majesty had invited us to eat his Indies. But pr'y thee, let's leave the discourse of it, and contrive together how we may spend the evening; for in this hot country, 'tis as in the creation, the evening and the morning make the day.

Wild. I have a little serious business.

Bel. Put it off till a fitter season: For the truth is, business is then only tolerable, when the world and the flesh have no baits to set before us for the day.

Wild. But mine, perhaps, is public business.

Bel. Why, is any business more public than drinking and wenching? Look on those grave plodding fellows, that pass by us as though they were meditating the reconquest of Flanders: Fly them to a mark, and I'll undertake three parts of four are going to their courtezans. I tell thee, Jack, the whisking of a silk gown, and the rush of a tabby petticoat, are as comfortable sounds to one of these rich citizens, as the chink of their pieces of eight.

Wild. This being granted to be the common design of human kind, it is more than probable it is yours; therefore I'll leave you to the prosecution of it.

Bel. Nay, good Jack, mine is but a mistress in embryo; the possession of her is at least some days off; and till that time, thy company will he pleasant, and may be profitable to carry on the work. I would use thee like an under kind of chemist, to blow coals; it will be time enough for me to be alone, when I come to projection.

Wild. You must excuse me, Frank; I have made an appointment at the gaming-house.

Bel. What to do there, I pr'ythee? To mis-spend that money, which kind fortune intended for a mistress? Or to learn new oaths and curses to carry into England? That is not it-I heard you were to

marry when you left home: Perhaps that may be still running in your head, and keep you virtuous.

Wild. Marriage, quotha! what, dost thou think I have been bred in the deserts of Africa, or among the savages of America: Nay, if I had, I must needs have known better things than so; the light of nature would not have let me go so far astray.

Bel. Well, what think you of the Prado this evening:

Wild. Pox upon't, 'tis worse than our contemplative Hyde-Park.

Bel. Oh, but we must submit to the custom of the country for courtship: Whatever the means are, we are sure the end is still the same in all places. But who are these?

Enter DON ALONZO DE RIBERA, with his two Daughters, THEODOSIA and JACINTHA, and BEATRIX, their Woman, passing by.

Theo. Do you see those strangers, sister, that eye us so earnestly?

Jac. Yes, and I guess them to be feathers of the English ambassador's train; for I think I saw them at the grand audience-and have the strongest temptation in the world to talk to them: A mischief on this modesty!

Beat. A mischief of this father of yours, that haunts you so.

Jac. "Tis very true, Beatrix; for though I am the younger sister, I should have the grace to lay modesty first aside: However, sister, let us pull up our veils, and give them an essay of our faces.

[They pull up their veils, and pull them down again. Wild. Ah, Bellamy! undone, undone! Dost thou see those beauties?

Bel. Pr'ythee, Wildblood, hold thy tongue, and

do not spoil my contemplation: I am undoing myself as fast as ever I can, too.

Wild. I must go to them.

Bel. Hold, madman! Dost thou not see their father? Hast thou a mind to have our throats cut? Wild. By a Hector of fourscore? Hang our throats: What! a lover, and cautious?

[Is going towards them. Alon. Come away, daughters; we shall be late else.

Bel. Look you, they are on the wing already. Wild. Pr'ythee, dear Frank, let's follow them: I long to know who they are.

Mask. Let me alone, I'll dog them for you.

Bel. I am glad on't; for my shoes so pinch me, I can scarce go a step farther.

Wild. Cross the way there lives a shoemaker: Away quickly, that we may not spoil our design. [Exeunt BEL. and WILD.

Alon. [offers to go off.] Now, friend! what's your business to follow us?

Mask. Noble Don, 'tis only to recommend my service to you: A certain violent passion I have had for your worship, since the first moment that I

saw you.

Alon. I never saw thee before, to my remembrance.

Mask. No matter, sir; true love never stands upon ceremony.

Alon. Pr'ythee be gone, my saucy companion, or I'll clap an alguazil upon thy heels: I tell thee I have no need of thy service.

your own,

Mask. Having no servant of in good manners, leave you destitute.

I cannot,

Alon. I'll beat thee, if thou followest me.

Mask. I am your spaniel, sir; the more you beat me, the better I'll wait on you.

Alon. Let me entreat thee to be gone; the boys will hoot at me to see me followed thus against my will.

Mask. Shall you and I concern ourselves for what the boys do, sir? Pray do you hear the news at court?

Alon. Pr'ythee, what's the news to thee or me? Mask. Will you be at the next juego de cannas? Alon. If I think good.

Mask. Pray go on, sir; we can discourse as we walk together: And whither were you now a-going, sir?

Alon. To the devil, I think.

Mask. O, not this year or two, sir, by your age. Jac. My father was never so matched for talking in all his life before; he who loves to hear nothing but himself: Pr'ythee, Beatrix, stay behind, and see what this impudent Englishman would have.

Beat. Sir, if you'll let my master go, I'll be his pawn.

Mask. Well, sir, I kiss your hand, in hope to wait on you another time.

Alon. Let us mend our pace, to get clear of him. Theo. If you do not, he'll be with you again, like Atalanta in the fable, and make you drop another of your golden appies.

[Exeunt ALON. THEO. and JACINTHA. [MASKALL whispers BEATRIX the while. Beat. How much good language is here thrown away, to make me betray my ladies?

Mask. If you will discover nothing of them, let me discourse with you a little.

Beat. As little as you please.

Mask. They are rich, I suppose?

Beat. Now you are talking of them again: But they are as rich, as they are fair.

Mask. Then they have the Indies: Well, but their names, my sweet mistress.

Beat. Sweet servant, their names are

Mask. Their names are-out with it boldlyBeat. A secret-not to be disclosed.

Mask. A secret, say you? Nay, then, I conjure you, as you are a woman, tell it me.

Beat. Not a syllable.

Mask. Why, then, as you are a waiting-woman; as you are the sieve of all your lady's secrets, tell it

me.

Beat. You lose your labour; nothing will strain through me.

Mask. Are you so well stopped in the bottom? Beat. It was enjoined me strictly as a secret. Mask. Was it enjoined thee strictly, and canst thou hold it? Nay, then, thou art invincible: But, by that face, that more than ugly face, which I suspect to be under thy veil, disclose it to me.

Beat. By that face of thine, which is a natural visor, I will not tell thee.

Mask. By thy

Beat. No more swearing, I beseech you.

Mask. That woman's worth little, that is not worth an oath: Well, get thee gone; now I think on't, thou shalt not tell me.

Beat. Shall I not? Who shall hinder me? They are Don Alonzo de Ribera's daughters.

Mask. Out, out: I'll stop my ears.

Beat. They live hard by, in the Calle maior.
Mask. O, infernal tongue-

Beat, And are going to the next chapel with their father.

Mask. Wilt thou never have done tormenting me? In my conscience, anon thou wilt blab out their names too.