Sir Tim. Nay, then I am angry, and I dare fight.
[They fight out.
Lord. Go, Ladies, see the Bride to her Chamber.
[Ex. Women.
Bel. The Knight, Sir Timothy Tawdrey; —The Rascal mist me at the appointed place, And comes to attack me here— [Turns to Cel. —Brave Youth, I know not how I came to merit this Relief from thee: Sure thou art a Stranger to me, thou’rt so kind.
Cel. Sir, I believe those happy ones that know you Had been far kinder, but I’m indeed a Stranger.
Bel. Mayst thou be ever so to one so wretched; I will not ask thy Name, lest knowing it, (I’m such a Monster) I should ruin thee.
Cel. Oh, how he melts my Soul! I cannot stay, Lest Grief, my Sex, my Bus’ness shou’d betray. [Aside. —Farewel, Sir— May you be happy in the Maid you love. [Exit Cel.
Bel. O, dost thou mock my Griefs? by Heaven, he did. —Stay, Sir, he’s gone.
Enter Charles Bellmour.