Will. That of Possession which I will maintain—you perhaps have 1000 Crowns to give for the Original.
Ant. No matter, Sir, you shall restore the Picture.
Ang. Oh, Moretta! what’s the matter? [Ang. and Moret. above.
Ant. Or leave your Life behind.
Will. Death! you lye—I will do neither.
Ang. Hold, I command you, if for me you fight.
[They fight, the Spaniards join with Antonio, Blunt laying on like mad. They leave off and bow.
Will. How heavenly fair she is!—ah Plague of her Price.
Ang. You Sir in Buff, you that appear a Soldier, that first began this Insolence.
Will. ’Tis true, I did so, if you call it Insolence for a Man to preserve himself; I saw your charming Picture, and was wounded: quite thro my Soul each pointed Beauty ran; and wanting a Thousand Crowns to procure my Remedy, I laid this little Picture to my Bosom—which if you cannot allow me, I’ll resign.