Will. Harkye, Colonel, is this that Mistress who has cost you so many Sighs, and me so many Quarrels with you?
Belv. It is—Pray give him the Honour of your Hand. [To Flor.
Will. Thus it must be receiv’d then. [Kneels and kisses her Hand.] And with it give your Pardon too.
Flor. The Friend to Belvile may command me anything.
Will. Death, wou’d I might, ’tis a surprizing Beauty. [Aside.
Belv. Boy, run and fetch a Father instantly. [Ex. Boy.
Fred. So, now do I stand like a Dog, and have not a Syllable to plead my own Cause with: by this Hand, Madam, I was never thorowly confounded before, nor shall I ever more dare look up with Confidence, till you are pleased to pardon me.
Flor. Sir, I’ll be reconcil’d to you on one Condition, that you’ll follow the Example of your Friend, in marrying a Maid that does not hate you, and whose Fortune (I believe) will not be unwelcome to you.
Fred. Madam, had I no Inclinations that way, I shou’d obey your kind Commands.
Belv. Who, Fred. marry; he has so few Inclinations for Womankind, that had he been possest of Paradise, he might have continu’d there to this Day, if no Crime but Love cou’d have disinherited him.