Enter Florinda, Valeria, Hellena, in Antick different Dresses from what they were in before, Callis attending.
Flor. I wonder what should make my Brother in so ill a Humour: I hope he has not found out our Ramble this Morning.
Hell. No, if he had, we should have heard on’t at both Ears, and have been mew’d up this Afternoon; which I would not for the World should have happen’d—Hey ho! I’m sad as a Lover’s Lute.
Val. Well, methinks we have learnt this Trade of Gipsies as readily as if we had been bred upon the Road to Loretto: and yet I did so fumble, when I told the Stranger his Fortune, that I was afraid I should have told my own and yours by mistake—But methinks Hellena has been very serious ever since.
Flor. I would give my Garters she were in love, to be reveng’d upon her, for abusing me—How is’t, Hellena?
Hell. Ah!—would I had never seen my mad Monsieur —and yet for all your laughing I am not in love— and yet this small Acquaintance, o my Conscience, will never out of my Head.
Val. Ha, ha, ha—I laugh to think how thou art fitted with a Lover, a Fellow that, I warrant, loves every new Face he sees.
Hell. Hum—he has not kept his Word with me here—and may be taken up—that thought is not very pleasant to me—what the Duce should this be now that I feel?
Val. What is’t like?
Hell. Nay, the Lord knows—but if I should be hanged, I cannot chuse but be angry and afraid, when I think that mad Fellow should be in love with any Body but me—What to think of my self I know not—Would I could meet with some true damn’d Gipsy, that I might know my Fortune.