oublesom 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 P