from you.
I fear the unlucky present I have made!

_Boab._ O power of guilt! how conscience can upbraid!
It forces her not only to reveal,
But to repeat what she would most conceal!

_Almah._ Can such a toy, and given in public too--

_Boab._ False woman, you contrived it should be so.
That public gift in private was designed
The emblem of the love you meant to bind.
Hence from my sight, ungrateful as thou art!
And, when I can, I'll banish thee my heart. [_She weeps._

_To them_ ALMANZOR _wearing the Scarf. He sees her weep._

_Almanz._ What precious drops are those,
Which silently each other's track pursue,
Bright as young diamonds in their infant dew?
Your lustre you should free from tears maintain,
Like Egypt, rich without the help of rain.
Now cursed be he who gave this cause of grief;
And double cursed, who does not give relief!

_Almah._ Our common fears, and public miseries,
Have drawn these tears from my afflicted eyes.

_Almanz._ Madam, I cannot easily believe
It is for any public cause you grieve.
On your fair face the marks of sorrow lie;
But I read fury in your husband's eye:
And, in that passion, I too plainly find
That you're unhappy, and that he's unkind.

_Almah._ Not new-made mothers greater love express
Than he, when with first looks their babes they bless;
Not Heaven is more to dying martyrs kind,
Nor guardian angels to their charge assigned.

_Boab._ O goodness counterfeited to the life!
O the well-acted virtue of a wife!
Would you with this my just suspicions blind?
You've given me great occasion to be kind!
The marks, too, of your spotless love appear;
Witness the badge of my dishonour there.
[_Pointing to_ ALMANZOR'S _scarf._

_Almanz._ Unworthy owner of a gem so rare!
Heavens! why must he possess, and I despair?
Why is this miser doomed to all this store;
He, who has all, and yet believes he's poor?

_Almah._ [_to_ ALMANZ.]
You're much too bold, to blame a jealousy
So kind in him, and so desired by me.
The faith of wives would unrewarded prove,
Without those just observers of our love.
The greater care the higher passion shows;
We hold that clearest we most fear to lose.
Distrust in lovers is too warm a sun,
But yet 'tis night in love when that is gone;
And in those climes which most his scorching know,
He makes the noblest fruits and metals grow.

_Almanz._ Yes; there are mines of treasure in your breast,
Seen by th