Lord. Yes, Sir, I will have mercy; I’ll give you Lodging—but in a Dungeon, Sir, Where you shall ask your Food of Passers by.
Bel. All this, I know, you have the Pow’r to do;
But, Sir, were I thus cruel, this hard Usage
Would give me Cause to execute it.
I wear a Sword, and I dare right my self;
And Heaven wou’d pardon it, if I should kill you:
But Heav’n forbid I shou’d correct that Law,
Which gives you Power, and orders me Obedience.
Lord. Very well, Sir, I shall tame that Courage, and punish that Harlot, whoe’er she be, that has seduc’d ye.
Bel. How, Harlot, Sir!—Death, such another Word,
And through all Laws and Reason I will rush,
And reach thy Soul, if mortal like thy Body.
—No, Sir, she’s chaste, as are the new-made Vows
I breath’d upon her Lips, when last we parted.
Lord. Who waits there?
Enter Trusty and Servants.
—Shall I be murder’d in my own House?
’.is time you were remov’d—
Go, get an Action of 5000 pounds, enter’d against him,
With Officers to arrest him.
Trusty. My Lord, ‘tis my young Master Bellmour.
Lord. Ye all doat upon him, but he’s not the Man you take him for.
Trusty. How, my Lord! not this Mr. Bellmour!