ast
farewell of the laurels that had accompanied me up the hill of my
juvenile career. It was then I began to descend toward the valley of
disappointment and sorrow; it was then I cast my little bark upon a
mysterious ocean of wedlock, with him who then smiled and caressed me,
but, alas! now frowns with bitterness, and has grown jealous and cold
toward me, because the ring he gave me is misplaced or lost. Oh, bear
me, ye flowers of memory, softly through the eventful history of past
times; and ye places that have witnessed the progression of man in
the circle of so many societies, and, of, aid my recollection, while I
endeavor to trace the vicissitudes of a life devoted in endeavoring to
comfort him that I claim as the object of my wishes.

Ah! ye mysterious men, of all the world, how few

Act just to Heaven and to your promise true!

But He who guides the stars with a watchful eye,

The deeds of men lay open without disguise;

Oh, this alone will avenge the wrongs I bear,

For all the oppressed are His peculiar care.

(F. makes a slight noise.)

A. Who is there--Farcillo?

G. Then I must gone. Heaven protect you. Oh, Amelia, farewell, be of
good cheer.

May you stand like Olympus' towers,

Against earth and all jealous powers!

May you, with loud shouts ascend on high

Swift as an eagle in the upper sky.

A. Why so cold and distant tonight, Farcillo? Come, let us each other
greet, and forget all the past, and give security for the future.

F. Security! talk to me about giving security for the future--what an
insulting requisition! Have you said your prayers tonight, Madam Amelia?

A. Farcillo, we sometimes forget our duty, particularly when we expect
to be caressed by others.

F. If you bethink yourself of any crime, or of any fault, that is yet
concealed from the courts of Heaven and the thrones of grace, I bid you
ask and solicit forgiveness for it now.

A. Oh, be kind, Farcillo, don't treat me so. What do you mean by all
this?

F. Be kind, you say; you, madam, have forgot that kindness you owe to
me, and bestowed it upon another; you shall suffer for your conduct
when you make your peace with your God. I would not slay thy unprotected
spirit. I call to Heaven to be my guard and my watch--I would not kill
thy soul, in which all once seemed just, right, and perfect; but I must
be brief, woman.

A. What, talk you of killing? Oh, Farci