Alon. By Heaven! 'Tis an Age, there's six Days yet to come.

Flor. An Age, indeed, if he knew all. [Aside.

[Aside.

 Alon. But haste, Florella; lead me to my Dear, She only can contract that tedious Age Of lingring Pain, and sooth it with her Smiles. Say, is she alone?

Flor. Yes——No—— Oh! Heaven! What shall I say? [Aside. She, she's a——

——

——

[Aside.

——

Alon. Ha——What means this faultering Answer? All's not right, and my Suspicion's true.

——

Flor. Signior, my Lady is not drest, and I shall displease her, in admitting even you, without her Leave.

 Alon. Ha——not drest——Take heed you mock me not; Nor think to blind me with your feign'd Excuse: For in your guilty Face I read the Truth. Come, tell me who's with her? is't not Bassino?

——

——

Flor. aside. Oh! Heaven! What shall I say?

Alon. Nay, nay, no Study: Lying will not do: I saw 'em part from hence, just now I saw 'em. Harkee, sweet Mistress, how long have you practis'd This subtle Trade? I find you're much improv'd. Hell and Damnation——quickly, tell me What did Bassino give for his Admittance? I'll double the Reward—but she's not drest for me—— Oh! damn'd, damn'd Sex!

——

——

Flor. Signior, what do you mean?

 Prev. P 12/58 next