Since guilt I know not, wherefore know I fear?
And yet these silent shadowy scenes awake

Strange apprehensions. Guardian powers! protect
My weakness! Hark! what noise is that?-All still.
It was but fancy.—Yet methought the howl

Of distant wolves broke on the ear of night,
Doubling the desert's horror.

Child. O I'm frighted!

Why do you speak and look so strangely at me?
Cle. I will not fright my love. Come, let's go on-
We've but a little way-Save us, ye Powers!

Enter RAGOZIN with a Dagger and a Mask on.
[Cleone flies with her Child, he follows.

Rag. Stop-for thou fly'st in vain.

Cle. [Within the scenes. ] Help! Mercy! Save! Kill not my infant! Murder! O my child!

[She retreats back to the Scene, and falls in a swoon.

Re-enter RAGOZIN.

Rag. She too is dead!-I fear'd that blow was short

But hark! what noise ?-I must not be detected-
No time to bury 'em now-be that his care.--` [Exit.
Cle. [Waking from her trance.] Where have I been?
What horrid hand hath stamp'd

This dreadful vision on my brain? O Death!
Have I not gain'd thy mansions? Am I still
In this bad world? What ails my heart? my head?
Was not my child here with me? Sure he was-

And some foul dæmon terrifies my soul

With fears of murder. Gracious Heaven, forbid!
Conduct my steps, kind Providence, to where

My little wanderer strays, that I may know
This horror in my mind is but a dream.

SCENE IV.

[Exit.

Changes to an adjoining Part of the Wood, and discovers the Child murder'd. Enter CLEONE.

Cle. O fearful silence! Not a sound returns, Save the wild echoes of my own sad cries, To my affrighted ear!-My child! my child! Where art thou wander'd-where beyond the reach Of thy poor mother's voice!-Yet while above The God of justice dwells, I will not deem The bloody vision true. Heaven hath not left meThere truth is known, well known-and see my love! See, where upon the bank its weary'd limbs Lie stretch'd in sleep. In sleep! O agony! Blast not my senses with a sight like this!

'Tis blood! 'tis death! my child, my child is murder'd! [Falls down by her child, kissing it and weeping. Then raising herself on her arm, after a dead silence, and looking by degrees more and more wild, she proceeds in a distracted manner.

Hark! hark! lie still, my love!-For all the world Don't stir!-'Tis Glanville, and he'll murder us! Stay, stay-I'll cover thee with boughs-don't fear

I'll call the little lambs, and they shall bring
Their softest fleece to shelter thee from cold.
There, there-lie close-he shall not see-no, no;
I'll tell him 'tis an angel I have hid. [She rises up.
Where is he? soft!-he's gone, he's gone, my love,
And shall not murder thee.-Poor innocent!

'Tis fast asleep. Well thought! I'll steal away, Now while he slumbers-pick wild berries for him, And bring a little water in my hand

Then, when he wakes, we'll seat us on the bank,
And sing all night.

ACT IV. SCENE 1.

A Room in SIFROY's House.

GLANVILLE, and

ISABELLA.

Glanville.

BETRAY'D! by whom betray'd? By thy vain fear. How curs'd is he who treads on danger's path, Entangled with a woman! Fool! alone

I had been safe.

Isab. Yet hear me-On my life,

No word from me hath 'scap'd. We may perchance

Glan. Perchance! And do our lives

Depend on fickle chance? But speak-proceed-
Whence are thy fears?

Isab. In close concealment hid,

This moment I o'erheard a whisper'd scheme
Of seizing thee.

F

Glan. Confusion! Can it be?

Can Ragozin, the villain, have betray'd me?
Isab. I fear he hath. Where is he?

Glan. Not return'd

From Baden wood, to ascertain the deed

That crowns our business. Were but that secure, My tortur'd soul, torn on the rack of doubt, Might yet feel peace. How wears the time?

Isab. Two hours

Are wanting yet to midnight.

Glan. Where's Sifroy

Isab. With Beaufort. But perplexing doubts distract His reason, that all power to act forsakes him. Still farther to alarm-deep-stain'd with gore, The sword of Paulet's found, and other marks That speak him murder'd.

Glan. That's beyond my wish:

And tells but what I wanted to proclaim.

Isab. Proclaim! What mean'st thou? Doth it not conduce

To our detection? Doth it not confirm

Their dark suspicions?

Glan. The short line, alas,

Of thy weak thought, in vain would sound the depth

Of my designs. But rest thee well assur'd

I have foreseen, and am prepar'd to meet

All possible events.

Isab. O grant, good Heaven

Great God! how dreadful 'tis to be engag'd

In what we dare not pray that Heaven may prosper!

2

Glan. Curse on thy boding tongue! Let me not hear Its superstitious weakness-Hush! who comes? No more 'tis Ragozin-Now sleep distrust. First let me learn if he hath done the deed, If not, I am betray'd, and will awake İn vengeance on his falsehood.

Enter RAGOZIN.

Glan. Speak, my friend—

Cleone and her child-say quickly-how disposed? Rag. To heav'n remov'd, no longer they obstruc Our views on earth.

Glan. Speak plainly-are they dead?

Rag. Both dead.

Glan. Swear, swear to this! And by all hope Of that reward which urg'd thee to the deed, Swear thou hast not betray'd me!

Rag. Whence arise

These base suspicions? I disdain that crime!
Tho' branded with the name of an assassin,

I am not yet so mean as to betray.

Glan. Distraction!—may I trust thee?

Rag. As thou wilt.

Glan. [Pausing.] It must be so we still are safe: and this

Pretence of strong suspicion is no more

Than subtil artifice, contriv'd to draw

Th'unwary to confession.

Rag. Tis no more.

Glan. Nor will I more than with a just contempt