_G._ Look up, thou poor disconsolate; you speak of quitting earthly enjoyments. Unfold thy bosom to a friend, who would be willing to sacrifice every enjoyment for the restoration of that dignity and gentleness of mind which used to grace your walks, and which is so natural to yourself; not only that, but your paths were strewed with flowers of every hue and of every order. With verdant green the mountains glow, For thee, for thee, the lilies grow; Far stretched beneath the tented hills, A fairer flower the valley fills. _A._ Oh, would to heaven I could give you a short narrative of my former prospects for happiness, since you have acknowledged to be an unchangeable confidant—the richest of all other blessings! Oh, ye names for ever glorious, ye celebrated scenes, ye renowned spot of my hymeneal moments; how replete is your chart with sublime reflections! How many profound vows, decorated with immaculate deeds, are written upon the surface of that precious spot of earth, where I yielded up my life of celibacy, bade youth with all its beauties a final adieu, took a last farewell of the laurels that had accompanied me up the hill of my juvenile career! It was then I began to descend towards the valley of disappointment and sorrow; it was then I cast my little bark upon a mysterious ocean of wedlock, with him who then smiled and caressed me, but, alas! now frowns with bitterness, and has grown jealous and cold towards me, because the ring he gave me is misplaced or lost. Oh, bear me, ye flowers of memory, softly through the eventful history of past times; and ye places that have witnessed the progression of man in the circle of so many societies, aid, oh aid my recollection, while I endeavour to trace the vicissitudes of a life devoted in endeavouring to comfort him that I claim as the object of my wishes! Ah! ye mysterious men, of all the world, how few Act just to Heaven and to your promise true! But He who guides the stars with a watchful eye, The deeds of men lay open without disguise; Oh, this alone will avenge the wrongs I bear, For all the oppressed are his peculiar care. (_F. makes a slight noise._) _A._ “Who is there—Farcillo? _G._ Then I must be gone. Heaven protect you. Oh, Amelia, farewell, be of good cheer. May you stand, like Olympus’ towers, Against earth and all jealous powers! May you, with loud shouts ascend on high, Swift as an eagle in the upper sky. _A._ Why so cold and distant to-night, Farcillo? Come, let us each other greet, and forget all the past, and give security for the future. _F._ Security! talk to me about giving security for the future—what an insulting requisition! Have you said your prayers to-night, Madam Amelia? _A._ Farcillo, we sometimes forget our duty, particularly when we expect to be caressed by others.