_Guil_. I cannot brook a Rival in my Love, the rustling Pole of my Affection is too strong to be resisted. _Runs raging up and down the Stage with his Sword in his hand_. _Isa_. I cannot think, my Lord, so mean a Beauty can so suddenly charm a Heart so great as yours. _Guil_. Oh! you’re mistaken, as soon as I cast my eyes upon the Full-moon of your Countenance, I was struck blind and dumb. _Fran_. Ay, and deaf too, I’ll be sworn, he cou’d neither hear, see nor understand; this Love’s a miraculous thing. _Guil_. And that Minute, the most renoun’d Don _Gulielmo Roderigo de Chimeny Sweperio_, became your Gally-Slave,--I say no more, but that I do love,--and I will love,--and that if you are but half so willing as I, I will dub you, Viscountess _de Chimeny Sweperio_. _Isa_. I am in Heaven, ah! I die, _Jacinta_. How can I credit this, that am so much unworthy? _Guil_. I’ll do’t, say no more, I’ll do’t. _Fran_. Do’t, but, my Lord, and with what face can I put off Signior _Antonio_, hum. _Guil_. _Antonio_,--hy, Pages, give order that _Antonio_ be instantly run through the Lungs--d’ye hear? _Fran_. Oh, hold, hold, my Lord! run through the Lungs! _Page_. It shall be done, my Lord! but what _Antonio_? _Guil_. Why, any _Antonio_; all the _Antonio’s_ that you find in _Cadiz_. _Fran_. Oh, what bloody-minded Monsters these Lords are!--But, my Lord, I’ll ne’er give you the trouble of killing him, I’ll put him off with a handsom Compliment; as thus,--Why, look ye, Friend _Antonio_, the business is this, my Daughter _Isabella_ may marry a Lord, and you may go fiddle.-- _Guil_. Ay, that’s civil,--and if he do not desist, I’ll unpeople _Spain_ but I’ll kill him; for, Madam, I’ll tell you what happened to me in the Court of _France_--there was a Lady in the Court in love with me,--she took a liking to my Person which--I think,--you will confess-- _Isa_. To be the most accomplisht in the World. _Guil_. I had some sixscore Rivals, they all took Snuff; that is, were angry--at which I smiled;--they were incensed; at which I laught, ha, ha, ha,--i’faith; they rag’d, I--when I met ‘em,--Cockt, thus--_en passant_--justled ‘em--thus,--[_Overthrows_ Fran.] They turn’d and frown’d,--thus,--I drew.-- _Fran_. What, on all the sixscore, my Lord? _Guil_. All, all; sa, sa, quoth I, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa. [_Fences him round the Stage_. _Fran_. Hold, hold, my Lord, I am none of the sixscore. _Guil_. And run ‘em all through the Body! _Fran_. Oh Heavens! and kill’d ‘em all. _Guil_. Not a Man,--only run ‘em through the body a little, that’s all, my two Boys were by, my Pages here. _Isa_. Is it the fashion, Sir, to be attended by Pages so big? _Guil_. Pages of Honour always;--these were stinted at nurse, or they had been good proper Fellows.