Celinda _runs between their Swords, and defends_ Bellmour;
_Sir_ Tim. Sham, _and_ Sharp _draw, and run into several
Corners, with signs of Fear_.

_Friend_. Who art thou, that thus fondly guard'st his Heart?
[_To_ Celinda.
--Be gone, and let me meet it.

_Cel_. That thou mayst do through mine, but no way else.

_Friend_. Here are too many to encounter, and I'll defer my Vengeance.

_Char_. Stay, Sir, we must not part so.

[_Ex. Drawing at the same Door, that Sir_ Tim. _is sneaking out at_.

Come back I say. [_Pulls in Sir_ Tim.
Slave! Dost thou tremble?--

Sir _Tim_. Sir, I'm not the Man you look for--
By Fortune, _Sham_, we're all undone:
He has mistook me for the fighting Fellow.

_Char_. Villain, defend thy Life.

Sir _Tim_. Who, I, Sir? I have no quarrel to you, nor no man breathing,
not I, by Fortune.

_Cel_. This Coward cannot be my Brother. [_Aside_.