The City Bride | Page 6

done: Come Brother we are mist I
warrant you amongst the Young Fry, let's to 'um and, Dance till our
Legs ake again, come I'll lead the way.
Mr. Ven. We follow you.
[Exeunt.
Enter Friendly Reading the Letter.
Fr. Heaven in its excess of Goodness, bestow'd no greater Blessing on
Mankind than that of Friendship--To Murder any one is a Crime
unpardonable! But a Friend!--And of all Friends the nearest to my
Heart,--'Tis such an Imposition that Hell it self 'till now cou'd never
parallel; And yet this Devil of a Woman has power over me beyond all
Virtue. I am distracted in my Thoughts, and know not what to do; yet
something must be done without delay, or else I lose her quite: And yet
I fear 'tis most Impossible, for Friendship left the World, when Justice
fled, and all who now do wear that Name are the worst of Hypocrites,

Like Counterfeited Coin on which is seen, The formal Stamp; but
sordid Dross within.
Enter Bonivile.
Bon. My Friend alone and Thoughtful? say for what? That you alone
appear with Discontent, When all my Friends Congratulate my Bliss?
Is it because (which I durst ne're suspect) Your Love to me was not
intirely true? Or else perhaps, this Crown of Happiness You think
Misplac'd, and Envy it not yours.
Fri. Forbear such cruel Words-- How can you entertain a Thought so
Vile Of him whom so long you have call'd your Friend? May all the
Blesings Heaven can bestow On us poor Mortals in this World below,
Crown all your Days, and may you nothing see But flowing Tides of
sweet Felicity; But I, alas!--
Bon. Alas! What means my Friendly? Much hidden Grief that wretched
Word portends, Which thus disturbs the Quiet of my Friend? But come
disclose it to me, And since the Burthen is too much for one, I'll bear a
part to ease thy troubled Breast.
Fri. Oh Bonvile! Seek not to force this Fatal secret from me--
Bon. I must know it, by my best hopes I must.
Fri. Oh no! I cannot, Nay I dare not--
Bon. How dare not trust a secret to a Friend?
Fri. Oh Bonville, Bonville! Call me not your Friend, That Name strikes
horrour to my very Soul.
Bon. Ha! Art thou then a Stranger to that Name?
Fri. Indeed I am, and must be so for ever now.
Bon. Yet hear me Friendly; Deny me if thou can'st, Fixt as a Rock, I
vow I'll here remain, Until I have forc'd this Dire secret from thee.

Fri. Pardon me Sir, I hope you soon will hear it, But I----
[Offers to go.]
Bon. Yet stay, and since intreaty can't prevail, By all the Friendship
which you once profess'd, By all that's Holy, both in Heaven and Earth,
I now Conjure thee to impart it to me, Or by this Life----
Fri. Hold, hold, and since I can no longer hide it Know 'tis my Honour
then which lyes at Stake.
Bon. Thy Honour! How? Proceed.
Fri. By chance a Quarrel happen'd to arise Betwixt another and my self,
The Field, Time, Place, and all appointed, Nay Seconds must assist us
in the Deed: I have relied on many seeming Friends, (Such as profess
the bare and empty Name) And all refuse to venture in my Cause.
Bon. Is this all?
Fri All, Is it not enough? To see my Reputation, (the Lifes Blood of my
Soul) Nay all that's Dear, in Danger to be lost.
Bon. Not while thy Bonvile lives and wears a Sword: May all things
frown that I wou'd have to smile, May I live Poor, and Dye despised by
all, If I out live the ruine of thy Honour! Tell me the time my Friend?
Fri. Oh, spare me that, for, if once known the time, You'l Cancel this
your promise, and recall Your Friendly proffer.
Bon. Away with these Excuses, come the time.
Fri. At Seven this Evening.
Bon. The place?
Fri. Barn-Elms: Oh the fatal place! Where I too well foresee, The
certain fall and Ruine of my Honour!

Bon. No, Thou shalt not stay to forfeit thy lov'd Honour, Come I'm
ready to assist my Friend; and will along with you.
Fri. Alas. What mean you? Of all my Friends on you I ne're Relied; But
sure I Dream, I Rave, by Heav'ns I'm Mad! My Bonvile leave his Wife?
And on his Wedding Day? His Bride whom he perhaps may ne're Enjoy?
And all for me? O most unhappy Man!
Bon. Pleasure before my Friend I'll ne're prefer, Nor is it lost, thô for a
while, delay'd.
Fri. Are you then resolv'd to go?
Bon. I am as fixt in my Resolve as is the Libertin in vice, Which Death