_Mar_. Prithee, Sister, let’s retire into the Grove, to avoid the Pursuit of these Cavaliers. _Cor_. Not I, by these killing Eyes! I’ll stand my ground were there a thousand, all arm’d with conquering Beauty. _Mar_. Hah--now on my Conscience yonder’s _Fillamour_. _Cor_. Hah! _Fillamour_! _Mar_. My Courage fails me at the sight of him--I must retire. _Cor_. And I’ll to my Art of Love. [Mar. _retires, and leans against a Tree_, Cor. _walks about reading_. _Gal_. ‘Tis she, ‘tis _Silvianetta_: Prithee advance, that thou mayst behold her, and renounce all honest Women; since in that one young Sinner there are Charms that wou’d excuse even to thee all frailty. _Fil_. The Forms of Angels cou’d not reconcile me To Women of her Trade. _Gal_. This is too happy an Opportunity, to be lost in convincing thy Singularity,-- [Gal. _goes bowing by the side of_ Cornelia. Fil. _walks about in the Scene_. --If Creatures so fair and charming as your self, had any need of Prayer, I shou’d believe by your profound Attention you were at your Evening’s Devotion. _Cor_. That you may find your Mistake in the opinion of my Charms, pray believe I am so, and ought not to be interrupted. _Gal_. I hope a Man may have leave to make his Devotions by you, at least without Danger or Offence. _Cor_. I know not that, I have reason to fear your Devotion may be ominous; like a blazing Star, it comes but seldom,--but ever threatens mischief--Pray Heaven, I share not in the Calamity. _Gal_. Why, I confess, Madam, my Fit of Zeal does not take me often; but when it does, ‘tis very harmless and wondrous hearty.-- _Cor_. You may begin then, I shall not be so wicked as to disturb you Orisons. _Gal_. Wou’d I cou’d be well assur’d of that, for mine’s Devotion of great Necessity, and the Blessing I pray for infinitely concerns me; therefore in Christian Charity keep down your Eyes, and do not ruin a young Man’s good Intentions, unless they wou’d agree to send kind Looks, and save me the expence of Prayer. _Cor_. Which wou’d be better laid out, you think, upon some other Blessing. _Gal_. Why, faith, ‘tis good to have a little Bank upon occasion, though I hope I shall have no great need here-after,--if the charming _Silvianetta_ be but kind, ‘tis all I ask of Heaven. _Cor_. You’re very well acquainted with my Name, I find. _Gal_. Your Name! ‘tis all I have to live on! Like chearful Birds, ‘tis the first Tune I sing, To welcome in the Day: The Groves repeat it, and the Fountains purle it, And every pretty Sound that fills my Ear. Turns all to _Silvianetta_. [Fil. _looks awhile on_ Marcella. _Fil. Galliard_, look there--look on that lovely Woman; ‘tis _Marcella_, the beautiful _Marcella_. [_Offers to run to her_, Gal. _holds him_. _Gal_. Hold! _Marcella_! where? _Fil_. That Lady there; didst ever see her equal?