Enter ADELAIDE, followed by JAQUELINE. Jaq. Where do you fly? Heav'ns! have you lost all sense?

Adel. Oh, would I had; for then I should not feel; But I have sense enough to know I'm wretched, To see the full extent of misery,

Yet not enough to teach me how to bear it.

Jaq. I did not think your gentleness of nature Could rise to such extremes.

Adel. Am I not tame?

What are these tears, this wild, dishevell'd hair?
Are these fit signs for such despair as mine?
Women will weep for trifles, baubles, nothing;
For very frowardness will weep as I do :
A spirit rightly touch'd would pierce the air,
Call down invisible legions to his aid,
Kindle the elements.-But all is calm;
No thunder rolls, no warning voice is heard,
To tell my frantic father this black deed
Will sink him down to infinite perdition.

Jaq. Rest satisfied he cannot be so cruel (Rash as he is) to shed the innocent blood Of a defenceless, unoffending youth.

Adel. He cannot be so cruel? Earth and heav'n!
Did I not see the dreadful preparations?
The slaves, who tremble at my father's nod,
Pale and confounded, dress the fatal block?
But I will fly, fall prostrate at his feet;
If nature is not quite extinguish'd in him,

My pray'rs, my tears, my anguish, sure will move him. ́ Jaq. Move him indeed! but to redoubled fury:

He dooms him dead for loving Isabel;

Think, will it quench the fever of his rage,
To find he durst aspire to charm his daughter?
Adel. Did I hear right? for loving Isabel?

I knew not that before. Does he then love her?
Jaq. Nothing I heard distinctly; wild confusion
Runs through the castle: ev'ry busy fool,
All ignorant alike, tells diff'rent tales.

Adel. Away, it cannot be. I know his truth.
Oh! I despise myself, that for a moment

(Pardon me, love!) could suffer mean suspicion Usurp the seat of gen'rous confidence.

Think all alike unjust, my Theodore,

When ev'n thy Adelaide could join to wrong thee!
Jaq. Yet be advis'd-

Adel. Oh, leave me to my grief.

To whom shall I complain? He but preserv'd
My life a little space, to make me feel

Th' extremes of joy and sorrow.

Ere we met,

My heart was calm as the unconscious babe.

Enter FABIAN.

Fab. Madam, my lord comes this way, and commands To clear these chambers; what he meditates 'Tis fit indeed were private. My old age Has liv'd too long, to see my master's shame.

Adel. His shame, eternal shame! Oh, more than cruel! How shall I smother it? Fabian, what means he? My father-him I speak of this young stranger

Fab. My heart is rent in pieces! Deaf to reason, He hears no counsel but from cruelty.

Good Austin intercedes and weeps in vain.
Jaq. There's comfort yet, if he is by his side.
Look up, dear lady! Ha! that dying paleness-
Adel. It is too much-Oh, Jaqueline!

Jaq. She faints;

Her gentle spirits could endure no more.

Ha! paler still! Fabian, thy arm; support her.
She stirs not yet.

Fab. Soft, bear her gently in.

[Exeunt, carrying Adelaide.

SCENE II.

Enter the COUNT of NARBONNE, followed by AUSTIN.
Aust. I do believe thee very barbarous;
Nay, fear thy reason touch'd; for such wild thoughts,
Such bloody purposes, could ne'er proceed
From any sober judgment;-yet thy heart
Will sure recoil at this.

Count. Why, think so still;

Think me both ruffian-like, and lunatic;

One proof at least I'll give of temperate reason-
Not to be baited from my fix'd design

By a monk's ban or whining intercession.
Aust. Thou canst not mean to do it?
Count. Trust thine eyes.

Thybalt! bring forth the pris'ner; bid my marshal
Prepare an axe. The ceremony's short;

One stroke, and all is past. Before he die,

He shall have leave to thank your godliness

For speeding him so soon from this bad world.

Aust. Where is the right, the law, by which you doom him?

Count. My will's the law.

Aust. A venerable law!

The law by which the tiger tears the lamb,

And kites devour the dove.

A lord of France,

Dress'd in a little delegated sway,

Strikes at his sovereign's face, while he profanes
His functions, trusted for the gen❜ral good.
Count. I answer not to thee.

Aust. Answer to heav'n.

When call'd to audit in that sacred court,
Will that supremacy accept thy plea,

"I did commit foul murder, for I might?"

Count. Soar not too high; talk of the things of earth, I'll give thee ear. Has not thy penitent,

Young Isabel, disclos'd her passion to thee?
Aust. Never.

Count. Just now, her coldness to my son,
You said, bespoke her heart pre-occupied.
The frail and fair make you their oracles;
Pent in your close confessionals you sit,
Bending your rev'rend ears to am'rous secrets.

Aust. Scoffer, no more! stop thy licentious tongue; Turn inward to thy bosom, and reflect

Count. That is, be fool'd. Yet will I grant his life On one condition.

Aust. Name it.

Count. Join my hand

To Isabel.

Aust. Not for the world.

Count. He dies.

Enter THEODORE, guarded.

Come near, thou wretch! When call'd before me first,
With most unwonted patience I endur'd

Thy bold avowal of the wrong thou didst me;
A wrong so great, that, but for foolish pity,
Thy life that instant should have made atonement;
But now, convicted of a greater crime,
Mercy is quench'd: therefore prepare to die.
Theo. I was a captive long 'mongst infidels,
Whom falsely I deem'd savage, since I find
Ev'n Tunis and Algiers, those nests of ruffians,
Might teach civility to polish'd France,
If life depends but on a tyrant's frown.

Count. Out with thy holy trumpery, priest! delay not;

Or, if he trusts in Mahomet, and scorns thee,
Away with him this instant.

Aust. Hold, I charge you!

Theo. The turban'd misbeliever makes some show Of justice, in his deadly processes;

Nor drinks the sabre blood thus wantonly,

Where men are valued less than nobler beasts.

Of what am I accus'd?

Count. Of insolence;

Of bold, presumptuous love, that dares aspire
To mix the vileness of thy sordid lees

With the rich current of a baron's blood.

Aust. My heart is touch'd for him.-Much-injur'd youth,

Suppress awhile this swelling indignation;
Plead for thy life.

Theo. I will not meanly plead;

Nor, were my neck bow'd to his bloody block,
If love's my crime, would I disown my love.
Count. Then, by my soul, thou diest!

Theo. And let me die:

With my last breath I'll bless her. My spirit, free From earth's encumb'ring clogs, shall soar above thee. Anxious, as once in life, I'll hover round her,

Teach her new courage to sustain this blow,

And guard her, tyrant! from thy cruelty.
Count. Ha! give me way!

Aust. Why, this is madness, youth:

You but inflame the rage you should appease.

Theo. He thinks me vile. "Tis true indeed I seem

so:

But though these humble weeds obscure my outside, I have a soul disdains his contumely;

A guiltless spirit that provokes no wrong,

Nor from a monarch would endure it, offer'd:
Uninjur'd, lamb-like; but a lion, rous'd.

Know too, injurious lord, here stands before thee

The equal of thy birth.

Count. Away, base clod!

Obey me slaves.-What, all amaz'd with lies?

Aust. Yet hear him, Narbonne : that ingenuous face