 | Cleone |  |
SCENE III.
Changes to another Room.Cleone and a Servant.
Cleone.
Paulet! my husband's friend? give him admittance;
His friendship sympathizes with my love,
Cheers me by talking of my absent lord,
And sooths my heart with hopes of his return.
[Enter Paulet.
Paulet.
Still do these louring clouds of sorrow shade
Cleone's brow, and sadden all her hours?
9
Ah Paulet! have I not just cause to mourn?
Three tedious years have past since these sad eyes
Beheld my dear Sifroy: and the stern brow
Of horrid war still frowns upon my hopes.
Paulet.
The fate of war, 'tis true, hath long detain'd
My noble friend from your fond arms and mine:
But his redoubted sword by this last stroke
Must soon reduce the foe to sue for peace.
The gallant chief who led the numerous host,
And was himself their soul, is fallen in battle,
Slain by the valiant hand of your Sifroy.
Cleone.
To me, alas, his courage seems no virtue:
Dead to all joy but what his safety gives,
To every hope, but that of his return,
I dread the danger which his valour seeks,
And tremble at his glory. O good Heaven!
Restore him soon to these unhappy arms,
Or much I fear they'll never more enfold him.
Paulet.
What means Cleone? No new danger can
Affright you for my friend. I fear your breast
Beats with the dread of some impending ill,
Threatening yourself. Now, by the love that binds
My heart to your Sifroy, let me intreat,
If my assistance can avail you aught,
That to the utmost hazard of my life
You will command my service.
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Kind Heaven, I thank thee! My Sifroy hath yet
One faithful friend. O Paulet—but to thee,
The many virtues that adorn the mind
Of my lov'd lord, and made me once so blest,
'Twere needless to display. In mine alone
His happiness was plac'd; no grief, no care
Came ever near my bosom; not a pain
But what his tenderness partaking, sooth'd.
All day with fondness would he gaze upon me,
And to my listening heart repeat such things,
As only love like his knew how to feel.
O my Sifroy! when, when wilt thou return?
Alas, thou know'st to what bold attempts
Thy unsuspecting virtue has betray'd me!
Paulet.
What danger thus alarms Cleone's fear?
Cleone.
I am asham'd to think, and blush to say,
That in my husband's absence this poor form,
These eyes, or any feature should retain
The power to please—but Glanville well you know—
Paulet.
Sure you suspect not him of base designs!
He wears the semblance of much worth and honour.
Cleone.
So to the eye the speckled serpent wears
A shining, beauteous form; but deep within,
Foul stings and deadly poisons lurk unseen.
O Paulet, this smooth serpent hath so crept
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Himself about my love's unguarded heart,
That he believes him harmless as the dove.
Paulet.
Good Heaven, if thou abhor'st deceit, why suffer
A villain's face to wear the look of virtue?
Who would have thought his loose desires had flown
So high a pitch! Have you imparted aught
Of his attempts, to Isabella.
Cleone.
No.
Paulet.
I had suspicion his designs were there.
Cleone.
I've thought so too: nay have some cause to fear
That she's his wife. This hath restrain'd my tongue.
Paulet.
I wish she may deserve your tenderness.
But say, Cleone, let me know the means,
Which this most impious man, this trusted friend,
Hath taken to betray—
Cleone.
I hear his voice,
And this way he directs his hated steps.
Retire into that room—seldom he fails
To hint his bold desires. Your self perhaps
May thence detect him, and by open shame
Deter him from persisting.
[Paulet goes into the room.
Glanville enters.
| Cleone | |