Blunt. Took it! ’Sheartlikins, we’ll have the great one too; ’tis ours by Conquest.—Prithee, help me up, and I’ll pull it down.—
Ang. Stay, Sir, and e’er you affront me further, let me know how you durst commit this Outrage—To you I speak, Sir, for you appear like a Gentleman.
Will. To me, Madam?—Gentlemen, your Servant. [Belv. stays him.
Belv. Is the Devil in thee? Do’st know the danger of entring the house of an incens’d Curtezan?
Will. I thank you for your care—but there are other matters in hand, there are, tho we have no great Temptation.—Death! let me go.
Fred. Yes, to your Lodging, if you will, but not in here.—Damn these gay Harlots—by this Hand I’ll have as sound and handsome a Whore for a [Patacoone].—Death, Man, she’ll murder thee.
Will. Oh! fear me not, shall I not venture where a Beauty calls? a lovely charming Beauty? for fear of danger! when by Heaven there’s none so great as to long for her, whilst I want Money to purchase her.
Fred. Therefore ’tis loss of time, unless you had the thousand Crowns to pay.
Will. It may be she may give a Favour, at least I shall have the pleasure of saluting her when I enter, and when I depart.
Belv. Pox, she’ll as soon lie with thee, as kiss thee, and sooner stab than do either—you shall not go.