You have staid long; there's nothing, nothing sure Now to despair of in succeeding fate.

Isa. I am contented to be miserable,

But not this way: I have been too long abused,
And can believe no more.

Let me sleep on to be deceived no more.

Bir. Look up, my love! I never did deceive thee, Nor never can; believe thyself, thy eyes, That first inflamed, and lit me to my love; Those stars, that still must guide me to my joys— Isa. And me to my undoing: I look round, And find no path, but leading to the grave. Bir. I cannot understand thee.

Isa. My good friends above,

I thank them, have at last found out a way
To make my fortune perfect; having you,
I need no more; my fate is finished here.
Bir. Both our ill fates, I hope.

Isa. Hope is a lying, fawning flatterer,
That shews the fair side only of our fortunes,
To cheat us easier into our fall;

A trusted friend, who only can betray you;
Never believe him more. If marriages
Are made in Heaven, they should be happier :
Why was I made this wretch?

Bir. Has marriage made thee wretched?

Isa. Miserable, beyond the reach of comfort.
Bir. Do I live to hear thee say so?

Isa. Why, what did I say?

Bir. That I have made thee miserable.

Isa. No: you are my only earthly happiness: And my false tongue belied my honest heart,

If it said otherwise.

Bir. And yet you said,

Your marriage made you miserable.

Isa. I know not what I said:

I have said too much, unless I could speak all. Bir. Thy words are wild; my eyes, my ears, my heart,

Were all so full of thee, so much employed

In wonder of thy charms, I could not find it:

Now I perceive it plain

Isa. You will tell nobody

Bir. Thou art not well.

[Distractedly.

Isa. Indeed I am not; I knew that before;

But where's the remedy?

Bir. Rest will relieve thy cares: come, come, no

more;

I'll banish sorrow from thee.

Isa. Banish first the cause.

Bir. Heaven knows how willingly!

Isa. You are the only cause.

Bir. Am I the cause? the cause of thy misfor

tunes?

Isa. The fatal innocent cause of all my woes.

Bir. Is this my welcome home! this the reward

Of all my miseries, long labours, pains,

And pining wants of wretched slavery,

Which I have outlived, only in hopes of thee!
Am I thus paid at last for deathless love,
And called the cause of thy misfortunes now?

Isa. Inquire no more; 'twill be explained too

soon.

[She is going off.

Bir. What! canst thou leave me too?

Isa. Pray let me go:

[He stays her.

For both our sakes, permit me.

Bir. Rack me not with imaginations

Of things impossible

Thou canst not mean

What thou hast said- -Yet something she must

mean.

'Twas madness all-Compose thyself, my love! The fit is past; all may be well again:

Let us to bed.

Isa. To bed! You have raised the storm
Will sever us for ever. Oh, Biron !

While I have life, still I must call you mine:
I know I am, and always was, unworthy
To be the happy partner of your love;
And now must never, never share it more.
But oh! if ever I was dear to you,

As sometimes you have thought me, on my knees, (The last time I shall care to be believed)

I beg you, beg to think me innocent,

Clear of all crimes, that thus can banish me
From this world's comforts, in my losing you.
Bir. Where will this end?

Isa. The rugged hand of fate has got between

Our meeting hearts, and thrusts them from their joys. Since we must part

Bir. Nothing shall ever part us.

Isa. Parting's the least that is set down for me: Heaven has decreed, and we must suffer all.

Bir. I know thee innocent: I know myself so: Indeed we both have been unfortunate; But sure misfortunes ne'er were faults in love. Isa. Oh! there's a fatal story to be told; Be deaf to that, as heaven has been to me! And rot the tongue that shall reveal my shame:

When thou shalt hear how much thou hast been

wronged,

How wilt thou curse thy fond believing heart,
Tear me from the warm bosom of thy love,
And throw me like a poisonous weed away!
Can I bear that? Bear to be curst and torn,
And thrown out of thy family and name,
Like a disease? Can I bear this from thee?
I never can: no, all things have their end.
When I am dead, forgive and pity me.

Bir. Stay, my Isabella

[Exit.

What can she mean? These doubtings will distract

me:

Some hidden mischief soon will burst to light;

I cannot bear it-I must be satisfied

'Tis she, my wife, must clear this darkness to me. She shall-if the sad tale at last must come, She is my fate, and best can speak my doom.

[Exit.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-Enter BIRON. Nurse following him.

Bir. I know enough: the important question
Of life or death, fearful to be resolved,

Is cleared to me: I see where it must end,
And need inquire no more Pray, let me have
Pen, ink, and paper. I must write awhile,
And then I'll try to rest- -to rest for ever!

[Exit Nurse.

Poor Isabella! now I know the cause,
The cause of thy distress, and cannot wonder
That it has turned thy brain.

If I look back

Upon thy loss, it will distract me too.

Oh, any curse but this might be removed!
But 'twas the rancorous malignity

Of all ill-stars combined, of heaven and fate—
Hold, hold, my impious tongue-Alas! I rave:
Why do I tax the stars, or heaven, or fate?
They are all innocent of driving us
Into despair; they have not urged my doom;
My father and my brother are my fates
That drive me to my ruin. They knew well
I was alive. Too well they knew how dear
My Isabella-Oh, my wife no more!
How dear her love was to me- -Yet they stood,
With a malicious silent joy, stood by,
And saw her give up all my happiness,
The treasure of her beauty, to another;