can alter!
Not mines of wealth, nor all life's splendid pomp,
Can weigh with me against that worth of soul,
With which thou art enrich'd so far above
All others of thy sex I yet have seen,
Far as thy beauteous form excels them all.
Do but pronounce a peril, or a suffering
To prove my constancy, save loss of thee.

CONSTANTIA. My lord, these honours far exceed my merit.

Lord WESTON. By heav'n! this coldness may to madness drive me.
Am I to suffer for another's rashness,
Of which, the new-born babe is not more innocent?
Perhaps, some other hath usurp'd thine heart?
'Tis plain; too plain--You cannot doubt my truth!

CONSTANTIA. Do not distress me thus--you know my heart;
As well you know, that on that truth alone
I would repose my ev'ry hope in life.--

Lord WESTON. Then haste thee with me, and for ever bless me:
A reverend priest attends to do the office,
To which your father hath long since consented.

CONSTANTIA. Oh! oh! forbear,--I shudder at the thought.
I've told you all--You know a parent's right;
Parent, not only of my life, but mind,
Wherein he every wholesome seed implanted,
And watch'd with never ceasing care their growth.

Lord WESTON. Nor hath the soil been faithless to its trust.

CONSTANTIA. Could you then hope from an unduteous daughter,
To meet in wedded state, the due compliance
Heav'n hath ordain'd, or I expect its blessings?
You would yourself on serious thoughts condemn me.

Lord WESTON. [He falls on his knees.] How far thou soar'st
above all human excellence!
And how thy virtues raise those peerless charms!
I have transgress'd---but Oh! vouchsafe thy pity!
It was the zeal of fondness, and the fear
Of losing thee, that urg'd me to the question,
Which hath thy delicacy so offended.

CONSTANTIA. O! if you ever lov'd me--prize my peace!
Go, whilst my wav'ring heart can hold its purpose.
These tell-tale eyes proclaim an interest there,
Which time or fortune never can erase.
But now this meeting might to both prove fatal.

Lord WESTON. Wipe, wipe away that tear! thy sovereign pow'r
Needs not an aid to bid my heart obey.
Yet, O permit me, like the sentenc'd criminal,
Who dreads the fatal stroke, awhile to parley!
But go where e'er I may, my heart w