Mar. Pish! Come Mrs. Cross.
Isabella. Close by there, is an Orange Grove dark as my Thoughts, yet in that Darkness lovely; there my Lord, with your leave, I'd walk.
Fas. Your Pleasure shall be mine.
Mar. Lead her to the side Scene, Mr. Powell, now come back again.
Fas. To desire and love to walk alone, shews her Thoughts entertain and please her more than I, that's not so well.
Mar. Mark! He is beginning to be jealous: Now comes Betty, and I dare be bold to say, here's a Scene excells Jago, and the Moor.
Mr. Prais. Come, dear Mrs. Betty Useful! Oh! She's my Heart's Delight!
Enter Betty Useful.
Fas. What Fair Nymph is this?
Betty. From the bright Partner of your Fathers Bed, too sweet a Blossome, alass, to hang on such a wither'd Tree, whose sapless Trunck affords no Nourishment to keep her Fresh and Fair! From her I come to you, and charming Isabella, But where is that Lady? Can you be separate? Can any thing divide her from your fond Eyes.