e of the lady to him, and put a
shame-settlement upon Sir Joseph.

SHARP. O rogue! Well, but I hope--

SET. No, no; never fear me, sir. I privately informed the knight of the
treachery, who has agreed seemingly to be cheated, that the captain may
be so in reality.

SHARP. Where's the bride?

SET. Shifting clothes for the purpose, at a friend's house of mine.
Here's company coming; if you'll walk this way, sir, I'll tell you.

SCENE X.

BELLMOUR, BELINDA, ARAMINTA, _and_ VAINLOVE.

VAIN. Oh, 'twas frenzy all: cannot you forgive it? Men in madness have
a title to your pity. [_To_ ARAMINTA.]

ARAM. Which they forfeit, when they are restored to their senses.

VAIN. I am not presuming beyond a pardon.

ARAM. You who could reproach me with one counterfeit, how insolent would
a real pardon make you! But there's no need to forgive what is not worth
my anger.

BELIN. O' my conscience, I could find in my heart to marry thee, purely
to be rid of thee--at least thou art so troublesome a lover, there's
hopes thou'lt make a more than ordinary quiet husband. [_To_ BELLMOUR.]

BELL. Say you so? Is that a maxim among ye?

BELIN. Yes: you fluttering men of the _mode_ have made marriage a mere
French dish.

BELL. I hope there's no French sauce. [_Aside_.]

BELIN. You are so curious in the preparation, that is, your courtship,
one would think you meant a noble entertainment--but when we come to
feed, 'tis all froth, and poor, but in show. Nay, often, only remains,
which have been I know not how many times warmed for other company, and
at last served up cold to the wife.

BELL. That were a miserable wretch indeed, who could not afford one warm
dish for the wife of his bosom. But you timorous virgins form a dreadful
chimaera of a husband, as of a creature contrary to that soft, humble,
pliant, easy thing, a lover; so guess at plagues in matrimony, in
opposition to the pleasures of courtship. Alas! courtship to marriage,
is but as the music in the play-house, until the curtain's drawn; but
that once up, then opens the scene of pleasure.

BELIN. Oh, foh,--no: rather courtship to marriage, as a very witty
prologue to a very dull play.

SCENE XI.

[_To them_] SHARPER.

SHARP. Hist! Bellmour. If you'll bring the ladies, make haste to
Sylvia's lodgings, before Heartwell has fretted himself out of breath.

BELL. You have an opportunity now, madam, to revenge yourself upon
Heartwell,