your lovely Bride, long may you
live and love.

_Enter_ Bellmour _above_.

_Bel_. Who is't has sent that Curse?

Sir _Tim_. What a Pox, is that _Bellmour_? The Rogue's in choler, the
Bride has not pleas'd him.

_Bel_. Dogs! Do you upbraid me? I'll be with you presently.

Sir _Tim_. Will you so?--but I'll not stay your coming.

_Cel_. But you shall, Sir.

_Bel_. Turn, Villains!

[_Sir_ Tim. _&c. offers to go off_, Celinda _steps forth, and
draws, they draw, and set upon her. Enter_ Bellmour _behind them:
They turn, and_ Celinda _sides with_ Bellmour, _and fights. Enter_
Diana, Bellmour _fights 'em out, and leaves_ Celinda _breathless,
leaning on her Sword_.

_Dia_. I'll ne'er demand the cause of this disorder,
But take this opportunity to fly
To the next hands will take me up--who's here?

_Cel_. Not yet, my sullen Heart!

_Dia_. Who's here? one wounded--alas--

_Cel_. 'Tis not so lucky--but who art thou
That dost with so much pity ask?

_Dia_. He seems a Gentleman--handsome and young-- [_Aside_.
Pray ask no Questions, Sir; but if you are what you seem,
Give a Protection to an unhappy Maid.
--Do not reply, but let us haste away.

_Cel_. Hah--What do I hear! sure, 'tis _Diana_.
--Madam, with haste, and joy, I'll serve you.
--I'll carry her to my own Lodgings.
Fortune, in this, has done my Sufferings right,
My Rival's in my Power, upon her Wedding-Night. [_Aside_.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Bellmour, _Sir_ Tim. Sham, _and_ Sharp.

Sir _Tim_. Lord, Lord, that you should not know your Friend and humble
Servant, _Tim. Tawdrey_--But thou look'st as if thou hadst not been
a-bed yet.

_Bel_. No more I have.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, then thou losest precious time, I'll not detain thee.
[_Offers to go_.

_Bel_. Thou art mistaken, I hate all Woman-kind--

Sir _Tim_. How, how!

_Bel_, Above an Hour--hark ye, Knight--I am as leud, and as debaucht
as thou art.

Sir _Tim_. What do you mean, _Frank_?

_Bel_. To tell a Truth, which yet I never did.
--I whore, drink, game, swear, lye, cheat, rob, pimp, hector, all,
all I do that's vitious.

Sir _Tim_. Bless me!

_Bel_. From such a Villian, hah!

Sir _Tim_. No, but that thou should'st hide it all this while.

_Bel_. Till I was married only, and now I can dissemble it no longer--
come--let's to a Baudy-House.

Sir _Tim_