Longing.--And yet one must force them to
what they most desire, before they will admit of it--Here am I sent out
a Scout of the Forlorn Hope, to discover the Approach of the Enemy--Well
--Mr. _Bellmour_, you are not to know, 'tis with the Consent of _Celinda_,
that you come--I must bear all the blame, what Mischief soever comes of
these Night-Works.

_Enter_ Bellmour.

Oh, are you come--Your Hour was Twelve, and now 'tis almost Two.

_Bel_. I could not get from _Friendlove_--Thou hast not told _Celinda_
of my coming?

_Nur_. No, no, e'en make Peace for me, and your self too.

_Bel_. I warrant thee, Nurse--Oh, how I hope and fear this Night's
Success!

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE II. _A Chamber_.

Celinda _in her Night-Attire, leaning on a Table.
Enter to her_ Bellmour _and_ Nurse.

_Cel_. Oh Heavens! Mr. _Bellmour_ at this late Hour in my Chamber!

_Bel_. Yes, Madam; but will approach no nearer till you permit me;
And sure you know my Soul too well to fear.

_Cel_. I do, Sir, and you may approach yet nearer,
And let me know your Business.

_Bel_. Love is my bus'ness, that of all the World;
Only my Flame as much surmounts the rest,
As is the Object's Beauty I adore.

_Cel_. If this be all, to tell me of your Love,
To morrow might have done as well.

_Bel_. Oh, no, to morrow would have been too late,
Too late to make returns to all my Pain.
--What disagreeing thing offends your Eyes?
I've no Deformity about my Person;
I'm young, and have a Fortune great as any
That do pretend to serve you;
And yet I find my Interest in your Heart,
Below those happy ones that are my Rivals.
Nay, every Fool that can but plead his Title,
And the poor Interest that a Parent gives him,
Can merit more than I.
--What else, my lovely Maid, can give a freedom
To that same talking, idle, knighted Fop?

_Cel_. Oh, if I am so wretched to be his,
Surely I cannot live;
For, Sir, I must confess I cannot love him.

_Bel_. But thou may'st do as bad, and marry him,
And that's a Sin I cannot over-live;
--No, hear my Vows--

_Cel_. But are you, Sir, in earnest?

_Bel_. In earnest? Yes, by all that's good, I am;
I love you more than I do Life, or Heaven!

_Cel_. Oh, what a pleasure 'tis to hear him say so! [_Aside_.
--But pray, how long, Sir, have you lov'd me so?

_Bel_. From the first moment that I saw your Eyes,
Your charming killing Eyes, I did adore 'em;
And ever sin