Bel.  Thy constant true Adorer,
Who all this fatal Day has haunted thee
To ease his tortur’d Soul. [Approaching nearer.

Let.  My Heart is well acquainted with that Voice,
But Oh, my Eyes dare not encounter thee.
                           [Speaking with signs of fear.

Bel.  Is it because thou’st broken all thy Vows?  —­Take to thee Courage, and behold thy Slaughters.

Let.  Yes, though the Sight wou’d blast me, I wou’d view it. [Turns.  —­’Tis he—­’tis very Bellmour! or so like—­ I cannot doubt but thou deserv’st this Welcome. [Embraces him.

Bel.  Oh my Leticia!

Let.  I’m sure I grasp not Air; thou art no Fantom: 
Thy Arms return not empty to my Bosom,
But meet a solid Treasure.

Bel.  A Treasure thou so easily threw’st away; A Riddle simple Love ne’er understood.

Let.  Alas, I heard, my Bellmour, thou wert dead.

Bel.  And was it thus you mourn’d my Funeral?

Let.  I will not justify my hated Crime: 
But Oh! remember I was poor and helpless,
And much reduc’d, and much impos’d upon.

[Bellmour weeps.

Bel.  And Want compell’d thee to this wretched Marriage—­did it?

Let.  ’Tis not a Marriage, since my Bellmour lives;
The Consummation were Adultery. 
I was thy Wife before, wo’t thou deny me?

Bel.  No, by those Powers that heard our mutual Vows, Those Vows that tie us faster than dull Priests.

Let.  But oh my Bellmour, thy sad Circumstances
Permit thee not to make a publick Claim: 
Thou art proscribed, and diest if thou art seen.

Bel.  Alas!

Let.  Yet I wou’d wander with thee o’er the World, And share thy humblest Fortune with thy Love.

Bel.  Is’t possible, Leticia, thou wou’dst fly To foreign Shores with me?

Let.  Can Bellmour doubt the Soul he knows so well?

Bel.  Perhaps in time the King may find my Innocence, and may extend
  his Mercy: 
Mean time I’ll make provision for our Flight.

Let.  But how ’twixt this and that can I defend My self from the loath’d Arms of an impatient Dotard, That I may come a spotless Maid to thee?

Bel.  Thy native Modesty and my Industry
Shall well enough secure us. 
Feign your nice Virgin-Cautions all the day;
Then trust at night to my Conduct to preserve thee. 
—­And wilt thou yet be mine?  Oh, swear a-new,
Give me again thy Faith, thy Vows, thy Soul;
For mine’s so sick with this Day’s fatal Business,
It needs a Cordial of that mighty strength;
Swear—­swear, so as if thou break’st—­
Thou mayst be—­any thing—­but damn’d, Leticia.

Let.  Thus then, and hear me, Heaven! [Kneels.