Volume I Part 9 (1/2)

_Flor._ She'll be disappointed then, who expects you this Night at the Garden-gate, and if you'll fail not-- as let me see the other Hand-- you will go near to do-- she vows to die or make you happy.

[Looks on Callis, who observes 'em.

_Belv._ What canst thou mean?

_Flor._ That which I say-- Farewel. [Offers to go.

_Belv._ Oh charming Sybil, stay, complete that Joy, which, as it is, will turn into Distraction!-- Where must I be? at the Garden-gate? I know it-- at night you say-- I'll sooner forfeit Heaven than disobey.

Enter _Don Pedro_ and other Masquers, and pa.s.s over the Stage.

_Call._ Madam, your Brother's here.

_Flor._ Take this to instruct you farther.

[Gives him a Letter, and goes off.

_Fred._ Have a care, Sir, what you promise; this may be a Trap laid by her Brother to ruin you.

_Belv._ Do not disturb my Happiness with Doubts. [Opens the Letter.

_Will._ My dear pretty Creature, a Thousand Blessings on thee; still in this Habit, you say, and after Dinner at this Place.

_h.e.l.l._ Yes, if you will swear to keep your Heart, and not bestow it between this time and that.

_Will._ By all the little G.o.ds of Love I swear, I'll leave it with you; and if you run away with it, those Deities of Justice will revenge me.

[Ex. all the Women except Lucetta.

_Fred._ Do you know the Hand?

_Belv._ 'Tis _Florinda's_. All Blessings fall upon the virtuous Maid.

_Fred._ Nay, no Idolatry, a sober Sacrifice I'll allow you.

_Belv._ Oh Friends! the welcom'st News, the softest Letter!-- nay, you shall see it; and could you now be serious, I might be made the happiest Man the Sun s.h.i.+nes on.

_Will._ The Reason of this mighty Joy.

_Belv._ See how kindly she invites me to deliver her from the threaten'd Violence of her Brother-- will you not a.s.sist me?

_Will._ I know not what thou mean'st, but I'll make one at any Mischief where a Woman's concerned-- but she'll be grateful to us for the Favour, will she not?

_Belv._ How mean you?

_Will._ How should I mean? Thou know'st there's but one way for a Woman to oblige me.

_Belv._ Don't prophane-- the Maid is nicely virtuous.

_Will._ Who pox, then she's fit for nothing but a Husband; let her e'en go, Colonel.