Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 1.pdf/177

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Vict. I met him with a wild disorder'd air, In furious haste; he stopp'd distractedly, And gaz'd upon me with a mournful look, But pass'd away, and spoke not. Who art thou? (To the Messenger.) I fear thou art a bearer of bad tidings.

Mess. No, rather good as I should deem it, madam, Altho' unwelcome tidings to Count Basil. Our army hath a glorious battle won; Ten thousand French are slain, their monarch captive.

''Vict. to Mess.'' Ah there it is! he was not in the fight. Run after him I pray—nay, do not so— Run to his kinsman, good Count Rosinberg, And bid him follow him—I pray thee run!

Mess. Nay, lady, by your leave, you seem not well, I will conduct you hence, and then I'll go.

Vict. No, no, I'm well enough, I'm very well, Go, hie thee hence, and do thine errand swiftly. [ Messenger. O! what a wretch am I! I am to blame! I only am to blame!

Isab. Nay, wherefore say so? What have you done that others would not do?

Vict. What have I done? I've fool'd a noble heart— I've wreck'd a brave man's honour! [ leaning upon Isabella.