_Lord_. Sir, this is a Put-off: resolve quickly, or I'll compel you.

_Bel_. You wou'd not use Extremity;
What is the Forfeit of my Disobedience?

_Lord_. The loss of all your Fortune,
If you refuse the Wife I have provided--
Especially a handsom Lady, as she is, _Frank_.

_Bel_. Oh me, unhappy!
What cursed Laws provided this Severity?

_Lord_. Even those of your Father's Disposal, who seeing so many
Examples in this leud Age, of the ruin of whole Families by imprudent
Marriages, provided otherwise for you.

_Bel_. But, Sir, admit _Diana_ be inclin'd,
And I (by my unhappy Stars so curs'd)
Should be unable to accept the Honour.

_Lord_. How, Sir! admit!--I can no more admit,
Than you can suppose--therefore give me your final Answer.

_Bel_. Sir, can you think a Blessing e'er can fall
Upon that Pair, whom Interest joins, not Love?

_Lord_. Why, what's in _Diana_, that you shou'd not love her?

_Bel_. I must confess she has a thousand Virtues,
The least of which wou'd bless another Man;