Hell. This Apartment (new furbisht and fitted out for the young Wife) he (out of Freedom) makes his Dressing-room; and being a frugal and a jealous Coxcomb, instead of a Valet to uncase his feeble Carcase, he desires you to do that Office—Signs of Favour, I’ll assure you, and such as you must not hope for, unless your Woman be out of the way. Pedro. Have you done yet? Hell. That Honour being past, the Giant stretches it self, yawns and sighs a Belch or two as loud as a Musket, throws himself into Bed, and expects you in his foul Sheets, and e’er you can get your self undrest, calls you with a Snore or two— And are not these fine Blessings to a young Lady? 14 Pedro. Have you done yet? Hell. And this man you must kiss, nay, you must kiss none but him too—and nuzle thro his Beard to find his Lips—and this you must submit to for threescore Years, and all for a Jointure. Pedro. For all your Character of Don _Vincentio_, she is as like to marry him as she was before. Hell. Marry Don _Vincentio!_ hang me, such a Wedlock would be worse than Adultery with another Man: I had rather see her in the _Hostel de Dieu_, to waste her Youth there in Vows, and be a Handmaid to Lazers and Cripples, than to lose it in such a Marriage. Pedro. You have consider’d, Sister, that _Belvile_ has no Fortune to bring you to, is banisht his Country, despis’d at home, and pity’d abroad. Hell. What then? the Vice-Roy’s Son is better than that Old Sir Fisty. Don _Vincentio!_ Don _Indian!_ he thinks he’s trading to _Gambo_ still, and wou’d barter himself (that Bell and Bawble) for your Youth and Fortune. Pedro. _Callis_, take her hence, and lock her up all this Carnival, and at Lent she shall begin her everlasting Penance in a Monastery. Hell. I care not, I had rather be a Nun, than be oblig’d to marry as you wou’d have me, if I were design’d for’t. Pedro. Do not fear the Blessing of that Choice—you shall be a Nun. Hell. Shall I so? you may chance to be mistaken in my way of Devotion—A Nun! yes I am like to make a fine Nun! I have an excellent Humour for a Grate: No, I’ll have a Saint of my own to pray to shortly, if I like any that dares venture on me. [Aside. Pedro. _Callis_, make it your Business to watch this wild Cat. As for you, _Florinda_, I’ve only try’d you all this while, and urg’d my Father’s Will; but mine is, that you would love _Antonio_, he is brave and young, and all that can compleat the Happiness of a gallant Maid—This Absence 15 of my Father will give us opportunity to free you from _Vincentio_, by marrying here, which you must do to morrow. Flor. To morrow! Pedro. To morrow, or ’twill be too late—’tis not my Friendship to _Antonio_, which makes me urge this, but Love to thee, and Hatred to _Vincentio_—therefore resolve upon’t to morrow. Flor. Sir, I shall strive to do, as shall become your Sister. Pedro. I’ll both believe and trust you—Adieu. [Ex. _Ped._ and _Steph._