_Bel_. I ask not thine, but mine lies only this way. [_Offers to go in again_. _Friend_. By Heav’n, you shall not enter here. _Bel_. I know thou lov’st her. And ‘tis with Reason thou deny’st an Entrance To one so much unworthy to approach her. _Friend_. Yes, I do love her, and dare own it too; And will defend her from one so base and treacherous. _Bel_. Who dares deny thy Reasons? _Friend_. Sh’has made me take an Oath, to fight with thee; And every Wound my lucky Sword shou’d make, She bad me say, was sent thee from her Hate. _Bel_. Oh, I believe thee: prithee tell on, young Man, That I may die without the aid of Wounds. _Friend_. To break thy Heart, know then, she loves another, And has took back the Vows she made to thee, And given ‘em to a Man more worthy of ‘em. _Bel_. Alas! I credit thee--yet--then, by Heav’n, she’s false! And I will know, why ‘tis she is thus perjur’d. [_Offers to go_. --Nay, now--nor Heaven, nor Hell, shall hinder me. --Stand off, or to the number I’ll add one Sin more, And make my Passage to it through thy Heart. _Friend_. And so you shall, Sir. [_They fight_, Bellmour disarms Friend, and runs in_. --Disarm’d! by Heav’n, you shall not so escape A Rage that is too just here to give o’er. SCENE IV. _Changes to the Inside of_ Friendlove’s _Lodgings_. _Enter_ Celinda, _as before, met by_ Nurse. _Nur_. Oh, Madam, here’s Mr. Bellmour; he has wounded my young Master, who deny’d him Entrance, and is come into the House, and all in Rage demands his Wife. _Cel_. Oh Heav’n! Demands his Wife! Is that sad Curse Added to all the rest?--Does he then love her? _Enter_ Bellmour _with two Swords_. _Nur_. Whither do you press, Sir? and what’s your business? _Bel_. To see my Wife, my Wife, Impertinence; And must I meet with nought but Opposition? [_Pushes her roughly away_. _Cel_. Let him come in. _Nur_. Marry, he lets himself in, I thank him. _Cel_. What Man art thou thus cover’d o’er with Horror? _Bel_. One sent from Hell to punish Perjury! --Where’s this perfidious Fair? this blushless Maid, That has by my Example broke her Vows? A Precedent that Fiends wou’d shame to follow. _Cel_. Who is’t you mean, Sir? _Bel_. A thing that has no Name, she is so bad; One who so lately gave her self to me, And now is flown into another’s Arms: One that attacks my Life, for the same Sins Which she her self commits--and thinks to live too. --Yet still she is my Wife, whom I have injur’d: Till when, she was a Saint--come, lead me to her, Though she be false as I, yet I’ll forgive it. [_Throws by the Swords_. _Cel_. Heav’ns! he repents his Cruelty to her, And never mentions me! Ah then ‘tis time to die. And that I may be sure of Death-- [_Aside_. Well, Sir, I will conduct this happy Lady to you. [_Ex_. Cel.