Aria. I am resolv’d to follow—and learn, if possible, who ’tis has made this sudden Conquest o’er me. [All go off.
[[Scene draws], and discovers a Church, a great many People at Devotion, soft Musick playing. Enter La Nuche, Aurelia, Petron. and Sancho: To them Willmore, Feth. Blunt; then Ariadne, Lucia; Feth. bows to La Nuche and Petronella.
Feth. Now as I hope to be sav’d, Blunt, she’s a most melodious Lady. Would I were worthy to purchase a Sin or so with her. Would not such a Beauty reconcile thy Quarrel to the Sex?
Blunt. No, were she an Angel in that Shape.
Feth. Why, what a pox couldst not lie with her if she’d let thee? By the Lord Harry, as errant a Dog as I am, I’d fain see any of Cupid’s Cook-maids put me out of countenance with such a Shoulder of Mutton.
Aria. See how he gazes on her—Lucia, go nearer, and o’er-hear ’em. [Lucia listens.
Will. Death, how the charming Hypocrite looks to day, with such a soft Devotion in her Eyes, as if even now she were praising Heav’n for all the Advantages it has blest her with.
Blunt. Look how Willmore eyes her, the Rogue’s smitten heart deep—Whores—
Feth. Only a Trick to keep her to himself—he thought the Name of a Spanish Harlot would fright us from attempting—I must divert him—how is’t, Captain—Prithee mind this Musick—Is it not most Seraphical?
Will. Pox, let the Fidlers mind and tune their Pipes, I’ve higher Pleasures now.