[Calls.
Enter Sylvia.
Syl. There are some letters, sir, come by the post from London; I left them upon the table in your closet.
Bal. And here is a gentleman from Germany.—[Presents Plume to her.] Captain, you'll excuse me; I'll go read my letters, and wait on you.
[Exit.
Syl. Sir, you are welcome to England.
Plume. You are indebted to me a welcome, madam, since the hopes of receiving it from this fair hand was the principal cause of my seeing England.
Syl. I have often heard that soldiers were sincere; may I venture to believe public report?
Plume. You may, when 'tis backed by private insurance; for I swear, madam, by the honour of my profession, that whatever dangers I went upon, it was with the hope of making myself more worthy of your esteem; and if ever I had thoughts of preserving my life, 'twas for the pleasure of dying at your feet.
Syl. Well, well, you shall die at my feet, or where you will; but you know, sir, there is a certain will and testament to be made beforehand.