Mir. Let her go, and the Devil go with her;
We have never better luck with these preludiums;
Come, be not daunted; think she is but a woman,
And let her have the Devils wit, we'll reach her. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Rosalure, and Lugier.
Ros. Ye have now redeem'd my good opinion, Tutor,
And ye stand fair again.
Lug. I can but labour,
And sweat in your affairs; I am sure Belleur
Will be here instantly, and use his anger,
His wonted harshness.
Ros. I hope he will not beat me.
Lug. No sure, he has more manners; be you ready.
Ros. Yes, yes, I am, and am resolv'd to fit him,
With patience to outdo all he can offer;
But how does Oriana?
Lug. Worse, and worse still;
There is a sad house for her: she is now,
Poor Lady, utterly distracted.
Ros. Pity!
Infinite pity! 'tis a handsome Lady,
That Mirabel's a Beast, worse than a Monster,
If this affliction work not.