Volume Iii Part 11 (1/2)

_Dia_. There's something of disorder in his Soul, Which I'm on fire to know the meaning of.

_Enter Sir_ Timothy, Sham, _and_ Sharp, _in Masquerade_.

Sir _Tim_. The Rogue is married, and I am so pleas'd, I can forgive him our last Night's Quarrel. Prithee, _Sharp_, if thou canst learn that young Thing's Name, 'tis a pretty airy Rogue, whilst I go talk to her.

_Sharp_. I will, Sir, I will.

[_One goes to take out a Lady_.

_Char_. Nay, Madam, you must dance. [_Dance_.

_Bel_. I hope you will not call it Rudeness, Madam, if I refuse you here.

[_The Lady that danced goes to take out the Bridegroom. After the Dance she takes out Sir_ Timothy, _they walk to a Courant_.

Am I still tame and patient with my Ills?

G.o.ds! what is Man, that he can live and bear, Yet know his Power to rid himself of Grief?

I will not live; or if my Destiny Compel me to't, it shall be worse than dying.

_Enter_ Page _with a Table-Book_.

_Bel_. What's this?

_Page_. The Answer of a Letter, Sir, you sent the divine _Celinda_; for so it was directed.

_Bel_.--Hah--_Celinda_--in my Croud of Thoughts I had forgot I sent--come nearer, Boy-- What did she say to thee?--Did she not smile?

And use thee with Contempt and Scorn?--tell me.

_Page_. How scorn, Sir!

_Bel_. Or she was angry--call'd me perjur'd Villain, False, and forsworn--nay, tell me truth.

_Page_. How, Sir?

_Bel_. Thou dost delay me--say she did, and please me.

_Page_. Sir!

_Bel_. Again--tell me, what answer, Rascal, did she send me?

_Page_. You have it, Sir, there in the Table-Book.

_Bel_. Oh, I am mad, and know not what I do.

--Prithee forgive me, Boy--take breath, my Soul, Before thou do'st begin; for this--perhaps, may be So cruel kind, To leave thee none when thou hast ended it.

[_Opens it, and reads_.

LETTER.

_I have took in the Poison which you sent, in those few fatal Words, ”Forgive me, my_ Celinda, _I am married”--'Twas thus you said--And I have only Life left to return, ”Forgive me my sweet_ Bellmour, _I am dead_.” CELINDA.