_L'Ec._ Oh! no, I never speak ill of the dead. _Ros._ Why, you vile insinuating, but I shall preserve my temper though you have lost your manners: well, assuredly of all objects in creation, the most pitiable is a man in liquor. _L'Ec._ There's an exception--a man in love. DUETT.--_Rosabelle and L'Eclair._ _Ros._ The precept of Bacchus to man proves a curse, The head it confounds, and the heart it bewitches. _L'Ec._ I'm sure, the example of Cupid is worse, For he walks abroad without shirt, drawers, or breeches. _Ros._ Pshaw! Cupid, you dolt, has rich garments enough. _L'Ec._ Nay, his wardrobe's confin'd to a plain suit of buff. _Ros._ 'Twas Bacchus taught men to drown reason in cans. _L'Ec._ 'Twas Cupid taught ladies the first use of fans. _Ros._ How diff'rent the garland, their votaries twine,-- How genteel is the myrtle--how vulgar the vine! _L'Ec._ Of myrtle or vine I pretend not to know, But a fig-leaf I think would be most apropos: [_Exeunt._ SCENE II.--_The Count's Chamber--De Valmont is discovered gazing in profound meditation upon a miniature picture._ _De Val._ Eugenia! Now of the angel race, and hous'd in Heaven! Forgive, dear saint! these blameful eyes that flow With human love, and mourn thy blessedness. O! ye strange powers! with what excelling truth Has Art's small hand here mimic'd mightiest Nature! What cheeks are these! could Death e'er crop such roses? Eyes! star-bright twins! fair glasses to fair thoughts, Where, as by truest oracles confest, The godlike soul reveals itself in glory. Your glances thrill me! amber-twinkling threads! Half bound by grace, half loos'd by winds, how strays This shining ringlet o'er this clear white breast! Like the pale sunshine streaking wintry snows! These lips have life--yea! very breath; a sweet Warm spirit stirs thru' the cleft ruby now! They move--they smile--they speak. Soft! soft! sweet heavens! I'll gaze no more; there's witchcraft in this skill, And my abus'd weak brain may madden soon! (conceals the picture in his bosom) The spell is hidden, still th' illusion works: O! in my heart Eugenia art thou trac'd-- There--there--thou livest--speakest--yet art mortal. Strong memory triumphs over death and time, In all my circling blood--each vein--each pulse Wherever life is, ever there art thou. (Gaspard speaks without.) _Gasp._ Go, go; his lordship may not be disturb'd. _Mon._ (_without_) Away! I have a cause that must be heard. _De Val._ How now! voices in the anti-room! Ho! Enter _Gaspard_. _Gasp._ Alack! that folk will be so troublesome: my good lord! here's a strange woman; truly a most obstinate spirit, who craves vehemently to be heard, on matters (so she reports) of much importance to your lordship. _De Val._ Nay, in the morning be it; not at this hour. _Gasp._ I told her so; my very words; but truly, her grief seems to have craz'd her reason.