Act 2 — SCENE II. Changes to the Street.
Reading edition
Enter Page with a Flambeaux, followed by Cinthio; passes over the Stage. Scaramouch follows Cinthio in a Campaign Coat.
Scar. ‘Tis Cinthio—Don Cinthio. [Calls, he turns. Well, what’s the Quarrel?—How fell ye out?
Cin. You may inform your self I believe, for these close Intrigues cannot be carried on without your Knowledge.
Scar. What Intrigues, Sir? be quick, for I’m in haste.
Cin. Who was the Lover I surpriz’d i’th’ Closet?
Scar. Deceptio visus, Sir; the Error of the Eyes.
Cin. Thou Dog, I felt him too; but since the Rascal ‘scaped me, I’ll be reveng’d on thee.
[Goes to beat him; he running away, runs against Harlequin, who is entering with Charmante, and like to have thrown ‘em both down.
Char. Ha,—What’s the matter here?
Scar. Seignior Don Charmante. [Then he struts courageously in with ‘em.
Char. What, Cinthio in a Rage! Who’s the unlucky Object?
Cin. All Man and Woman Kind: Elaria’s false.
Char. Elaria false! take heed, sure her nice Virtue Is proof against the Vices of her Sex. Say rather Bellemante, She who by Nature’s light and wavering. The Town contains not such a false Impertinent. This Evening I surpriz’d her in her Chamber, Writing of Verses, and between her Lines Some Spark had newly pen’d his proper Stuff. Curse of the Jilt, I’ll be her Fool no more.
Har. I doubt you are mistaken in that, Sir, for ‘twas I was the Spark that writ the proper Stuff To do you service.
Char. Thou!
Scar. Ay, we that spend our Lives and Fortunes here to serve you,—to be us’d like Pimps and Scoundrels. Come, Sir, satisfy him who ‘twas was hid i’th’ Closet, when he came in and found you.
Cin. Ha,—is’t possible? Was it Charmante?
Char. Was it you, Cinthio? Pox on’t, what Fools are we, we cou’d not know one another by Instinct?
Scar. Well, well, dispute no more this clear Case, but let’s hasten to your Mistresses.
Cin. I’m asham’d to appear before Elaria.
Char. And I to Bellemante.
Scar. Come, come, take Heart of Grace; pull your Hats down over your Eyes; put your Arms across; sigh and look scurvily; your simple Looks are ever a Token of Repentance: come—come along.
[Exeunt Omnes.