[_Throws away the dagger, and embraces her._ The seal of Providence is sure upon thee, And thou wert born for yet unheard-of wonders: Oh, thou wert either born to save or damn me! By all the power that's given thee o'er my soul, By thy resistless tears and conquering smiles, By the victorious love that still waits on thee, Fly to thy cruel father, save my friend, Or all our future quiet's lost for ever: Fall at his feet, cling round his reverend knees; Speak to him with thy eyes, and with thy tears Melt his hard heart, and wake dead nature in him; Crush him in thy arms, and torture him with thy softness; Nor, till thy prayers are granted, set him free, But conquer him, as thou hast vanquished me. [_Exeunt._ [Illustration] FOOTNOTES: [74] Proposes conditions to us. [75] In the acting copy of the play all the conspirators except Pierre and Jaffier are led out here. [76] Perhaps a line is lost here. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I.--_Before_ PRIULI'S _house_. _Enter_ PRIULI. _Priu._ Why, cruel Heaven, have my unhappy days Been lengthened to this sad one? Oh! dishonour And deathless infamy is fallen upon me. Was it my fault? Am I a traitor? No. But then, my only child, my daughter wedded; There my best blood runs foul, and a disease Incurable has seized upon my memory, To make it rot and stink to after ages. Cursed be the fatal minute when I got her! Or would that I'd been anything but man, And raised an issue which would ne'er have wronged me! The miserablest creatures (man excepted) Are not the less esteemed, though their posterity Degenerate from the virtues of their fathers; The vilest beasts are happy in their offsprings; While only man gets traitors, whores, and villains. Cursed be the names, and some swift blow from fate Lay his head deep, where mine may be forgotten! _Enter_ BELVIDERA _in a long mourning veil_. _Belv._ [_Aside._] He's there, my father, my inhuman father, That, for three years, has left an only child Exposed to all the outrages of fate And cruel ruin--Oh! _Priu._ What child of sorrow Art thou, that comest thus wrapped in weeds of sadness, And movest as if thy steps were towards a grave? _Belv._ A wretch, who from the very top of happiness, Am fallen into the lowest depths of misery, And want your pitying hand to raise me up again. _Priu._ Indeed, thou talk'st as thou hadst tasted sorrows; Would I could help thee. _Belv._ 'Tis greatly in your power; The world, too, speaks you charitable; and I, Who ne'er asked alms before, in that dear hope Am come a-begging to you, sir. _Priu._ For what?