—I will no more be tempted with Replies.
Will. Sure—
Ang. Another Word will damn thee! I’ve heard thee talk too long. [She follows him with a Pistol ready to shoot: he retires still amaz’d.
Enter Don Antonio, his Arm in a Scarf, and lays hold on the Pistol.
Ant. [Hah! Angelica!]
Ang. Antonio! [What Devil] brought thee hither?
Ant. Love and Curiosity, seeing your Coach at Door. Let me disarm you of this unbecoming Instrument of Death.— [Takes away the Pistol.] Amongst the Number of your Slaves, was there not one worthy the Honour to have fought your Quarrel?
—Who are you, Sir, that are so very wretched
To merit Death from her?
Will. One, Sir, that cou’d have made a better End of an amorous Quarrel without you, than with you.