_Cur._ _Laura_ confin’d too! ‘tis time to hasten then, With my, till now, almost disarmed Revenge: --Thus I may pass unknown the Streets of _Florence_, And find an opportunity to reach this Prince’s Heart, --Oh, Vengeance! luxurious Vengeance! Thy Pleasures turn a Rival to my Love, And make the mightier Conquest o’er my Heart. --_Cloris_, I will revenge thy Tears and Sufferings; And to secure the Doom of him that wrong’d thee, I’ll call on injur’d _Laura_ too. --Here take these Pictures--and where thou see’st [Gives him Boxes. A knot of Gallants, open one or two, as if by stealth, To gaze upon the Beauties, and then straight close them-- But stay, here comes the only Man I could have wish’d for; he’ll proclaim my Business Better than a Picture or a Trumpet. [They stand by. [_Curtius_ takes back the Pictures. Enter _Lorenzo_ and _Guilliam_ dressed in fineish Clothes, but the same high-crown’d Hat. _Lor._ Did, ha, ha, ha, did, ha, ha; did ever any Mortal Man behold such a Figure as thou art now? Well, I see ‘tis a damnable thing not to Be born a Gentleman; the Devil himself Can never make thee truly jantee now. --Come, come, come forward; these Clothes become Thee, as a Saddle does a Sow; why com’st thou not? --Why--ha, ha, I hope thou hast not Hansel’d thy new Breeches, Thou look’st so filthily on’t. [He advances, looking sourly. _Guil._ No, Sir, I hope I have more manners than so; But if I should, ‘tis not my fault; For the necessary Houses are hard To be met withal here at Court. _Lor._ Very well, Sirrah; you begin already to be Witty with the Court: but I can tell you, it has as Many necessary Places in’t, as any Court in Christendom --But what a Hat thou hast? _Guil._ Why, Sir, though I say’t, this is accounted of In our Village; but I had another but now, Which I blew off in a high Wind; and I never mist it, Till I had an occasion to pluck it off to a young Squire, they call a Lacquey; and, Fegs, I had none at all: and because I would not lose My Leg for want of a Hat, I fetch’d this; And I can tell you, Sir, it has a fashionable Brim. _Lor._ A Fool’s head of your own, has it not? The Boys will hoot at us as we pass--hah, Who be these, who be these-- [Goes towards _Cur._ and _Piet._ _Cur._ Here--this to _Don Alonso_--this to the _English_ Count; and this you may shew to the Young _German_ Prince--and this-- I will reserve for higher Prices. [Gives _Piet._ Pictures. _Piet._ Will you shew none to the Courtiers, Sir? _Cur._ Away, you Fool, I deal in no such Trash. _Lor._ How, Sir, how was that? pray how came we to Gain your dis-favour? _Cur._ I cry you mercy, Sir, pray what are you; _Lor._ A Courtier, Sir, I can assure you, And one of the best Rank too; I have the Prince’s ear, Sir. --What have you there, hah?--Pictures? let me see-- What, are they to be bought?