Isa.  Ah, my Lord, name it not, I’m this day to be married.

Guil.  To day! name me the Man; Man did I say? the Monster, that dares lay claim to her I deign to love,—­none answer me,—­I’ll make him smoak, by Vulcan—­and all the rest of the Goddesses.

Fran.  Bless me, what a furious thing this Love is?

Guil.  By this bright Sword, that is so used to slaughter, he dies; [Draws.] old Fellow, say—­the Poltroon’s name.

Fran.  Oh, fearful—­alas, dread Sir!

Isa.  Ah! sheath your Sword, and calm your generous Rage.

Guil.  I cannot brook a Rival in my Love, the rustling Pole of my
Affection is too strong to be resisted.
         Runs raging up and down the Stage with his Sword in his hand.

Isa.  I cannot think, my Lord, so mean a Beauty can so suddenly charm a Heart so great as yours.

Guil.  Oh! you’re mistaken, as soon as I cast my eyes upon the Full-moon of your Countenance, I was struck blind and dumb.

Fran.  Ay, and deaf too, I’ll be sworn, he cou’d neither hear, see nor understand; this Love’s a miraculous thing.

Guil.  And that Minute, the most renoun’d Don Gulielmo Roderigo de Chimeny Sweperio, became your Gally-Slave,—­I say no more, but that I do love,—­and I will love,—­and that if you are but half so willing as I, I will dub you, Viscountess de Chimeny Sweperio.

Isa.  I am in Heaven, ah!  I die, Jacinta.  How can I credit this, that am so much unworthy?

Guil.  I’ll do’t, say no more, I’ll do’t.

Fran.  Do’t, but, my Lord, and with what face can I put off Signior Antonio, hum.

Guil. Antonio,—­hy, Pages, give order that Antonio be instantly run through the Lungs—­d’ye hear?

Fran.  Oh, hold, hold, my Lord! run through the Lungs!

Page.  It shall be done, my Lord! but what Antonio?

Guil.  Why, any Antonio; all the Antonio’s that you find in Cadiz.

Fran.  Oh, what bloody-minded Monsters these Lords are!—­But, my Lord, I’ll ne’er give you the trouble of killing him, I’ll put him off with a handsom Compliment; as thus,—­Why, look ye, Friend Antonio, the business is this, my Daughter Isabella may marry a Lord, and you may go fiddle.—­

Guil.  Ay, that’s civil,—­and if he do not desist, I’ll unpeople Spain but I’ll kill him; for, Madam, I’ll tell you what happened to me in the Court of France—­there was a Lady in the Court in love with me,—­she took a liking to my Person which—­I think,—­you will confess—­

Isa.  To be the most accomplisht in the World.

Guil.  I had some sixscore Rivals, they all took Snuff; that is, were angry—­at which I smiled;—­they were incensed; at which I laught, ha, ha, ha,—­i’faith; they rag’d, I—­when I met ’em,—­Cockt, thus—­en passant—­justled ’em—­thus,—­[Overthrows Fran.] They turn’d and frown’d,—­thus,—­I drew.—­