University of Virginia Library

SCENE changes to a Street.
Enter Boy and Count met by Carlo in a Cloak, and a Man with a Lanthorn.
Count.
Puss, Puss, fairly go truss.

Carlo.
So, all goes well; yonder they come. Dear Rogue!

[To the Boy.
Boy.
I have him safe, no Wedlock Noose tied faster.

[Aside to Carlo.
Carlo.

But, hush, I must keep Distance; the Fool knows me.
Lend your Hand, Sirrah.

[The Man with the Lanthorn goes to the Count.
Boy.

Oh, barbarous Creatures! to use a poor Gentleman so unmercifully.

Count.

Hush, hush, all's well. I'll hold by thy Apron-strings, and
walk as uprightly as a Judge.

Boy.
Alas, dear Don, I dare not carry thee home to thy Lady-Mother,
'Twou'd break her poor Heart to see thee in this Condition.
No; I'll take thee Home with me to my Lodging.

Count.
Hee, poor Thing!

Boy.
And thou shalt sleep in my nown Bed, Deary.

Count.
And wilt thou sleep by me, pretty Mopsy?

Boy.
No, I'll watch by thee, sit like a Cupid by thy side,
And sing thee twenty pretty Songs of Love.

[Here the Boy sings.
Count.

O Limini! What rare Musick shall I have! and so pretty
a Fidler too.

Boy.
Now, Sir, be you prepar'd to make all safe.

Carlo.
Ay, Boy, the Fool in Drink, no Satyr ranker
Ply him with Wine and Wantonness; and when
The Swine quite drown'd in Swill, thou hast safely roosted him,
Long e'er he wakes ne'er fear to slip to Bed to him,
I'll have my Mirmidons of Justice ready
To rouze him from his drunken Nest, and shew him
The Syren by his side without discovering
The false or the true Miss.

Boy.
I have my Lesson.

Count.
Where, where's the Wench!—

Boy.
Here, my dear Count.

Count.
Sweet Pug.

Exeunt. Manet only Carlo.
Carlo.
As firm as he has resolv'd to sacrifice
His beauteous Daughter to this Driveler's Arms
I'll try to shake this cruel Father, give him
That ruful Picture of his darling Blockhead
Shall fright him into Mercy. Yes, fair Lucia,
When the keen Fool aspires to no less Prey
Than thy sweet Charms, 'tis time our Snares to lay:
Like Traps for Vermine 'tis but all fair Play.

[Exit.
C. C. Wife.

And how do you like Matters, Hubby?

C. C. Man.

Monstrously well. The Author has been profoundly ingenious
to make this Carlo and Rinaldo Brothers.

C. C. Wife.

And why not Brothers?

C. C. Man.

Ay, ay, what should they be else! Both Brethren in the
same Iniquity! Gentlemen of Honour and Lovers! Rakes and Scoundrels!
A Brace of downright Owlers! Both for setting up false Colours,
and launching out at midnight, only to make stol'n Prize of two honest
Men's Daughters. Ay, poor Innocents, that's all.

C. C. Wife.

All! Ay, and little enough to do the young Things Reason.
If the old ones are such blind Fools, as not to see where they
may dispose of their Children happily, the young ones (bless their Eyesight)
have Wit enough to do it for 'em.