thy hate pursue
The innocence of thy unhappy friend;
Thou know'st who 'tis I mean; Oh! shouldst thou wrong her,
Just heav'n shall double all thy woes upon thee,
And make 'em know no end--Remember this,
As the last warning of a dying man.
Farewell, for ever! [_the Guards carry Hastings off._

_Alic._ For ever! Oh, for ever!
Oh, who can bear to be a wretch for ever!
My rival, too! his last thoughts hung on her,
And, as he parted, left a blessing for her:
Shall she be blest, and I be curst, for ever?
No; since her fatal beauty was the cause
Of all my sufferings, let her share my pains;
Let her, like me, of every joy forlorn,
Devote the hour when such a wretch was born;
Cast ev'ry good, and ev'ry hope, behind;
Detest the works of nature, loathe mankind;
Like me, with cries distracted fill the air, }
Tear her poor bosom, rend her frantic hair, }
And prove the torments of the last despair. [_exit._ }

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I. A STREET.

_Enter Belmour and Dumont._

_Dum._ You saw her, then?

_Bel._ I met her, as returning
In solemn penance from the public cross.
Before her, certain rascal officers,
Slaves in authority, the knaves of justice,
Proclaim'd the tyrant Gloster's cruel orders.
Around her, numberless, the rabble flow'd,
Should'ring each other, crowding for a view,
Gaping and gazing, taunting and reviling;
Some pitying--but those, alas! how few!
The most, such iron hearts we are, and such
The base barbarity of human-kind,
With insolence and lewd reproach pursu'd her,
Hooting and railing, and with villanous hands
Gath'ring the filth from out the common ways,
To hurl upon her head.

_Dum._ Inhuman dogs!
How did she bear it?

_Bel._ With the gentlest patience;
Submissive, sad, and lowly, was her look;
A burning taper in her hand she bore,
And on her shoulders carelessly confus'd,
With loose neglect, her lovely tresses hung;
Upon her cheek a faintish blush was spread;
Feeble she seem'd, and sorely smit with pain.
While, barefoot as she trod the flinty pavement,
Her footsteps all along were mark'd with blood;
Yet, silent still she pass'd, and unrepining:
Her streaming eyes bent ever on the earth,
Except when, in some bitter pang of sorrow,
To heav'n she seem'd in fervent zeal to raise,
And beg that mercy man deny'd her here.

_Dum._ When was this piteous sight?

_Bel._ These last two days.
You know my care was wholly bent on you,
To find the happy