Lord.  By all means, Sir—­

Bel.  If I must marry any but Celinda,
I shall not, Sir, enjoy one moment’s Bliss: 
I shall be quite unman’d, cruel and brutal;
A Beast, unsafe for Woman to converse with. 
Besides, Sir, I have given my Heart and Faith,
And my second Marriage is Adultery.

Lord.  Heart and Faith, I am glad ’tis no worse; if the Ceremony of the Church has not past, ’tis well enough.

Bel.  All, Sir, that Heaven and Love requires, is past.

Lord.  Thou art a Fool, Frank, come—­dry thy Eyes.  And receive Diana—­Trusty, call in my Niece.

Bel.  Yet, Sir, relent, be kind, and save my Soul.

[Ex.  Trusty.

Lord.  No more—­by Heaven, if you resist my Will, I’ll make a strange Example of thee, and of that Woman, whoe’er she be, that drew you to this Folly.  Faith and Vows, quoth ye!

Bel.  Then I obey.

Enter Trusty and Diana.

Lord.  Look ye here, Frank; Is this a Lady to be dislik’d?  Come hither, Frank—­Trusty, haste for Dr. Tickletext, my Chaplain’s not in Town; I’ll have them instantly married—­Come hither, Diana—­will you marry your Cousin, Frank Bellmour?

Dia.  Yes, if it be your pleasure; Heaven cou’d not let fall a greater Blessing. [Aside.

Lord.  And you, Frank, will you marry my Niece Diana?

Bel.  Since you will have it so.

Lord.  Come, follow me then, and you shall be both pleas’d.

Bel.  Oh my Celinda!—­

    To preserve thee, what is’t I wou’d not do? 
    Forfeit my Heaven, nay more, I forfeit you.

[Exit.

SCENE V. The Street.

    Enter Sir Timothy Tawdrey, Sham and Sharp.

Sir Tim.  Now, Sham, art not thou a damn’d lying Rogue, to make me saunter up and down the Mall all this Morning, after a Woman that thou know’st in thy Conscience was not likely to be there?

Sham.  Why, Sir—­if her Maid will be a jilting Whore, how can I help it?—­Sharp, thou know’st we presented her handsomly, and she protested she’d do’t.

Sharp.  Ay, ay, Sir:  But the Devil a Maid we saw. [Aside.

Sham.  Sir, it may be Things have so fallen out, that she could not possibly come.

Sir Tim.  Things! a Pox of your Tricks—­Well, I see there’s no trusting a poor Devil—­Well, what Device will your Rogueship find out to cheat me next?

Sham.  Prithee help me out at a dead lift, Sharp. [Aside.

Sharp.  Cheat you, Sir!—­if I ben’t reveng’d on this She-Counsellor of the Patching and Painting, this Letter-in of Midnight Lovers, this Receiver of Bribes for stol’n Pleasures; may I be condemn’d never to make love to any thing of higher Quality.