Theod. 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)