_Cur._ Sir, they are Copies of most fair Originals, Not to be bought but hired. _Lor._ Say you so, Friend? the Price, the Price. _Cur._ Five thousand Crowns a Month, Sir. _Lor._ The Price is somewhat saucy. _Cur._ Sir, they be curious Pieces, were never blown upon, Have never been in Courts, nor hardly Cities. _Lor._ Upon my word, that’s considerable; Friend, pray where do they live? _Cur._ In the _Piazzo_, near the Palace. _Lor._ Well, put up your Ware, shew not a face of them Till I return! for I will bring you The best Chapman in all _Florence_, Except the Duke himself. _Cur._ You must be speedy then, For I to morrow shall be going towards _Rome_. _Lor._ A subtle Rascal this: thou think’st, I warrant, To make a better Market amongst the Cardinals. --But take my word, ne’er a Cardinal of them all Comes near this Man, I mean, to bring you in Matters of Beauty--so, this will infallibly make My Peace again: [Aside.] Look ye, Friend --Be ready, for ‘tis the Prince, the noble generous _Frederick_, That I design your Merchant. [Goes out. _Cur._ Your Servant, Sir,--that is _Guilliam_; I cannot be mistaken in him, go call him back. [_Pietro_ fetches him back, who puts on a surly Face. --Friend, what art thou? _Guil._ What am I? why, what am I? dost thou not see What I am? a Courtier, Friend. _Cur._ But what’s thy Name? _Guil._ My Name, I have not yet considered. _Cur._ What was thy Name? _Guil._ What was my Name? _Cur._ Yes, Friend, thou hadst one. _Guil._ Yes, Friend, thou hadst one. _Cur._ Dog, do’st eccho me? do’st thou repeat? I say again, what is thy Name? [Shakes him. _Guil._ Oh horrible!--why, Sir, it was _Guilliam_ When I was a silly Swain. _Cur._ _Guilliam_--the same; Didst thou not know a Maid whose name was _Cloris_? _Guil._ Yes, there was such a Maid, But now she’s none! _Cur._ Was such a Maid, but now she’s none! --The Slave upbraids my Griefs. [Aside. _Guil._ Yes, Sir, so I said. _Cur._ So you said! _Guil._ Why, yes, Sir, what, do you repeat? _Cur._ What mean you, Sirrah? have you a mind to Have your Throat cut? tell me where she is. _Guil._ I dare as well be hang’d. Now must I devise a lye, or never look _Cloris_ In the Face more. [Aside. _Cur._ Here’s Gold for thee; I will be secret too. _Guil._ Oh, Sir, the poor Maid you speak of is dead. _Cur._ Dead! where dy’d she? and how? _Guil._ Now am I put to my wits; this ‘tis to begin In Sin, as our Curate said: I must go on: [Aside. --Why, Sir, she came into the Wood--and hard by a River-side--she sigh’d, and she wept full sore; And cry’d two or three times out upon _Curtius_, --And--then-- [Howls. _Cur._ Poor _Cloris_, thy Fate was too severe. _Guil._ And then as I was saying, Sir, She leapt into the River, and swam up the Stream. [_Cur._ weeps. _Piet._ And why up the Stream, Friend?