_Flor._ Farewell, sir! yet I bid you take this purse
'Tis justice--nay, my will!

_Arth._ Oh, farewell, Florence
May angels light thy feet, and all the stars
From heaven race with envious beams to shed
Celestial brightness on the path thou blessest.

[_Exit FLORENCE, R. ARTHUR gazes after
FLORENCE. WILLIAM and BARBARA, coming down, L._]

_Will._ Sweet Bab, I love thee.

_Barb._ That is a man's saying.

_Will._ Thou wouldst not have it said by anything
but a man. Thou wilt not forget?

_Barb._ There, yes! no! anything!

[_Tries to get away. WILLIAM gives BARBARA a kiss._]

_Barb._ Oh, dear, I must go. [_Exit R._]

_Arth._ She's gone!

_Will._ They are, sir!

_Arth._ What _they_--