_Char_. My Lord, when I demanded her, he said indeed that she was dead, and kill’d by him; but this I guess was the Effects of Madness, which Debauchery, and want of Sleep has brought him to. _Lord_. That shall be try’d; go to the Place where _Charles_ has directed you, and do as I command you. [_Ex. Servants_. --Oh, sweet _Diana_, in whom I had plac’d my absolute Delight, And gave thee to this Villain, because I wish’d thee happy. And are my Expectations fall’n to this? Upon his Wedding Night to abandon thee, And shew his long dissembled natural Leudness! _Char_. My Lord, I hope, ‘tis not his natural Temper; For e’er we parted, from a brutal Rudeness, He grew to all the Softness Grief could dictate. He talkt of breach of Vows, of Death, and Ruin, And dying at the Feet of a wrong’d Maid; I know not what he meant. _Lord_. Ay, there’s his Grief; there is some jilting Hussy has drawn him in; but I’ll revenge my self on both. _Enter_ Page. _Page_. A Letter for your Lordship. Lord _reads_. My LORD, _As your Goodness has been ever great towards me, so I humbly beseech you to continue it; and the greatest Proofs you can give me of it, is to use all your Interest to undo that tye between_ Bellmour _and my self, which with such Joy you knit. I will say no more, but as you love my Life, and my dearer Honour, get a Divorce, or you will see both ruin’d in Your_ Diana. [_Gives_ Charles _the Letter_. _Lord_. A Divorce! yes, if all my Interest or Estate can purchase it-- some Joy yet that thou art well. _Char_. Doubtless her Reasons must be great for this Request. _Lord_. Yes, for she lov’d him passionately; when I first told her of my Designs to marry ‘em together, she could not hide her Joy; which was one Motive, I urg’d it to him with such Violence. _Char_. Persons so near of Kin do seldom prosper in the Marriage-Bed. _Lord_. However ‘tis, I now think fit to unmarry ‘em; And as for him, I’ll use him with what Rigor The utmost Limits of the Law allows me. _Char_. Sir, I beseech you-- _Lord_. You beseech me! You, the Brother of the Villain! that has abus’d the best of all my Hopes!--No, I think--I shall grow (for his sake) to hate all that belong to him. _Char_. Sir, how, have I offended? _Lord_. Yes, Sir, you have offended me, and Nature has offended me; you are his Brother, and that’s an Offence to me. _Char_. Is that a Fault, my Lord? _Lord_. Yes, Sir, a great one, and I’ll have it so; and let me tell you, you nor your Sister (for that reason) must expect no more Friendship at my Hands, than from those that are absolute Strangers to you: Your Brother has refus’d you your Portions, and I’ll have as little Mercy As he, and so farewel to you--But where’s the Messenger that brought the Letter? _Page_. Without, my Lord. [_Ex_. Lord _and_ Page.