Dor. Never doubt it.

Bel. I will not expect it.

Dor. You do me wrong.

Bel. You have no more power to keep the secret than I had not to trust you with it.

Dor. By all the joys I have had, and those you keep in store—

Bel. You’ll do for my sake what you never did before—

Dor. By that truth thou hast spoken, a wife shall sooner betray herself to her husband—

Bel. Yet I had rather you should be false in this, than in any other thing you promised me.

Dor. What’s that?

Bel. That you would never see Loveit more but in public places, in the Park, at Court, and plays.

Dor. ’Tis not likely a man should be fond of seeing a damned old play when there is a new one acted.

Bell. I dare not trust your promise.

Dor. You may.

Bel. This does not satisfy me. You shall swear you never will see her more.

Dor. I will! A thousand oaths—By all—

Bel. Hold—You shall not, now I think on’t better.

Dor. I will swear.

Bel. I shall grow jealous of the oath, and think I owe your truth to that, not to your love.

Dor. Then, by my love, no other oath I’ll swear.

Enter HANDY.

Handy. Here’s a chair.

Bel. Let me go.

Dor. I cannot

Bel. Too willingly, I fear.

Dor. Too unkindly feared When will you promise me again?

Bel. Not this fortnight

Dor. You will be better than your word.

Bel. I think I shall. Will it not make you love me less? [Starting.] Hark! what fiddles are these?

[Fiddles without.