The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume IV
Chapter 9
Enter _Isabella_ groping as in the dark.
_Isab._ Pray Heaven I get undiscover’d to my Chamber, where I’ll make Vows against this perjured Man; hah, sure he follows still; no Wood-Nymph ever fled before a Satyr, with half that trembling haste I flew from _Lodwick_.--Oh, he has lost his Virtue, and undone me. [Goes out groping, and the noise of Serenade again.