Hol. Adieu!
Con. Stay! the bouquet you have purchased for me, give it me—at least I may keep that.
Hol. (picking up the bouquet, and giving it to her.) Ah! thanks—thanks!
Con. Poor man!
[Exits door, R.
Hol. To part without embracing her. I would have given the world for one embrace, and have called her my——; but no, it’s impossible! I will go at once—if I look on her again, my courage will fail me; and yet, I cannot leave her thus—one embrace, one kiss, and I depart forever. Ah! Constance! Constance! my dear Constance! (falls on his knees, and covers the shawl of CONSTANCE with kisses.)
Enter FLETCHER, C.
Fle. Come, that’s all right—Melfort’s promised to come. (sees HOLDER.) Hollo!
Hol. Constance! my own Constance!
Fle. What are you doing there?