LALAGE.

What didst thou say, Jacinta? Now I bethink me

Thou hast not spoken lately of thy wedding.

How fares good Ugo?—and when is it to be?

Can I do aught?-is there no farther aid

Thou needest, Jacinta?

JACINTA.

Is there no farther aid!

That's meant for me. [Aside.] I'm sure, Madam, you need not

Be always throwing those jewels in my teeth.

There's Ugo says the ring is only paste,

For he's sure the Count Castiglione never
Would have given a real diamond to such as you;
And at the best I'm certain, Madam, you cannot
Have use for jewels now. But I might have sworn it.

[LALAGE bursts into tears, and leans her head
table-after a short pause raises it.

[Exit.

upon the

LALAGE.

Poor Lalage!—and is it come to this?

Thy servant maid!--but courage!-'tis but a viper
Whom thou hast cherished to sting thee to the soul!

[Taking up the mirror.

Ha! here at least's a friend-too much a friend

In earlier days—a friend will not deceive thee.
Fair mirror and true! now tell me (for thou canst)
A tale-a pretty tale-and heed thou not
Though it be rife with woe. It answers me.
It speaks of sunken eyes, and wasted cheeks,
And Beauty long deceased-remembers me
Of Joy departed-Hope, the Seraph Hope,

Inurned and entombed !-now, in a tone

Low, sad, and solemn, but most audible,

Whispers of early grave untimely yawning

For ruined maid. Fair mirror and true!-thou liest not!

Thou hast no end to gain-no heart to break—

Castiglione lied who said he loved

Thou true-he false !-false-false!

[While she speaks, a MONK enters her apartment, and

approaches unobserved.

MONK.

Refuge thou hast,

Sweet daughter! in Heaven. Think of eternal things;

Give up thy soul to penitence, and pray!

LALAGE [arising hurriedly..

I cannot pray!-My soul is at war with God!
The frightful sounds of merriment below
Disturb my senses-go! I cannot pray —

The sweet airs from the garden worry me!

Thy presence grieves me-go!-thy priestly raiment

Fills me with dread-thy ebony crucifix

With horror and awe!