"TWAS once the mode inglorious war to wage With each bold bard that durst attempt the stage, And prologues were but preludes to engage. Then mourn'd the muse not story'd woes alone, Condemn'd to weep, with tears unfeign'd, her

own.

Past are those hostile days: and wits no more
One undistinguished fate with fools deplore.
No more the muse laments her long-felt wrongs,
From the rude licence of tumultuous tongues:
In peace each bard prefers his doubtful claim,
And as he merits, meets, or misses, fame.
'Twas thus in Greece (when Greece fair science
blest,

And Heav'n-born arts their chosen land possest)
Th' assembled people sate with decent pride,
Patient to hear, and skilful to decide;
Less forward far to censure than to praise,
Unwillingly refus'd the rival bays.

Yes; they whom candour and true taste inspire,
Blame not with half the passion they admire;
Each little blemish with regret descry,
But mark the beauties with a raptur'd eye.
Yet modest fears invade our author's breast,
With Attic lore, or Latian, all unblest;
Deny'd by Fate through classic fields to stray,
Where bloom these wreaths which never know
decay;

Where arts new force from kindred arts acquire,
And poets catch from poets genial fire.
Not thus he boasts the breast humane to prove,
And touch those springs which generous passions
move,

To melt the soul by scenes of fabled woe,
And bid the tear for fancy'd sorrows flow;
Far humbler paths he treads in quest of fame,
And trusts to Nature what from Nature came,

SCENE L-A Room in Sifroy's House.

Enter GLANVILLE and ISABElla.
Glan. WHAT means this diffidence, this idle
fear?

Have I not given thee proof my heart is thine?
Proof that I mean to sanctify our joys
By sacred wedlock! Why then doubt my truth?
Why hesitate, why tremble thus to join
In deeds, which justice and my love to thee
Alone inspire? If we are one, our hopes,
Our views, our interests ought to be the same.
And canst thou tamely see this proud Sifroy
Triumphant lord it o'er my baffled rights?
Those late acquir'd demesnes, by partial hand
Consign'd to him, in equity are mine.

Isab. The story oft I've heard: yet sure Sifroy Hath every legal title to that wealth

By will bequeath'd; and childless should he die, The whole were thine. Wait then till timeGlan. Art thou,

My Isabella, thou an advocate

For him whose hand, with felon arts, with-holds Those treasures which I covet but for thee? Where is thy plighted faith?—thy vows?—thy truth?

Isab. Forbear reproach !—O Glanville, love to thee

Hath robb'd me of my truth-seduc'd me on From step to step, till virtue quite forsook me. False if I am, 'tis to myself, not thee;

Thou hast my heart, and thou shalt guide my will,

Then she hath charms to warm the coldest breast,
Melt the most rigid virtue into love,

And tempt the firmest friendship to be frail.
All this I've urg'd, join'd with such circumstance,
Such strong presumptive proof, as cannot fail
To shake the firm foundations of his trust.
This once accomplish'd, his own violence
And heated rage, will urge him to commit
Some desperate act, and plunge him into ruin.
Isab. But grant thou should'st succeed, what
will ensue?

Suppose him dead, doth he not leave an heir,
An infant son, that will prevent thy claim?
Glan. That bar were easily remov'd.-But soft,
Who's here? 'Tis Ragozin return'd.

Enter RAGOZIN.

Glan. What news,

Dear Ragozin? How did Sifroy receive
My letters? Speak-My vast impatience would
Know all at once.-What does his rage intend?
Rag. All you could wish. A whirlwind is but
weak

To the wild storm that agitates his breast.

At first indeed he doubted-swore 'twas falseImpossible-But as he read, his looks

Grew fierce; pale horror trembled on his cheek; O she is vile!-It must, it must be soGlanville is just, is good, and scorns to wrong her

I know his friendship, know his honest heartThen falling, sobb'd in speechless agony.

Glan. Good, very good!--I knew 'twould gall-proceed.

Rag. His smother'd grief at length burst forth
in rage.

He started from the floor-he drew his sword-
And fixing it with violence in my grasp
Plunge this, he cried, O plunge it in the heart
Of that vile traitor, Paulet!--Yet forbear---
That exquisite revenge my own right hand
Demands, nor will I give it to another!
This said-push'd on by rage, he to her sire
Dispatch'd a letter, opening to him all
Her crime, and his dishonour. This to you.
[Gives a letter.

Glan. How eagerly he runs into the toils,
Which I have planted for his own destruction!---
Dear Ragozin, success shall double all
My promises; and now we are embark'd,
We must proceed, whatever storms arise.
Isab. But read the letter.

[GLANVILLE opens the letter and reads. "Though thou hast stabb'd me to the heart, I cannot but thank thy goodness for the tender regard thou hast shewn to my honour. The traitor Paulet shall die by my own hand: that righteous vengeance must be mine. Mean time, forbi

the villain's entrance to my house. As to her who was once my wife, let her go to her father's, to whom I have written; leaving it to him to vindicate her virtue, or conceal her shame. I am in too much confusion to add more. SIFROY.' This is enough-by Heaven! I sought no more. It is the point at which my wishes aim'd. The death of Paulet must include his own; Justice will take that life my injuries seck, Nor shall suspicion cast one glance on me. But does he purpose soon to leave the army, Or let his vengeance sleep?

Rag. All wild he raves,

That honour should forbid to quit his charge.
Yet what resolves the tumult in his breast
May urge, is hard to say.

Glan. We must prepare

For his arrival; well I know his rage

Will burst all bounds of prudence. Thou, my friend,

(For from the hour which shall complete our bu

siness,

Thy servitude shall cease) be diligent

To watch all accidents, and well improve Whatever chance may rise.

Rag. Trust to my care.

[Exit.

Glan. Now, Isabella! now th' important hour
To prove my truth, arises to my wish.
No longer shalt thou live the humble friend
Of this Cleone, but, her equal born,
Shalt rise by me to grace an equal sphere.
Isub. Her equal born I am-nor can my heart
A keener pang than base dependence feel.
Yet weak by nature, and in fear for thee,

I tremble for th' event.--O should'st thou fail--
Glan. To me, my Isabella, trust the proof
Of her conceal'd amour. I know full well
Her modesty is mere disguise, assum'd

To cheat the world; but it deceives not me.
I shall unveil her latent wickedness,
And on her midnight revels pour the day.

Isab. Scarce can my heart give credit---
Glan. Thou, alas,

Art blinded by the semblance she displays
Of truth and innocence; but I explore
Her inmost soul, and in her secret thoughts
Read wantonness. Believe me, this gay youth,
Mask'd in the guise of friendship to Sifroy,
Is her vile paramour. But I forget;
Tell Ragozin, my love, to wait without;
This business asks dispatch, and I may want
His useful aid.

Isab. I go; but still my heart Beats anxious, lest the truth of thy suspicions Should fail of proof. [Erit ISABELLA. Glun. Fear nothing, I'm secure.—— Fond, easy fool! whom for my use alone, Not pleasure, I've ensnar'd; thou little dream'st, That fir'd with fair Cleone's heaven of charms, I burn for their enjoyment. There, there too, Did this Sifroy, this happy hated rival, Defeat the first warm hopes that fir'd iny bosom. I mark'd her beauties rising in their bloom, And purpos'd for mys: If the rip'ning sweetness; But ere my hand could reach the tempting fruit,

My noble friend from your fond arms and mine:
But his redoubted sword by this last stroke
Must soon reduce the foe to sue for peace.
The gallant chief who led the barbarous host,
And was himself their soul, is fallen in battle,
Slain by the valiant hand of your Sifroy.

Cle. To me, alas, his courage seems no virtue;
Dead to all joy, but what his safety gives,
To every hope, but that of his return,

I dread the danger which his valour seeks,
And tremble at his glory. O good Heaven!
Restore him soon to these unhappy arms,
Or much I fear, they'll never more enfold him.
Pau. What means Cleone? No new danger

can

Affright you for my friend. I fear your breast
Beats with the dread of some impending ill,
Threatening yourself. Now, by the love that
binds

My heart to your Sifroy, let me entreat,
If my assistance can avail you aught,
That, to the utmost hazard of my life,
You will command my service.

Cle. Kind Heaven, I thank thee! My Sifroy
hath yet

One faithful friend. O Paulet-but to thee,
The many virtues that adorn the mind
Of my lov'd lord, and made me once so blest,
'Twere needless to display. In mine alone
His happiness was plac'd; no grief, no care
Came ever near my bosom; not a pain
But what his tenderness partaking, sooth'd.
All day with fondness would he gaze upon me,
And to my listening heart repeat such things,

As only love like his knew how to feel.
O my Sifroy! when, when wilt thou return?
Alas, thou know'st not to what bold attempts
Thy unsuspecting virtue has betray'd me!

Pau. What danger thus alarms Cleone's fear?
Cle. I am asham'd to think, and blush to say,
That in my husband's absence this poor form,
These eyes, or any feature should retain
The power to please-but Glanville well you
know-

Pau. Sure you suspect not him of base designs!

He wears the semblance of much worth and ho

nour.

Cle. So to the eye the speckled serpent wears A shining beauteous form; but deep within, Foul stings and deadly poisons lurk unseen. O Paulet, this smooth serpent hath so crept Into the bosom of Sifroy, so wound Himself about my love's unguarded heart, That he believes him harmless as a dove.

Pau. Good Heaven, if thou abhorr'st deceit, why suffer

A villain's face to wear the look of virtue ? Who would have thought his loose desires had flown

So high a pitch!-Have you imparted aught
Of his attempts to Isabella?

Cle. No.

Pau. I had suspicion his designs were there. Cle. I've thought so too: nay have some cause to fear

That she's his wife. This hath restrain'd my

tongue.

Pau. 'Tis well if she deserve your tenderness. But say, Cleone, let me know the means, Which this most impious man, this trusted friend, Hath taken to betray

Cle. I hear his voice;

And this way he directs his hated steps.
Retire into that room-he seldom fails
To hint his bold desires. Yourself perhaps
May thence detect him, and by open shame
Deter him from persisting.

[PAU. goes into the room. Enter GLANVILLE.

Glan. I greet you, lady, with important news.
The Saracens are beaten-yet Sifroy,
Coldly neglectful of your blooming charms,
Pursues a remnant of the flying foe

To strong Avignon's walls, where shelter'd safe,|
The hardy troops may bear a tedious siege.
Why then, Cleone, should you still resist
The soft entreaties of my warm desire?
Methinks the man but ill deserves your truth,
Who leaves the sweet Elysium of your arms
To tread the dangerous fields of horrid war.
Cle. And what, O Glanville, what dost thou
deserve?

Thou, who with treachery repay'st the trust
Of sacred friendship? Thou, who but to quench
A loose desire, a lawless passion's rage,
Would'st banish truth and honour from thy
breast?

With thee, thou say'st, my fame would be secure;
Unsully'd by the world. It might. Yet know,
Though hid beneath the centre of the earth,
Remov'd from Envy's eye, and Slander's tongue,
Nay from the view of Heaven itself conceal'd,
Still would I shun the very thought of guilt,
Nor wound my secret conscience with reproach.
Glan. Romantic all! Come, come, why were
you formed

So tempting fair; why grac'd with ev'ry charm, With eyes that languish, limbs that move with grace

Why were these beauties given you, but to sooth The sweet, the strong sensations they excite? Why were you made so beauteous, yet so coy?

[Offers to embrace her, she puts him by with disdain.

Cle. Base hypocrite! why rather wert thou suffer'd

Beneath fair Virtue's mien to hide a heart
So vile? Why this, good Heaven! But dost thou
think

Thy foul devices shall be still conceal'd?
Sifroy shall know thee; thy detested crime
Shall stand reveal'd in all its horrid form.
Glan. Is love a crime? O ask your feeling
heart- [PAU. bursts from the room.
Pau. Villain, desist!

Glan. Ha! Paulet here!-'Tis well:
He is her minion then! 'Tis as I guess'd;
My letters to Sifroy traduc'd them not. [Aside.
Pau. Vile hypocrite!-what! lurk such warm
desires

Beneath that sober mask of sanctity?

Is this the firm undoubted honesty,
In which Sifroy confiding, sleeps secure?

Glan. And is it fit that thou should'st lecture
vice?

Thou who, even here, this moment wert conceal'd,

The favourite object of lewd privacy?
Should'st thou declaim against the rich repast,
Thy gluttonous appetite alone enjoys
To all the heights of luxury?-Sweet lady!
Who now shall stand reveal'd before Sifroy?
But I have long, long known your intercourse,
Nor wanted clearer proof to speak your crimes.
[Going.

Cle. O heaven and earth!

Pau. Stay, monster! by high Heaven, Thy life shall answer this vile calumny. Glan. Dream not I fear!-thy threatenings I despise.

Soon I'll return, to thine and her confusion. [Erit GLAN.

Cle. What have I done? unhappy rash con

cealment !

This may, alas! give colour to his charge.

Pau. He dares not wrong you with the least surmise,

The slightest imputation on your fame!

And can I bear, now, in my husband's absence,
The whisper'd falsehood of malicious tales,
That cast a doubt on his Cleone's truth?
O rather leave his punishment to Heaven!
At least defer it till my lord's return.

Pau. And shall the man I love return, and find

A villain unchastis'd, who in my sight
Presumptuous dar'd to wound his honour!
It must not, shall not be.

Re-enter GLANVILLE with RAGOZIN.
Glan. Mark me, young sir,
'Tis with authority that I forbid
Your entrance in this house. Sifroy, convinc'd
Of all your secret crimes with that vile wanton,
Spurns from his door the falsehood he disdains.

Cle. Let me not hear it! I! am I a wanton? Does my dear lord think his Cleone vile? Glan. He knows it well.

Pau. Villain, 'tis false! He scorns

So mean a thought.

Glan. To silence every doubt,

See his own hand.

Pau. [Shewing the letter to RAG.] Say, whence
is this? who brought it?
Rag. I brought it from my master.
Glan. Look upon it.

[CLE. and PAU. look over it. Cle. Am I then banish'd from my husband's house?

Branded with infamy!-was once his wife!
Unkind Sifroy am I not still thy wife?
Indeed thy faithful wife! and when thou know'st,
As know thou wilt, how falsely I'm accus'd,
This cruel sentence sure will pierce thy heart.

My heart incapable

Pau. Licentious wretch!

At what fell mischief has thy malice aim'd? Glan. At thine and her detection, which at length

I have accomplish'd.

Pau. Impudent and vain!

Think'st thou Cleone's virtue, her fair truth,
Can suffer taint from thy unhallow'd breath?
Were they not proof but now against thy arts?
Glan. Mistaken man! To gain one personal
proof

Of her incontinence, that feign'd attempt
Was made; all other proof I had before.
And why I fail'd thou know'st;

Who, in her private chamber close conceal'd,
Mad'st it imprudent she should then comply.

Cle. Detested slanderer! I despise thy base

ness;

Disdain reply; and trust in Heaven's high hand
To dash thy bold designs.
[Erit CLE
Pau. [Whispering.] Observe me, sir—
This insult on the honour of my friend
Must be chastis'd. At morning's earliest dawn,
In the close vale, behind the castle's wall,
Prepare to meet me arm❜d,

Ġlan. Be well assur'd,

I will not fail.

[Erit PAU.

sign,

To make the law subservient to your aims
Against the life and fortunes of Šifroy?

Glan. Leave that to me. Sifroy, full well I
know,

Will soon arrive. Thou, when the gloom of night
Shall cast a veil upon the deeds of men,
Trace Paulet's steps, and in his bosom plunge
Thy dagger's point; thus shall thy care prevent
His future babbling; and to prove the deed
Upon Sifroy, be mine.

Rag. He dies this night.

Glan. Let thy first blow make sure his death, So shall no noise detect thee. Hither strait Convey his corpse, which secretly interr'd Within the garden's bound, prevents discovery.