The City Bride | Page 6

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, th? 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 alone can part.
Fri. Yet stay, and think what it is you undertake, Recall this Rash and suddain Resolution, Least you repent, alas when it is too late.
Bon. This were enough to shake a weaker Soul, But mine it moves not; like to a Mighty Oake, I'm plac'd above the Storms of Fear or Doubt.
Enter Arabella.
Fri. Sir, no more, the Bride,
Ara. Oh, Heavens defend me!
Bon. What ailes my Dearest Life?
Ara. I've lost the Key of this Chain I wear about my Neck And of these Bracelets, Oh! Unhappy Omen!
Bon. No, no, my Love; I found it as it lay at Random in your Chamber, and fearing it might be forgot, or lost, have laid it by; 'Tis safe my Love.
Ara. Indeed I'me very glad you've found it, but yet----
[sighs.
Bon. Yet, What my Dear? from whence proceeds that sigh?
Ara. Alas, I know not! Some busie Genius Whispers to my Soul, The loss of this upon my Wedding Day Portend's a greater e're the Day be past.
Bon. Banish such Fears, let's in