_Abd_. So innocent! damn thy dissembling Tongue;
Did I not see, with what fierce wishing Eyes
He gazed upon thy Face, whilst yours as wantonly
Returned, and understood the amorous Language?

_Flor_. Admit it true, that such his Passions were,
As (Heaven's my witness) I've no cause to fear;
Have not I Virtue to resist his Flame,
Without a pointed Steel?

_Abd_. Your Virtue!--Curse on the weak Defence;
Your Virtue's equal to his Innocence.
Here, take this Dagger, and if this Night he visit thee,
When he least thinks on't--send it to his Heart.

_Flor_. If you suspect me, do not leave me, Sir.

_Abd_. Oh--I'm dispatch'd away--to leave you free--
About a wonderful Affair--mean time,
I know you will be visited--but as you wish to live,
At my return let me behold him dead.--
Be sure you do't--'tis for thy Honour's safety--
I love thee so, that I can take no rest,
Till thou hast kill'd thy Image in his Breast.
--Adieu, my dear _Florella_.
[Exit_.

_Flor_. Murder my King! the Man that loves me too--
What Fiend, what Fury such an act wou'd do?
My trembling Hand wou'd not the Weapon bear,