I've resolv'd in favour of him. Hell. Come, let's in and dress us.
   [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Long Street. Enter Belvile, melancholy, Blunt and
   Frederick. Fred. Why, what the Devil ails the Colonel, in a time when
   all the World is gay, to look like mere Lent thus? Hadst thou been
   long enough in Naples to have been in love, I should have sworn some
   such Judgment had befall'n thee. Belv. No, I have made no new Amours
   since I came to Naples. Fred. You have left none behind you in Paris.
   Belv. Neither. Fred. I can't divine the Cause then; unless the old
   Cause, the want of Mony. Blunt. And another old Cause, the want of a
   Wench- Wou'd not that revive you? Belv. You're mistaken, Ned. Blunt.
   Nay, 'Sheartlikins, then thou art past Cure. Fred. I have found it
   out; thou hast renew'd thy Acquaintance with the Lady that cost thee
   so many Sighs at the Siege of Pampelona- pox on't, what d'ye call her-
   her Brother's a noble Spaniard- Nephew to the dead General- Florinda-
   ay, Florinda- And will nothing serve thy turn but that damn'd virtuous
   Woman, whom on my Conscience thou lov'st in spite too, because thou
   seest little or no possibility of gaining her? Belv. Thou art
   mistaken, I have Interest enough in that lovely Virgin's Heart, to
   make me proud and vain, were it not abated by the Severity of a
   Brother, who perceiving my Happiness- Fred. Has civilly forbid thee
   the House? Belv. 'Tis so, to make way for a powerful Rival, the
   Vice-Roy's Son, who has the advantage of me, in being a Man of
   Fortune, a Spaniard, and her Brother's Friend; which gives him liberty
   to make his Court, whilst I have recourse only to Letters, and distant
   Looks from her Window, which are as soft and kind as those which
   Heav'n sends down on Penitents. Blunt. Hey day! 'Sheartlikins, Simile!
   by this Light the Man is quite spoil'd- Frederick, what the Devil are
   we made of, that we cannot be thus concerned for a Wench?-
   'Sheartlikins, our Cupids are like the Cooks of the Camp, they can
   roast or boil a Woman, but they have none of the fine Tricks to set
   'em off, no Hogoes to make the Sauce pleasant, and the Stomach sharp.
   Fred. I dare swear I have had a hundred as young, kind and handsom as
   this Florinda; and Dogs eat me, if they were not as troublesom to me
   i'th' Morning, as they were welcome o'er night. Blunt. And yet, I
   warrant, he wou'd not touch another Woman, if he might have her for
   nothing. Belv. That's thy joy, a cheap Whore. Blunt. Why,
   'dsheartlikins, I love a frank Soul- When did you ever hear of an
   honest Woman that took a Man's Mony? I warrant 'em good ones- But,
   Gentlemen, you may be free, you have been kept so poor with
   Parliaments and Protectors, that the little Stock you have is not
   worth preserving- but I thank my Stars, I have more Grace than to
   forfeit my Estate by Cavaliering. Belv. Methinks only following the
   Court should be sufficient to entitle 'em to that. Blunt.
   'Sheartlikins, they know I follow it to do it no good, unless they
   pick a hole in my Coat for lending you Mony now and then; which is a
   greater Crime to my Conscience, Gentlemen, than to the Common-wealth.
   Enter Willmore. Will. Ha! dear Belvile! noble Colonel! Belv. Willmore!
   welcome ashore, my dear Rover!- what happy Wind blew us this good
   Fortune? Will. Let me salute you my dear Fred, and then command me-
   How is't honest Lad? Fred. Faith, Sir, the old Complement, infinitely
   the better to see my dear mad Willmore again- Prithee why camest thou
   ashore? and where's the Prince? Will. He's well, and reigns still Lord
   of the watery Element- I must aboard again within a Day or two, and my
   Business ashore was only to enjoy my self a little this Carnival.
   Belv. Pray know our new Friend, Sir, he's but bashful, a raw
   Traveller, but honest, stout, and one of us. [Embraces Blunt. Will.
   That you esteem him, gives him an interest here. Blunt. Your Servant,
   Sir. Will. But well- Faith I'm glad to meet you again in a warm
   Climate, where the kind Sun has its god-like Power still over the Wine
   and Woman.- Love and Mirth are my Business in Naples; and if I mistake
   not the Place, here's an excellent Market for Chapmen of my Humour.
   Belv. See here be those kind Merchants of Love you look for. Enter
   several Men in masquing Habits, some playing on Musick, others dancing
   after; Women drest like Curtezans, with Papers pinn'd to their
   Breasts, and Baskets of Flowers in their Hands. Blunt. 'Sheartlikins,
   what have we here! Fred. Now the Game begins. Will. Fine pretty
   Creatures! may a stranger have leave to look and love?- What's here-
   Roses for every Month! [Reads the Paper. Blunt. Roses for every Month!
   what means that? Belv. They are, or wou'd have you think they're
   Curtezans, who here in Naples are to be hir'd by the Month. Will. Kind
   and obliging to inform us- Pray where do these Roses grow? I would
   fain plant some of 'em in a Bed of mine. Wom. Beware such Roses, Sir.
   Will. A Pox of fear: I'll be bak'd with thee between a pair of Sheets,
   and that's thy proper Still, so I might but strow such Roses over me
   and under me- Fair one, wou'd you wou'd give me leave to gather at
   your Bush this idle Month, I wou'd go near to make some Body smell of
   it all the Year after. Belv. And thou hast need of such a Remedy, for
   thou stinkest of Tar and Rope-ends, like a Dock or Pesthouse. [The
   Woman puts her self into the Hands of a Man, and Exit. Will. Nay, nay,
   you shall not leave me so. Belv. By all means use no Violence here.
   Will. Death! just as I was going to be damnably in love, to have her
   led off! I could pluck that Rose out of his Hand, and even kiss the
   Bed, the Bush it grew in. Fred. No Friend to Love like a long Voyage
   at Sea. Blunt. Except a Nunnery, Fred. Will. Death! but will they not
   be kind, quickly be kind? Thou know'st I'm no tame Sigher, but a
   rampant Lion of the Forest. Two Men drest all over with Horns of
   several sorts, making Grimaces at one another, with Papers pinn'd on
   their Backs, advance from the farther end of the Scene. Belv. Oh the
   fantastical Rogues, how they are dress'd! 'tis a Satir against the
   whole Sex. Will. Is this a Fruit that grows in this warm Country?
   Belv. Yes: 'Tis pretty to see these Italian start, swell, and stab at
   the Word Cuckold, and yet stumble at Horns on every Threshold. Will.
   See what's on their Back- Flowers for every Night. [Reads. -Ah Rogue!
   And more sweet than Roses of ev'ry Month! This is a Gardiner of Adam's
   own breeding. [They dance. Belv. What think you of those grave
   People?- is a Wake in Essex half so mad or extravagant? Will. I like
   their sober grave way, 'tis a kind of legal authoriz'd Fornication,
   where the Men are not chid for't, nor the Women despis'd, as amongst
   our dull English; even the Monsieurs want that part of good Manners.
   Belv. But here in Italy a Monsieur is the humblest best-bred