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;
Death is the longest sleep.
Mischief will thrive apace.
If thou didst ever love thy Isabella,
To-morrow must be dooms-day to thy peace.
-The sight of him disarms even death itself.

Never wake more. [To Biron.

The starting transport of new quick'ning life
Gives just such hopes, and pleasure grows again
With looking on him- -Let me look my last-
But is a look enough for parting love!

Sure I may take a kiss-where am I going!
Help, help me Villeroy !-mountains and seas
Divide your love, never to meet my shame.

[Throws berself upon the floor; after a short pause,
she raises herself upon ber elbow.

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;
Oh, 'tis a happy revolution here!

The reas'ning faculties are all depos'd

Judgment, and understanding, common sense,
Driv'n out, as traitors to the public peace.
Now I'm reveng'd upon my memory,
Her seat dug up, where all the images
Of a long mis-spent life, were rising still,
To glare a sad reflection of my crimes,
And stab a conscience thro' 'em: you are safe,

You

You monitors of mischief! what a change!
Better and better still! this is the infant state
Of innocence, before the birth of care.
My thoughts are smooth as the Elysian plains,
Without a rub: the drousy falling streams
Invite me to their slumbers

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,
Despair e'er hard'ned for damnation.

Could taink of such a deed! murder my husband!
Bir. Thou didst not think it.

Isa. Madness has brought me to the gates of hell.
And there has left me. O, the frightful change
Of my distractions! or, is this interval

Of reason, but to aggravate my woes;

To drive the horror back with greater force
Upon my soul, and fix me mad for ever?
Bir. Why didst thou fly me so?

Isa. I cannot bear his sight; distraction, come,
Possess me all, and take me too thyself:
Shake off thy chains, and hasten to my aid;-
Thou art my only cure-like other friends,
He will not come to my necessities;

Then I must go to find the tyrant out;
Which is the neatest way?

Bir. Poor Isabella, she's not in a condition

[Running out.

Το

To give me any comfort, if she could:
Lost to herself—as quickly I shall be

To all the world-Horrors come fast around me;
My mind is overcast the gath'ring clouds
Darken the prospect-I approach the brink,
And soon must leap the precipice! O, heav'n!
While yet my senses are my own, thus kneeling
Let me implore thy mercies on my wife,
Release her from her pangs; and if my reason,
O'erwhelm'd with miseries, sink before the tempest,
Pardon those crimes despair may bring upon me. [Rises.

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.
Not to prevent my being so again-

We must be sudden-Younger brothers are
But lawful bastards of another name;
Thrust out of their nobility of birth
And family, and tainted into trades.
Shall I be one of them? bow, and retire,
To make more room for the unwieldy heir
To play the fool in! No-

But how shall I prevent it? Biron comes
To take possession of my father's love;
Would that were all: there is a birth-right toe
That he will seize-Besides, if Biron lives,
He will unfold some practices, which I
Cannot well answer therefore he shall die;
This night must be dispos'd of: I have means
That will not fail my purpose-Here he comes.

[Exit.

Enter

152

Enter BIXON.

Bir. Ha! am I beset? I live but tó revenge me.
They surround him, fighting: Villeroy enters with two
servants; they rescue bim: Carlos and bis party fly.
Vil. How are you, sir? mortally hurt, I fear:
Take care, and lead him in.

Bir. I thank you for the goodness, sir? tho''tis
Bestow'd upon a very wretch; and death,
Tho' from a villain's hand, had been to me
An act of kindness, and the height of mercy-
I thank you, sir.

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
In my own breast, to act the fury in,

The proper scene of mischief. Villeroy comes;
Villeroy and Biron come; O! hide me from 'em-
They rack, they tear: let 'em carve out my limbs,
Divide my body to their equal claims:

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,
by taking the dagger from ber.

Vil. Angels defend and save thee!
Attempt thy precious life! the treasury
Of nature's sweets! life of my little world!

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
Me believe you married me; but the fool
Was wiser, I thank you: 'tis not all gospel
You men preach upon that subject.

Vil. Dost thou not know me?

Isa. O

yes, very well.

[Staring on bim:

You

You are the widow's comforter, that marries
Any woman when her husband's out of the way:
And I'll never, never take your word again..
Vit. I am thy loving husband.
Isa. I have none; no husband

Never had but one, and he dy'd at Candy,
Did he not? I'm sure you told me so; you,
Or somebody, with just such a lying look

As you have now: speak, did he not die there?
Vil. He did, my life!

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.
Biron alive!

Bir. The only wretch on earth that must not live.
Vil. Biron or Villeroy must not, that's decreed.
Bir. You've sav'd me from the hands of murderers;
Would you had not, for life's my greatest plague ;
And then, of all the world, you are the man.
1 would not be oblig'd too--Isabella!
I come to fall before thee: I had dy'd
Happy, not to have found your Villeroy here:
A long farewell, and a last parting kiss.

[Kisses ber.

Vil. A kiss, confusion! it must be your last.
Bir. I know it must-here I give up that death
You but delav'd: since what is past has been
The work of fate, thus we must finish it:
Thrust home, be sure

[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!
And take my poor unhappy-

[D'es. Vil.