Chapter 11

Enter _Florinda_ undres’d, with a Key, and a little Box.

Flor. Well, thus far I’m in my way to Happiness; I have got my self free from _Callis_; my Brother too, I find by yonder light, is gone into his Cabinet, and thinks not of me: I have by good Fortune got the Key of the Garden Back-door,—I’ll open it, to prevent _Belvile’s_ knocking,—a little noise will now alarm my Brother. Now am I as fearful as a young Thief. [Unlocks the Door.] —Hark,—what noise is that?—Oh,’twas the Wind that plaid amongst the Boughs.—_Belvile_ stays long, methinks—it’s time—stay—for fear of a surprize, I’ll hide these Jewels in yonder Jessamin. [She goes to lay down the Box.

Enter _Willmore_ drunk.

Will. What the Devil is become of these Fellows, _Belvile_ and _Frederick?_ They promis’d to stay at the next corner for me, but who the Devil knows the corner of a full Moon?—Now—whereabouts am I?—hah—what have we here? a Garden!—a very convenient place to sleep in—hah—what has God sent us here?—a Female—by this light, a Woman; I’m a Dog if it be not a very Wench.—

Flor. He’s come!—hah—who’s there?

Will. Sweet Soul, let me salute thy Shoe-string.

Flor. ’Tis not my _Belvile_—good Heavens, I know him not.—Who are you, and from whence come you?

Will. Prithee—prithee, Child—not so many hard Questions—let it suffice I am here, Child—Come, come kiss me.

57 Flor. Good Gods! what luck is mine?

Will. Only good luck, Child, parlous good luck—Come hither,—’tis a delicate shining Wench,—by this Hand she’s perfum’d, and smells like any Nosegay.—Prithee, dear Soul, let’s not play the Fool, and lose time,—precious time—for as Gad shall save me, I’m as honest a Fellow as breathes, tho I am a little disguis’d at present.—Come, I say,—why, thou may’st be free with me, I’ll be very secret. I’ll not boast who ’twas oblig’d me, not I—for hang me if I know thy Name.

Flor. Heavens! what a filthy beast is this!

Will. I am so, and thou oughtst the sooner to lie with me for that reason,—for look you, Child, there will be no Sin in’t, because ’twas neither design’d nor premeditated; ’tis pure Accident on both sides—that’s a certain thing now—Indeed should I make love to you, and you vow Fidelity—and swear and lye till you believ’d and yielded—Thou art therefore (as thou art a good Christian) oblig’d in Conscience to deny me nothing. Now—come, be kind, without any more idle prating.

Flor. Oh, I am ruin’d—wicked Man, unhand me.

Will. Wicked! Egad, Child, a Judge, were he young and vigorous, and saw those Eyes of thine, would know ’twas they gave the first blow—the first provocation.—Come, prithee let’s lose no time, I say—this is a fine convenient place.

Flor. Sir, let me go, I conjure you, or I’ll call out.

Will. Ay, ay, you were best to call Witness to see how finely you treat me—do.—

Flor. I’ll cry Murder, Rape, or any thing, if you do not instantly let me go.

Will. A Rape! Come, come, you lye, you Baggage, you lye: What, I’ll warrant you would fain have the World believe now that you are not so forward as I. No, not you,—why at this time of Night was your Cobweb-door set open, dear Spider—but to catch Flies?—Hah come—or I shall be damnably angry.—Why what a Coil is here.—

58 Flor. Sir, can you think—

Will. That you’d do it for nothing? oh, oh, I find what you’d be at—look here, here’s a Pistole for you—here’s a work indeed—here—take it, I say.—

Flor. For Heaven’s sake, Sir, as you’re a Gentleman—

Will. So—now—she would be wheedling me for more—what, you will not take it then—you’re resolv’d you will not.—Come, come, take it, or I’ll put it up again; for, look ye, I never give more.—Why, how now, Mistress, are you so high i’th’ Mouth, a Pistole won’t down with you?—hah—why, what a work’s here—in good time—come, no struggling, be gone—But an y’are good at a dumb Wrestle, I’m for ye,—look ye,—I’m for ye.— [She struggles with him.

Enter _Belvile_ and _Frederick_.

Bel. The Door is open, a Pox of this mad Fellow, I’m angry that we’ve lost him, I durst have sworn he had follow’d us.

Fred. But you were so hasty, Colonel, to be gone.

Flor. Help, help,—Murder!—help—oh, I’m ruin’d.

Belv. Ha, sure that’s _Florinda’s_ Voice. [Comes up to them. —A Man! Villain, let go that Lady.[A noise. [_Will._ turns and draws, _Fred._ interposes.

Flor. _Belvile!_ Heavens! my Brother too is coming, and ’twill be impossible to escape.—_Belvile_, I conjure you to walk under my Chamber-window, from whence I’ll give you some instructions what to do—This rude Man has undone us. [Exit.

Will. _Belvile!_

Enter _Pedro_, _Stephano_, and other Servants with Lights.

Ped. I’m betray’d; run, _Stephano_, and see if _Florinda_ be safe. [Exit _Steph._ So whoe’er they be, all is not well, I’ll to _Florinda’s_ Chamber. [They fight, and _Pedro’s_ Party beats ’em out; going out, meets _Stephano_.

59 Steph. You need not, Sir, the poor Lady’s fast asleep, and thinks no harm: I wou’d not wake her, Sir, for fear of frightning her with your danger.

Ped. I’m glad she’s there—Rascals, how came the Garden-Door open?

Steph. That Question comes too late, Sir: some of my Fellow-Servants Masquerading I’ll warrant.

Ped. Masquerading! a leud Custom to debauch our Youth—there’s something more in this than I imagine. [Exeunt.