Lord. How! not in your pow’r?
Bel. No, Sir, I see my fatal Ruin in your Eyes, And know too well your Force, and my own Misery. —But, Sir—when I shall tell you who I’ve married—
Lord. Who you’ve married;—By all that’s sacred, if that be true, thou art undone for ever.
Bel. O hear me, Sir! I came with Hopes to have found you merciful.
Lord. Expect none from me; no, thou shalt not have So much of thy Estate, as will afford thee Bread: By Heav’n, thou shalt not.
Bel. Oh, pity me, my Lord, pity my Youth;
It is no Beggar, nor one basely born,
That I have given my Heart to, but a Maid,
Whose Birth, whose Beauty, and whose Education
Merits the best of Men.
Lord. Very fine! where is the Priest that durst dispose of you without my Order? Sirrah, you are my Slave—at least your whole Estate is at my mercy—and besides, I’ll charge you with an Action of 5000 pounds. For your ten Years Maintenance: Do you know that this in my power too?
Bel. Yes, Sir, and dread your Anger worse than Death.
Lord. Oh Villain! thus to dash my Expectation!
Bel. Sir, on my bended Knees, thus low I fall To beg your mercy.