La Nu. [Left by both!]
Beau. You see our Affairs are pressing. [Bows, and smiles carelesly. Ex. Will. singing, [and Beau.]
La Nu. Gone! where’s all your Power, ye poor deluded Eyes? Curse on your feeble Fires, that cannot warm a Heart which every common Beauty kindles. Oh—he is gone for ever.
Enter Petronella.
Pet. Yes, he is gone, to your eternal Ruin: not all the Race of Men cou’d have produc’d so bountiful and credulous a Fool.
La Nu. No, never; fetch him back, my Petronella: Bring me my wild Inconstant, or I die— [Puts her out.
Pet. The Devil fetch him back for Petronella, is’t he you mean? you’ve had too much of him; a Curse upon him, he’as ruin’d you.
La Nu. He has, he shall, he must compleat my ruin.
Pet. She raves, the Rogue has given her a Spanish Philtre.
La Nu. My Coach, my Veil—or let ’em all alone; undrest thus loosely to the Winds commit me to darkness, and no Guide but pitying Cupid. [Going out, Pet. holds her.