Flor. Sir, If you find me not worth Belvile’s Care, use me as you please; and that you may think I merit better treatment than you threaten—pray take this Present— [Gives him a Ring: He looks on it.
Blunt. Hum—A Diamond! why, ’tis a wonderful Virtue now that lies in this Ring, a mollifying Virtue; adsheartlikins there’s more persuasive Rhetorick in’t, than all her Sex can utter.
Fred. I begin to suspect something; and ’twou’d anger us vilely to be truss’d up for a Rape upon a Maid of Quality, when we only believe we ruffle a Harlot.
Blunt. Thou art a credulous Fellow, but adsheartlikins I have no Faith yet; why, my Saint prattled as parlously as this does, she gave me a Bracelet too, a Devil on her: but I sent my Man to sell it to day for Necessaries, and it prov’d as counterfeit as her Vows of Love.
Fred. However let it reprieve her till we see Belvile.
Blunt. That’s hard, yet I will grant it.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Oh, Sir, the Colonel is just come with his new Friend and a Spaniard of Quality, and talks of having you to Dinner with ’em.
Blunt. ’Dsheartlikins, I’m undon—I would not see ’em for the World: Harkye, Fred, lock up the Wench in your Chamber.
Fred. Fear nothing, Madam, whate’er he threatens, you’re safe whilst in my Hands. [Ex. Fred. and Flor.