_Cla_. And to see the Governor his Man? _Jac_. Ah, what a Jest that would be too--Ha, ha, ha! but here comes _Isabella_; let’s puff up her Pride with Flatteries on her Beauty. _Enter_ Isabella _looking in a Glass, and seeing her Face_. _Isa_. Ah, Heavens, those Eyes--that Look,--that pretty Leer,--that my Father shou’d be so doating an old Fool to think these Beauties fit for a little Merchandize; a Marchioness wou’d so much better become me. [Looks again. --Ah, what a Smile’s there--and then that scornful Look--’tis great-- Heavens, who’s here? [Sees them. _Cla_. Only those Friends that wish you better Fortune than this day promises. _Jac_. Look on that Face; are there not Lines that foretel a world of Greatness, and promise much Honour? _Cla_. Her Face, her Shape, her Mein, her every part declares her Lady--or something more. _Isa_. Why, so, and yet this little Creature of a Father, ridiculously and unambitious, would spoil this Lady, to make up a simple Citizen’s Wife--in good time. _Jac_. That very look had some presaging Grandeur. _Isa_. Do you think so, _Jacinta_? Ha, ha, ha. _Jac_. That Laugh again, oh Heavens, how it charms! _Cla_. And how graceful ‘tis! _Jac_. Ah, nothing but a great gilt Coach will become it. _Cla_. With six _Spanish_ Mares.-- _Jac_. And embroidered Trappings. _Cla_. With four Lackeys. _Jac_. And a Page at the tail on’t. _Cla_. She’s evidently design’d for a Person of Quality. _Isa_. Besides I have so natural an Inclination for a Don, that if my Father do force me to marry this small Creature of a Merchant, I shall make an Intrigue with some body of Quality. _Cla_. Cou’d you but manage it well, and keep it from _Antonio_. _Isa_. Keep it from _Antonio_,--is it think you for a little silly Cit, to complain when a Don does him the Honour to visit his Lady? Marry, that were pretty. _Enter_ Francisco, _and_ Lopez. _Fran_. How, a Count to speak with me! with me, I say,--here at _Cadiz_. _Lop_. A Count, Sir, and to speak with you. _Fran_. Art sure ‘tis not the Governor?--I’ll go lock up my Wife. _Lop_. Governor, Sir! No, no, ‘tis a mere Stranger, Sir, a rare Count whom I never saw all days of my life before. _Fran_. And with me wou’d he speak? I hope he comes not to my Wife. _Enter_ Julia. _Jul_. Oh Husband, the delicatest fine Person of Quality, just alighted at the Door, Husband. _Fran_. What, have you seen him then? the Devil’s in these Women, and there be but a Loop-hole to peep out of they’ll spy a man,--I’m resolved to see this thing,--go, retire, you Women, here’s Men coming up. _Isa_. And will Men eat us? _Fran_. No, but they may do worse, they may look on ye, and Looking breeds Liking; and Liking, Love; and Love a damn’d thing, call’d Desire; and Desire begets the Devil and all of Mischief to young Wenches--Get ye gone in, I say--here’s a Lord coming--and Lords are plaguy things to Women.