e would follow.--
What's that, which seems to bear a mortal shape, [_Sees_ ISA.
Yet neither stirs nor speaks? or, is it some
Illusion of the night? some spectre, such
As in these Asian parts more frequently appear?
Whate'er it be, I'll venture to approach it. [_Goes near._
My Isabinda bound and gagged! Ye powers,
I tremble while I free her, and scarce dare
Restore her liberty of speech, for fear
Of knowing more. [_Unbinds her, and ungags her._

_Isab._ No longer bridegroom thou, nor I a bride;
Those names are vanished; love is now no more;
Look on me as thou would'st on some foul leper;
And do not touch me; I am all polluted,
All shame, all o'er dishonour; fly my sight,
And, for my sake, fly this detested isle,
Where horrid ills so black and fatal dwell,
As Indians could not guess, till Europe taught.

_Tow._ Speak plainer, I am recollected now:
I know I am a man, the sport of fate;
Yet, oh my better half, had heaven so pleased,
I had been more content, to suffer in myself than thee!

_Isab._ What shall I say! That monster of a man,
Harman,--now I have named him, think the rest,--
Alone, and singled like a timorous hind
From the full herd, by flattery drew me first,
Then forced me to an act, so base and brutal!
Heaven knows my innocence: But, why do I
Call that to witness!
Heaven saw, stood silent: Not one flash of lightning
Shot from the conscious firmament, to shew its justice:
Oh had it struck us both, it had saved me!

_Tow._ Heaven suffered more in that, than you, or I,
Wherefore have I been faithful to my trust,
True to my love, and tender to the opprest?
Am I condemned to be the second man,
Who e'er complained he virtue served in vain?
But dry your tears, these sufferings all are mine.
Your breast is white, and cold as falling snow;
You, still as fragrant as your eastern groves;
And your whole frame as innocent, and holy,
As if your being were all soul and spirit,
Without the gross allay of flesh and blood.
Come to my arms again!

_Isab._ O never, never!
I am not worthy now; my soul indeed
Is free from sin; but the foul speckled stains
Are from my body ne'er to be washed out,
But in my death. Kill me, my love, or I
Must kill myself; else you may think I was
A black adultress in my mind, and some
Of me consented.

_Tow._ Your wish to die, shews you deserve to live.
I have proclaimed you guiltless to myself.
Self-homicide, which was, in heathens, hon