The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. II by Aphra Behn

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_Sil_. Here be the Curtezans, my Lord.

_Lau_. Hah, _Silvianetta_ and _Euphemia_! pursu'd too by my Cavalier!
I'll round the Garden, and mix my self amongst 'em.
[_Exit with_ Silvio _and her Train_.

_Mar_. Prithee, Sister, let's retire into the Grove, to avoid the Pursuit
of these Cavaliers.

_Cor_. Not I, by these killing Eyes! I'll stand my ground were there a
thousand, all arm'd with conquering Beauty.

_Mar_. Hah--now on my Conscience yonder's _Fillamour_.

_Cor_. Hah! _Fillamour_!

_Mar_. My Courage fails me at the sight of him--I must retire.

_Cor_. And I'll to my Art of Love.

[Mar. _retires, and leans against a Tree_,
Cor. _walks about reading_.

_Gal_. 'Tis she, 'tis _Silvianetta_: Prithee advance, that thou mayst
behold her, and renounce all honest Women; since in that one young Sinner
there are Charms that wou'd excuse even to thee all frailty.

_Fil_. The Forms of Angels cou'd not reconcile me
To Women of her Trade.

_Gal_. This is too happy an Opportunity, to be lost in convincing thy
Singularity,--

[Gal. _goes bowing by the side of_ Cornelia. Fil.
_walks about in the Scene_.

--If Creatures so fair and charming as your self, had any need of Prayer,
I shou'd believe by your profound Attention you were at your Evening's
Devotion.

_Cor_. That you may find your Mistake in the opinion of my Charms, pray
believe I am so, and ought not to be interrupted.

_Gal_. I hope a Man may have leave to make his Devotions by you, at least
without Danger or Offence.

_Cor_. I know not that, I have reason to fear your Devotion may be
ominous; like a blazing Star, it comes but seldom,--but ever threatens
mischief--Pray Heaven, I share not in the Calamity.

_Gal_. Why, I confess, Madam, my Fit of Zeal does not take me often; but
when it does, 'tis very harmless and wondrous hearty.--

_Cor_. You may begin then, I shall not be so wicked as to disturb you
Orisons.

_Gal_. Wou'd I cou'd be well assur'd of that, for mine's Devotion of
great Necessity, and the Blessing I pray for infinitely concerns me;
therefore in Christian Charity keep down your Eyes, and do not ruin a
young Man's good Intentions, unless they wou'd agree to send kind Looks,
and save me the expence of Prayer.

_Cor_. Which wou'd be better laid out, you think, upon some other
Blessing.

_Gal_. Why, faith, 'tis good to have a little Bank upon occasion, though
I hope I shall have no great need here-after,--if the charming
_Silvianetta_ be but kind, 'tis all I ask of Heaven.

_Cor_. You're very well acquainted with my Name, I find.

_Gal_. Your Name! 'tis all I have to live on!
Like chearful Birds, 'tis the first Tune I sing,
To welcome in the Day:
The Groves repeat it, and the Fountains purle it,
And every pretty Sound that fills my Ear.
Turns all to _Silvianetta_.

[Fil. _looks awhile on_ Marcella.

_Fil. Galliard_, look there--look on that lovely Woman; 'tis _Marcella_,
the beautiful _Marcella_.

[_Offers to run to her_, Gal. _holds him_.

_Gal_. Hold! _Marcella_! where?

_Fil_. That Lady there; didst ever see her equal?

_Gal_. Why, faith, as you say, _Harry_, that Lady is beautiful--and, make
us thankful--kind: why, 'tis _Euphemia_, Sir, the very Curtezan I wou'd
have shew'd you.--

_Fil_. Forbear, I am not fit for Mirth.

_Gal_. Nor I in Humour to make you merry;
I tell ye--yonder Woman--is a Curtezan.

_Fil_. Do not profane, nor rob Heaven of a Saint.

_Gal_. Nor you rob Mankind of such a Blessing, by giving it to Heaven
before its time.--I tell thee 'tis a Whore, a fine desirable expensive
Whore.

_Fil_. By Heaven, it cannot be! I'll speak to her, and call her my
_Marcella_, and undeceive thy leud Opinion.
[_Offers to go, he holds him_.

_Gal_. Do, salute her in good Company for an honest Woman--do, and spoil
her Markets:--'twill be a pretty civil spiteful Compliment, and no doubt
well taken;--come, I'll convince ye, Sir.
[_Goes and pulls_ Philippa.
--Harkye, thou kind Help meet for Man--thou gentle Child of Night--what
is the Price of a Night or two ot Pleasure with yonder Lady--_Euphemia_,
I mean, that Roman Curtezan--

_Fil_. Oh, Heavens! a Curtezan!

_Phil_. Sure you're a great Stranger in _Rome_, that cannot tell her
Price.

_Gal_. I am so; name it, prithee, here's a young _English_ Purchaser--
Come forward, Man, and cheapen for your self--
[_Pulls him_.

_Phil_. Oh, spare your pains, she wants no Customers.--
[_Flings away_.

_Fil_. No, no, it cannot, must not be _Marcella_;
She has too much Divinity about her,
Not to defend her from all Imputation,
Scandal wou'd die to hear her Name pronounc'd.

_Phil_. Believe me, Madam, he knows you not; I over-heard all he said to
that Cavalier, and find he's much in love.

_Mar_. Not know me, and in love! punish him, Heaven, for his Falshood:
but I'll contribute to deceive him on, and ruin him with Perjury.

_Fil_. I am not yet convinc'd, I'll try her farther.
[_Goes to her bowing_.]--But, Madam, is that heavenly Beauty
purchasable? I'll pay a Heart, rich with such Wounds and Flames--

_Gal_. Not forgetting the Money too, good Lad, or your Wounds and Flames
will be of little Use.
[Gal. _goes to_ Cornelia.

_Mar_. He tells you Truth, Sir, we are not like the Ladies of your
Country, who tire out their Men with loving upon the square, Heart for
Heart, till it becomes as dull as Matrimony: to Women of our Profession
there's no Rhetorick like ready Money, nor Billet-deux like Bills of
Exchange.

_Fil_. Oh! that Heaven shou'd make two Persons so resembling, and yet
such different Souls. [_Looks on her_.--'Sdeath, how she darts me
through with every Look! But if she speak, she heals the Wound again.

_Enter_ Octavio, _with Followers_.

_Oct_. Hah, my Rival _Fillamour_ here! fall on--draw, Sir,--and say, I
gave you one Advantage more, and fought thee fairly.

[_Draws on_ Fil. _who fights him out; the Ladies run off_:
Gal. _falls on the Followers, with whom whilst he is
engaged, enters_ Julio, _draws and assists him, and
Laura _at the same time on the other side. Enter_
Petro _drest like a Civility-Master; Sir_ Signal _and
Tickletext_: Sir_ Signal _climbs a Tree_, Tick _runs his
Head into a Bush, and lies on his Hands and Knees_. Pet.
assists_ Gal. _and fights out the Bravoes_. Pet. _re-enters_.

_Lau_. Hah, my Cavalier engag'd amongst the Slaves!

_Pet_. My Lady's Lovers! and set upon by _Octavio_! We must be diligent
in our Affairs; Sir _Signal_, where are ye? Signior _Tickletext_.--I hope
they have not miscarried in the fray.

Sir _Sig_. Oh, _vos Servitor, vos Signiora_; miscarried! no, the Fool has
Wit enough to keep out of harm's way.
[_Comes down from the Tree_.

_Pet_. Oh, very discreetly done, Signior.--
[_Sees_ Tick, _in a bush, pulls him out by the heels_.

Sir _Sig_. Why, how now, Governour, what, afraid of Swords?

_Tick_. No, Sir, I am not afraid of Swords, but I am afraid of Danger.

_Enter_ Gal. _embracing_ Laura; _after 'em_, Julio _and_ Fil.
Fil. _looks about_.

_Gal_. This Bravery, Sir, was wondrous.

_Lau_. 'Twas only Justice, Sir, you being opprest with odds.

_Fil_. She's gone, she's gone in Triumph with my Soul.

_Jul_. What was the matter, Sir? how came this Mischief?

_Fil_. Oh, easily, Sir; I did but look, and infinitely loved.

_Jul_. And therefore were you drawn upon, or was it some old Pique?

_Fil_. I know not, Sir, Oh, tell me not of Quarrels. The Woman, Friend,
the Woman has undone me.

_Gal_. Oh, a blessed Hearing! I'm glad of the Reformation: Sir, you were
so squeamish, forsooth, that a Whore wou'd not down with ye; no, 'twou'd
spoil your Reputation.--

_Fil_. A Whore! wou'd I cou'd be convinc'd she were so; 'twou'd call my
Virtue home, and make me Man again.

_Gal_. Thou ly'st--thou'rt as weak a Brother as the best of us, and
believe me, _Harry_, these sort of Damsels are like Witches, if they once
get hold of a Man, he's their own till the Charm be ended; you guess what
that is, Sir?

_Fil_. Oh, _Frank_, hadst thou then felt how tenderly she prest my Hand
in hers, as if she wou'd have kept it there for ever, it wou'd have made
thee mad, stark mad in Love!--and nothing but _Marcella_ cou'd have
charm'd me. [_Aside_.

_Gal_. Ay, Gad, I'll warrant thee,--well, thou shalt this Night enjoy
her.

_Fil_. How?

_Gal_. How! why, faith, _Harry_, e'en the old way, I know no other. Why,
thou shalt lie with her, Man; come, let's to her.

_Fil_. Away, let's follow her instantly.
[_Going out is stopt by Sir_ Signal_.

_Enter Sir_ Sig. Tick. Petro.

Sir _Sig_. Signior, I have brought Mr. _Tickletext_ to beg your Pardon--
Sir.

_Fil_. I've other business, Sir. [_Goes out_.

_Gal_. Come, let's follow him; and you, my generous Cavalier, must give
me leave to beg the Honour of your Friendship.

_Lau_. My Inclinations, Sir, have given you more--pray let me wait on you
to your Lodgings, lest a farther Insolence shou'd be offer'd you.

_Gal_. Sir, you oblige too fast.
[_They go out_.

Sir _Sig_. Ah, _che Diavilo Ayles_, these hot-brain'd fellows, sure,
they're drunk.

_Pet_. Oh, fy, Signior, drunk, for a Man of Quality--'tis intolerable.

Sir _Sig_. Ay: why how so, Signior _Morigoroso_?

_Pet. Imbriaco_ had made it a fine Speech indeed.

Sir _Sig_. Why, faith, and so it had, as thus,--_ach Diavilo Ayles_,
these are hot-brain'd Fellows, sure they are _imbriaco_,--Now, wou'd not
I be drunk for a thousand Crowns: _Imbriaco_ sounds _Cinquante per cent_
better.--Come, noble Signior, let's _andiamo a casa_, which is as much as
to say, let's amble home.--

_Tick_. In troth, wondrous expert--_Certo_, Signior, he's an apt Scholar.

Sir _Sig_. Ah, Sir, you shall see, when I come to my Civilities.--

_Pet_. Where the first Lesson you shall learn, is, how to give and how to
receive with a Bon-Grace.

_Tick_. That receiving Lesson I will learn my self.

_Pet_. This unfrequented part of the Garden, Signior, will fit our
purpose as well as your Lodgings.--first then--Signiors, your Address.
[_Puts himself in the middle_.
[Petro _bows on both sides, they do the like_.
--Very well, that's at the Approach of any Person of
Quality, after which you must take out your Snuff-Box.

Sir _Sig_. Snuff-Box; why, we take no Snuff, Signior.

_Pet_. Then, Sir, by all means you must learn: for besides the Mode and
Gravity of it, it inviveates the _Pericranium_; that is, sapientates the
Brain,--that is, inspires Wit, Thought, Invention, Understanding, and the
like--you conceive me, Signiors--
[_Bowing_.

Sir _Sig_. Most profoundly, Signior.--
[_Bowing_.

_Pet_.--Then, Signiors, it keeps you in confidence, and Countenance; and
whilst you gravely seem to take a snush, you gain time to answer to the
purpose, and in a politick Posture--as thus--to any intricate Question.

_Tick_. Hum--_certo_, I like that well; and 'twere admirable if a Man
were allow'd to take it when he's out in's Sermon.

_Pet_. Doubtless, Signior, you might, it helps the Memory better than
Rosemary: therefore I have brought each of you a Snuff-Box.

Sir _Sig_. By no means: excuse me Signior.
[_Refuses to take 'em_.

_Pet_. Ah, Baggatelles, Signior, Baggatelles; and now, Signiors, I'll
teach you how to take it with a handsom Grace: Signior, your Hand--and
yours, Signior;
[_Lays Snuff on their hands_.
--so, now draw your hand to and fro under your Noses, and snuff it hard
up--Excellent well.

[_They daub all their Noses, and make Grimaces, and sneeze_.

Sir _Sig_. Methinks, Signior, this Snuff stinks most damnably: pray, what
scent do you call this?

_Pet_. _Cackamarda Orangate_, a rare Perfume I'll assure ye, Sir.

Sir _Sig_. _Cackamarda Orangate_; and 'twere not for the Name of
_Cackamarda_, and so forth, a Man had as good have a Sir-reverence at his
Nose.

[_Sneezes often, he crys_ bonprovache.

_Pet_. _Bonprovache_--Signior, you do not understand it yet,
_bonprovache_.

Sir _Sig_. Why, Sir, 'tis impossible to endure this same _Cackamarda_;
why Assafetida is odoriferous to it.
[_Sneezing_.

_Pet_. 'Tis your right _Dulce Piquante_, believe me:--but come, Signiors,
wipe your Noses, and proceed to your giving Lesson.

Sir _Sig_. As how, Signior?

_Pet_. Why--present me with something--that--Diamond on your Finger, to
shew the manner of giving handsomly.
[_Sir_ Sig. _gives it him_.
--Oh, fie, Signior--between your Finger and Thumb--thus--with your other
Fingers at a distance--with a speech, and a bow.--

Sir _Sig_. _Illustrissimo_ Signior, the manifold Obligations.

_Pet_. Now a fine turn of your hand--thus--Oh, that sets off the Present,
and makes it sparkle in the Eyes of the Receiver.--
[_Sir_ Sig. _turns his hand_.

Sir _Sig_. Which you have heap'd upon me,--

_Pet_. There flourish again.
[_He flourishes_.

Sir _Sig_. Oblige me to beg your acceptance of this small Present, which
will receive a double Lustre from your fair Hand.
[_Gives it him_.

_Pet_. Now kiss your fingers ends, and retire back with a bow.

_Tick_. Most admirably perform'd.

Sir _Sig_. Nay, Sir, I have Docity in me, though I say't: Come, Governor,
let's see how you can out-do me in the Art of presenting.

_Tick_. Well, Sir, come; your Snuff-Box will serve instead of my Ring,
will it not?

_Pet_. By no means, Sir, there is such a certain Relation between a
Finger and a Ring, that no Present becomes either the giving or the
receiving Hand half so well.

Sir _Sig_. Why, 'twill be restor'd again, 'tis but to practise by.

_Pet_. Ay, Signior, the next thing you are to learn is to receive.

_Tick_. Most worthy Signior, I have so exhausted the _Cornucopia_ of your
Favours, [_Flourishes_.]--and tasted so plenteously of the fulness of
your bounteous Liberality, that to retaliate with this small Gem--is but
to offer a Spark, where I have received a Beam of superabundant Sunshine.
[_Gives it_.

Sir _Sig_. Most rhetorically perform'd, as I hope to breathe;
Tropes and Figures all over.

_Tick_. Oh Lord, Sir _Signal_.

_Pet_. Excellent--Now let's see if you can refuse as civilly as you gave,
which is by an obstinate denial; stand both together--Illustrious
Signiors, upon my Honour my little Merit has not intitled me to the Glory
of so splendid an Offering; Trophies worthy to be laid only at your
Magnanimous Feet.

Sir _Sig_. Ah, Signior, no, no.

_Pet_. Signior _Tickletext_.

[_He offers, they refuse going backward_.

_Tick_. Nay, _certo_, Signior.

_Pet_. With what confidence can I receive so rich a Present? Signior
_Tickletext_, ah--Signior--

Sir _Sig_. I vow, Signior--I'm ashamed you shou'd offer it.

_Tick_. In verity, so am I. [_Still going back, he follows_.]

_Pet. Pardio! Baccus_, most incomparable.--

_Tick_. But when, Signior, are we to learn to receive again?--

_Pet_. Oh, Sir, that's always a Lesson of it self:--but now, Signiors,
I'll teach you how to act a story.

Sir _Sig_. How, how, Signior, to act a story?

_Pet_. Ay, Sir, no matter for words or sense, so the Body perform its
part well.

Sir _Sig_. How, tell a story without words! why, this were an excellent
device for Mr. _Tickletext_, when he's to hold forth to the Congregation,
and has lost his Sermon-Notes--why, this is wonderful.--

_Pet_. Oh, Sir, I have taught it Men born deaf [_Gets between 'em:
Makes a sign of being fat; galloping about the Stage_.] and blind:--look
ye, stand close together, and observe--closer yet:--a certain
Eclejastico, Plump and Rich--Riding along the Road, meets a Paver
strapiao,--un Pavaro strapiao, Paure strapiao:--strapiao--strapiao--
strapiao [_Puts himself into the Posture of a lean Beggar; his hands
right down by his sides,--and picks both their Pockets_.] Elemosuna per
un Paure strapiao, par a Moure de Dievos--at last he begs a Julio--Neinte
[_makes the fat Bishop_.] the Paure strapiao begs a Mezo Julio--
[_lean_] Neinte [_fat_]--une bacio--[_lean_]--Neinte--
[_fat_]--at last he begs his Blessing--and see how willingly the
Ecclesiastico gave his Benediction. [_Opening his Arms, hits them both
in the face_.]--Scusa, scusa mea, Patronas--
[_Begs their pardon_.]

Sir _Sig_. Yes, very willingly, which by the way he had never done had it
been worth a farthing.

_Tick_. Marry, I wou'd he had been a little sparing of that too at this
time--[_sneezes_] a shame on't, it has stir'd this same _Cackamarda_
again most foully.

_Pet_. Your pardon, Signior;--but come, Sir _Signal_,--let's see how you
will make this silent relation--Come, stand between us two--

Sir _Sig_. Nay, let me alone for a memory--come.

_Pet_. I think I have reveng'd my Backsword-beating.
[_Goes off_.]

Sir _Sig_. Un paureo strapado--plump and rich, no, no, the Ecclesiastico
meet un paureo strapado--and begs a Julio.

_Tick_. Oh, no, Sir, the strapado begs the Julio.

Sir _Sig_. Ay, ay, and the Ecclesastico crys Niente--[_snaps his nail_.]
un meze Julio!--Niente--un Bacio, Niente: your Blessing then, Signior
Ecclesastico.
[_Spreads out his Arms to give his blessing--and hits_ Tick.]

_Tick_. Adds me, you are all a little too liberal of this same
Benediction.

Sir _Sig_. Hah--but where's Signior _Morigoroso?_ what, is he gone?--but
now I think on't, 'tis a point of good manners to go without taking
leave.

_Tick_. It may be so, but I wish I had my Ring again, I do not like the
giving Lesson without the taking one; why this is picking a Man's pocket,
_certo_.

Sir _Sig_. Not so, Governour, for then I had had a considerable loss:
Look ye here,--how--how [_feeling in his Pocket_.] how--[_in another_]
how--gone? gone as I live, my Money, Governour; all the Gold _Barberacho_
receiv'd of my Merchant to day--all gone.--

_Tick_. Hah--and mine--all my stock, the Money which I thought to have
made a present to the Gentlewoman, _Barberacho_ was to bring me to--
[_Aside_.]--Undone, undone--Villains, Cutpurses--Cheats, oh, run after
him.

Sir _Sig_. A Pox of all silent stories; Rogue, Thief--undone.--

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. _The Corso_.

_Enter_ Julio _and his_ Page.

_Jul_. How, the Lady whom I followed from St. _Peter's_ Church, a
Curtezan?

_Pag_. A Curtezan, my Lord, fair as the Morning, and as young.

_Jul_. I know she's fair and young; but is she to be had, Boy?

_Pag_. My Lord, she is--her Footman told me she was a Zittella.

_Jul_. How, a Zittella!--a Virgin, 'tis impossible.

_Pag_. I cannot swear it, Sir, but so he told me; he said she had a World
of Lovers: Her name is _Silvianetta_, Sir, and her Lodgings--

_Jul_. I know't, are on the _Corso_; a Curtezan? and a Zittella too? a
pretty contradiction; but I'll bate her the last, so I might enjoy her as
the first: whate'er the price be, I'm resolv'd upon the adventure; and
will this minute prepare my self. [_Going off, Enter_ Mor. and Octa.]--
hah, does the Light deceive me, or is that indeed my Uncle, in earnest
conference with a Cavalier?--'tis he--I'll step aside till he's past,
lest he hinders this Night's diversion.
[_Goes aside_.

_Mor_. I say 'twas rashly done, to fight him unexamin'd.

_Oct_. I need not ask; my Reason has inform'd me, and I'm convinc'd,
where-e'er he has concealed her, that she is fled with _Fillamour_.

_Jul_. Who is't they speak of?

_Mor_. Well, well, sure my Ancestors committed some horrid crime against
Nature, that she sent this Pest of Woman-kind into our Family,--two
Nieces for my share;--by Heaven, a Proportion sufficient to undo six
Generations.

_Jul_. Hah? two Nieces, what of them? [_Aside_.

_Mor_. I am like to give a blessed account of 'em to their Brother
_Julio_ my Nephew, at his return; there's a new plague now:--but my
comfort is, I shall be mad, and there's an end on't.
[_Weeps_.

_Jul_. My Curiosity must be satisfied,--have patience, Noble Sir.--

_Mor_. Patience is a flatterer, Sir,--and an Ass, Sir; and I'll have none
on't--hah, what art thou?

_Jul_. Has five or six Years made ye lose the remembrance of your
Nephew--_Julio_?

_Mor. Julio!_ I wou'd I had met thee going to thy Grave.
[_Weeps_.

_Jul_. Why so, Sir?

_Mor_. Your Sisters, Sir, your Sisters are both gone.--
[_Weeps_.

_Jul_. How gone, Sir?

_Mor_. Run away, Sir, flown, Sir.

_Jul_. Heavens! which way?

_Mor_. Nay, who can tell the ways of fickle Women--in short, Sir, your
Sister _Marcella_ was to have been married to this noble Gentleman,--nay,
was contracted to him, fairly contracted in my own Chappel; but no sooner
was his back turn'd, but in a pernicious Moon-light Night she shews me a
fair pair of heels, with the young Baggage, your other Sister _Cornelia_,
who was just come from the Monastery where I bred her, to see her Sister
married.

_Jul_. A curse upon the Sex! why must Man's Honour Depend upon their
Frailty?
--Come--give me but any light which way they went, And I will trace 'em
with that careful Vengeance--

_Oct_. Spoke like a Man, that understands his Honour; And I can guess how
we may find the Fugitives.

_Jul_. Oh, name it quickly, Sir!

_Oct_. There was a young Cavalier--some time at _Viterbo_, Who I confess
had Charms, Heaven has denied to me,
That Trifle, Beauty, which was made to please
Vain foolish Woman, which the brave and wise
Want leisure to design.--

_Jul_. And what of him?

_Oct_. This fine gay thing came in your Sister's way,
And made that Conquest Nature meant such Fools for:
And, Sir, she's fled with him.

_Jul_. Oh, show me the Man, the daring hardy Villain,
Bring me but in the view of my Revenge,--and if I fail to take it,
Brand me with everlasting Infamy.

_Oct_. That we must leave to Fortune, and our Industry.
--Come, Sir, let's walk and think best what to do,--

[_Going down the Scene, Enter_ Fil. _and_ Gal.

_Fil_. Is not that _Julio_? Boy, run and call him back.
[_Ex. Boy, re-enters with_ Jul.

_Jul_. Oh, _Fillamour_, I have heard such killing news
Since last I left thee--

_Fil_. What, prithee?

_Jul_. I had a Sister, Friend--dear as my Life,
And bred with all the Virtues of her Sex;
No Vestals at the Holy Fire employ'd themselves
In innocenter business than this Virgin;
Till Love, the fatal Fever of her Heart,
Betray'd her harmless Hours;
And just upon the point of being married,
The Thief stole in, and rob'd us of this Treasure:
She'as left her Husband, Parents, and her Honour,
And's fled with the base Ruiner of her Virtue.

_Fil_. And lives the Villain durst affront ye thus?

_Jul_. He does.

_Gal_. Where, in what distant World?

_Jul_. I know not.

_Fil_. What is he call'd?

_Jul_. I know not neither,--some God direct me to the Ravisher!
And if he scape my Rage,
May Cowards point me out for one of their tame Herd.

_Fil_. In all your Quarrels I must join my Sword.

_Gal_. And if you want,--here's another, Sir, that, though it be not
often drawn in anger, nor cares to be, shall not be idle in good company.

_Jul_. I thank you both; and if I have occasion, will borrow their
assistance; but I must leave you for a minute, I'll wait on you anon.--
[_They all three walk as down the street, talking_.

_Enter_ Laura, _with_ Silvio _and her_ Equipage.

_Lau_. Beyond my wish, I'm got into his Friendship:
But Oh, how distant Friendship is from Love,
That's all bestow'd on the fair Prostitute!
--Ah, _Silvio_, when he took me in his Arms,
Pressing my willing Bosom to his Breast,
Kissing my Cheek, calling me lovely Youth,
And wond'ring how such Beauty, and such Bravery,
Met in a Man so young! Ah, then, my Boy,
Then in that happy minute,
How near was I to telling all my Soul!
My Blushes and my Sighs were all prepar'd;
My Eyes cast down, my trembling Lips just parting.--
But still as I was ready to begin,
He cries out _Silvianetta_!
And to prevent mine, tells me all his Love.
--But see--he's here.--

[Fill. _and_ Gal. _coming up the Scene_.

_Gal_. Come, lay by all sullen Unresolves: for now the hour of the
Berjere approaches, Night that was made for Lovers.--Hah! my Dear
_Sans-Coeur_? my Life! my Soul! my Joy! Thou art of my opinion!

_Lau_. I'm sure I am, whate'er it be.

_Gal_. Why, my Friend here, and I, have sent and paid our Fine for a
small Tenement of Pleasure, and I'm for taking present possession;--but
hold--if you shou'd be a Rival after all.--

_Lau_. Not in your _Silvianetta_! my Love has a nice Appetite,
And must be fed with high uncommon Delicates.
I have a Mistress, Sir, of Quality;
Fair, as Imagination paints young Angels;
Wanton and gay, as was the first _Corinna_,
That charm'd our best of Poets;
Young as the Spring, and chearful as the Birds
That welcome in the Day;
Witty, as Fancy makes the Revelling Gods,
And equally as bounteous when she blesses.

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