Beau. I am sure there’s something in the Wind, she being in the Garden, and the Door left open. [Aside.] —Yes, I believe you are willing enough to part with me, when you expect another you like better.
Aria. I’m glad I was before-hand with you then.
Beau. Very good, and the Door was left open to give admittance to a Lover.
Aria. ’Tis visible it was to let one in to you, false as you are.
La Nu. Faith, Madam, you mistake my Constitution, my Beauty and my Business is only to be belov’d not to love; I leave that Slavery for you Women of Quality, who must invite, or die without the Blessing; for likely the Fool you make choice of wants Wit or Confidence to ask first; you are fain to whistle before the Dogs will fetch and carry, and then too they approach by stealth: and having done the Drudgery, the submissive Curs are turn’d out for fear of dirtying your Apartment, or that the Mungrils should scandalize ye; whilst all my Lovers of the noble kind throng to adore and fill my Presence daily, gay as if each were triumphing for Victory.
Aria. Ay this is something; what a poor sneaking thing an honest Woman is!
La Nu. And if we chance to love still, there’s a difference, your Hours of Love are like the Deeds of Darkness, and mine like cheerful Birds in open Day.
Aria. You may, you have no Honour to lose.
La Nu. Or if I had, why should I double the Sin by Hypocrisy? [Lucia squeaks within, crying, help, help.
Aria. Heavens, that’s Lucia’s Voice.