La Nu. And will you never see that Woman neither, whom you’re this Night to visit?
Will. Damn all the rest of thy weak Sex, when thou look’st thus, and art so soft and charming. [Offers to lead her out.
La Nu. Sancho—my Coach. [Turns in scorn.
Will. Take heed, what mean ye?
La Nu. Not to be pointed at by all the envying Women of the Town, who’l laugh and cry, Is this the high-priz’d Lady, now fall’n so low, to doat upon a Captain? a poor disbanded Captain? defend me from that Infamy.
Will. Now all the Plagues—but yet I will not curse thee, ’tis lost on thee, for thou art destin’d damn’d. [Going out.
La Nu. Whither so fast?
Will. Why,—I am so indifferent grown, that I can tell thee now—to a Woman, young, fair and honest; she’ll be kind and thankful—farewel, Jilt—now should’st thou die for one sight more of me, thou should’st not ha’t; nay, should’st thou sacrifice all thou hast couzen’d other Coxcombs of, to buy one single visit, I am so proud, by Heaven, thou shouldst not have it—To grieve thee more, see here, insatiate Woman [Shews her ] the Charm that makes me lovely in thine Eyes: it had all been thine hadst thou not basely bargain’d with me, now ’tis the Prize of some well-meaning Whore, whose Modesty will trust my Generosity. [Goes out.
La Nu. Now I cou’d rave, t’have lost an opportunity which industry nor chance can give again—when on the yielding point, a cursed fit of Pride comes cross my Soul, and stops the kind Career—I’ll follow him, yes I’ll follow him, even to the Arms of her to whom he’s gone.
Aur. Madam, ’tis dark, and we may meet with Insolence.