I wou'd have follow'd thee thro' beggary;
Thro' all the chances of this weary life:
Wander'd the many ways of wretchedness
With thee to find a hospitable grave;

For that's the only bed that's left me now.

[Weeping

What's to be done-for something must be done.

Two husbands! yet not one! by both enjoy'd
And yet a wife to neither! hold my brain-
This is to live in common! very beasts,

That welcome all they meet, make just such wives.
My reputation! O, 'twas all left me:

The virtuous pride of an uncensur'd life;
Which, the dividing tongues of Biron's wrongs,
And Villeroy's resentments, tear asunder,
To gorge the throats of the blaspheming rabble.
This is the best of what can come to-morrow,
Besides old Baldwin's triumph in my ruin;
I cannot bear it-

Therefore no-morow: ha! a lucky thought
Warks the right way to rid me of 'em all;
All the reproaches, infamies, and scorns,
That every tongue and finger will find for me.
Let the just horror of my apprehensions

But keep me warm-no matter what can come.
'Tis but a blow-Yet I will see him first-
Have a last look to heighten my dispair,
And then to rest for ever

BIRON meets ber.

Bir. Despair! and rest for ever! Isabella! These words are far from thy condition;

And be they ever so. I heard thy voice,

And could not bear thy absence: Come, my love!
You have staid long, there's nothing, nothing sure
Now to despair of in succeeding fate.

Isa. I am contented to be miserable.

But not this way: I've been too long abus'd,
And can believe no more:

Let me sleep on, to be deceiv'd no more.

Bir. Look up, my love, I never did deceive thee,
Nor ever can; believe thyself, thy eyes
That first inflam'd, and let me to my love,
Those stars, that still must guide me to my joys.

Isa. And me to my undoing: I look round, And find no path, but leading to the grave. Bir. I cannot understand thee.

Isa. My good friends above,

Ithank 'em, have at last found out a way
To make my fortune perfect; having you,
I need no more; my hope is finish'd here.
Bir. Both our ill fates, I hope.

Isa. Hope is a lying, fawning flatterer,
That shews the fair side only of our fortunes,
To cheat us easier into our fall;

A trusted friend, who only can betray you ;
Never believe him more-If marriages

Are made in heav'n, they should be happier:
Why was I made this wretch?

Bir. Has marriage made thee wretched?
Işa. Miserable, beyond the reach of comfort.
Bir. Do I live to hear thee say so?

Isa. Why! what did I say

?

Bir. That I have made thee miserable.

Isa. No; you are my only earthly happiness;
And my false tongue bely'd my honest heart,
If it said otherwise.

Bir. And yet you said,

Your marriage made you miserable

Isa. I know what I said:

I've said too much unless I could speak all.

Bir. Thy words are wild; my eyes, my ears, my heart, Were all so full of thee, so much employ'd

In wonder of thy charms, I could not find it ;

Now I perceive it plain

Isa. You'll tell no body—

Bir. Thou art not well.

Isa. Indeed, I am not; I knew that before,

But where's the remedy?

[Distractedly,

Bir. Rest will relieve thy cares: come, come; no more;

I'll banish sorrow from thee.

Isa. Banish first the cause.

Bir. Heav'n knows how willingly.

Isa You are the only cause.

Bir. Am I the cause? the cause of thy misfortunes?
Isa The fatal innocent cause of all my woes.

Bir. Is this my welcome home? this the reward

of

Of all my miseries long labours, pains,
And pining wants of wretched slavery,
Which I've out-liv'd only in hopes of thee!
Am I thus paid at last for deathless love?
And call'd the cause of thy misfortune's now!
Isa. Enquire no more; 'twill be explain'd

Bir. What! canst thou leave me too?
Isa. Pray let me go;

For both our sakes, permit me

Bir. Rack me not with imaginations

Of things impossible

too soon.
[She is going.
He stays ber.

Thou cans't not mean

What thou hast said-Yet something she must mean.
-'Twas madness all-compose thyself, my love!
The fit is past; all may be well again :

Let us to bed,

Isa. To bed! you've rais'd the storm
Will sever us for ever; O my Biron!
While I have life, still I must call you mine:
I know I am, and always was, unworthy
To be the happy partner of your love;
And now must never, never share it more.
But, oh! if ever I was dear to you,

As sometimes you have thought me, on my knees,
(The last time I shall care to be believ'd)
I beg you, beg to think me innocent;

Clear of all crimes, that thus can banish me

From this world's comforts, in my losing you.
Bir. Where will this end?

Isa. The rugged hand of fate has got between
Our meeting hearts, and thrusts them from their joys:
Since we must part-

Bir. Nothing shall ever part us.

Isa. Parting's the least that is set down for me:
Heav'n has decreed and we must suffer all.

Bir I know thee innocent: I know myself so:
Indeed, we both have been unfortunate;
But sure misfortunes ne'er were faults in love.
Isa. O there's a fatal story to be told;

Be deaf to that, as heav'n has been to me!
And rot the tongue that shall reveal my shame:

When thou shalt here how much thou hast been wrong'd,
How wilt thou curse thy fond believing heart,

Tear

Tear me from the warm bosom of thy love
And throw me like a pois'nous weed away :
Can I bear that? bear to be curst and torn,
And thrown out of thy family and name
Like a disease? can I bear this from thee?
I never can: no, all things have their end.
When I am dead, forgive and pity me.
Bir. Stay my Isabella-

[Exit.

What can she mean these doubtings will distract me:
Some hidden mischief soon will burst to light;

I cannot bear it!I must be satisfied

'Tis she, my wife, must clear this darkness to me. She shall-If the sad tale at last must come ;

I

She is my fate, and best can speak my doom.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Enter BIRON, Nurse following him.

BIRON.

Know enough tho' important question
Of life or death, fearful to be resolv'd,

Is clear'd to me: I see where it must end;
And need enquire no more-Pray, let me have
Pen, ink, and paper; I must write a while,
And then I'll try to rest-to rest! for ever.
Poor Isabella! Now I'know the cause,
The cause of thy distress, and cannot wonder
That it has turn'd thy brain. IfI look back
Upon thy loss, it will distract me too.
O, any curse but this might be remov'd!
But 'twas the rancorous malignity

Of all ill stars combin'd, of heav'n, and fate-
Hold, hold my impious tongue-alas! I rave:
Why do I tax the stars, or heav'n, or fate?
They are all innocent of driving us
Into despair; they have not urg'd my doom.
My father and my brother are my fates
To drive me to my ruin. They knew well
I was alive: too well they knew how dear

[Exit.

LExit Nurse,

My

My Isabella-O, my wife no more!
How dear her love was to me-Yet they stood,
With a malicious silent joy, stood by,
And saw her give up all my happiness,
The treasure of her beauty, to another;
Stood by, and saw her marry'd to another:
O cruel father! and unnatural brother!
Shall I not tell you that you have undone me?
I have but to accuse you of my wrongs,
And then to fall forgotten -Sleep or death
Sits heavy on me, and benumbs, my pains;
Either is welcome; but the hand of death

Works always sure, and best can close mine eyes. [Exit Biron.
Enter Nurse and SAMPSON.

Nurse. Here's strange things towards, Sampson: what will be the end of 'em, do you think?

Samp. Nay, mairy Nurse, I can't see so far; but the law, I believe, is on Biren, the first husband's side.

Nurse. Yes; no question he has the law on his side. Samp. For I have heard, the law says, a woman must be a widow, all out seven years, before she can marry again, according to law.

Nurse. Av, so it does; and our lady has not been a widow altogether seven years.

Samp. Why then, Nurse, mark my words, and say I told you so the man must have his mare again, and all wilt do well.

Nurse. But if our master Villeroy comes back again

Samp. Why, if he does, he is not the first man that has had his wife taken, from him.

Nurse. For fear of the worst, will you go to the old count, desire him to come as soon as he can; there may be mischief, and he is able to prevent it.

Samp. Now you say something; now I take you, Nurse; that will do well, indeed: mischief should be prevented! a little thing will make a quarrel, when there's a woman in the way. I'll about it instantly

[Exeunt.

SCENE,