_Adeline._ Wherefore should I return? return to witness The bitter load of misery, which circumstance Has brought upon my house? My infant children-- _Gondi._ And hast thou children then? Whose innocence has oft beguil'd thy hours; Who have look'd smiling up into thy face, Till the sweet tear of rapturous content Has trickled down thy cheek?--Thou trying for tune! Mark out the frozen breast of apathy, And tho' 'twere triple cased in adamant, Throw but this poisonous shaft of malice at it, 'Twill pierce it thro'and thro'. _Adeline._ An if I thought 'twere so?-- _Gondi._ Hear me, young man:-- Thou wring'st a secret from me, which, till now, Was borne in silence here; while, vulture-like, It preys upon my vitals.--I am married:-- I have a wife--and one whom kindly nature Form'd in her lavish mood:--Oh! her gentle love Beam'd through her eyes, whene'er she turn'd them on me, With such a mild and virtuous innocence, That it might charm stern murder!--and yet I Have wounded, villain like, her peace. Even I,-- In whom her very soul was wrapt-- Turn'd coward with the time, have basely left her. But I am punish'd for't:--day, night,--asleep, Awake,--still, or in action,--bleeding fancy Pictures my wife, sitting in patient anguish; Pale; mild in sufferance; mingling meek forgiveness With bitter agony;--blessing him who wrongs her;-- While my poor children, my deserted little ones, Hang on her knees, and watch the silent drops Steal down her grief-worn face!--Yea, dost thou weep? Shape thy course homeward then; for pangs like mine, Would so convulse thee, youth, that, like an engine, 'Twould wrench thy tender nature from its frame, And pluck life with it. _Adeline._ Oh! my dear, loved lord! Here cease those pangs;--here, in the ecstacy of joy, Behold your Adeline, now rushing to the arms Of a beloved husband. [_Running into his Arms._ _Gondi._ Merciful Heaven! My Adeline! And hast thou!--Oh, my heart! This sudden conflict!--thus let me clasp thee to it; Ne'er to part more, till pangs of death shall shake us. What hast thou suffer'd, sweet!--for me to cause-- And are our children----? _Adeline._ Well, and in safety. _Gondi._ And, to leave them too! _Adeline._ Nay, pr'ythee, now, no more of this:-- Blot from thy memory all former sorrow:-- Or, if we think on't, be it at some moment, When calm content smiles round our happy board. And, trust me, now, I think our storms are over:-- For, on my way, I learn, the House of York Has now sent forth free pardon to all those, Who, long attach'd to the Lancastrian party, Have not engaged in their late enterprise. _Gondi._ Blessed chance, That now constrain'd me to inaction! Adeline! Once more to hold thee! to return to happiness-- To see our children!-- _Enter FIRST ROBBER._ How now! What's the matter?