[Enters with CLARA.

O there thou art, thou scandal to my blood!

Where hast thou been?

Theo.

To visit the distrest.

Duke. Thy husband has had power to draw thee to

him,

Triumphant still o'er me: O apt disguise

To hide ignoble actions! Was a prison

A seemly place for Longueville's fair-daughter ?
Yes, yes; her dainty limbs were not ashami'd

To couch them in a dungeon with a lover!

Ah! then thou lov'st him still? I thought thee cur'd.
Deceitful Theodora !

Theo. O spare, my Lord!-spare that reproachful

word!

Deceitful I am not; but very wretched!

And through the gloom of my surrounding fate,,
No ray of light breaks forth that guides to comfort.
To-morrow, will my husband be accus'd,

Tried, and condemn'd, perhaps to instant death!
O agonizing thought!—

Duke.

No! 'tis a glorious thought!

Art thou so tame? is there no spark of fire

Lodg'd in thy soul, to light it up to vengeance,

Both for thy wrongs and mine?

And must vengeance

Theo.
Predominate o'er mercy in our bosoms?
In human bosoms! O'tis like the fiends,
To use our power to work another's woe!
Are we not taught forgiveness? O my father!
Think of the joys we feel when we forgive.
Duke. Fond, foolish woman !

daughter!

base, degenerate

Vain are thy weak regrets; for learn from me,

It is not in thy power to forgive,

More than as Christians we are bound to do.
Thy husband's life is forfeit to the laws.
The evidence is strong and clear against him;
And whether thou appear or not, he dies!

END OF ACT III.

[Exeunt,

ACT IV.

SCENE I. The Prison.

DORICOURT rises from his bed of straw and comes

forward.

In feeble glimmerings through yon dismal grating,

As if reluctant entering this dire dwelling!

The morning's dawn once more salutes my eyes;
Whether they ever may behold another,

Who reads the book of fate alone can tell!
A gloomy horror weighs my spirits down:
The awful hour approaches when the sentence
Of death immediate may be pass'd upon me.
Death and the grave I understand, and dread not;
But there is something that I fear to think of ;—
Something about a judgment after death,

Which Churchmen talk of, and which I have scoff'd at.
Should there be what they say-but hence these thoughts!
The few short hours I yet may have to boast

Must not be wasted: hasten my Lavinia,
And bless me with thy presence.

[Enter a gaoler and BERTRAND.]
Bertrand, welcome!

Since I dispatch'd thee it has seem'd an age,-
How now! thou look'st aghast! before this time
Hast thou ne'er seen a prison? never visited
A friend in chains? often, I warrant you-
Thy friendships have not lain among the righteous.
Cheer up and speak; what news from my Lavinia?
Ber. Alas! I fear to speak the news I bring.
Dor. Ah! what!-thou fear'st to speak!

Hast thou not seen Lavinia as I bid thee?

Ber. [hesitating.] Yes, I have seen her, sir-
Dor.

Villain, be quick →→

Say she is well, or thou hast spoke thy last.
Ber. O she is well-

Dor. 'Tis false, 'tis false, I know she's sick with grief. Her gentle soul, affectionate and true,

Feels doubly for her Doricourt's hard fate.

Didst thou not find her drooping, quite o'erwhelm'd,
All drown'd in tears? O she is sick with grief,

Or long ere this my love had flown to me :
Perhaps she sickens e'en to death: O heavens!

And I am thus detain'd, thus vilely held.

Fly, Bertrand, fly, seek every help to save her.

Why dost thou stand thus like a fool, an ideot ?-
But soft-perhaps she sent some tender message--
I am to blame, my violence affrights thee.

Tell me what said my love?

Ber.

She spoke not to me.

Dor. O heavens! the horrid news o'ercame her quite : And didst thou leave her in that state, barbarian ?

Fainting, perhaps expiring, coldly leave her,

And come to torture me with worse than madness!

Ber. Sir, I would speak, but still your eager haste Forbids by interruption; give me time

And I will faithfully relate the truth:

I found your mistress with your friend the Marquis.
Dor. My friend! I had almost forgotten him;
For mightier love still triumphs over friendship.
What said he to thy story? well I know
His generous, friendly, sympathising spirit :
He meant, no doubt, to lead Lavinia hither.
Prisons affright not those whom love and friendship
Incite to kindness.-

Ber.

Ah, my dearest master,
How much you are deceiv'd! no longer boast
The Marquis is your friend, or in Lavinia
Hope to behold a mistress kind and true.
Dor. Villain! lyar!

Sir, I entreat you to hear out my story,
And then bestow your anger where 'tis due :
The Marquis bids me say he pities you,
And will console Lavinia in your absence;
Who smil'd, and call'd him charitable friend.
Then from her finger drew a sparkling diamond,
And saying 'twas no longer valued by her,
Gave it to him, which quick he toss'd away,
Scorning, he said, t' accept th' ill-omen'd bauble.
But he directed me to bear it back

To its first owner; and lest any doubt
Should arise it was not willingly return'd,
Within a written paper they enclos'd it,
Signing it gaily both, and bid me witness
"Twas not done on compulsion, su dismiss'd me.
This is the paper, sir.

Dor. Behold the price and proof of perfidy!
It was the gift that won her to my arms;