_Lau_. I do not doubt it, Oh, how I love him for this seasonable Lye: --And can you think I’ll see a perjur’d Man, [_To_ Cor. Who gives my interest in him to another? --Do I not help ye out most artfully?-- [_Aside. Laughing to_ Gal. _Cor_. I see they are resolv’d to out-face me. _Gal_. Nay, vow’d to marry her. _Lau_. Heavens, to marry her! _Cor_. To be conquer’d at my own Weapon too!--Lying! ‘tis a hard case.-- [_Aside_. _Gal_. Go, Boy, you may be gone; you have you Answer, Child, and may depart--Come, Madam, let us leave him. _Cor_. Gone, no help! Death, I’ll quarrel with him,--nay, fight him,-- damn him,--rather than lose him thus.--Stay, Signior. [_Pulls him_.]--You call me Boy--but you may find your self mistaken, Sir,--And know--I’ve that about me may convince ye. [_Shewing his Sword_. --’Thas done some Execution. _Gal_. Prithee, on whom or what? small Village Curs? The barking of a Mastiff wou’d unman thee. [_Offers to go_. _Cor_. Hold--follow me from the Refuge of her Arms; As thou’rt a Man, I do conjure thee do’t:--I hope he will, I’ll venture beating for’t. [_Aside_. _Gal_. Yes, my brisk little Rascal, I will a--a-- _Lau_. By all that’s good, you shall not stir from hence; ho, who waits there, _Antonio, Silvio, Gaspero_? [_Enter all_.] --take that fierce Youth, and bear him from my sight. _Cor_. You shall not need; s’life, these rough Rogues will be too hard for me; I’ve one prevention left,--farewel. _May’st thou supply her with as feeble Art, As I should do, were I to play thy part_. [_Goes out with the rest_. _Gal_. He’s gone, now let’s redeem our blessed Minutes lost. [_Go in_. SCENE III. _Changes to the Street_.--Piazo d’.ispagnia. _Enter_ Julio _alone_. _Jul_. Now by this breaking Day-light I cou’d rave: I knew she mistook me last night, which made me so eager to improve my lucky Minutes. Sure, _Galliard_ is not the Man, I long to know the Mystery;--hah--who’s here? --_Fillamour!_ _Enter_ Fillamour _met by_ Marcella _in Man’s Clothes; they pass by each other, cock and justle_. _Mar_. I take it, you are he I look for, Sir. _Fil_. My name is _Fillamour_. _Mar_. Mine, _Julio Sebastiano Morosini_. _Jul_. Hah, my Name, by Heaven! [_Aside_. _Fil_. I doubt it not, since in that lovely Face I see the charming Image of _Marcella_. _Jul_. Hah! _Mar_. You might, e’er Travel ruffled me to Man. [_Aside_. --I shou’d return thy Praise whilst I survey thee, But that I came not here to compliment;--draw-- [_Draws_. _Fil_. Why, cause thou’rt like _Marcella?_