Fred. ’Tis much methinks, a Boy of so dejected, Humble Birth, should have so much of Sense And Soul about him. Clo. I know not that; but if I have a thought Above that humble Birth or Education, It was inspir’d by Love. Fred. Still you raise my Wonder greater; —Thou a Lover? Clo. Yes, my Lord, though I am young, I’ve felt the power of Beauty; And should you look upon the Object, Sir, Your Wonders soon would cease; Each Look does even animate Insensibles, And strikes a reverend Awe upon the Soul: Nothing is found so lovely. Fred. Thou speak’st prettily, I think Love Indeed has inspir’d thee. Clo. These were the Flatteries, Sir, she us’d to me; Of her it was I learn’d to speak, and sigh, And look, as oft you say, I do on you. Fred. Why then, it seems she made returns? Clo. Ah! Sir, ’twas I that first was blest, I first the happy Object was belov’d; For, ’twas a Person, Sir, so much above me,— It had been Sin to’ve rais’d my Eyes to her; Or by a glance, or sigh, betray my Pain. But Oh! when with a thousand soft Expressions, She did encourage me to speak of Love! —My God! how soon extravagant I grew, And told so oft the story of my Passion, That she grew weary of the repeated Tale, And punish’d my presumption with a strange neglect. Weeps. Fred. How, my good Philibert? Clo. Would suffer me to see her Face no more. Fred. That was pity; without a Fault? Clo. Alas, Sir, I was guilty of no Crime, But that of having told her how I lov’d her; For all I had I sacrific’d to her; —Poor worthless Treasures to any but a Lover; And such you know accept the meanest things, Which Love and a true Devotion do present. When she was present, I found a thousand ways To let her know how much I was her Slave; And absent, still invented new ones, And quite neglected all my little Business; Counting the tedious Moments of the Day By Sighs and Tears; thought it an Age to night, Whose Darkness might secure our happy meeting: But we shall meet no more on these kind Terms. Sighs. Fred. Come, do not weep, sweet Youth, thou art too young, To have thy blooming Cheeks blasted with sorrow; Thou wilt out-grow this childish Inclination, And shalt see Beauties here, whose every glance Kindle new Fires, and quite expel the old. Clo. Oh, never, Sir. Fred. When I was first in love, I thought so too, But now with equal ardour I doat upon each new and beauteous Object. Clo. And quite forget the old? Fred. Not so; but when I see them o’er again, I find I love them as I did before. Clo. Oh God forbid, I should be so inconstant! No, Sir, though she be false, she has my Heart, And I can die, but not redeem the Victim. Fred. Away, you little Fool, you make me sad By this resolve: but I’ll instruct you better. Clo. I would not make you sad for all the World. Sir, I will sing, or dance, do any thing That may divert you. Fred. I thank thee, Philibert, and will accept Thy Bounty; perhaps it may allay thy Griefs awhile too. Clo. I’ll call the Musick, Sir. She goes out. Fred. This Boy has strange agreements in him.

Enter Cloris with Musick.

She bids them play, and dances a Jig.

This was wondrous kind, my pretty Philibert.

Exeunt Musick.

Enter Page.

Page. Lorenzo, my Lord, begs admittance.

Fred. He may come in. Exit Page.

Enter Lorenzo.

—Well, Lorenzo, what’s the News with thee? —How goes the price of Beauty, hah? Lor. My Lord, that question is a propos to What I have to say; this Paper will answer your Question, Sir— Gives him a Paper, he reads. —Hah, I vow to gad a lovely Youth; Lor. gazes on Phil. But what makes he here with Frederick? This Stripling may chance to mar my market of Women now— ’Tis a fine Lad, how plump and white he is; Aside. Would I could meet him somewhere i’th’ dark, I’d have a fling at him, and try whether I Were right Florentine. Fred. Well, Sir, where be these Beauties? Lor. I’ll conduct you to them. Fred. What’s the Fellow that brings them? Lor. A Grecian, I think, or something. Fred. Beauties from Greece, Man! Lor. Why, let them be from the Devil, So they be new and fine, what need we care? —But you must go to night. Fred. I am not in a very good condition To make Visits of that kind. Lor. However, see them, and if you like them, You may oblige the Fellow to a longer stay, For I know they are handsome. Fred. That’s the only thing thou art judge of; —Well, go you and prepare them; And Philibert, thou shalt along with me; I’ll have thy Judgment too. Clo. Good Heaven, how false he is! Aside. Lor. What time will your Highness come? Fred. Two Hours hence. Ex. Fred. Lor. So then I shall have time to have a bout With this jilting Huswife Isabella, For my Fingers itch to be at her. Aside. Ex. Lorenzo. Clo. Not know me yet? cannot this Face inform him? My Sighs, nor Eyes, my Accent, nor my Tale? Had he one thought of me, he must have found me out. —Yes, yes, ’tis certain I am miserable; He’s going now to see some fresher Beauties, And I, he says, must be a witness of it; This gives me Wounds, painful as those of Love: Some Women now would find a thousand Plots From so much Grief as I have, but I’m dull; Yet I’ll to Laura, and advise with her, Where I will tell her such a heavy Tale, As shall oblige her to a kind concern: —This may do; I’ll tell her of this Thought, This is the first of Art I ever thought on; And if this proves a fruitless Remedy, The next, I need not study, how to die.

Exeunt.