Vith insolence and lewd reproach pursu❜d her,
looting and railing, and with villanous hands
Gath'ring the filth from out the common ways,
To hurl upon her head.

Dum. Inhuman dogs! How did she bear it?

Bel. With the gentlest patience;
ubmissive, sad, and lowly was her look;
A burning taper in her hand she bore,
And on her shoulders carelessly confus'd,
With loose neglect, her lovely tresses hung;
Ipon her cheek a faintish flush was spread;
'eeble she seem'd, and sorely smit with pain.
While barefoot as she trod the flinty pavement,
Her footsteps all along were mark'd with blood.
【et, silent still she pass'd and unrepining;
Her streaming eyes bent eyer on the earth,
Except when in some bitter pang of sorrow,
To Heav'n she seem'd in fervent zeal to raise,
And beg that mercy man deny'd her here.
Dum. When was this piteous sight?
Bel. These last two days.

You know my care was wholly bent on you,
To find the happy means of your deliverance,
Which but for Hastings' death I had not gain'd.
During that time, altho' I have not seen her,
Yet divers trusty messengers I've sent,
To wait about, and watch a fit convenience
To give her some relief, but all in vain ;
A churlish guard attends upon her steps,

Who menace those with death, that bring her com

fort,

And drive ail succour from her.

Dam. Let 'em threaten ;

Let proud oppression prove its fiercest malice;
So Heav'n befriend my soul, as here I vow
To give her help, and share one fortune with her.
Bel. Mean you to see her, thus, in your own form?

Dum. I do.

Bel. And have you thought upon the consequence Dum. What is there I should fear?

Bel. Have you examin'd

Into your inmost heart, and try'd at leisure
The sev'ral secret springs that move the passions?
Has mercy fix'd her empire there so sure,
That wrath and vengeance never may return?
Can you resume a husband's name, and bid
That wakeful dragon, fierce resentment, sleep?
“Dum. Why dost thou search so deep, and urge
my memory,

"To conjure up my wrongs to life again?
"I have long labour'd to forget myself,
"To think on all time backward, like a space
"Idle and void, where nothing e'er had being;
"But thou hast peopled it again: Revenge
“And jealousy renew their horrid forms,
"Shoot all their fires, and drive me to distraction.
"Bel. Far be the thought from me! My

only

care wa

"To arm you for the meeting: better were it

"Never to see her, than to let that name
"Recall forgotten rage, and make the husband
"Destroy the gen'rous pity of Dumont.”

Dum. O thou hast set my busy brain at work,
And now she musters up a train of images,
Which, to preserve my peace, I had cast aside,
And sunk in deep oblivion-Oh, that form!
That angel face on which my dotage hung!
How I have gaz'd upon her, till my soul
With very eagerness went forth towards her,
And issu'd at my eyes-Was there a gem
Which the sun ripens in the Indian mine,
Or the rich bosom of the ocean yields;

What was there art could make, or wealth could buy, Which I have left unsought to deck ner beauty? What could her king do more?—And yet she fled. Bel. Away with that sad fancy—

Dum. Oh, that day!

The thought of it must live for ever with me.
I met her, Belmour, when the royal spoiler
Bore her in triumph from my widow'd home!
Within his chariot, by his side she sat,

And listen'd to his talk with downward looks,
'Till sudden as she chanc'd aside to glance,
Her eyes encounter'd mine-Oh! then my friend!
Oh! who can paint my grief and her amazement!
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 cry'd,
While down her cheeks two gushing torrents ran

Fast falling on her hands, which thus she wrung-
Mov'd 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 you;
If all her former woes were not enough,
Look on her now; behold her where she wanders,
Hunted to death, distress'd on every side,
With no one hand to help; and tell me then,
If ever misery were known like hers?

Dum. And can she bear it? Can that delicate frame
Endure the beating of a storm so rude?
Can she, for whom the various seasons chang'd
To court her appetite and crown her board,
For whom the foreign vintages were press'd,
For whom the merchant spread his silken stores,
Can she

Intreat for bread, and want the needful raiment,
To wrap her shiv'ring bosom from the weather?
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; chearfulness
Danc'd all the day before her, and at night
Soft slumbers waited on her downy pillow-
Now sad and shelterless, perhaps, she lies,

2

Where piercing winds blow sharp, and the chill rain
Drops from some pent-house on her wretched head,
Drenches her locks, and kills her with the cold.
t is too much-Hence with her past offences,
They are aton'd at full-Why stay we, then?
Oh! let us haste, my friend, and find her out.
Bel. Somewhere about this quarter of the town,
hear the poor abandon'd creature lingers:
Her guard, tho' set with strictest watch to keep
All food and friendship from her, yet permit her
To wander in the streets, there choose her bed,
And rest her head on what cold stone she pleases.
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.

[Exeunt.

Enter JANE SHORE, her hair hanging loose on her shoulders, and bare-footed.

J. Sh. Yet, yet endure, nor murmur, oh, 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? "Does not the hand of righteousness afflict thee? "And who shall plead against it? Who shall say "To pow'r almighty, thou hast done enough; "Or bid his dreadful rod of vengeance stay?" Wait then with patience, till the circling hours Shall bring the time of thy appointed rest,