Blunt. ’Sheartlikins, here’s fine doings.
Will. Tilting for the Wench I’m sure—nay gad, if that wou’d win her, I have as good a Sword as the best of ye—Put up—put up, and take another time and place, for this is design’d for Lovers only. [They all put up.
Pedro. We are prevented; dare you meet me to morrow on the Molo?
For I’ve a Title to a better quarrel,
That of Florinda, in whose credulous Heart
Thou’st made an Int’rest, and destroy’d my Hopes.
Ant. Dare?
I’ll meet thee there as early as the Day.
Pedro. We will come thus disguis’d, that whosoever chance to get the better, he may escape unknown.
Ant. It shall be so. [Ex. Pedro and Stephano.] Who shou’d this Rival be? unless the English Colonel, of whom I’ve often heard Don Pedro speak; it must be he, and time he were removed, who lays a Claim to all my Happiness.
[Willmore having gaz’d all this while on the Picture, pulls down a little one.