_Cel_. Sufficiently--

_Dia_. But in the Family where I was educated, a Youth of my own Age,
a Kinsman too, I chanc'd to fall in love with, but with a Passion my
Pride still got the better of; and he, I thought, repaid my young
Desires. But Bashfulness on his part, did what Pride had done on mine,
And kept his too conceal'd--At last my Uncle, who had the absolute
Dominion of us both, thought good to marry us together.

_Cel_. Punish him, Heaven, for a Sin so great.
--And are you married then?

_Dia_. Why is there Terror in that Word?

_Cel_. By all that's Sacred, 'tis a Word that kills me.
Oh, say thou art not;
And I thus low will fall, and pay thee Thanks. [_Kneels_.

_Dia_. You'll wish indeed I were not, when you know
How very, very wretched it has made me.

_Cel_. Shou'd you be telling me a Tale all day,
Such as would melt a Heart that ne'er could love,
'Twould not increase my Reason for the wish
That I had dy'd e'er known you had been married.

_Dia_. So many soft Words from my _Bellmour's_ mouth
Had made me mad with Joy, and next to that
I wish to hear 'em from this Youth;
If they be real, how I shall be reveng'd! [_Aside_.