Belv. A wretch, who from the very top of happiness,
Am fallen into the lowest depths of misery,
And want your pitying hand to raise me up again.
Priu. Indeed, thou talk'st as thou hadst tasted sorrows;
Would I could help thee.
Belv. 'Tis greatly in your power;
The world, too, speaks you charitable; and I,
Who ne'er asked alms before, in that dear hope
Am come a-begging to you, sir.
Priu. For what?
Belv. Oh, well regard me; is this voice a strange one?
Consider, too, when beggars once pretend
A case like mine, no little will content them.
Priu. What wouldst thou beg for?
Belv. Pity and forgiveness. [Throws up her veil.
By the kind tender names of child and father,
Hear my complaints, and take me to your love.
Priu. My daughter!
Belv. Yes, your daughter, by a mother
Virtuous and noble, faithful to your honour,
Obedient to your will, kind to your wishes,
Dear to your arms: by all the joys she gave you,
When in her blooming years she was your treasure,
Look kindly on me; in my face behold
The lineaments of hers you've kissed so often,
Pleading the cause of your poor cast-off child.
Priu. Thou art my daughter.