Luc. Lord, Madam, sure he’s a Conjurer.
Aria. Let him be the Devil, I’ll try his Skill, and to that end will put on a Suit of [my Cousin Endymion]; there are two or three very pretty ones of his in the Wardrobe, go carry ’em to my Chamber, and we’ll fit our selves and away—Go haste whilst I undress. [Ex. Lucia.
[Ariadne undressing before the Glass.
Enter Beaumond tricking himself, and looks on himself.
Beau. Now for my charming Beauty, fair La Nuche—hah—Ariadne—damn the dull Property, how shall I free my self?
[She turns, sees him, and walks from the Glass, he takes no notice of her, but tricks himself in the Glass, humming a Song.
Aria. Beaumond! What Devil brought him hither to prevent me? I hate the formal matrimonial Fop.
[He walks about and sings.
[Sommes] nous pas trop heureux,
Belle Irise, que nous ensemble.