Lor. Well, I am the most unlucky rogue! I have been ranging over half the town; but have sprung no game. Our women are worse infidels than the Moors: I told them I was one of the knight-errants, that delivered them from ravishment; and I think in my conscience, that is their quarrel to me.
Ped. Is this a time for fooling? Your cousin is run honourably mad in love with her majesty; he is split upon a rock, and you, who are in chase of harlots, are sinking in the main ocean. I think, the devil's in the family.
[Exit.
Lor. [Solus.] My cousin ruined, says he! hum, not that I wish my kinsman's ruin; that were unchristian: but, if the general is ruined, I am heir; there's comfort for a Christian! Money I have; I thank the honest Moors for it; but I want a mistress. I am willing to be lewd; but the tempter is wanting on his part.
Enter Elvira, veiled.
Elv. Stranger! Cavalier!—will you not hear me? you Moor-killer, you Matador!—
Lor. Meaning me, madam?
Elv. Face about, man! you a soldier, and afraid of the enemy!
Lor. I must confess, I did not expect to have been charged first: I see souls will not be lost for want of diligence in this devil's reign. [Aside.] Now, Madam Cynthia, behind a cloud, your will and pleasure with me?
Elv. You have the appearance of a cavalier; and if you are as deserving as you seem, perhaps you may not repent of your adventure. If a lady like 397 you well enough to hold discourse with you at first sight; you are gentleman enough, I hope, to help her out with an apology, and to lay the blame on stars, or destiny, or what you please, to excuse the frailty of a woman?
Lor. O, I love an easy woman! there's such ado, to crack a thick-shelled mistress; we break our teeth, and find no kernel. 'Tis generous in you, to take pity on a stranger, and not to suffer him to fall into ill hands at his first arrival.