Feth. Teeth! Gad an they use their Swords no oftner, a Scabbard will last an Age.
Enter Shift from the House.
Will. Honest Lieutenant—
Shift. My noble Captain—Welcome to Madrid. What Mr. Blunt, and my honoured Friend Nicholas Fetherfool Esq.
Feth. Thy Hand, honest Shift— [They embrace him.
Will. And how, Lieutenant, how stand Affairs in this unsanctify’d Town?—How does Love’s great Artillery, the fair La Nuche, from whose bright Eyes the little wanton God throws Darts to wound Mankind?
Shift. Faith, she carries all before her still; undoes her Fellow-traders in Love’s Art: and amongst the Number, old Carlo de Minalta Segosa pays high for two Nights in a Week.
Will. Hah—Carlo! Death, what a greeting’s here! Carlo, the happy Man! a Dog! a Rascal, gain the bright La Nuche! Oh Fortune! Cursed blind mistaken Fortune! eternal Friend to Fools! Fortune! that takes the noble Rate from Man, to place it on her Idol Interest.
Shift. Why Faith, Captain, I should think her Heart might stand as fair for you as any, could you be less satirical—but by this Light, Captain, you return her Raillery a little too roughly.
Will. Her Raillery! By this Hand I had rather be handsomly abus’d than dully flatter’d; but when she touches on my Poverty, my honourable Poverty, she presses me too sensibly—for nothing is so nice as Poverty—But damn her, I’ll think of her no more: for she’s a Devil, tho her Form be Angel. Is Beaumond come from Paris yet?