_Guil_. No matter, her Love’s worth a million; and, that’s so great, that I’m sure she’ll be content to carry my Soot basket after me. _Isa_. Ah! I die, I die. _Guil_. What, and I so kind? [_Goes and kisses her, and blacks her face_. _Isa_. Help! murder, murder! _Guil_. Well, Gentlemen, I am something a better fortune than you believe me, by some thousands. [_Shows_ Car. _his Writings_. _Car_. Substantial and good! faith, Sir, I know not where you’ll find a better fortune for your Daughter, as cases stand. [_To_ Francisco. _Guil_. And, for the Viscount, Sir, gay Clothes, Money and Confidence will set me up for one, in any ground in Christendom. _Car_. Faith, Sir, he’s i’th’ right; take him home to _Sevil_, your Neighbours know him not, and he may pass for what you please to make him; the Fellow’s honest, witty and handsom. _Fran_. Well, I have considered the matter: I was but a Leather-seller my self, and am grown up to a Gentleman; and, who knows but he, being a Chimney-sweeper, may, in time, grow up to a Lord? Faith, I’ll trust to Fortune, for once--here--take her and rid me of one Plague, as you, I thank you, Sir, have done of another. [_To_ Carlos. _Guil_. Prithee be pacified, thou shalt see me within this hour as pretty a fluttering Spark as any’s in Town.--My noble Lord, I give you thanks and joy; for, you are happy too. _Car_. As Love and Beauty can make me. _Fran_. And I, as no damn’d Wife, proud Daughter, or tormenting Chamber-maid can make me. _Ant_. And I, as Heaven and _Clara_ can. _--You base-born Beauties, whose ill-manner’d Pride, Th’industrious noble Citizens deride. May you all meet with_ Isabella’s _doom_. _Guil_. _--And all such Husbands as the Count_ Guiliome. EPILOGUE. Spoken by Mrs. Barry, made by a Person of Quality.