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Would I could tell it thee!

Jane. Thou shalt not tell me. Nay, I'll stop mine ears, Nor from the yearnings of affection wring What shrinks from utt'rance. Let it pass, my brother. I'll stay by thee; I'll cheer thee, comfort thee: Pursue with thee the study of some art, Or nobler science, that compels the mind To steady thought progressive, driving forth All floating, wild, unhappy fantasies; Till thou, with brow unclouded, smil'st again, Like one who from dark visions of the night, When th' active soul within its lifeless cell Holds its own world, with dreadful fancy press'd Of some dire, terrible, or murd'rous deed, Wakes to the dawning morn, and blesses heaven.

De Mon. It will not pass away: 'twill haunt me still.

Jane. Ah! say not so, for I will haunt thee too; And be to it so close an adversary, That, tho' I wrestle darkling with the fiend, I shall o'ercome it.

De Mon.Thou most gen'rous woman! Why do I treat thee thus? It should not be— And yet I cannot—O that cursed villain! He will not let me be the man I would.

Jane. What say'st thou. Monfort? Oh! what words are these? They have awak'd my soul to dreadful thoughts. I do beseech thee speak!