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Bel. With the gentlest patience.
Shore. When was this piteous sight?
Bel. These last two days,
Shore. Let them threaten:
Bel. Mean you to see her, thus, in your own form?
Bel. Have you examin'd
Shore. Why dost thou search so deep and urge my " To set in dread array my wrongs again? [memory
I have long labour'd to forget myself, • To think on all time, backward, like a space, • Idle and void, where nothing e'er had being ; « But thou hast peopled it again; revenge
And jealousy renew their horrid forms, • Shoot all their fires, and drive me to distraction.
• Bel. Far be the thought from me! my care was only • To arm you for the meeting : Better were it • Never to see her, than to let that name • Recall forgotten rage, and make the husband • Destroy the gen'rous pity of Dumont.'
Shore. Oh! thou hast set my busy brain at work, And now she musters up a train of images, Which to preserve my peace I had cast aside, And sunk in deep oblivion-Oh, that form! That lovely face on which my dotage hung! How have I gaz'd upon her! till my soul With very eagerness went forth towards her, And issu'd at my eyes—Was there a gem Which the sun ripens in the Indian mine; Or the rich bosom of the ocean yields, What was there art could make or wealth could buy, Which I have left unsought to deck her beauty? What could her King do more? And yet she fled.
Bel. Away with that sad fancy.
Shore. Oh! that day! The thought of it must live for ever with me. I met her, Belmour, when the royal spoiler Bore her in triumph from my widow'd home! Within his chariot, by his side, she sate, And listen'd to his talk with downward looks; Till, sudden as she chanc'd aside to glance, Her eyes encounter'd mine-Oh! then, my friend! Oh! who can paint my grief and her amazement! As at the stroke of death, twice turn'd she pale, And twice a burning crimson blush'd all o'er her; Then, with a shriek heart-wounding, loud she cried, While down her cheeks the gushing torrents ran
Fast-falling on her hands, which, thus, she wrung-
Bel. Alas! for pity! Oh! those speaking tears!
Shore. And can she bear it? Can that délicate frame:
Hamlet, A. 11. S. 1. + “ Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by: behold and see, if " there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, which is done unto me, wherewith the Lord hath afflicted me in the day of his tierce anger."
Lamentatioos 1, 12.
Hamlet; A. 1. S, II,
Drenches her locks, and kills her with the cold.
Bel. Somewhere about this quarter of the town,
Shore. Here let us, then, divide, each in his round
SCENE II. Another Street. JAVE SHORE is discovered leaning against an archway
in the middle of the stuge, her hair hanging loose ont her shoulders, and bare-footed.*
J. Sho. Yet, yet endure, nor murmur, oh! my soul! For are not thy transgressions great and numberless! Do they not cover thee like rising floods, And press
thee like a weight of waters down?+ Does not the hand of righteousness afflict thee? And who shall plead against it? who shall say To Power Almighty, Thou hast done enough:
* It appears an impropriety when this play is acted and the scene draws and discovers Jane Shore, in a clean white dress, (as, I believe, is invariably the case,) though Belmour bas been giving an accouot of her sufferings in the streets for three days, and the rabble "gathering the filth froin out the common ways to hurl upon her head." Something is certainly due to decent appearance in the character, and allowance may be justly made for the stage selecting and requiring the least disgusting modes of exhibiting real life. Perhaps a dark coloured dress of flowing picturesque drapery might come nearer to a compromise between reality and what an audience would bear.
+" Abundance of waters cover thee.” Job, XXI1, 11. See before p. 113. Note*.
“ Take me out of the mire, that I sink not: 0 let me he de. 66 livered from them that hate me, and out of the deep waters, “ Let not the water flood drown me, neither let the deep swallow
me up." Psalm Lxix. 15, 16.
Or bid his dreadful rod of vengeance, stay?
To see the shadows rise, and be dismiss'd.'
[She knocks at the door..
Enter a SERVANT.
[Going in. Serv. Hold, mistress, whither would you?
[Putting her back. J. Sho. Do you not know me?
Serv. I know you well, and know my orders, too.. You must not enter here.
J. Sho. Tell my Alicia, 'Tis I would see her.
Sero. She is ill at ease, And will admit no visitor.
J. Sho. But, tell her "Tis I, her friend, the partner of her heart, Wait at the door; and beg.
* “ Turn from him that he may rest, till he shall accomplish as so ao hireling bis day.”
Job, xiv. 6. + I am very ill at ease,
Othello, A. III. S.-I]I