The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iii Part 78

Sir _Feeb_. Ah--

_Let_. and _Phil_. [_squeak_]--Oh, Heavens!

--why, is it _Bellmour_? [_Aside to_ Phil.

_Bel_. Go not to Bed, I guard this sacred Place, And the Adulterer dies that enters here.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh--why do I shake?--sure I'm a Man, what art thou?

_Bel_. I am the wrong'd, the lost and murder'd _Bellmour_.

Sir _Feeb_. O Lord! it is the same I saw last night--Oh!--hold thy dread Vengeance--pity me, and hear me--Oh! a Parson--a Parson--what shall I do--Oh! where shall I hide my self?

_Bel_. I'th' utmost Borders of the Earth I'll find thee-- Seas shall not hide thee, nor vast Mountains guard thee: Even in the depth of h.e.l.l I'll find thee out, And lash thy filthy and adulterous Soul.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh! I am dead, I'm dead; will no Repentence save me? 'twas that young Eye that tempted me to sin; Oh!--

_Bel_. See, fair Seducer, what thou'st made me do; Look on this bleeding Wound, it reach'd my Heart, To pluck my dear tormenting Image thence, When News arriv'd that thou hadst broke thy Vow.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh Lord! oh! I'm glad he's dead though.

_Let_. Oh, hide that fatal Wound, my tender Heart faints with a Sight so horrid! [_Seems to Weep_.

Sir _Feeb_. So, she'll clear her self, and leave me in the Devil's Clutches.

_Bel_. You've both offended Heaven, and must repent or die.

Sir _Feeb_. Ah,--I do confess I was an old Fool,--bewitcht with Beauty, besotted with Love, and do repent most heartily.

_Bel_. No, you had rather yet go on in Sin: Thou wou'dst live on, and be a baffled Cuckold.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh, not for the World, Sir! I am convinc'd and mortifi'd.

_Bel_. Maintain her fine, undo thy Peace to please her, and still be Cuckol'd on,--believe her,--trust her, and be Cuckol'd still.

Sir _Feeb_. I see my Folly--and my Age's Dotage--and find the Devil was in me--yet spare my Age--ah! spare me to repent.

_Bel_. If thou repent'st, renounce her, fly her sight;-- Shun her bewitching Charms, as thou wou'dst h.e.l.l, Those dark eternal Mansions of the dead-- Whither I must descend.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh--wou'd he were gone!--

_Bel_. Fly--be gone--depart, vanish for ever from her to some more safe and innocent Apartment.

Sir _Feeb_. Oh, that's very hard!--

[_He goes back trembling_, Bellmour _follows in with his Dagger up; both go out_.

_Let_. Blest be this kind Release, and yet methinks it grieves me to consider how the poor old Man is frighted.

[Bellmour _re-enters, puts on his Coat_.

_Bel_.--He's gone, and lock'd himself into his Chamber-- And now, my dear _Leticia_, let us fly--

_Despair till now did my wild Heart invade, But pitying Love has the rough Storm allay'd_.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _Sir_ Cautious _his Garden_.

_Enter two Porters and_ Rag, _bearing_ Gayman _in a Chest; set it down, he comes forth with a Dark-lanthorn_.

_Gay_. Set down the Chest behind yon hedge of Roses--and then put on those Shapes I have appointed you--and be sure you well-favour'dly bang both _Bearjest_ and _Noisey_, since they have a mind to see the Devil.

_Rag_. Oh, Sir, leave 'em to us for that; and if we do not play the Devil with 'em, we deserve they shou'd beat us. But, Sir, we are in Sir _Cautious_ his Garden, will he not sue us for a Trespa.s.s?

_Gay_. I'll bear you out; be ready at my Call.

[_Exeunt_.

--Let me see--I have got no ready stuff to banter with--but no matter, any Gibberish will serve the Fools--'tis now about the hour of Ten--but Twelve is my appointed lucky Minute, when all the Blessings that my Soul could wish, shall be resign'd to me.

_Enter_ Bredwel.

--Hah! who's there? _Bredwel_?

_Bred_. Oh, are you come, Sir--and can you be so kind to a poor Youth, to favour his Designs, and bless his Days?

_Gay_. Yes, I am ready here with all my Devils, both to secure you your Mistress, and to cudgel your Captain and Squire, for abusing me behind my Back so basely.

_Bred_. 'Twas most unmanly, Sir, and they deserve it--I wonder that they come not.

_Gay_. How durst you trust her with him?

_Bred_. Because 'tis dangerous to steal a City-Heiress, and let the Theft be his--so the dear Maid be mine--Hark--sure they come--

_Enter_ Bearjest, _runs against_ Bredwel.

--Who's there? Mr. _Bearjest_?

_Bea_. Who's that? _Ned_? Well, I have brought my Mistress, hast thou got a Parson ready, and a License?

_Bred_. Ay, ay, but where's the Lady?

_Bea_. In the Coach, with the Captain at the Gate. I came before, to see if the Coast be clear.

_Bred_. Ay, Sir; but what shall we do? here's Mr. _Gayman_ come on purpose to shew you the Devil, as you desir'd.

_Bea_. Sho! a Pox of the Devil, Man--I can't attend to speak with him now.