Belv. Yes;—and you've oft told me
With smiles of love, and chaste paternal kisses,
I'd much resemblance of my mother.
Priu. Oh!
Hadst thou inherited her matchless virtues,
I'd been too blest.
Belv. Nay, do not call to memory
My disobedience, but let pity enter
Into your heart, and quite deface the impression;
For could you think how mine's perplexed, what sadness,
Fears, and despairs distract the peace within me,
Oh! you would take me in your dear, dear arms,
Hover with strong compassion o'er your young one,
To shelter me with a protecting wing,
From the black gathered storm, that's just, just breaking.
Priu. Don't talk thus.
Belv. Yes, I must, and you must hear too.
I have a husband—
Priu. Damn him!
Belv. Oh! do not curse him;
He would not speak so hard a word towards you
On any terms, howe'er he deal with me.
Priu. Ha! what means my child?
Bel. Oh, there's but this short moment
'Twixt me and fate: yet send me not with curses
Down to my grave; afford me one kind blessing
Before we part; just take me in your arms,
And recommend me with a prayer to Heaven,
That I may die in peace; and when I'm dead—
Priu. How my soul's catched!