Volume Iii Part 14 (1/2)

They both were forfeit, when I broke my Vow, Nor cou'd my Honour with thy Fame decline; Whoe'er profanes thee, injures nought of mine.

This Night upon the Couch my self I'll lay, And like _Franciscans_, let th'ensuing Day Take care for all the Toils it brings with it; Whatever Fate arrives, I can submit.

[_Exit_.

SCENE III. _A Street_.

_Enter_ Celinda, _drest as before_.

_Cel_. Not one kind Wound to send me to my Grave, And yet between their angry Swords I ran, Expecting it from _Bellmour_, or my Brother's: Oh, my hard Fate! that gave me so much Misery, And dealt no Courage to prevent the shock.

--Why came I off alive, that fatal Place Where I beheld my _Bellmour_, in th'embrace Of my extremely fair, and lovely Rival?

--With what kind Care she did prevent my Arm, Which (greedy of the last sad-parting twine) I wou'd have thrown about him, as if she knew To what intent I made the pa.s.sionate Offer?

--What have I next to do, but seek a Death Wherever I can meet it--Who comes here? [_Goes aside_.

_Enter Sir_ Timothy, Sham _and_ Sharp, _with Fidlers and Boy_.

Sir _Tim_. I believe this is the Bed-chamber Window where the Bride and Bridegroom lies.

_Sham_. Well, and what do you intend to do, if it be, Sir?

Sir _Tim_. Why, first sing a Baudy Song, and then break the Windows, in revenge for the Affront was put upon me to night.

_Sharp_. Faith, Sir, that's but a poor Revenge, and which every Footman may take of his Lady, who has turn'd him away for filching--You know, Sir, Windows are frail, and will yield to the l.u.s.ty Brickbats; 'tis an Act below a Gentleman.

Sir _Tim_. That's all one, 'tis my Recreation; I serv'd a Woman so the other night, to whom my Mistress had a Pique.

_Sham_. Ay, Sir, 'tis a Revenge fit only for a Wh.o.r.e to take--And the Affront you receiv'd to Night, was by mistake.

Sir _Tim_. Mistake! how can that be?

_Sham_. Why, Sir, did you not mind, that he that drew upon _Bellmour_, was in the same Dress with you.

Sir _Tim_. How shou'd his be like mine?

_Sham_. Why, by the same Chance, that yours was like his--I suppose sending to the Play-house for them, as we did, they happened to send him such another Habit, for they have many such for dancing Shepherds.

Sir _Tim_. Well, I grant it a Mistake, and that shall reprieve the Windows.

_Sharp_. Then, Sir, you shew'd so much Courage, that you may bless the Minute that forc'd you to fight.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, but between you and I, 'twas well he kick'd me first, and made me angry, or I had been l.u.s.tily swing'd, by Fortune--But thanks to my Spleen, that sav'd my Bones that bout--But then I did well--hah, came briskly off, and the rest.

_Sham_. With Honour, Sir, I protest.

Sir _Tim_. Come then, we'll serenade him. Come, Sirrah, tune your Pipes, and sing.

_Boy_. What shall I sing, Sir?

Sir _Tim_. Any thing sutable to the Time and Place.

SONG.