SCENE, drawn, shews BIRON asleep on a Couch. ISABELLA comes in to him. Isa. Asleep so soon! Oh happy! happy thou! Who thus can'st sleep-I never shall sleep more. If then to sleep be to be happy, he Oh! have a care Who sleeps the longest, is the happiest; Never wake more. [To Biron. The starting transport of new quick'ning life Sure I may take a kiss-where am I going! [Throws berself upon the floor; after a short pause, What will this battle of the brain do with me! This little ball, this ravag'd province, long Cannot maintain-The globe of earth wants room And fond for such a war -I find I'm going Famine, plagues, and flames, Wide waste and desolation, do your work Upon the world, and then devour yourselves. The scene shifts fast-[Sbe rises] and now 'tis bet ter with me; Conflicting passions have at last unhing'd The great machine; the soul itself seems chang'd; The reas'ning faculties are all depos'd Judgment, and understanding, common sense, You You monitors of mischief! what a change! Wou'd I were landed there It may be Villeroy -No matter who. Bir. Come, Isabella, come Isa. Hark! I am call'd. Bir. You stay too long for me. [Sinks into a chair. Isa. A man's voice! in my bed! how came he there? Nothing but villany in this bad world; Coveting neighbours goods, or neighbours wives; Here's physic for your fever. [Rises. [Draws a dagger, and goes backward to the couch. Breathing a vein is the old remedy. If husbands go to heav'n, Where do they go that send 'em?-This to try— [Just going to stab him, he rises; she knows bim, and shrieks. What do I see! Bir. Isabella! arm'd! Isa. Against my husband's life! Who, but the wretch, most reprobate to grace, Could taink of such a deed! murder my husband! Isa. Madness has brought me to the gates of hell. Of reason, but to aggravate my woes; To drive the horror back with greater force Isa. I cannot bear his sight; distraction, come, Then I must go to find the tyrant out; Bir. Poor Isabella, she's not in a condition [Running out. Το To give me any comfort, if she could: To all the world-Horrors come fast around me; Enter Nurse. Nurse. Sir, there's somebody at the door must needs speak with you; he won't tell his name. Bir. I come to him 'Tis Bellford, I suppose; he little knows Of what has happen'd here; I wanted him, Must employ his friendship, and then [Exit Nurse. SCENE changes to the Streets CARLOS enters with three Ruffians. Car. A younger brother! I was one too long. We must be sudden-Younger brothers are But how shall I prevent it? Biron comes [Exit. Enter 152 Enter BIXON. Bir. Ha! am I beset? I live but tó revenge me. Bir. I thank you for the goodness, sir? tho''tis But [He is led in. SCENE changes to the inside of the House. Enter ISABELla. Isa. Murder my husband! oh! I must not dare To think of living on; my desperate hand, In a mad rage, may offer it again : Stab any where but there. Here's room enough The proper scene of mischief. Villeroy comes; My soul is only Biron's: that is free, And thus 1 strike for him and liberty. Going to stab berself, Villerov runs in, and prevents ber, Vil. Angels defend and save thee! Lay violent hands upon thy innocent self! Isa. Swear I am innocent, and I'll believe you: What would you have with me? Pray let me go. -Are you there, sir? You are the very man Have done all this-You would have made Vil. Dost thou not know me? Isa. O yes, very well. [Staring on bim: You You are the widow's comforter, that marries Never had but one, and he dy'd at Candy, As you have now: speak, did he not die there? Isa. But I swear it, quickly swear, [Weeping. BIRON enters bloody, and leaning upon bis sword. Before that screaming evidence appears, In bloody proof against me [She seeing Biron, swoons into a chair; Villeroy helps ber. Vil. Help there: Nurse, where are you? Ha! I am distracted too! [Going to call for help, sees Biron. Bir. The only wretch on earth that must not live. [Kisses ber. Vil. A kiss, confusion! it must be your last. [Draws. [Faints. Vil. Alas! he faints! some help there. Bir. 'Tis all in vain, my sorrows soon will end; O Villeroy! let a dying wretch intreat you, To take this letter to my father-my Isabella! Coud'st thou but hear me, my last words should bless thee. I cannot, tho' in death, bequeath her to thee. To Villeroy. But cou'd I hope my boy, my little one, Might find a father in thee-O, I faint! I can no more-Hear me, Heav'n! O support My wife, my Isabella-Bless my child! [D'es. Vil. |