Hell. I do, never to think—to see—to love—nor lie with any but thy self.
Hell. Kiss the Book.
Will. Oh, most religiously. [Kisses her Hand.
Hell. Now what a wicked Creature am I, to damn a proper Fellow.
Call. Madam, I’ll stay no longer, ’tis e’en dark. [To Flor.
Flor. However, Sir, I’ll leave this with you—that when I’m gone, you may repent the opportunity you have lost by your modesty. [Gives him the Jewel, which is her Picture, and Ex. He gazes after her.
Will. ’Twill be an Age till to morrow,—and till then I will most impatiently expect you—Adieu, my dear pretty Angel. [Ex. all the Women.
Belv. Ha! Florinda’s Picture! ’twas she her self—what a dull Dog was I? I would have given the World for one minute’s discourse with her.—
Fred. This comes of your Modesty,—ah pox on your Vow,’twas ten to one but we had lost the Jewel by’t.
Belv. Willmore! the blessed’st Opportunity lost!—Florinda, Friends, Florinda!