_Piet._ Sir, he brings sad tidings back.

_Cur._ What tidings? is she dead?
That would revive my Soul,
And fortify my easy Nature with some wicked Notions,
As deep as those this flattering Prince made use of,
When he betray'd my Sister, pretty _Cloris_:
--Come, speak it boldly, for nothing else
Will make me do her Justice.

_Piet._ No, Sir, she is not dead,
But fled, and none knows whither;
Only _Guilliam_ attends her.

_Cur._ Worse and worse; but what of _Laura_?

_Piet._ She, Sir, is kept a Prisoner by her Father,
And speaks with none but those that come from _Frederick_.

_Cur._ _Laura_ confin'd too! 'tis time to hasten then,
With my, till now, almost disarmed Revenge:
--Thus I may pass unknown the Streets of _Florence_,
And find an opportunity to reach this Prince's Heart,
--Oh, Vengeance! luxurious Vengeance!
Thy Pleasures turn a Rival to my Love,
And make the mightier Conquest o'er my Heart.
--_Cloris_, I will revenge thy Tears and Sufferings;
And to secure the Doom of him that wrong'd thee,
I'll call on injur'd _Laura_ too.
--Here take these Pictures--and where thou see'st [Gives him Boxes.
A knot of Gallants, open one or two, as if by stealth,
To gaze upon the Beauties, and then straight close them--
But stay, here comes the only Man
I could have wish'd for; he'll proclaim my Business
Better than a Picture or a Trumpet. [They stand by.
[_Curtius_ takes back the Pictures.

Enter _Lorenzo_ and _Guilliam_ dressed in fineish Clothes, but
the same high-crown'd Hat.

_Lor._ Did, ha, ha, ha, did, ha, ha; did ever any
Mortal Man behold such a Figure as thou art now?
Well, I see 'tis a damnable thing not to
Be born a Gentleman; the Devil himself
Can never make thee truly jantee now.
--Come, come, come forward; these Clothes become
Thee, as a Saddle does a Sow; why com'st thou not?
--Why--ha, ha, I hope thou hast not
Hansel'd thy new Breeches,
Thou look'st so filthily on't. [He advances, looking sourly.

_Guil._ No, Sir, I hope I have more manners than so;
But if I should, 'tis not my fault;
For the necessary Houses are hard
To be met withal here at Court.

_Lor._ Very well, Sirrah; you begin already to be
Witty with the Court: but I can tell you, it has as
Many necessary Places in't, as any Court in Christendom
--But what a Hat thou hast?

_Guil._ Why, Sir, though I say't, this i