Will. By this Light a Woman, if she be the right—but right or wrong so she be Feminine: harkye, Child, I fancy thee some kind thing that belongs to me.
La Nu. Who are you? [In a low tone.
Will. A wandering Lover that has lost his Heart, and I have shreud Guess ’tis in thy dear Bosom, Child.
La Nu. Oh you’re a pretty Lover, a Woman’s like to have a sweet time on’t, if you’re always so tedious.
Will. By yon bright Star-light, Child, I walk’d here in short turns like a Centinel, all this live-long Evening, and was just going (Gad forgive me) to kill my self.
La Nu. I rather think some Beauty has detain’d you: Have you not seen La Nuche?
Will. La Nuche!—Why, she’s a Whore—I hope you take me for a civiller Person, than to throw my self away on Whores—No, Child, I lie with none but honest Women I: but no disputing now, come—to my Lodging, my dear—here’s a Chair waits hard by. [Exeunt.
[ Scene III. Willmore’s Lodging.]
Enter Harlequin with Fetherfool’s Clothes on his Shoulder, leading him halting by one Hand, Blunt (drunk) by the other [in the dark]; Fetherfool bloody, his Coat put over his Shoulders.
Feth. Peano, Peano, Seignior, gently, good Edward—for I’ll not halt before a Cripple; I have lost a great part of my agil Faculties.