SCENE V.
Bellmour, Courtney, Belinda.
Bel.
O Bellmour! I have err'd.
Bell.
In what, Belinda?
Bel.
In sending Bargrave hence, enrag'd—I fear
He'll make us all repent his Disappointment.
Bell.
Heav'n wou'd disprove Repentance of that sort.
Let Wretches, loaded with such Guilt as mine,
Rue their ill Conduct. You are to be prais'd,
Who, by Discretion guided, kept your Honour
And Peace of Mind.
Bel.
Alas! I feel no Peace:
My Mind is all Distraction and Despair.
Bell.
I'm the guilty Cause of all your Sufferings;
You mourn for my Misfortunes and Distress:
For sure you do not grieve for Loss of Bargrave.
Bel.
Ah, my hard Fate!
Bell.
What means my Sister? Speak;
Wish you, unsaid, the Language that I counsell'd?
Did not your Heart approve your Tongue's Discourse?
Bel.
I own the Frailty of my Nature. Tho'
Bargrave is base, and obstinate and cruel,
I wish him mine, ev'n tho' I shou'd be wretched.
Bell.
The News does sink me deeper. Oh!
Bel.
My Brother,
(He offers to go.
Hear me! 'tis not that he's my Heart's Desire—
Heav'n knows I hate his Nature, nor esteem
His Person dear: But when I think of you,
Your Wife, your Children, Family and Fame—
What cou'd I not be willing to sustain?
Bell.
Then 'tis but Pity and Compassion still;
A generous Sympathy in our Distress!
I thank Thee for't. Yet seek not our Relief;
Nay, wish not for it, by inglorious Means.
Let us endure the worst, and fall together.
