Enter CARLOS and bows—She courtesies.
Flora. O Lord, I hope this is not a woman too! but I dare say it is—Lord what a pity! but I'll talk to him, and I shall soon be able to find out—and if he does not fall in love with me, I'll conclude it can't be a man. [aside.
Carlos. A very pretty girl. (aside.) Your humble servant, my dear angel.
Flora. Too conceited for a man. (aside.)
Carlos. May I venture, on so slight an acquaintance to protest to you—
Flora. No—he protests—'tis a man. [aside.
Carlos. Permit me to assure you—
Flora. Sir!
Carlos. What thus takes up your attention?
Flora. A doubt I have.