Odds fish! here she comes herself. Now, you ill-natured churl, now, you devil, look upon her; do but look upon her: what shall I say to her? _Beau._ E'en what you please, Sir Jolly. _Sir Jol._ 'Tis a very strange monster this! Madam, this is the gentleman, that's he, though, as one may say, he's something bashful, but I'll tell him who you are. [_Goes to_ BEAUGARD.] If thou art not more cruel than leopards, lions, tigers, wolves, or Tartars, don't break my heart, don't kill me; this unkindness of thine goes to the soul of me. [_Goes to_ Lady DUNCE.] Madam, he says he's so amazed at your triumphant beauty, that he dares not approach the excellence that shines from you. _L. Dunce._ What can be the meaning of all this? _Sir Jol._ Art thou then resolved to be remorseless? canst thou be insensible? hast thou eyes? hast thou a heart? hast thou anything thou shouldst have? Odd, I'll tickle thee! get you to her, you fool; get you to her, to her, to her, to her, ha, ha, ha! _L. Dunce._ Have you forgot me, Beaugard? _Sir Jol._ So now, to her again, I say! to her, to her, and be hanged! ah, rogue! ah, rogue! now, now, have at her; now have at her! There it goes; there it goes, hey, boy! _L. Dunce._ Methinks this face should not so much be altered, as to be nothing like what I once thought it, the object of your pleasure, and subject of your praises. _Sir Jol._ Cunning toad! wheedling jade! you shall see now how by degrees she'll draw him into the whirlpool of love: now he leers upon her, now he leers upon her. O law! there's eyes! there's eyes! I must pinch him by the calf of the leg. _Beau._ Madam, I must confess I do remember that I had once acquaintance with a face whose air and beauty much resembled yours; and, if I may trust my heart, you are called Clarinda. _L. Dunce._ Clarinda I was called, till my ill-fortune wedded me; now you may have heard of me by another title: your friend there, I suppose, has made nothing a secret to you. _Beau._ And are you then that kind enchanted fair one who was so passionately in love with my picture that you could not forbear betraying me to the beast your husband, and wrong the passion of a gentleman that languished for you, only to make your monster merry? Hark you, madam! had your fool been worth it, I had beaten him, and have a month's mind[39] to be exercising my parts that way upon your go-between, your male-bawd there. _Sir Jol._ Ah Lord! ah Lord! all's spoiled again, all's ruined; I shall be undone for ever! Why, what a devil is the matter now? what have I done? what sins have I committed? [_Aside._