Louisa. Oh! what will become of me?
Flor. Let me see—I have it—I'll take her to my brother's;—she'll be safe there, and not a soul shall come near her.—Well, Miss Courtney,—I have recollected a place where I know you'll be safe—a friend's house, that will be as secure—nay, don't droop—in Italy we're never melancholy.
Louisa. Oh, Mr Floriville, to what a hazard has lady Waitfor't exposed me!—to her perfidy I owe it all—but yonder's that wretch again—pray let us begone.
Flor. Belzebub again,—no, no, we mustn't stir;—what! an angel fly from a devil? damme, I'll stay and crush him.
Louisa. Nay, sir, reflect,—'twere madness to remain.
Flor. 'Faith that's true; I believe it's braver to retire,—therefore, Tarquin, adieu; come, my best angel! I'll fight your battles, and if I don't sink all your enemies, may I never see Italy again as long as I live!
[Exeunt.
Enter Willoughby.
Willoughby. Ha! gone,—I am sorry for it—I would have seen them—lady Waitfor't has just left me, and treated me like her slave,—insulted and derided me; but I'll have done with her for ever,—I'll be her dupe no more;—she is now gone to Neville's lodgings, under pretence of pursuing Louisa, but, in fact, to see him, and prevent his leaving Bath;—this I will write to my lord, and then let him follow, and be witness of her infamy;—thus, I hope, I shall make some reparation for the wrongs I have committed, and prove at last I have some sense of virtue.
[Exit.