Adel. Woe treads on woe.—Thy life, my Theodore,
Thy threaten'd life, snatch'd from the impending stroke,
Just gave a moment's respite to my heart;
And now a mother's grief, with pangs more keen,
Wakes every 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 Heaven, to sanctify the outrage!
How could my father's bosom meditate