Volume Iii Part 25 (2/2)

_Cel_. Heav'ns! he repents his Cruelty to her, And never mentions me! Ah then 'tis time to die.

And that I may be sure of Death-- [_Aside_.

Well, Sir, I will conduct this happy Lady to you.

[_Ex_. Cel.

_Bel_. G.o.ds! Happy!--whilst I am wretched.

--Oh, what an Ague chills my s.h.i.+vering Limbs, Turns my hot Rage to softest Love, and Shame!

Were I not here to die--here at her Feet, I wou'd not stand the Shock of her Reproaches.

--But yet she need not speak, a Look's sufficient To call up all my Sins to my undoing-- She comes--Oh Heav'n! she comes--

_Enter_ Celinda _and_ Diana.

--Like penitent Criminals thus--with my Eyes declin'd, I bow my Head down, for the last sad Blow.

[_Stands bow'd_.

_Cel_. Sir, in Obedience to your Commands, I've brought the Lady.

_Dia_. How! The perfidious _Bellmour_!

The only Object of my Hate and Scorn.

_Bel_. Say on, my angry Deity-- [_Kneels_.

Whilst I thus trembling hear my fatal Doom, Like Sinners, conscious ne'er to be forgiven, I dare not lift my guilty Eyes towards Heaven.

_Cel_. Can I hear this, and yet retain my Life?

_Dia_. Had I but two days since beheld this Youth Thus prostrate at my Feet, I should have thought My self more blest, Than to have been that Deity he calls me.

_Enter_ Friendlove.

_Friend_. Defend me! The Traitor here! And at _Diana's_ Feet!

The fittest Altar for my Sacrifice!

--Turn, turn, from what thou lov'st, and meet my Justice.

_Cel_. Oh, hold, my dearest Brother.

[Bellmour _rises, and turns about_.

_Bel_. Nay, now I'm ready for the welcome Sword, Since my _Celinda's_ false, and cannot pardon.

_Cel_. Oh, do not die with that profane Opinion.

_Celinda_ false! or cannot pardon thee!

_Dia_. Stay, generous Sir, my Pity has forgiven him.

_Bel_. Thou! Why, who art thou--_Diana_?

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