thing he says. Enter _Sebastian_. Sebast. Madam, _Don Antonio_— Ang. Come hither. Hell. Ha, _Antonio!_ he may be coming hither, and he’ll certainly discover me, I’ll therefore retire without a Ceremony. [Exit _Hellena_. Ang. I’ll see him, get my Coach ready. Sebast. It waits you, Madam. Will. This is lucky: what, Madam, now I may be gone and leave you to the enjoyment of my Rival? Ang. Dull Man, that canst not see how ill, how poor That false dissimulation looks—Be gone, And never let me see thy cozening Face again, Lest I relapse and kill thee. Will. Yes, you can spare me now,—farewell till you are in a better Humour—I’m glad of this release— Now for my Gipsy: For tho to worse we change, yet still we find New Joys, New Charms, in a new Miss that’s kind. [Ex. _Will._