Aria. What would you, Sir, ought with this Lady?
Will. Yes, that which thy Youth will only let thee guess at—this—Child, is Man’s Meat; there are other Toys for Children. [Offers to lead her off.
La Nu. Oh insolent! and whither would’st thou lead me?
Will. Only out of harm’s way, Child, here are pretty near Conveniences within: the Doctor will be civil—’tis part of his Calling—Your Servant, Sir— [Going off with her.
Aria. I must huff now, tho I may chance to be beaten—come back—or I have something here that will oblige ye to’t. [Laying his hand on his Sword.]
Will. Yes faith, thou’rt a pretty Youth; but at this time I’ve more occasion for a thing in Petticoats—go home, and do not walk the Streets so much; that tempting Face of thine will debauch the grave men of business, and make the Magistrates lust after Wickedness.
Aria. You are a scurvy Fellow, Sir. [Going to draw.
Will. Keep in your Sword, for fear it cut your Fingers, Child.
Aria. So ’twill your Throat, Sir—here’s Company coming that will part us, and I’ll venture to draw. [Draws, Will. draws.
Enter Beaumond.