Wor. [Kneeling.] Thou Angel of Light, let me fall down and adore thee!
Ber. Thou Minister of Darkness, get up again, for I hate to see the Devil at his Devotions.
Wor. Well, my incomparable Berinthia——How shall I requite you——
Ber. O ne'er trouble yourself about that: Virtue is its own Reward: There's a Pleasure in doing good, which sufficiently pays itself. Adieu.
Wor. Farewel, thou best of Women.
[Exeunt several ways.
Enter Amanda, meeting Berinthia.
Aman. Who was that went from you?
Ber. A Friend of yours.