Isab. Yet hear me-On my life,

Enter RAGOZIN.

Glan. Speak, my friend

Cleone and her child-say quickly-how disposed? Rag. To heav'n remov'd, no longer they ob

struct

Our views on earth.

Glan. Speak plainly-are they dead?
Rag. Both dead.

Glan. Swear, swear to this! And by all hope

My tortur'd soul, torn on the rack of doubt,
Might yet feel peace. How wears the time?
Isab. Two hours

Are wanting yet to midnight.

Glan. Where's Sifroy?

Isab. With Beaufort. But perplexing doubts distract

His reason, that all power to act forsakes him.
Still farther to alarm--deep-stain'd with gore,
The sword of Paulet's found, and other marks
That speak him murder'd.

Glan. That's beyond my wish:
And tells but what I wanted to proclaim.

Isab. Proclaim! What mean'st thou? Doth it not conduce

To our detection? Doth it not confirm
Their dark suspicions?

Glan. The short line, alas,

Of thy weak thought, in vain would sound the depth

Of my designs. But rest thee well assur'd,
I have forescen, and am prepar'd to meet
All possible events.

Isub. O grant, good Heaven

Great God! how dreadful 'tis to be engag'd In what we dare not pray that Heaven may prosper!

Glan. Curse on thy boding tongue! Let me
not hear

Its superstitious weakness-Hush! who comes?
No more 'tis Ragozin-Now sleep distrust.
First let me learn if he hath done the deed;
If not, I am betray'd, and will awake
In vengeance on his falsehood.

Swear thou hast not betray'd me!

Rag. Whence arise

These base suspicions? I disdain that crime!
Though branded with the name of an assassin,
I am not yet so mean as to betray.

Glan. Distraction!-may I trust thee?
Rag. As thou wilt.

Glan. [Pausing.] It must be so-we still are
safe: and this

Pretence of strong suspicion is no more
Than subtile artifice, contriv'd to draw
Th' unwary to confession.

Rag. 'Tis no more.

Glan. Nor will I more than with a just con

That he who led astray the willing wife,

Thy folly doats on-he

Sif. Blasphemer! stop

By treacherous arts?-Hast thou with falsehood vile

Inflam'd this hapless breast ?---And would'st thou

now

Infer my guilt, from my provok'd resentment? Glan. Lean'd I on feeble inference--I would

ask,

saint

Enshrines a soul as spotless as her form.

With Paulet?

Glan. True: I did.

Sif. Art thou not sure

That this is false? Hast thou no dreadful cause
To know it cannot be?

Glan. None. Thou, perhaps,
Whose bloody errand I indeed have heard
Already is accomplish'd-thou, 'tis true,
May'st know that they are parted: 'twas the deed
Thou flew'st thus swiftly to perform. But how
-Doth that impeach the truth of her elopement?

That thou hast murder'd him, acquits not her. Sif. That I have murder'd !--Î !--Pernicious

wretch !

Thy guilt drinks up thy blood.

Glan. Not guilt, but rage!

Who dares accuse me?

Beauf. sen. I. Where's Paulet? where

My daughter? who thou basely said'st were fled
Together?

Glan. That his poniard found the way
To part their steps, impeaches not my truth.
Beauf. sen. His
poníard!

Glan. His. I should have scorn'd to charge The man, whose honour I think deeply wrong'd; But my own life attempted thus, demands

That truth should rise to light. Cam'st thou not here,

Driven by the fury of a dire revenge?

What other motive urg'd thy desperate haste? Sif. Insidious slave! hast thou ensnar'd my

soul

[Shewing the letter. Would do the righteous deed--for so his rage Calls Paulet's murder.

Beauf. sen. Ha! What can I think! Unhappy man! and hast thou to the crime Of rash suspicion, added that of murder?

Sif. My father, hear thy son; I plead not for My life, but justice.-That I am a wretch, Groaning beneath the weight of Heaven's just ire

That snared and caught in meditated wiles,
I banish'd from my house a guiltless wife-
That burning with revenge, I flew to quench
My wrath in Paulet's blood--all this I own.
But by the sacred eye of Providence!
That views each human step, and still detects
The murderer's deed; of this imputed crime
My heart is ignorant, my hands are clear.

Beauf. sen. I wish thee innocent--
Glan. Have then my words

No weight? and is his own attesting hand
No proof against him? Is her secret flight,
An accident? No more---O partial man!
To hide thy daughter's shame, thou seek'st my
life.

But I appeal from thee to public justice.

Beauf. sen. To that thou art consign'd: and may the hand

Of strict inquiry drag to open day
All secret guilt, though shame indelible
Should brand a daughter nearest to my heart.
Heaven aid my search! I seek not blood, but

truth.

Guard safe your prisoner to the magistrate,
I'll follow you. The justice thou demand'st,
Thou shalt not want.

Glan. 'Tis well: I ask no more.

Let Ragozin, let Isabella too

Attend the magistrate--on them I call
To clear my slander'd name.

Beaut. sen. It shall be so.

Take them this instant to your strictest care.
Thou too, Sifroy, be ready to attend.

Sif. O think not I will leave him, till full proof Condemn him or acquit.

Beauf. sen. The cause demands it.

[Exeunt Officers with GLANVILLE guard Sif. Whence has the miscreant this unused. firmness?

Can guilt be free from terror?

Beauf. sen. No, my son;

Unfold the horrors of this night ?--My sister-
Lost to her wretched self-through dreary wilds
Wanders distracted-void of reason's light
To guide her devious feet.

Beauf. sen. Support me, Heaven!
Then every hope is fled!--Thy will be done!---
Where is my child? Where was she found?
Beauf. jun. Alas!

Of soul too delicate, too soft to bear

Unjust reproach, and undeserved shame,
Distraction seiz'd her in the gloom of night,

As passing through the wood she sought the arms
Of a protecting father.

Sif. Do I live?

Is such a wretch permitted still to breathe?
Why opens not this earth? Why sleeps above
The lightning's vengeful blast? Is Heaven unjust?
Or am I still reserv'd for deeper wo?
I hope not mercy-that were impious-
Pour then on my bare head, ye ministers
Of wrath! your hottest vengeance---
Beauf. jun. Stop--forbear-

Nor imprecate that vengeance, which unseen
Already hangs o'er thy devoted life.

Thou know'st not yet the measure of thy wo.
Thy child, thy lovely babe, a bloody corse,
Lies breathless by his frantic mother's side---
Much to be fear'd, by her own hand destroy'd,
When reason in her brain had lost dominion.
Sif. My child too gone!--Then misery is com-
plete-

O my torn heart!—Is there in heaven no pity?
None, none for me! The wrongs of all I lov'd
To heaven ascending, bar th' eternal gates,

And close the ear of mercy 'gainst my prayer.
But fate's last bolt is thrown, and I am curst
Beyond all power to sharpen torture's pang.
Yes, I am scorn'd, abandon'd, and cast out
By heaven and earth!--I must not call thee fa-
ther-

I have undone thee, robb'd thee of the name,
And now, myself am childless, and undone.
Beauf. sen. Forbear, my son, to aggravate thy
grief,

Already too severe. Kind Providence
May yet restore, and harmonize her mind.
Sif. May Heaven pour blessings on thy reve
rend head

For that sweet hope! but say, where shall I see her?

How bear the dreadful sight!

Beauf. jun. Dreadful indeed!

On the cold earth they found her laid: her head,
Supported on her arm, hung o'er her child,
The image of pale grief, lamenting innocence.
Sometimes she speaks fond words, and seems to
smile

On the dead babe as 'twere alive.—Now, like
The melancholy bird of night, she pours
A soft and melting strain, as if to sooth
Its slumbers: and now clasps it to her breast,
Cries, Glanville is not here--fear not, my love,
He shall not come-Then wildly throws her eyes
Around, and in the tenderest accent calls
Aloud on thee, to save her from dishonour!

Sif. Haste, let us haste-distracted thus, she

SCENE I.

The Wood. CLEONE is discovered siting by her dead child; over whom she hath form'd a little bower of shrubs and branches of trees. She seems very busy in picking little sprigs from a bough in her hand.

CLEONE sings.

Sweeter than the damask rose
Was his lovely breast;
There, O let me there repose,
Sigh, sigh, and sink to rest.

Did I not love him? who can say I did not?
My heart was in his bosom, but he tore
It out, and cast it from him-Yet I lov'd-
And he more lovely seem'd to that fond heart,
Than the bright cherub sailing on the skirts
Of yonder cloud, th' inhabitant of heaven.
Enter SIFROY, BEAUFORT Senior, ISABELLA,
GLANVILLE, RAGOZIN, Officers, &c.
Beauf. sen. This is the place--And see my
hapless child!

Why, gracious Heaven! why have I liv'd to feel
This dreadful moment? Soft I pray ye tread-
And let us well observe her speech and action.
Sif. Have I done this !-and do I live !--My
heart

Drops blood! but to thy guidance I will bend,
And in forc'd silence smother killing grief.
Glan. [Aside.] Did'st thou not tell me, vil-
lain, she was dead?

Rag. [Aside.] I was deceiv'd--by Heav'n, I
thought her so.

Glan. Aside. May hell reward thee !
Beauf. sen. Stay--she rises--hush!
Cle. Soft! soft! he stirs--

O, I have wak'd him-I have wak'd my child!

And when false Glanville knows it, he again
Will murder him.

Beauf. sen. Mark that!

Glan. And are the words

Of incoherent madness to convict me?

Sif. They are the voice of Heaven, detecting murder!

Yes, villain! thy infernal aim appears.

Cle. No, no; all still-As undisturb'd he sleeps As the stolen infant rock'd in th' eagle's nest. I'll call the red-breast, and the nightingale, Their pious bills once cover'd little babes, And sung their dying dirge. Again, sweet birds! Again pour forth your melancholy notes, And sooth once more that innocence ye love. Sif. On that enchanting voice, how my fond heart

Hath hung with rapture!--now too deeply pierc'd,

I die upon the sound. [He advances towards her.
My dearest love,

Thy griefs! and pour into thy wounded mind
Behold thy own Sifroy, return'd to calm
The healing balm of tenderness!

Cle. [Frighted and trembling.] Sweet Heaven,
Protect me! O, if you have pity, save
My infant!-Cast away that bloody steel!
And on my knees I'll kiss the gentle hand
That spar'd my child!—Glanville shall never

know

But we are dead. In this lone wood we'll live, And I no more will seek my husband's house. And yet I never wrong'd him! never indeed!

Sif. I know thou didst not-Look upon me, love!

Dost thou not know me? I am thy SifroyThy husband-Do not break my heart-Ospeak! That look will kill me!

Beauf. sen. My dear child! Look up→ Look on thy father! Am I too forgotten? Defac'd-She knows us not!-May Heaven, my Is every filial trace in thy poor brain

son,

Lend thee its best support! For me-my days Are few; nor can my sorrows' date be long Protracted.

Sif. Say not so! Must I become The murderer of all I hold most dear!

Cle. Yes-yes-a husband once-a father too
I had but lost, quite lost-deep in my brain
Buried they lie- -In heaps of rolling sand-
I cannot find them.

Sif. O heart-rending grief!
How is that fair, that amiable mind,
Disjointed, blasted by the fatal rage
Of one rash moment!

[She goes to her child, he follows, Let sweet pity veil The horrors of this scene from every eye! My child! my child! hide, hide me from that [Turns away.

sight!

Cle. Stay, stay- -for you are good, and will

not hurt

My lamb. Alas, you weep,-why should you weep?

I am his mother, yet I cannot weep.
Have you more pity than a mother feels?
But I shall weep no more -my heart is cold.
Sif. [Falling on his knees.] O mitigate thy
wrath, good Heaven! Thou know'st
My weakness-lay not on thy creature more
Than he can bear: Restore her, O restore!
But if it must not be-if I am doom'd
To stand a dreadful warning to deter
Frail man from sudden rage-Almighty Power,
Then take, in mercy take, this wretched life!

[As he rises, ISABELLA comes forward, and
throws herself at his feet.

Isab. Hear, hear me, sir; my very heart is pierc❜d!

And my shock'd soul, beneath a load of guilt, Sinks down in terrors unsupportable.

'Tis Heaven impels me to reveal the crimes, In which a fatal passion has involv'd me. Protect me, save me from his desperate rage! [GLANVILLE suddenly pulls out a short dagger which he had concealed in his bosom; and attempts to stab her. One of the Officers wrenches it from him. Beauf, sen. Ha! seize the dagger! Sf. Hold thy murderous hand!

Rag. [Aside. All is betray'd-for me no safety now,

But sudden flight. [He endeavours to withdraw.
Sif. Stop-seize-detain that slave!
The attempt to fly bespeaks him an accomplice.
[He is seized by the Officers.
Isab. [To GLAN.] Tremble, O wretch! Thou
seest that Heaven is just,

Nor suffers even ourselves to hide our deeds.
To death I yield—nor hope, nor wish for life—
Permit me to reveal some dreadful truths,
And I shall die content. Thy hapless wife,
Chaste as the purest angel of the sky,
By Glanville is traduc'd-by him betray'd―
Paulet is murder'd-and by his device,
The lovely child. Seduc'd by his vile arts,
And by the flattering hopes of wealth ensnar'd,
Distracting thought! I have destroy'd my soul.
Beauf. sen. Why, why so far from virtue didst
thou stray,

That to compassionate thy wretched fate,
Almost is criminal?

[To GLAN.] But canst thou bear

Can thy hard heart support this dreadful scene! Glan. I know the worst, and am prepar❜d to meet it.

That wretch hath seal'd my death. And had I

Look, look upon me! Let these tears prevail, And with thy reason, wake thy pity too.

Cle. Again you weep-But had you lost a wife, As I a husband, you might weep indeed! Or had you lost so sweet a boy as mine, 'Twould break your heart!

Sif. Her words are pointed steel! Have I not lost a wife?-lost a sweet boy? Indeed I have!-Myself too murder'd them. Cle. That was unkind-Why did you so?

But bush!

Let no one talk of murder-I was kill'd-
My husband murder'd me--but I forgave him.

Sif. I cannot, cannot bear!-0 torture, tor ture!

Beauf. sen. Collect thyself, and with the humble eye

Of patient hope, look up to Heaven resign'd. Sif. Hope! where is hope!-Alas, no hope for me!

On downy pinions, lo! to heaven she fliesTo realms of bliss-where I must never come! Terrors are mine-and from the depths below, Despair looks out, and beckons me to sink.

Beauf. sen. Assuage thy grief, call reason to
thy aid,

Perhaps we yet may save her precious life;
At least delay not, by some gentle means,
To sooth her to return.

Sif May soft persuasion dwell upon thy lips!
But ah, can tears or arguments avail,
When reason marks not ?

Enter BEAUFORT Junior.

Beauf. jun. Where, where is my sister? Beauf. sen. Alas! the melancholy sight will pierce

Thy inmost soul!-But do not yet disturb her. Distraction o'er her memory hangs a cloud, That hides us from her.

Sif. My dearest brother, can thy heart receive The wretch, who robb'd it of a sister's love? Beauf. jun. I do forgive thee all—Alas, my

brother!

Most basely wert thou wrong'd. But truth is

found

Paulet, though wounded, yet escap'd with life. Sif. Then Heaven is just-But tell me, how escap'd

Beauf. jun. Thou shalt know all-But stay! my sister speaks--

Cle. [Coming forward.] O who hath done it! who hath done this deed

Of death?---My child is murder'd-my sweet babe Bereft of life!Thou Glanville! thou art he! Remorseless fiend! destroy a child, an infant!Monster, forbear!-See, see the little heart Bleeds on his dagger's point!

[Looking down to the earth. But lo! the furies!-the black fiends of hell Have seiz'd the murderer! look, they tear his

heart

That heart which had no pity! Hark, he shrieks, His eye-balls glare--his teeth together gnash In bitterness of anguish-while the fiends Scream in his frighted ear-Thou shalt not murder!

Beauf. sen. What dreadful visions terrify her