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What dark design, by blackest fiends inspir'd,
Lurks in thy treacherous soul? Tremendous Power!
Have I then sinn'd beyond all hope of mercy
Must the deep phial of thy vengeance, pour'd
On my devoted head, be pour'd from him?
But all thy ways are just! To him I gave
That credit which I ow'd my injur'd love-
He now, by thy supreme decree, stands forth
The avenger of my crime.

Enter BEAUFORT senior, Officers, &c.

Beauf. sen. Seize there your victim.

Glan. What means this outrage?-Upon what pre

tence

Beauf. sen. The bloody hand of murder points out thee

To strong suspicion. Turn'st thou pale?-Owretch! Thy guilt drinks up thy blood.

Glan. Not guilt, but rage!

Who dares accuse me?

Beauf. sen. I. Where's Paulet? where

My daughter? who thou basely said'st were fled
Together?

Glan. That his poinard found the way

To part their steps, impeaches not my truth.

Beauf. sen. His poinard!

Glan. His. I should have scorn'd to charge The man, whose honour I think deeply wrong'd; But my own life attempted thus, demands

That truth should rise to light. Cam'st thou not here,

Driven by the fury of a dire revenge ?

What other motive urg'd thy desperate haste?

Sif. Insidious slave! hast thou insnar'd my soul By treacherous arts?-Hast thou with falsehood vile Inflam'd this hapless breast?-And would'st thou now Infer my guilt, from my provok'd resentment?

Glan. Lean'd I on feeble inference-I would ask,
What cause have I to seek this Paulet's blood?
'Twas not my wife, my daughter, he seduc'd!
How has he injur'd me? But I reject

These trivial pleas—I build on certain proof.
Beauf. sen. What proof?

Glan. The strongest-his own hand and seal
Fixt to the firm resolve, that he alone

[Shewing the letter. Would do the righteous deed-for 30 his rage

Calls Paulet's murder.

Beauf. sen. Ha! What can I think!

Unhappy man! and hast thou to the crime

Of rash suspicion, added that of murder?
Sif. My father, hear thy son; I plead not for
My life, but justice.-That I am a wretch,
Groaning beneath the weight of Heaven's just ire-
That snared and caught in meditated wiles,
I banish'd from my house a guiltless wife-
That burning with revenge, I flew to quench
My wrath in Paulet's blood-all this I own.
But by the sacred eye of Providence!

That views each human step, and still detects

The murderer's deed; of this imputed crime
My heart is ignorant, my hands are clear.
Beauf. sen. I wish thee innocent-
Glan. Have then my words

No weight? and is his own attesting hand
No proof against him? Is her secret flight
An accident? No more-O partial man!

To hide thy daughter's shame, thou seek'st my life.
But I appeal from thee to public justice.

Beauf. sen. To that thou art consign'd: and may the hand

Of strict enquiry drag to open day

All secret guilt, tho' shame indelible

Should brand a daughter nearest to my heart.
Heaven aid my search! I seek not blood, but truth.
Guard safe your prisoner to the magistrate,

I'll follow you. The justice thou demand'st,
Thou shalt not want.

Glan. 'Tis well: I ask no more.

Let Ragozin, let Isabella too

Attend the magistrate-on them I call

To clear my slander'd name.

Beauf. sen. It shall be so.

Take them this instant to your strictest care.

Thou too, Sifroy, be ready to attend.

Sif. O think not I will leave him, till full proof

Condemn him or acquit.

Beauf. sen. The cause demands it.

[Exeunt Officers with Glanville guarded.

Sif. Whence has the miscreant this unusual firmness?

Can guilt be free from terror?

Beauf. sen. No, my son :

And thro' the mask of smooth hypocrisy,
Methinks I see conceal'd a trembling heart.
If he be true, my daughter must be false:
If he be guiltless, who hath murder'd Paulet ?
Sif. There, there, thank Heaven! my hands are

innocent.

But oh, my love!-Conduct me where she strays
Forlorn and comfortless! Alas, who knows—

Her tender heart perhaps this moment breaks
With my unkindness! Wretch! what hast thou lost!

Enter BEAUFORT junior.

Beauf. jun. Thy soul's sweet peace !-Never, no

never more

To be regain'd!-Shame, anguish, and despair
Shall haunt thy future hours! Severe remorse
Shall strike his vulture talons thro' thy heart,
And rend thy vital threads.

Beauf. sen. What means my son ?

Sif. My brother!-If I may conjure thee yet By that dear name.—

Beauf, jun. Thou may'st not-I disclaim it.

Sif. Why dost thou still alarm my shuddering soul

With rising terrors?

Beauf. sen. My dear son, relieve

Thy father from this dread suspence!

Beauf. jun. O Sir! how shall I speak! or in what words

Unfold the horrors of this night ?-My sister-
Lost to her wretched self-thro' dreary wilds
Wanders distracted-void of reason's light
To guide her devious feet.

Beauf. sen. Support me, Heaven!

Then every hope is fled!-Thy will be done!
Where is my child? Where was she found?
Beauf. jun. Alas!

Of soul too delicate, too soft to bear
Unjust reproach, and undeserved shame,
Distraction seiz'd her in the gloom of night,
As passing thro' the wood she sought the arms
Of a protecting father.

Sif. Do I live?

Is such a wretch permitted still to breathe?
Why opens not this earth? Why sleeps above
The lightning's vengeful blast? Is Heaven unjust?
Or am I still reserv'd for deeper wo?

I hope not mercy-that were impious-
Pour then on my bare head, ye ministers
Of wrath! your hottest vengeance-
Beauf. jun. Stop-forbear-

Nor imprecate that vengeance, which unseen
Already hangs o'er thy devoted life.

Thou know'st not yet the measure of thy wo.
Thy child, thy lovely babe, a bloody corse,
Lies breathless by his frantic mother's side-
Much to be fear'd, by her own hand destroy'd,
When reason in her brain had lost dominion.

Sif. My child too gone!-Then misery is complete→→→ O my torn heart!-Is there in heaven no pity?

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