Feth. Pox on’t now there’s a Dinner lost,’twas ever an unlucky Rascal.
Beau. To tempt thee more, thou shalt see my Wife that is to be.
Will. Pox on’t, I am the leudest Company in Christendom with your honest Women—but—What, art thou to be noos’d then?
Beau. ’Tis so design’d by my Uncle, if an old Grandee my Rival prevent it not; the Wench is very pretty, young, and rich, and lives in the same House with me, for ’tis my Aunt’s Daughter.
Will. Much good may it d’ye, Harry, I pity you, but ’tis the common Grievance of you happy Men of Fortune. [Goes towards the House-door with Beau.
Enter La Nuche, Aurelia, Petronella, Sancho, Women veil’d a little.
Aur. Heavens, Madam, is not that the English Captain? [Looking on Will.
La Nu. ’Tis, and with him Don Henrick the Ambassador’s Nephew—how my Heart pants and heaves at sight of him! some Fire of the old Flames remaining, which I must strive to extinguish. For I’ll not bate a Ducat of this Price I’ve set upon my self, for all the Pleasures Youth or Love can bring me—for see Aurelia—the sad Memento of a decay’d poor old forsaken Whore in Petronella; consider her, and then commend my Prudence.
Will. Hah, Women!—
Feth. Egad, and fine ones too, I’ll tell you that.