Flor. She’ll be disappointed then, who expects you this Night at the Garden-gate, and if you’ll fail not—as let me see the other Hand—you will go near to do—she vows to die or make you happy. [Looks on Callis, who observes ’em. Belv. What canst thou mean? Flor. That which I say—Farewel. [Offers to go. Belv. Oh charming Sybil, stay, complete that Joy, which, as it is, will turn into Distraction!—Where must I be? at the Garden-gate? I know it—at night you say— I’ll sooner forfeit Heaven than disobey. 24 Enter _Don Pedro_ and other Masquers, and pass over the Stage. Call. Madam, your Brother’s here. Flor. Take this to instruct you farther. [Gives him a Letter, and goes off. Fred. Have a care, Sir, what you promise; this may be a Trap laid by her Brother to ruin you. Belv. Do not disturb my Happiness with Doubts. [Opens the Letter. Will. My dear pretty Creature, a Thousand Blessings on thee; still in this Habit, you say, and after Dinner at this Place. Hell. Yes, if you will swear to keep your Heart, and not bestow it between this time and that. Will. By all the little Gods of Love I swear, I’ll leave it with you; and if you run away with it, those Deities of Justice will revenge me. [Ex. all the Women except Lucetta. Fred. Do you know the Hand? Belv. ’Tis _Florinda’s_. All Blessings fall upon the virtuous Maid. Fred. Nay, no Idolatry, a sober Sacrifice I’ll allow you. Belv. Oh Friends! the welcom’st News, the softest Letter!—nay, you shall see it; and could you now be serious, I might be made the happiest Man the Sun shines on. Will. The Reason of this mighty Joy. Belv. See how kindly she invites me to deliver her from the threaten’d Violence of her Brother—will you not assist me? Will. I know not what thou mean’st, but I’ll make one at any Mischief where a Woman’s concerned—but she’ll be grateful to us for the Favour, will she not? Belv. How mean you? Will. How should I mean? Thou know’st there’s but one way for a Woman to oblige me. Belv. Don’t prophane—the Maid is nicely virtuous. 25 Will. Who pox, then she’s fit for nothing but a Husband; let her e’en go, Colonel. Fred. Peace, she’s the Colonel’s Mistress, Sir. Will. Let her be the Devil; if she be thy Mistress, I’ll serve her—name the way. Belv. Read here this Postscript. [Gives him a Letter. Will. [Reads.] _At Ten at night—at the Garden-Gate—of which, if I cannot get the Key, I will contrive a way over the Wall—come attended with a Friend or two._—Kind heart, if we three cannot weave a String to let her down a Garden-Wall,’twere pity but the Hangman wove one for us all. Fred. Let her alone for that: your Woman’s Wit, your fair kind Woman, will out-trick a Brother or a Jew, and contrive like a Jesuit in Chains—but see, _Ned Blunt_ is stoln out after the Lure of a Damsel. [Ex. _Blunt_ and _Lucet._ Belv. So he’ll scarce find his way home again, unless we get him cry’d by the Bell-man in the Market-place, and ’twou’d sound prettily—a lost _English_ Boy of Thirty.