s accounted of
In our Village; but I had another but now,
Which I blew off in a high Wind; and I never mist it,
Till I had an occasion to pluck it off to a young
Squire, they call a Lacquey; and, Fegs,
I had none at all: and because I would not lose
My Leg for want of a Hat, I fetch'd this;
And I can tell you, Sir, it has a fashionable Brim.

_Lor._ A Fool's head of your own, has it not?
The Boys will hoot at us as we pass--hah,
Who be these, who be these-- [Goes towards _Cur._ and _Piet._

_Cur._ Here--this to _Don Alonso_--this to the
_English_ Count; and this you may shew to the
Young _German_ Prince--and this--
I will reserve for higher Prices. [Gives _Piet._ Pictures.

_Piet._ Will you shew none to the Courtiers, Sir?

_Cur._ Away, you Fool, I deal in no such Trash.

_Lor._ How, Sir, how was that? pray how came we to
Gain your dis-favour?

_Cur._ I cry you mercy, Sir, pray what are you;

_Lor._ A Courtier, Sir, I can assure you,
And one of the best Rank too;
I have the Prince's ear, Sir.
--What have you there, hah?--Pictures? let me see--
What, are they to be bought?

_Cur._ Sir, they are Copies of most fair Originals,
Not to be bought but hired.

_Lor._ Say you so, Friend? the Price, the Price.

_Cur._ Five thousand Crowns a Month, Sir.

_Lor._ The Price is somewhat saucy.

_Cur._ Sir, they be curious Pieces, were never blown upon,
Have never been in Courts, nor hardly Cities.

_Lor._ Upon my word, that's considerable;
Friend, pray where do they live?

_Cur._ In the _Piazzo_, near the Palace.

_Lor._ Well, put up your Ware, shew not a face of them
Till I return! for I will bring you
The best Chapman in all _Florence_,
Except the Duke himself.

_Cur._ You must be speedy then,
For I to morrow shall be going towards _Rome_.

_Lor._ A subtle Rascal this: thou think'st, I warrant,
To make a better Market amongst the Cardinals.
--But take my word, ne'er a Cardinal of them all
Comes near this Man, I mean, to bring you in
Matters of Beauty--so, this will infallibly make
My Peace again: [Aside.] Look ye, Friend
--Be ready, for 'tis the Prince, the noble generous _Frederick_,
That I design your Merchant. [Goes out.

_Cur._ Your Servant, Sir,--that is _Guilliam_;
I cannot be mistaken in him, go call him back.
[_Pietro_ fetches him back, who puts on a surly Face.
--Friend, what ar