Will. Hold, prithee hold.
La Nu. Put up your Sword, this Lady’s innocent, at least in what concerns this Evening’s business; I own—with Pride I own I am the Woman that pleas’d so well to Night.
Will. La Nuche! kind Soul to bring me off with so handsom a lye: How lucky ’twas she happen’d to be here!
Beau. False as thou art, why shou’d I credit thee?
La Nu. By Heaven, ’tis true, I will not lose the glory on’t.
Will. Oh the dear perjur’d Creature, how I love thee for this dear lying Virtue—Harkye, Child, hast thou nothing to say for thy self, to help us out withal?— [To Aria. aside.
Aria. I! I renounce ye—false Man.
Beau. Yes, yes, I know she’s innocent of this, for which I owe no thanks to either of you, but to my self who mistook her in the dark.
La Nu. And you it seems mistook me for this Lady; I favour’d your Design to gain your Heart, for I was told, that if this Night I lost you, I shou’d never regain you: now I am yours, and o’er the habitable World will follow you, and live and starve by turns, as Fortune pleases.
Will. Nay, by this Light, Child, I knew when once thou’dst try’d me, thou’dst ne’er part with me—give me thy Hand, no Poverty shall part us. [Kisses her.