Enter at one Door Don Pedro, and Stephano; Don Antonio and Diego [his page], at the other Door, with People following him in Masquerade, antickly attir’d, some with Musick: they both go up to the Picture.
Ant. A thousand Crowns! had not the Painter flatter’d her, I should not think it dear.
Pedro. Flatter’d her! by Heaven he cannot. I have seen the Original, nor is there one Charm here more than adorns her Face and Eyes; all this soft and sweet, with a certain languishing Air, that no Artist can represent.
Ant. What I heard of her Beauty before had fir’d my Soul, but this confirmation of it has blown it into a flame.
Pag. Sir, I have known you throw away a Thousand Crowns on a worse Face, and tho y’ are near your Marriage, you may venture a little Love here; Florinda—will not miss it.
Pedro. Ha! Florinda! Sure ’tis Antonio. [[aside.]
Ant. Florinda! name not those distant Joys, there’s not one thought of her will check my Passion here.
Pedro. Florinda scorn’d! and all my Hopes defeated of the Possession of Angelica! [A noise of a Lute above. Ant. gazes up.] Her Injuries by Heaven he shall not boast of. [Song to a Lute above.