The Works of Aphra Behn
Chapter 274 : _Dia_. Yes, that _Diana_, Whom, maugre all the Penitence thou shew'st, Can scarce

_Dia_. Yes, that _Diana_, Whom, maugre all the Penitence thou shew'st, Can scarce forgive the Injuries thou hast done her.

_Bel_. I shew a Penitence for injuring thee!

By Heav'n, I never cou'd do one, or other; All that I am is the divine _Celinda's_.

_Friend_. He's stark mad! [_Aside_.

_Bel_. But since she cannot pardon, I can die.

[_Offers to fall on his Sword_.

_Cel_. Canst thou not credit me? She pardons thee.

Live--and enjoy--_Diana_.

[_Turns her Face from him_.

_Bel_. What art thou, who know'st her Heart so well?

Art thou my Rival? the blessed Youth, to whom She has given her Vows?--Live, and enjoy, _Diana_!

--Yes, yes, thou art my Rival, and I'll kill thee.

_Cel_. Do, whilst I meet thy Sword.

[_Opens her Arms_, Diana _stays him; he lets fall his Sword, and gazes_.

_Bel_, Dull--dull Adorer! Not to know my Saint.

Oh, how I have profan'd! To what strange Idol Was that I kneel'd, Mistaking it for a Divinity?

_Cel_. To your fair Wife _Diana_.

_Bel_. Oh cruel Maid!

Has Heav'n design'd me any but _Celinda_?

_Dia_. Maid! Bless me!--did I then love a Woman?

--I am pleas'd thou should'st renounce me; make it good, And set me free from Fetters which I hate.

_Bel_. If all our Laws can do't, I will--for here Ends all my Claim. [_To_ Celinda.

_Friend_. Was this the Wife you did demand of me?

_Bel_. Yes, I had no other.

_Dia_. Fair Maid! forgive me all my shameful Pa.s.sion, And charge my Fault upon your Beauty only.

_Cel_. Excellent Creature! I shou'd sue for that, Which my Deceit will never make me hope.

_Bel_. And art thou true to Love, and all thy Vows?

Whilst I to save my Fortune, (That only which you'd make me merit thee) Gave my unwilling Hand to this fair n.o.ble Maid.

--Ah, _Friendlove_, when thou hear'st my Story told, Thou wilt forgive, and pity me.

_Dia_. What was't you said, Sir? _Friendlove_!

_Friend_. Yes, Madam, I hope the Name can make no difference; Or hate that still, so you but love the Man.

_Dia_. Though I'm again defeated, yet this last Proves least offensive; nor shall an empty Word Alter my fix'd Resolves, to love you still.

_Friend_. Then I am blest!

_Bel_. But yet the Office of the Priest has past: What Remedy for that?

_Dia_. My Uncle's Pow'r, the Nearness of our Blood, The Contradiction of our Circ.u.mstances.

_Bel_. And above all that, my Contract with _Celinda_.

--Methinks I feel a Joy spread o'er my Heart, The blessed Omen of approaching Happiness.

_Cel_. I do believe thee; for by Sympathy, Mine takes new Fire and Hope.

_Dia_. I have already writ to my Uncle, and the Messenger a.s.sur'd me, he would gratify my Desires; that done, I will be yours.

[_To_ Friendlove.

_Bel_. But why thus drest? it might have led my Rage, Full of Despair and Jealousy to have hurt thee.

_Cel_. Sir, when the Letter came of your being married, I will not tell you all the Effects it had Upon my desperate Soul; But this I know, I had resolv'd to die, But first to see you. Your Page inform'd the Nurse All that had past, and of the last Night's Ball; And much concern'd, she got this Habit for me, And inform'd me how 'twas I was to act, And that my Brother (describing of his Dress) was gone before.

This made me haste, lest e'er I came His Rage had done the Business which it went for.

_Friend_. And so it had, hadst thou not hinder'd me; For I, Sir, was the Man who drew on you.

_Bel_. And was it thou that didst defend my Heart, That I might live to pay thy Goodness back?

_Cel_. It was to save your Life, and to expose my own.

_Dia_. Come, let's in, and consult what's best for us to do.

_Bel_. Come, my _Celinda_.

Let us no longer doubt, the Pow'rs above Will be propitious to united Love.

[_Ex_. Cel.

_Enter_ Servant.

_Serv_. Sir, my Lord Plotwell is at the Door in his Coach.

_Dia_. My Uncle come! Sir, we will not doubt our Fortune.

But how came he to know of my being here?

_Serv_. Madam, I fear he follow'd me after I had given him the Letter.

_Enter Lord_ Plotwell, Charles, Trusty.

_Lord_. _Bellmour_ and _Diana_ kneeling!

[Bel. _and_ Diana _kneel_.

--Rise; the Joy I have to see you thus, makes me Resolve to grant you any thing, and pardon All that's past.