Fred. Thou art none, I’m sure, unless thou could’st have her in thy Bed at the Price of a Coach in the Street.
Will. How wondrous fair she is—a Thousand Crowns a Month—by Heaven as many Kingdoms were too little. A plague of this Poverty—of which I ne’er complain, but when it hinders my Approach to Beauty, which Virtue ne’er could purchase. [Turns from the Picture.
Blunt. What’s this?— [Reads] A Thousand Crowns a Month!
—’Sheartlikins, here’s a Sum! sure ’tis a mistake.
—Hark you, Friend, does she take or give so much by the Month!
Fred. A Thousand Crowns! Why, ’tis a Portion for the Infanta.
Blunt. Hark ye, Friends, won’t she trust?
Brav. This is a Trade, Sir, that cannot live by Credit.
Enter Don Pedro in Masquerade, follow’d by Stephano.
Belv. See, here’s more Company, let’s walk off a while.
[Pedro Reads. [Exeunt English.
Enter Angelica and Moretta in the Balcony, and draw a Silk Curtain.