Will. What Gallant has she?
Belv. None, she’s exposed to Sale, and four Days in the Week she’s yours—for so much a Month.
Will. The very Thought of it quenches all manner of Fire in me—yet prithee let’s see her.
Belv. Let’s first to Dinner, and after that we’ll pass the Day as you please—but at Night ye must all be at my Devotion.
Will. I will not fail you. [Exeunt.
Enter Belvile and Frederick in Masquing-Habits, and Willmore in his own Clothes, with a Vizard in his Hand.
Will. But why thus disguis’d and muzzl’d?
Belv. Because whatever Extravagances we commit in these Faces, our own may not be oblig’d to answer ’em.