Theo. Yonder are your gallants; send you comfort of them: I am for my devotions.
Jac. Now for my heart can I think of no other prayer, but only that they may not mistake us. Why, sister, sister, will you pray? What injury have I ever done you, that you should pray in my company? If your servant Don Melchor were here, we should have you mind heaven as little as the best of us.
Beat. They are at a loss, madam; shall I put up my veil, that they may take aim?
Jac. No, let them take their fortune in the dark: We shall see what archers these English are.
Bel. Which are they, think'st thou?
Wild. There's no knowing them, they are all children of darkness.
Bel. I'll be sworn they have one sign of godliness among them, there's no distinction of persons here.
Wild. Pox o'this blind-man's-buff; they may be ashamed to provoke a man thus, by their keeping themselves so close.
Bel. You are for the youngest, you say; 'tis the eldest has smitten me. And here I fix; if I am right, happy man be his dole.
[By Theodosia.
Wild. I'll take my fortune here.
[By Jacintha.
Madam, I hope a stranger may take the liberty, without offence, to offer his devotions by you?