_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. _Bel_. Be not so hasty in your Goodness, Sir, Lest you repent as fast. _Dia_. Sir, we have an humble Suit to you. _Lord_. What is it ye can jointly ask, I will not grant? _Dia_. By all that Love you ever had for me, By all those Infant Charms which us’d to please you, When on your Lap you taught my Tongue that Art Which made those dear Impressions on your Heart, Which ever since to my Advantage grew, I do conjure you hear me now I sue, And grant the mighty Grace I beg of you. _Lord_. What is it you wou’d ask? _Bel_. Oh, dress your Face and Eyes in gentler Looks, If you wou’d have us hope for any Mercy. _Lord_. Rise, and whate’er you ask, I’ll freely grant. _Dia_. That you’ll undo that Knot, that ties us two. _Lord_. How! this Request from thee! who lov’d him once, And wish’d no good beyond possessing him. _Dia_. Heav’n has not, Sir, decreed us for each other: Something of Fate or Chance Has otherwise dispos’d those first Resolves. _Lord_. Too virtuous Maid, I know thou dost but feign, His Wickedness has forc’d thee to this change. _Dia_. No, Sir, were he the only Man Of kind and good, I never wou’d be his. --And if you shou’d compel me, I shou’d live The infamous Reproach of my whole Sex. _Lord_. Well, and you, Sir, that are the cause of this, What canst thou say to move me for thy Pardon? _Bel_. I am so guilty in your Opinion, My Prayers wou’d but make you merciless; I only say _Celinda_ is my Wife, And I shou’d injure this too generous Maid, Not to adore her equal to her Merit. _Lord_. I see, Sir, you have found your Wits again. --Well, I see there’s no opposing Destiny; And I have still such tenderness for thee, [_To_ Dia. That hadst thou pleaded his Cause to me before, I shou’d have been less cruel to him. --Where is that Lady which you so admire, Whose Beauty does eclipse that of _Diana_? [Bellmour _goes out, and brings in_ Celinda. _Dia_. This, Sir, is she who merits more than I. _Lord_. She’s fair indeed; here, _Frank_, I give thee thy _Celinda_, whose Beauty Excuses all thy Faults of Disobedience. _Bel_. Thus low, I thank you for this Goodness, Sir. [_Kneels_. _Lord_. There only wants the Ceremony of the Law to undo what’s between you and _Diana_, if she remain a Virgin. _Bel_. For me, by Heav’n she is; And for the rest, I do not doubt her Virtue. _Dia_. You may believe him, Sir; and this alone’s the Man, in whom I will, or never will be happy. _Lord_. Mr. _Friendlove_! I give Consent to’t, he has a noble Character; and what he wants in Fortune, has in Virtue--take her, young Man. _Friend_. ‘Tis such an Honour, Sir, that my Gratitude, without the mighty Passion I have for her, would make me ever thankful.