r that you sent for.

_Belv._ 'Tis well, and now my dear _Florinda_, let's fly to compleat
that mighty Joy we have so long wish'd and sigh'd for.-- Come, _Fred._
you'll follow?

_Fred._ Your Example, Sir,'twas ever my Ambition in War, and must be so
in Love.

_Will._ And must not I see this juggling Knot ty'd?

_Belv._ No, thou shalt do us better Service, and be our Guard, lest Don
_Pedro's_ sudden Return interrupt the Ceremony.

_Will._ Content; I'll secure this Pass.
[Ex. _Bel._ _Flor._ _Fred._ and _Val._

Enter _Boy_.

_Boy._ Sir, there's a Lady without wou'd speak to you. [To _Will._

_Will._ Conduct her in, I dare not quit my Post.

_Boy._ And, Sir, your Taylor waits you in your Chamber.

_Blunt._ Some comfort yet, I shall not dance naked at the Wedding.
[Ex. _Blunt_ and _Boy_.

Enter again the Boy, conducting in _Angelica_ in a masquing Habit
and a Vizard, _Will._ runs to her.

_Will._ This can be none but my pretty Gipsy-- Oh, I see you can follow
as well as fly-- Come, confess thy self the most malicious Devil in
Nature, you think you have done my Bus'ness with _Angelica_--

_Ang._ Stand off, base Villain--
[She draws a Pistol and holds to his Breast.

_Will._ Hah, 'tis not she: who art thou? and what's thy Business?

_Ang._ One thou hast injur'd, and who comes to kill thee for't.

_Will._ What the Devil canst thou mean?

_Ang._ By all my Hopes to kill thee--
[Holds still the Pistol to his Breast, he going back, she
following still.

_Will._ Prithee on what Acquaintance? for I know thee not.

_Ang._ Behold this Face!-- so lost to thy Remembrance!
And then call all thy Sins about thy Soul,
And let them die with thee. [Pulls off her Vizard.

_Will._ _Angelica!_

_Ang._ Yes, Traitor.
Does not thy guilty Blood run shivering thro thy Veins?
Hast thou no Horrour at this Sight, that tells thee,
Thou hast not long to boast thy shameful Conquest?

_Will._ Faith, no Child, my Blood keeps its old Ebbs and Flows still,
and that usual Heat too, that cou'd oblige thee with a Kindness, had I
but opportunity.

_Ang._ Devil! dost wanton with my Pain-- have at thy Heart.

_Will._ Hold, dear Virago! hold thy Hand a little,
I am not now at leisure to be kill'd-- hold and hear me--
Death, I think she's in earnest.
[Aside.

_Ang._ Oh if I take not heed,
My coward Heart will leave me to his Mercy.
[Aside, turning from him.
--What have