e fortune,
Which shew like havens on a treach'rous shore,
And lure us to our ruin.

LUCIA. Happy man!
How by the tyrant custom art thou favour'd!
Canst speak the anguish of the love-sick heart,
And from the hand that wounds implore relief:
Whilst we in silent secrecy must shelter
The deadly shaft, that rooted rankles there,
And wastes the virgin bloom. Nor is this all;
Should but the modest blush, the fault'ring speech,
Or the disorder of the conscious soul,
Betray the fondness it would fain conceal;
Not only cold indifference, but neglect,
Is full too oft the base return we meet.--

CONSTANTIA. Ha! Lucia! whence these fears? am I despis'd?
What have I done! I have betray'd myself.
O! I conjure thee, by the sacred tie
Of honour, friendship, confidence and love,
Speak nought of this, but leave me to despair!

LUCIA. Alas! 'tis my poor heart betrays itself. [Aside]
Why to despair? by all those sacred ties!
Thou wert not in my thoughts in what I've utter'd.
Hath yet lord Weston heard these fatal tidings?

CONSTANTIA. Full well you know how long he hath been absent:
'Tis that distracts my soul.--How hath he vow'd,
That if a day pass'd by, and we asunder,
He felt it as the absence of an age!

LUCIA. My dear Constantia! banish all such thoughts.
He hath a soul superior to all falsehood.
Affairs, 'tis said, of moment call'd him hence,
And his return is ev'ry hour expected.

CONSTANTIA. True, he is all that's gen'rous, great and noble,
All that stirs envy and respect in man,
Or love in woman. O my friend, my Lucia!
Thou know'st not half the fondness of mine heart:
Oft have I wish'd (so will love's fancy rave)
That he had been the guardian of a flock,
And I the sovereign of unbounded realms,
To make him partner of that heart and throne:
Or that we had been rear'd, 'midst rural innocence,
A low, yet happy pair; with what delight,
My tender frame had shared the harvest toil,
To close with intercourse of souls the day!

Enter a SERVANT.

SERVANT. Madam, lord Weston's in the anti-chamber.

CONSTANTIA. [To the SERVANT] Withdraw awhile-- [He withdraws.]
Be still, my flutt'ring heart!
Haste, Lucia, if thou lov'st me, make excuse:
Say, I am indispos'd--ret