 | The Impostor |  |
69
SCENE VIII.
Enter Sopheian.Soph.
Adieu ye idols of my daily worship,
False objects of true incense, cordial prayer—
Alas, how ill directed!—Never more
Shall your waste altar from Sopheian's hand
Receive the warm oblation.
Enter Hercides on the opposite side.
What art thou?
Hercid.
A villain—whom the Heavens, to save Sopheian,
Have turn'd to quick contrition—know you not
Hercides?
Soph.
How!—Hercides?
Hercid.
Soft, my master—
This way, for mercy's sake!—I must be short—
Perdition is about us—Haste, O haste!
[Exeunt.
| The Impostor | |