_Oct_. I do believe, and give thee back my Claim, I scorn the brutal part of Love; the noblest Body, where the Heart is wanting. [_They all talk aside_, Cornelia _comes up to Galliard_. _Cor_. Why, how now, Cavalier, how like a discarded Favourite do you look now, who whilst your Authority lasted, laid about ye, domineer’d, huft and bluster’d, as if there had been no end on’t: now a Man may approach ye without terror--You see the Meat’s snatcht out of your Mouth, Sir, the Lady’s dispos’d on; whose Friends and Relations you were so well acquainted with. _Gal_. Peace, Boy, I shall be angry else.-- _Cor_. Have you never a cast Mistress, that will take compassion on you: Faith, what think ye of the little Curtezan now? _Gal_. As ill as e’er I did; what’s that to thee? _Cor_. Much more than you’re aware on, Sir--and faith, to tell you Truth, I’m no Servant to Count _Julio_, but e’en a little mischievous Instrument she sent hither to prevent your making love to _Donna Laura_. _Gal_. ‘Tis she herself.--how cou’d that Beauty hide itself so long from being known? [_Aside_.]--Malicious little Dog in a Manger, that wou’d neither eat, nor suffer the Hungry to feed themselves, what spiteful Devil cou’d move thee to treat a Lover thus? but I am pretty well reveng’d on ye. _Cor_. On me! _Gal_. You think I did not know those pretty Eyes, that lovely Mouth I have so often kist in cold imagination. _Cor_. Softly, Tormentor. [_They talk aside_. _Mar_. In this disguise we parted from _Viterbo_, attended only by _Petro_ and _Philippa_: At Rome we took the Title and Habit of two _Curtezans_; both to shelter us from knowledge, and to oblige _Fillamour_ to visit us, which we believ’d he would in curiosity; and yesterday it so fell out as we desired. _Fil_. Howe’er my Eyes might be imposed upon, you see my Heart was firm to its first Object; can you forget and pardon the mistake? _Jul_. She shall, and with _Octavio’s_ and my Uncle’s leave,--thus make your Title good.-- [_Gives her to_ Fil. _Oct_. ‘Tis vain to strive with Destiny. [_Gives her_. _Mor_. With all my heart,--but where’s _Cornelia_ all this while? _Gal_. Here’s the fair Stragler, Sir. [_Leads her to Mor. he holds his Cane up at her_. _Mor_. Why, thou Baggage, thou wicked Contriver of Mischief, what excuse had’st thou for running away? Thou had’st no Lover. _Cor_. ‘Twas therefore, Sir, I went to find one; and if I am not mistaken in the mark, ‘tis this Cavalier I pitch upon for that use and purpose. _Gal_. Gad, I thank ye for that,--I hope you’ll ask my leave first, I’m finely drawn in, i’faith--Have I been dreaming all this night of the possession of a new-gotten Mistress, to wake and find my self noos’d to a dull Wife in the morning? _Fil_. Thou talk’st like a Man that never knew the Pleasures thou despisest; faith, try it, _Frank_, and thou wilt hate thy past loose way of living.