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But above all, thou must root out for ever

From the king's breast the least remain of hope,
And henceforth make his mentioned love dishonour.
These things, my daughter, that must needs be done,
Can but this way be done-by the safe refuge,
The sacred shelter of a husband-

And there is one

Sig. Good Heavens! what means my lord?
Sif. One of illustrious family, high rank,
Yet still of higher dignity and merit,

Who can and will protect thee; one to awe
The king himself-Nay, hear me, Sigismunda-
The noble Osmond courts thee for his bride,
And has my plighted word-This day—
Sig. [Kneeling.] My father!

Let me with trembling arms embrace thy knees.
Oh, if you ever wish to see me happy ;
If e'er in infant years I gave you joy,

When as I prattling twined around your neck,
You snatched me to your bosom, kiss'd my eyes,
And melting said you saw my mother there;
Oh, save me from that worst severity
Of fate! Oh, outrage not my breaking heart
To that degree!-I cannot!-'tis impossible!-
So soon withdraw it, give it to another—
Sif. My daughter! you abuse
The softness of my nature-

Sig. Here, my father,

Till you relent, here will I grow for ever!

Sif. Rise, Sigismunda.-Though you touch my heart,

Nothing can shake th' inexorable dictates

Of honour, duty, and determined reason.
Then by the holy ties of filial love,

Resolve, I charge thee, to receive Earl Osmond,
As suits the man who is thy father's choice,
And worthy of thy hand-I go to bring him-
Sig. Spare me, my dearest father!

Sif. [Aside.] I must rush

From her soft grasp, or nature will betray me!
Sig. You cannot, oh, my father!

You cannot leave me thus !

Sif. Come hither, Laura,

Come to thy friend. Now show thyself a friend. Combat her weakness; dissipate her tears;

Cherish, and reconcile her to her duty.

[Exit SIFFREDI.

Enter LAURA.

Laura. Forgive me, madam, if I blame your grief. How can you waste your tears on one so false ? Unworthy of your tenderness; to whom

Nought but contempt is due, and indignation?

Sig. You know not half the horrors of my fate! I might perhaps have learn'd to scorn his falsehood; I might have roused my pride and scorn'd himself— But 'tis too much, this greatest, last misfortuneOh, whither shall I fly? Where hide me, Laura, From the dire scene my father now prepares ? Laura. What thus alarms you, madam? Sig. Can it be?

Can Iah, no!

My violated heart?

-at once give to another

Oh, dreadful change! for Tancred, haughty Osmond. Laura. Now, on my soul, 'tis what an outraged heart

Like yours, should wish! -I should, by Heavens,

esteem it

Most exquisite revenge!

Sig. Revenge! on whom?

On my own heart, already but too wretched! Laura. On him! this Tancred! who has basely sold,

For the dull form of despicable grandeur,

His faith, his love!-At once a slave and tyrant!

Sig. Oh, rail at me, at my believing folly, My vain ill-founded hopes! but spare him, Laura. Laura. Who raised these hopes? who triumphs

o'er that weakness?

Pardon the word-You greatly merit him
Better than him, with all his giddy pomp;

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You raised him by your smiles, when he was nothing. Where is your woman's pride, that guardian spirit Given us to dash the perfidy of man?

Ye powers! I cannot bear the thought with patience

Before the public thus, before your
By an irrevocable solemn deed,

father,

With such inhuman scorn, to throw you from him: To give his faithless hand, yet warm from thine, With complicated meanness, to Constantia.

And, to complete his crime, when thy weak limbs Could scarce support thee, then, of thee regardless, To lead her off.

Sig. That was indeed a sight

To poison love, to turn it into rage

And keen contempt.-What means this stupid weak

ness

That hangs upon me? Hence, unworthy tears, Disgrace my cheek no more! No more, my heart, For one so coolly false or meanly fickle,

Dare to suggest

The least excuse !-Yes, traitor, I will wring
Thy pride, will turn thy triumph to confusion!
Sicilia's daughters

Shall wondering see in me a great example
Of one, who punish'd an ill-judging heart,
Who made it bow to what it most abhorred!
Crush'd it to misery! for having thus

So lightly listened to a worthless lover!

Laura. At last it mounts, the kindling pride of

virtue;

Trust me, thy marriage shall embitter his

Will sting his soul to madness. Noble Osmond, Of strictest honour, and by all revered

Sig. Talk not of Osmond, but perfidious Tancred! Rail at him, rail! invent new names of scorn! Assist me, Laura;

Support my staggering purpose, which already
Begins to fail me

Laura. If thy own peace and honour cannot keep Thy resolution fix'd, yet, Sigismunda,

Oh, think how deeply, how beyond retreat,
Thy father is engaged.

Sig. Ah, wretched weakness!

It must not be !-thou first of angels! come,
Sweet filial piety, and firm my breast!
Yes, let one daughter to her fate submit ;
Be nobly wretched—but her father happy!-
Laura!-they come !-Oh, Heavens, I cannot stand
The horrid trial!-Open, open, earth!

And hide me from their view.

Enter SIFFREDI and OSMOND.

Sif. My daughter,

Behold my noble friend, who courts thy hand,
And whom to call my son I shall be proud.
Osm. Think not I presume,

Madam, on this your father's kind consent,
To make me blest. I love you from a heart,
That seeks your good superior to my own;
And will by every art of tender friendship
Consult your dearest welfare. May I hope,
Yours does not disavow your father's choice?
Sig. I am a daughter, sir-and have no power
O'er my own heart-Support me, Laura. [Faints.
Sif. Help-bear her off-She breathes-my
daughter!

Sig. Oh,

Forgive my weakness-soft-my Laura, lead me To my apartment.

[Exeunt SIGIS, and LAURA.

Sif. Pardon me, my lord,

If, by this sudden accident alarm'd,
I leave you for a moment.

Osm. Let me think.

What can this mean?

[Exit SIFFREDI.

Is it to me aversion?

Or is it, as I fear'd, she loves another?

Ha!-yes-perhaps the king-the young Count

Tancred;

They were bred up together-Surely that,
That cannot be-Has he not given his hand,
In the most solemn manner, to Constantia ?
Does not his crown depend upon the deed?
What is it then?-I care not what it be.
She must be mine.--She is !-If yet her heart
Consents not to my happiness, her duty,
Join'd to my tender cares, will gain so much
Upon her generous nature-That will follow.
The man of sense, who acts a prudent part,
Nor flatt'ring steals, but forms himself the heart.

ACT THE FOURTH.

[Exit.

SCENE I.

The Garden belonging to SIFFREDI's House.

Enter SIGISMUNDA and LAURA.

Sig. [With a Letter in her Hand.] 'Tis done!-I am a slave!-The fatal vow

Has pass'd my lips!

But here is still new matter of distress.

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