Aria. Oh God, Sir, haste a way, you are already wounded: but I conjure you, as a Man of Honour, be here at the Garden Gate to night again, and bring a Friend, in case of Danger, with you; and if possible I’ll put my self into your Hands, for this Night’s Work has ruin’d me— [Speaking quick, and pushing him forwards runs off.
Abev. My Master sure not gone yet— [Peeping advancing.
Will. Rascals, tho you are odds, you’ll find hot Work in vanquishing. [Falls on ’em.
Abev. Hold, Sir, I am your Page. Do you not know me? and these the Musick you commanded—shall I carry ’em where you order’d, Sir?
Will. They take me for some other, this was lucky. [Aside.] O, aye—’tis well—I’ll follow—but whither?—Plague of my dull Mistakes, the Woman’s gone—yet stay— [Calls ’em.
For now I think on’t, this Mistake may help me to another—stay—I must dispose of this mad Fire about me, which all these Disappointments cannot lay—Oh for some young kind Sinner in the nick—How I cou’d souse upon her like a Bird of Prey, and worry her with Kindness. [Aside.] —Go on, I follow. [Exeunt.
[Scene changes] to La Nuche’s House.
Enter Petronella and Aurelia with Light.
Aur. [Well, the Stranger] is in Bed, and most impatiently expects our Patrona, who is not yet returned.
Pet. Curse of this Love! I know she’s in pursuit of this Rover, this English Piece of Impudence; Pox on ’em, I know nothing good in the whole Race of ’em, but giving all to their Shirts when they’re drunk. What shall we do, Aurelia? This Stranger must not be put off, nor Carlo neither, who has [fin’d] again as if for a new Maidenhead.