Looks not a lie. Thou saidst thou wert a captive-
Turn not away; we are not all like him.

Theo. My story's brief. My mother and myself
(I then an infant), in my father's absence,
Were on our frontiers seiz'd by Saracens.

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,
Were we made slaves at Tunis.

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!
"Tis not delusion sure. It must be he.-
But one thing more; did she not tell thee too,
Thy wretched father's name?

Theo. The lord of Clarinsal.

Why dost thou look so eagerly upon me?
If yet he lives, and thou know'st Clarinsal,

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
Exact full vengeance for his slaughter'd son.
Aust. O Giver of all good! Eternal Lord!

Am I so bless'd, at last, to see my son?
Theo. Let me be deaf for ever, if my ears
Deceive me now! Did he not say his 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
Bore down, and seiz'd our vessel, as we rov'd
Intent on spoil (for many times, alas!

Was I compell'd to join their hated league,
And strike with infidels). My country known,
The courteous captain sent me to the shore;
Where vain were my fond hopes to find my father;
"Twas desolation all; a few poor swains

Told me, the rumour ran he had renounc'd
A hated world, and here, in Languedoc,
Devoted his remains of life to heav'n.

Aust. They told thee truth; and heav'n shall have my pray❜rs,

My soul pour'd out in endless gratitude,
For this unhop'd, immeasurable blessing.

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,
And thaw me to a woman's milkiness.

Aust. And art thou so unskill'd in nature's language,
Still to mistrust us? Could our tongues deceive,
Credit, what ne'er was feign'd, the genuine heart:
Believe these pangs, these tears of joy and anguish.
Count. Or true, or false, to me it matters not.

I see thou hast an int'rest in his life,

And by that link I hold thee. Wouldst thou save him
(Thou know'st already what my soul is set on),
Teach thy proud heart compliance with my will:
If not-but now no more.-Hear all, and mark me-
Keep special guard that none, but by my order,

Pass from the castle. By my hopes of heav'n,
His head goes off who dares to disobey me!
Farewell! -if he be dear to thee, remember. [Exit.
Aust. If he be dear to me! my vital blood!

Image of her my soul delighted in,

Again she lives in thee! Yes, 'twas that voice,
That kindred look, rais'd such strong instinct here,
And kindled all my bosom at thy danger.

Theo. But must we bear to be thus tamely coop'd
By such insulting, petty despotism?

I look to my unguarded side in vain;
Had I a sword-

Aust. Think not of vengeance now;

A mightier arm than thine prepares it for him.
Pass but a little space, we shall behold him
The object of our pity, not our anger.

Yes, he must suffer; my rapt soul foresees it;
Empires shall sink, the pond'rous globe of earth
Crumble to dust, the sun and stars be quench'd!
But O, Eternal Father! of thy will,

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,
To this unjust, this cruel interdiction.

That proud, unfeeling Narbonne, from his lips
Well might such words have fallen;-but thou, my
father-

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:
Then must thou stretch thy soul's best faculties,
Call ev'ry manly principle to steel thee,

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,
Wakes ev'ry throbbing sense, and quite o'erwhelms me.
Her soul wrapp'd up in his, to talk thus to her!
Divorce her, leave her, wed with Isabel,

And call on heav'n to sanctify the outrage!
How could my father's bosom meditate

What savage tongues would falter ev'n to speak?
But see, he comes

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