Cel.  Do, whilst I meet thy Sword.

    [Opens her Arms, Diana stays him; he lets fall
    his Sword, and gazes.

Bel, Dull—­dull Adorer!  Not to know my Saint. 
Oh, how I have profan’d!  To what strange Idol
Was that I kneel’d,
Mistaking it for a Divinity?

Cel.  To your fair Wife Diana.

Bel.  Oh cruel Maid!  Has Heav’n design’d me any but Celinda?

Dia.  Maid!  Bless me!—­did I then love a Woman?  —­I am pleas’d thou should’st renounce me; make it good, And set me free from Fetters which I hate.

Bel.  If all our Laws can do’t, I will—­for here Ends all my Claim. [To Celinda.

Friend.  Was this the Wife you did demand of me?

Bel.  Yes, I had no other.

Dia.  Fair Maid! forgive me all my shameful Passion, And charge my Fault upon your Beauty only.

Cel.  Excellent Creature!  I shou’d sue for that, Which my Deceit will never make me hope.

Bel.  And art thou true to Love, and all thy Vows? 
Whilst I to save my Fortune,
(That only which you’d make me merit thee)
Gave my unwilling Hand to this fair noble Maid. 
—­Ah, Friendlove, when thou hear’st my Story told,
Thou wilt forgive, and pity me.

Dia.  What was’t you said, Sir? Friendlove!

Friend.  Yes, Madam, I hope the Name can make no difference; Or hate that still, so you but love the Man.

Dia.  Though I’m again defeated, yet this last Proves least offensive; nor shall an empty Word Alter my fix’d Resolves, to love you still.

Friend.  Then I am blest!

Bel.  But yet the Office of the Priest has past:  What Remedy for that?

Dia.  My Uncle’s Pow’r, the Nearness of our Blood, The Contradiction of our Circumstances.

Bel.  And above all that, my Contract with Celinda.  —­Methinks I feel a Joy spread o’er my Heart, The blessed Omen of approaching Happiness.

Cel.  I do believe thee; for by Sympathy, Mine takes new Fire and Hope.

Dia.  I have already writ to my Uncle, and the Messenger assur’d me, he would gratify my Desires; that done, I will be yours.
                                                [To Friendlove.

Bel.  But why thus drest? it might have led my Rage, Full of Despair and Jealousy to have hurt thee.

Cel.  Sir, when the Letter came of your being married,
I will not tell you all the Effects it had
Upon my desperate Soul;
But this I know, I had resolv’d to die,
But first to see you.  Your Page inform’d the Nurse
All that had past, and of the last Night’s Ball;
And much concern’d, she got this Habit for me,
And inform’d me how ’twas I was to act,
And that my Brother (describing of his Dress) was gone before. 
This made me haste, lest e’er I came
His Rage had done the Business which it went for.