Will. Ay, ay, to trust our Fortune to Lots, a Devil on’t, ’twas madness, that’s the Truth on’t.
Belv. Oh intolerable Sot!
Enter Florinda, running masqu’d, Pedro after her, Will. gazing round her.
Flor. Good Heaven, defend me from discovery. [Aside.
Pedro. ’Tis but in vain to fly me, you are fallen to my Lot.
Belv. Sure she is undiscover’d yet, but now I fear there is no way to bring her off.
Will. Why, what a Pox is not this my Woman, the same I follow’d but now?
[Ped. talking to Florinda, who walks up and down.
Ped. As if I did not know ye, and your Business here.
Flor. Good Heaven! I fear he does indeed— [Aside.