The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iii Part 4

_Bel_. Yes.

Sir _Tim_. Oh, I had forgot thou art a modest Rogue, and to thy eternal Shame, hadst never the Reputation of a Mistress--Lord, Lord, that I could see thee address thy self to a Lady--I fancy thee a very ridiculous Figure in that Posture, by Fortune.

_Bel_. Why, Sir, I can court a Lady--

Sir _Tim_. No, no, thou'rt modest; that is to say, a Country Gentleman; that is to say, ill-bred; that is to say, a Fool, by Fortune, as the World goes.

_Bel_. Neither, Sir--I can love--and tell it too--and that you may believe me--look on this Lady, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Look on this Lady, Sir--Ha, ha, ha,--Well, Sir--Well, Sir-- And what then?

_Bel_. Nay, view her well, Sir--

Sir. _Tim_. Pleasant this--Well, _Frank_, I do--And what then?

_Bel_. Is she not charming fair--fair to a wonder!

Sir _Tim_. Well, Sir, 'tis granted--

_Bel_. And canst thou think this Beauty meant for thee, for thee, dull common Man?

Sir _Tim_. Very well, what will he say next?

_Bel_. I say, let me no more see thee approach this Lady.

Sir _Tim_. How, Sir, how?

_Bel_. Not speak to her, not look on her--by Heaven--not think of her.

Sir _Tim_. How, _Frank_, art in earnest?

_Bel_. Try, if thou dar'st.

Sir _Tim_. Not think of her!--

_Bel_. No, not so much as in a Dream, could I divine it.

Sir _Tim_. Is he in earnest, Mr. _Friendlove_?

_Friend_. I doubt so, Sir _Timothy_.

Sir _Tim_. What, does he then pretend to your Sister?

_Bel_. Yes, and no Man else shall dare do so.

Sir _Tim_. Take notice I am affronted in your Lodgings--for you, _Bellmour_--You take me for an a.s.s--therefore meet me to morrow Morning about five, with your Sword in your Hand, behind _Southampton_ House.

_Bel_. 'Tis well--there we will dispute our t.i.tle to _Celinda_.

[_Exit Sir_ Tim.

_Dull Animal! The G.o.ds cou'd ne'er decree So bright a Maid shou'd be possest by thee_.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. _A Palace_.

_Enter_ Nurse _with a Light_.

_Nur_. Well, 'tis an endless trouble to have the Tuition of a Maid in love, here is such Wis.h.i.+ng and Longing.--And yet one must force them to what they most desire, before they will admit of it--Here am I sent out a Scout of the Forlorn Hope, to discover the Approach of the Enemy--Well --Mr. _Bellmour_, you are not to know, 'tis with the Consent of _Celinda_, that you come--I must bear all the blame, what Mischief soever comes of these Night-Works.

_Enter_ Bellmour.

Oh, are you come--Your Hour was Twelve, and now 'tis almost Two.

_Bel_. I could not get from _Friendlove_--Thou hast not told _Celinda_ of my coming?

_Nur_. No, no, e'en make Peace for me, and your self too.

_Bel_. I warrant thee, Nurse--Oh, how I hope and fear this Night's Success!

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE II. _A Chamber_.

Celinda _in her Night-Attire, leaning on a Table.

Enter to her_ Bellmour _and_ Nurse.

_Cel_. Oh Heavens! Mr. _Bellmour_ at this late Hour in my Chamber!

_Bel_. Yes, Madam; but will approach no nearer till you permit me; And sure you know my Soul too well to fear.

_Cel_. I do, Sir, and you may approach yet nearer, And let me know your Business.

_Bel_. Love is my bus'ness, that of all the World; Only my Flame as much surmounts the rest, As is the Object's Beauty I adore.

_Cel_. If this be all, to tell me of your Love, To morrow might have done as well.

_Bel_. Oh, no, to morrow would have been too late, Too late to make returns to all my Pain.

--What disagreeing thing offends your Eyes?

I've no Deformity about my Person; I'm young, and have a Fortune great as any That do pretend to serve you; And yet I find my Interest in your Heart, Below those happy ones that are my Rivals.

Nay, every Fool that can but plead his t.i.tle, And the poor Interest that a Parent gives him, Can merit more than I.