The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume 3 | Page 9

seen your Uncle since your Arrival.
Bel. 'Tis Death to part with thee, my fair Celinda; But our hard Fates impose this Separation: --Farewel--Remember thou'rt all mine.
Cel. What have I else of Joy to think upon? --Go--go--depart.
Bel. I will--but 'tis as Misers part with Gold, Or People full of Health depart from Life.
Friend. Go, Sister, to your Bed, and dream of him.
[Ex. Cel. and Nurse.
Bel. Whilst I prepare to meet this Fop to fight him.
Friend. Hang him, he'll ne'er meet thee; to beat a Watch, or kick a Drawer, or batter Windows, is the highest pitch of Valour he e'er arriv'd to.
Bel. However, I'll expect him, lest he be fool-hardy enough to keep his Word.
Friend. Shall I wait on thee?
Bel. No, no, there's no need of that--Good-morrow, my best Friend.
Friend. But e'er you go, my dearest Friend and Brother, Now you are sure of all the Joys you wish From Heaven, do not forgetful grow of that great Trust I gave you of all mine; but, like a Friend, Assist me in my great Concern of Love With fair Diana, your lovely Cousin. You know how long I have ador'd that Maid; But still her haughty Pride repell'd my Flame, And all its fierce Efforts.
Bel. She has a Spirit equal to her Beauty, As mighty and tyrannick; yet she has Goodness, And I believe enough inclin'd to Love, When once her Pride's o'ercome. I have the Honour To be the Confident of all her Thoughts: And to augment thy Hopes, 'tis not long since She did with Sighs confess to me, she lov'd A Man, she said, scarce equal to her Fortune: But all my Interest could not learn the Object; But it must needs be you, by what she said. This I'll improve, and so to your Advantage--
Friend. I neither doubt thy Industry, nor Love; Go, and be careful of my Interest there, Whilst I preserve thine as intirely here.
[Ex. severally.

SCENE III. Sir Timothy's House.
Enter Sir Timothy, Sham, Sharp, and Boy.
Sharp. Good morrow, Sir Timothy; what, not yet ready, and to meet Mr. Bellmour at Five? the time's past.
Sir Tim.--Ay, Pox on't--I han't slept to Night for thinking on't.
Sham. Well, Sir Timothy, I have most excellent News for you, that will do as well; I have found out--
Sir Tim. A new Wench, I warrant--But prithee, Sham, I have other matters in hand; 'Sheart, I am so mortify'd with this same thought of Fighting, that I shall hardly think of Womankind again.
Sharp. And you were so forward, Sir Timothy--
Sir Tim. Ay, Sharp, I am always so when I am angry; had I been but A little more provok'd then, that we might have gone to't when the heat was brisk, I had done well--but a Pox on't, this fighting in cool Blood I hate.
Sham. 'Shaw, Sir, 'tis nothing, a Man wou'd do't for Exercise in a Morning.
Sir Tim. Ay, if there were no more in't than Exercise; if a Man cou'd take a Breathing without breathing a Vein--but, Sham, this Wounds, and Blood, sounds terribly in my Ears; but since thou say'st 'tis nothing, prithee do thou meet Bellmour in my stead; thou art a poor Dog, and 'tis no matter if the World were well rid of thee.
Sham. I wou'd do't with all my Soul--but your Honour, Sir--
Sir Tim.--My Honour! 'tis but Custom that makes it honourable to fight Duels--I warrant you the wise Italian thinks himself a Man of Honour; and yet when did you hear of an Italian, that ever fought a Duel? Is't not enough, that I am affronted, have my Mistress taken away before my Face, hear my self call'd, dull, common Man, dull Animal, and the rest?--But I must after all give him leave to kill me too, if he can--And this is your damn'd Honourable English way of shewing a Man's Courage.
Sham. I must confess I am of your mind, and therefore have been studying a Revenge, sutable to the Affront: and if I can judge any thing, I have hit it.
Sir Tim. Hast thou? dear Sham, out with it.
Sham. Why, Sir--what think you of debauching his Sister?
Sir Tim. Why, is there such a thing in Nature?
Sham. You know he has a Sister, Sir.
Sir Tim. Yes, rich, and fair.
Sham. Both, or she were not worthy of your Revenge.
Sir Tim. Oh, how I love Revenge, that has a double Pleasure in it--and where--and where is this fine piece of Temptation?
Sham. In being, Sir--but Sharp here, and I, have been at some cost in finding her out.
Sir Tim. Ye shall be overpaid--there's Gold, my little Maquere--but she's very handsom?
Sharp. As a Goddess, Sir.
Sir Tim. And art thou sure she will be leud?
Sharp. Are we sure she's a Woman, Sir?--Sure, she's in her Teens, has Pride and Vanity--and two or three Sins more that I cou'd name,