Looks not a lie. Thou saidst thou wert a captive- Theo. My story's brief. My mother and myself Count. A likely tale! a well-devis'd imposture! Who will believe thee? Aust. Go on, say all. Theo. To the fierce bashaw, Hamet, That scourge and terror of the Christian coasts, Aust. Ha! at Tunis? Seiz'd with thy mother? Lives she, gentle youth? Theo. Ah, no, dear saint! fate ended soon her woes, In pity ended! On her dying couch, She pray'd for blessings on me. Aust. Be thou blessed! O fail not, nature, but support this conflict! Theo. The lord of Clarinsal. Why dost thou look so eagerly upon me? Tell him my tale. Aust. Mysterious Providence! Count. What's this? the old man trembles and turns pale. [Aside. Theo. He will not let his offspring's timeless ghost Walk unappeas'd; but on this cruel head Am I so bless'd, at last, to see my son? Aust. I did, I did! let this, and this, convince thee, I am that Clarinsal, I am thy father. Count. Why works this foolish moisture to my eyes? Down, nature! what hast thou to do with vengeance? C [Aside. Theo. Oh, sir! thus bending, let me clasp your knees; Now, in this precious moment, pay at once The long, long debt of a lost son's affection. Count. Destruction seize them both! Must I behold Their transports, ne'er perhaps again to know A son's obedience, or a father's fondness? [Aside. Aust. Dear boy! what miracle preserv'd thec thus, To give thee back to France? Theo. No miracle, But common chance. A warlike bark of Spain Was I compell'd to join their hated league, Told me, the rumour ran he had renounc'd Aust. They told thee truth; and heav'n shall have my pray❜rs, My soul pour'd out in endless gratitude, Count. Thus far, fond man! I have listen'd to the tale; And think it, as it is, a gross contrivance, A trick, devis'd to cheat my credulous reason, Aust. And art thou so unskill'd in nature's language, I see thou hast an int'rest in his life, And by that link I hold thee. Wouldst thou save him Pass from the castle. By my hopes of heav'n, Image of her my soul delighted in, Again she lives in thee! Yes, 'twas that voice, Theo. But must we bear to be thus tamely coop'd I look to my unguarded side in vain; Aust. Think not of vengeance now; A mightier arm than thine prepares it for him. Yes, he must suffer; my rapt soul foresees it; To the last letter, all shall be accomplish'd. Theo. So let it be! but if his pride must fall, Ye saints, who watch o'er loveliness and virtue, Confound not with his crimes her innocence! Make him alone the victim; but with blessings, Bright and distinguish'd, crown his beauteous daughter, The charming Adelaide, my heart's first passion! Aust. Oh, most disastrous love! My son, my son, Thy words are poniards here. Alas! I thought (So thought the tyrant, and for that he rag'd) The vows exchang'd 'tween Isabel and thee, Thwarted the issue of his wild designs. Theo. I knew not Isabel, beyond a moment Pass'd in surprise and haste. Aust. O, bad malignant fortune toil'd to blast him, Thus had she snar'd him in this fatal passion!— And does young Adelaide return thy love? Theo. Bless'd pow'rs, she does! How can you frown and hear it? Her gen'rous soul, first touch'd by gratitude, Soon own'd a kinder, warmer sympathy. Soft as the fanning of a turtle's plumes, The sweet confession met my enraptur'd ears. Aust. What can I do?-Come near, my Theodore; Dost thou believe my affection? Theo. Can I doubt it? Aust. Think what my bosom suffers, when I tell thee, It must not, cannot be. Theo. My love for Adelaide! Aust. Deem it delicious poison; dash it from thee: Thy bane is in the cup. Theo. O bid me rather Tear out my throbbing heart; I'd think it mercy, That proud, unfeeling Narbonne, from his lips Aust. And fond, as ever own'd that tender name. Not 1, my son, not I prevent this union, To me 'tis bitterness to cross thy wish; But nature, fate, and heav'n, all, all forbid it. We must withdraw where heav'n alone can hear us: And, to confirm thy name, secure thy honour, Make one great sacrifice of love to justice. [Exeunt. Adel. Woe treads on woe.-Thy life, my Theodore, Thy threaten'd life, snatch'd from th' impending stroke, Just gave a moment's respite to my heart; And now a mother's grief, with pangs more keen, And call on heav'n to sanctify the outrage! What savage tongues would falter ev'n to speak? Enter AUSTIN and JAQUELINE. O let me bend to thank you; In this extreme distress, from you alone (For my poor heart is vain) can she hope comfort. Aust. How heard she the ill tidings? I had hopes |