(R. C.) Tell me why, good Heaven, Thou mad'st me what I am, with all the spirit, Aspiring thoughts, and elegant desires, That fill the happiest man! Ah, rather, why Didst thou not form me sordid as my fate, Base-minded, doll, and fit to carry burdens! Why have I sense to know the curse that's on me? Is this just dealing, nature! Belvidera! Poor Belvidera! _Bel._ _[ Without.]_ Lead me, lead me, my virgins. To that kind voice. _Enter Belvidera, L._ My lord, my love, my refuge! _[Leans on Jaffier, R. C._ Happy my eyes when they behold thy face! My heavy heart will leave its doleful beating At sight of thee, and bound with sprightful joys. Oh, smile! as when our loves were in their spring, And cheer my fainting soul! _Jaf._ (R. C.) As when our loves Were in their spring! Has, then, my fortune changed thee? Art thou not, Belvidera, still the same, Kind, good, and tender, as my arms first found thee? If thou art altered, where shall I have harbour? Where ease my loaded heart? _[Part]_ Oh! where complain? _Bel._ (C.) Does this appear like change, or love decaying, When thus I throw myself Into thy bosom, With all the resolution of strong truth! _[Leans on Jaffier, R. C._ I joy more in thee Than did thy mother, when she hugged thee first, And blessed the gods for all her travail past. _Jaf._ Can there in woman be such glorious faith? Sure, all ill stories of thy sex are false! _[Part._ Oh, woman! lovely woman! Nature made thee To temper man: we had been brutes without you! Angels are painted fair to look like you: There's in you all that we believe of heaven; Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love! _[Embrace._ _Bel._ If love be treasure, we'll be wondrous rich; Oh! lead me to some desert, _[Part,]_ wide and wild, Barren as our misfortunes, where my soul May have its vent, where I may tell aloud To the high heavens, and ev'ry list'ning planet, With what a boundless stock my bosom's fraught. _Jaf._ _[Taking her hand.]_ Oh, Belvidera! doubly I'm a beggar; Undone by fortune, and in debt to thee. Want, worldly want, that hungry meagre fiend, Is at my heels, and chases me in view. Canst thou bear cold and hunger? Can these limbs, Framed for the tender offices of love, Endure the bitteer gripes of smarting poverty? When banished by our miseries abroad, (As suddenly we shall be) to seek, out, In some far climate, where our names are strangers, For charitable succour; wilt thou then, When in a bed of straw we shrink together, And the bleak winds shall whistle round our heads; Wilt thou then talk thus to me? Wilt thou then Hush my cares thus, and shelter me with love?