How wrought it?-Say-this moment will she fly? Isab. Silent she paus'd-and read it o'er and o'er. Kindly she plans her scheme, as tho' herself Isab. As we parted, tears Gush'd from her eyes-she closely press'd my hand, If 'tis not now too late, beware of Glanville. Glan. Fool! root out That weakness, which unfits th' aspiring soul Enter RAGOZIN. Glan. Say, quickly Is our first work achiev'd? Rag. Successfully. With two bold ruffians, whose assisting hands You first directed. Glan. We are then secure From his detection; and may now advance But one step more remains, to plant our feet Rag. Propose the means. Glan. This hour Cleone with her infant boy, Borrowing faint courage from the moon's pale beam, Prepares to seek the mansion of her father. Thou know'st the neighbouring wood through which they pass. Rag. I know each path and every brake. Glan. There hid In secret ambush, thou must intercept Her journey. Rag. And direct her to the world Unknown. Glan. Thou read'st my meaning right. Go thou D To hasten her departure, and to keep [To Isabella. Her fears awake. Isab. Already she believes Her life depends upon her instant flight. [Exit Isabella. Glan. And haply ours. Each moment that she lives Grows dangerous now; and should she reach her father, All may be lost. Let therefore no delay Hang on thy foot-steps: terror wings her flight : Rag. They 'scape me not. I know the private path They needs must tread thro' Baden's lonesome wood, And death shall meet them in the dreary gloom. Glan. Meantime, soon as she leaves her house, I raise, From whispering tongues, a probable report, That she with Paulet seeks some foreign shore. This will confirm her guilt, and shelter us From all suspicion. Rag. True; both gone at once Will give an air of truth so plausible— Glan. Hark! hush! Rag. Who is it? Glan. 'Tis Cleone's voice! This way she comes—we must not now be seen. Fly to thy post, and think on thy reward. Enter CLEONE with her Child. [Exeunt. Cle. No Paulet to be found! Misfortune sure Prevents his friendship; and I dare not wait For his assistance. Friendless and alone I wander forth, Heaven my sole guide, and truth Child. No, indeed I won't! I'll love you, and go with you every where, If you will let me. Cle. My sweet innocent! Thou shalt go with me. I've no comfort left But thee. I had-I had a husband once, And thou a father.-But we're now cast out From his protection, banish'd from his love. Child. Why won't he love us? Sure I've heard you say, You lov'd him dearly. Cle. O my bursting heart! His innocence will kill me. So I do, My angel, and I hope you'll love him too. Child. Yes, so I will, if he'll love you: and can't I make him love you ? Cle. Yes, my dear; for how Could he withstand that sweet persuasive look Of infant innocence ! Child. O then he shall, If ever I do see him, he shall love you. Cle. My best, my only friend! and wilt thou plead Thy poor wrong'd mother's cause? Dij Enter ISABELLA. Isab. Dear Madam, haste! why thus delay your flight, When dangers rise around? Cle. Indeed, my steps Will linger, Isabella.-O 'tis hard Alas, thou canst not tell how hard it is To leave a husband's house so dearly lov'd! Pardon, good Heaven, the guilt of those who seek it! Isab. O doubt not, Madam, he will find the truth, And banish from his breast this strange suspicion. But haste, dear lady, wing your steps with haste, Lest death should intercept Cle. And must I go? Adieu, dear mansion of my happiest years! Adieu, sweet shades! each well-known bower, adieu! [Throws herself on her knees. But, O great Power! who bending from thy throne |