Lord. But, Frank, you must needs suppose—
Bel. Oh, I am ruin’d, lost, for ever lost.
Lord. What do you mean, Sir?
Bel. I mean, I cannot marry fair Diana.
Lord. Death! how’s this?
Bel. She is a thing above my humble wishes—
Lord. Is that all? Take you no care for that; for she loves you already, and I have resolv’d it, which is better yet.
Bel. Love me, Sir! I know she cannot, And Heav’n forbid that I should injure her.
Lord. Sir, this is a Put-off: resolve quickly, or I’ll compel you.
Bel. You wou’d not use Extremity; What is the Forfeit of my Disobedience?