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 two gushing torrents ran
Fast falling on her hands, which thus she wrung-
Moved at her grief, the tyrant ravisher,
With courteous action, woo'd her oft to turn;
Earnest he seem'd to plead, but all in vain ;
Ev'n to the last she bent her sight towards me,
And follow'd me-till I had lost myself.

Bel. Alas, for pity! Oh! those speaking tears!
Could they be false? did she not suffer with you?
For though the king by force possess'd her person,
Her unconsenting heart dwelt still with
If all her former woes were not enough,
Look on her now; behold her where she wanders,
Hunted to death, distress'd on ev'ry side,

you;

With no one hand to help; and tell me then,
If ever misery were known like her's?

Dum. And can she bear it? Can that delicate frame Endure the beating of a storm so rude?

When she was mine, no care came ever nigh her;
I thought the gentlest breeze, that wakes the spring,
Too rough to breathe upon her; cheerfulness
Danced all the day before her, and at night
Soft slumbers waited on her downy pillow-
Now sad and shelterless, perhaps, she lies,
Where piercing winds blow sharp, and the chill rain
Drops from some pent-house on her wretched head.
It is too much- -Hence with her past offences,
They are atoned at full- -Why stay we then?
Oh! let us haste, my friend, and find her out.
Bel. Somewhere about this quarter of the town,
I hear the poor abandon'd creature lingers :
Her guard, though set with strictest watch to keep
All food and friendship from her, yet permit her
To wander in the streets, there chuse her bed,
And rest her head on what cold stone she pleases.

E

Dum. Here let us then divide; each in his round To search her sorrows out; whose hap it is

First to behold her, this way let him lead
Her fainting steps, and meet we here together.

SCENE II.

A Street.

[Exeunt.

Enter JANE SHORE, her Hair hanging loose on her Shoulders, and barefooted.

J. Shore. Yet, yet endure, nor murmur, O, 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?
Wait then with patience, till the circling hours
Shall bring the time of thy appointed rest,

And lay thee down in death.
And hark, methinks the roar,

that late pursued me, Sinks like the murmurs of a falling wind, And softens into silence. Does revenge

And malice then grow weary, and forsake me?
My guard, too, that observed me still so close,
Tire in the task of their inhuman office,
And loiter far behind. Alas! I faint,
My spirits fail at once-This is the door
Of my Alicia Blessed opportunity!
I'll steal a little succour from her goodness,
Now while no eye observes me.

[She knocks at the Door.

Is your lady,

Enter a SERVANT.

My gentle friend, at home? Oh! bring me to her.

[Going in. Serv. Hold, mistress, whither would you?

J. Shore. Do you not know me?

Serv. I know you well, and know my orders, too:

You must not enter here.

J. Shore. Tell my Alicia,

"Tis I would see her.

Serv. She is ill at ease,

And will admit no visitor.

J. Shore. But tell her,

"Tis I, her friend, the partner of her heart, Wait at the door and beg―

Serv. 'Tis all in vain,Go hence, and howl to those that will regard you. [Shuts the Door, and exit. J. Shore. It was not always thus; the time has

been,

When this unfriendly door, that bars my passage, Flew wide, and almost leap'd from off its hinges, To give me entrance here;

When my approach was made a little holiday, And every face was dress'd in smiles to meet me: But now 'tis otherwise; and those, who bless'd me, Now curse me to my face. Why should I wander, Stray further on, for I can die ev'n here!

[She sits down at the Door.

Enter ALICIA in disorder.

Alicia. What wretch art thou, whose misery and baseness,

Hangs on my door; whose hateful whine of woe
Breaks in upon my sorrows, and distracts
My jarring senses with thy beggar's cry' ?
J. Shore. A very beggar, and a wretch indeed;

One driv'n by strong calamity to seek

For succours here; one perishing for want,
Whose hunger has not tasted food these three days;
And humbly asks, for charity's dear sake,

A draught of water and a little bread.

Alicia. And dost thou come to me, to me for bread ?

I know thee not-Go-hunt for it abroad,

Where wanton hands upon the earth have scatter'd it,
Or cast it on the waters-Mark the eagle,

And hungry vulture, where they wind the prey;
Watch where the ravens of the valley feed,
And seek thy food with them-I know thee not.
J. Shore. And yet there was a time, when my
Alicia

Has thought unhappy Shore her dearest blessing,
And mourn'd the live-long day she passed without

me;

Inclining fondly to me she has sworn,

She loved me more than all the world besides.

Alicia. Ha! say'st thou ! Let me look upon thee well

"Tis true-I know thee now-A mischief on thee! Thou art that fatal fair, that cursed she,

That set my brain a madding. Thou hast robb'd me?
Thou hast undone me-Murder! Oh, my Hastings!
See his pale bloody head shoots glaring by me!
Give me him back again, thou soft deluder,
Thou beauteous witch!

J. Shore. Alas! I never wrong'd thee- -Oh! bestow

Some poor remain, the voiding of thy table!
Alicia. Avaunt! and come not near me―
J. Shore. To thy hand

I trusted all; gave my whole store to you,
Nor do I ask it back; allow me but
The smallest pittance, give me but to eat,
Lest I fall down and perish here before thee.

Alicia. Nay! tell me not! Where is thy king, thy
Edward,

And all the smiling, cringing train of courtiers,
That bent the knee before thee?

J. Shore. Oh! for mercy

y!

Alicia. Mercy! I know it not-for I am miserable. I'll give thee misery, for here she dwells.

This is her house, where the sun never dawns,
The bird of night sits screaming o'er the roof,
Grim spectres sweep along the horrid gloom,
And nought is heard but wailings and lamentings.
Hark! something cracks above! it shakes, it totters!
And see, the nodding ruin falls to crush me!
'Tis fall'n, 'tis here! I felt it on my brain!
Why shouldst thou be a wretch? Stab, tear thy heart,
And rid thyself of this detested being;

I will not linger long behind thee here.
A waving flood of bluish fire swells o'er me;
And now 'tis out, and I am drown'd in blood.
Ha! what art thou! thou horrid headless trunk?
It is my Hastings! see he wafts me on!

Away! I go, I fly! I follow thee!

[She runs off

J. Shore. Alas! she raves; her brain, I fear, is

turn'd.

In mercy look upon her, gracious Heav'n,

Nor visit her for any wrong to me.

Sure I am near my journey's end;

My head runs round, my eyes begin to fail,
And dancing shadows swim before my sight.

I can no more -[Lies down.]—receive me, thou cold earth,

Thou common parent, take me to thy bosom,
And let me rest with thee.

Enter BELMour.

Bel. Upon the ground!

Thy miseries can never lay thee lower.