Caesa. Hear me!

Otti. Look on this [showing a paper.]

Caesa. 'Tis Guzman's hand.

Otti. He bade me to the king Bear it with other papers; but my prudence, For mine own purposes, kept back the scroll. Lo! here a full confession of your plots— The mine described—the vault—the hour—the signal— What troops are gained—the list of sworn confederates— And foremost in the list here stands Caesario!

Caesa. Confusion!

Otti. Nay, 'tis so! Now mark me, youth! Either mine hand at midnight as my husband's Clasps thine, or gives this paper to Alfonso! Prepare a friar—at Juan's chapel meet me At midnight, or the king——

Caesa. You rave, Ottilia! While Guzman lives.

Otti. Young man, his hours are counted: Three scarce are his—Last night I drugged the bowl In which he drank a farewell to the world. Ay, ay, 'tis true! thou'rt mine! With blood I've bought thee! Nothing now parts us but the grave,—and there, E'en there I'll claim thee!—If tonight thou com'st not—

Caesa. I will, by heaven!

Otti. Nay, fail at your own peril—— Your life is in my power! my breath can blast you! Choose, then, Caesario, 'twixt thy bane and bliss— Love or a grave! a kingdom or a scaffold! My arms or death's—By yonder sun I swear, Ere morning dawns, thou shalt be mine or nothing! [Exit.

Caesa. Is't so?—Thy blood then on thy head—This paper— ——This female fiend—the scarf too!—I must straight Appease the princess—some well-varnished tale ——Some glib excuse—Oh! hateful task! Oh, Truth! How my soul longs once more to join thy train, Tear off the mask, and show me as I am! The wretch for life immur'd; the Christian slave Of Pagan lords; or he whose bloody sweat Speeds the fleet galley o'er the sparkling waves, Bears easy toil, light chains, and pleasant bondage, Weighed with thy service, Falsehood! Still to smile On those we loath; to teach the lips a lesson Smooth, sweet, and false; to watch the tell-tale eye, Fashion each feature, sift each honest word That swells upon the tongue, and fear to find A traitor in one's self—By heaven, I know No toil, no curse, no slavery, like dissembling!

[Exit.

SCENE II. A wild forest, with rocks, waterfalls, &c. On one side a hermitage and a rustic tomb, with various pieces of armour scattered near it, "Victoria" is engraved on it; a river is in the background.

Orsino stands on a rock which overhangs the river.

Orsi. Yes thou art lovely World! That blue-robed sky; These giant rocks, their forms grotesque and awful Reflected on the calm stream's lucid mirror; These reverend oaks, through which (their rustling leaves Dancing and twinkling in the sunbeams) light Now gleams, now disappears, while yon fierce torrent, Tumbling from crag to crag with measured dash, Makes to the ear strange music: World, oh! World! Who sees thee such must needs confess thee fair! Who knows thee not must needs suppose thee good.

[With a sudden burst of indignation]

But I have tried thee, World! know all these beauties Mere shows and snares; know thee a gilded serpent, A flowery bank whose sweets smile o'er a pitfall; A splendid prison, precious tomb, fair palace, Whose golden domes allure poor wanderers in, And when they've entered, crush them! Such I know thee And, knowing, loath thy charms! Rise, rise, ye storms! Mingle ye elements! Flash lightnings, flash! Unmask this witch! blast her pernicious beauty! And show me Nature as she is, a monster! —I'll look no more! Oh! my torn heart! Victoria! My son! Oh God! My son! Lost! lost! both lost! [Leaning against the tomb.

Enter Alfonso, Inis, and Attendants.

Inis. This is the hermit's cave; and see, my liege, Orsino's self.

Alfon. [Starting back.] No, no, that living spectre Is not my gallant friend. I seek in vain The full cheek's healthful glow, the eye of fire, The martial mein, proud gait, and limbs Herculean! Oh! is that deathlike form indeed Orsino?

Orsi. Never to see them more! never, no never! Wife, child, joy, hope, all gone!

Alfon. That voice! Oh! Heaven, Too well I know that voice!—How grief has changed him! I'll speak, yet dread——Retire [Inis, &c. withdraw.] Look up Orsino.

Orsi. Discovered?

[Seizing a lance which rests against the cavern, and putting himself in a posture of defence]

Wretch, thy life—[Staggering back.] Strengthen me, heaven! 'Tis he? the king himself!

Alfon. [Offering to take his hand.] Thy friend!

Orsi. [Recovering himself, and drawing back his hand.] Friend! Friend!—— I've none!— [Coldly.]

Alfon. Orsino.

Orsi. Never had but one, And he—! Sir, though a king, you'd shrink to hear How that friend used me!

Alfon. Hear me speak, in pity!

Orsi. What need of words? I'm found, I'm in your power, And you may torture me e'en how you list. Where are your chains? these are the self-same arms Which bore them ten long years, nor doubt their weighing Heavy as ever! These same eyes, which bathed So oft with bitterest tears your dungeon-grate, Have streams not yet exhausted! and these lips Can still with shrieks make the Black Tower re-echo, Which heard my voice so long in frantic anguish Rave of my wife and child, and curse Alfonso! Lead on, Sir! I'm your prisoner!

Alfon. Not for worlds Would I but harm one hair of thine!—Nay, hear me! And learn, most wronged Orsino, thy clear innocence Is now well known to all.

Orsi. Ay? Nay, I care not Who thinks me innocent! I know myself so— Was this your business, Sir? 'Tis done! Farewell.

Alfon. Oh! part not from me thus! I fain would say——

Orsi. What?

Alfon. I have wronged thee!——

Orsi. [Sternly] True!

Alfon. Deeply, most deeply! But wounding thine, hurt my own heart no less, Where none has filled thy place: 'tis thine, still thine— And if my court——

Orsi. What should I there? No, no, Sir! Sorrow has crazed my wits; long cramped by fetters My arm sinks powerless; and my wasted limbs, Palsied by dungeon-damps, would bend and totter Beneath yon armour's weight, once borne so lightly! Then what should I at court? I cannot head Your troops, nor guide your councils; leave me, leave me, You cannot use me further!

Alfon. Oh! I must, And to a most dear service—my heart bleeds, And needs a friend! Be but that friend once more! Be to me what thou wert, (and that was all things!) Forgive my faults, forget thy injuries——

Orsi. [Passionately.] Never!

Alfon. That to Alfonso? That to him whose friendship——

Orsi. Peace, peace! You felt no friendship! felt no flame, Steady and strong!—Yours was a vain light vapour, A boyish fancy, a caprice, a habit, A bond you wearied of, and gladly seized A lame pretext to break. Did not my heart From earliest youth lie naked to your eyes? Knew you not every comer, nerve, turn, twist on't? And could you still suspect——? No, no! You wished To find me false, or must have known me true.

Alfon. You wrong me, on my life! So fine, so skilful The snare was spread——I knew not——

Orsi. Knew not? Knew not? Thou knew'st I was Orsino! Knowing that, Thou should'st have known, I never could be guilty.

Alfon. Proofs seemed so strong——

Orsi. And had I none to prove My innocence? these deep-hewn scars received While fighting in your cause, were these no proofs? Your life twice saved by me! your very breath My gift! your crown oft rescued by my valour! Were these no proofs! My every word, thought, action, My spotless life, my rank, my pride, my honour, And, more than all, the love I ever bore thee, Were these no proofs?—Oh! they had been conviction In a friend's eyes, though they were none in thine!

Alfon. Your pride? 'twas that undid me! your reserve, Your silence——

Orsi. What! Should I have stooped to chase Your brawling lawyers through their flaws and quibbles? To bear the sneers of saucy questioners— Their jests, their lies—and, when they termed me villain, Calmly to cry—"Good Sirs, I'm none!"—No, no: I heard myself called traitor—saw you calmly Hear me so called, nor strike the speaker dead! Then why defend myself? What hope was left me? Truth lost its value, since you thought me false! Speech had been vain, since your heart spoke not for me.

Alfon. And it did speak——Spite of the law's decision, My love preserved your life——

Orsi. Oh! bounteous favour! Oh! vast munificence! which, giving life, Robbed me of every gem which made life precious! Where is my wife? Distracted at my loss, Sunk to her cold grave with a broken heart? Where is my son? Or dead through want, or wandering A friendless outcast! Where that health, that vigour, Those iron nerves, once mine?—King, ask your dungeons!

Alfon. Oh! spare me!

Orsi. Give me these again, wife, son, Health, strength, and ten most precious years of manhood, And I'll perhaps forgive thee: till then, never!

Alfon. What could I do? thy son had been to me Dear as my own, had not Victoria's pride, Scorning all aid——

Orsi. 'Twas right!

Alfon. She fled, concealed Herself and child——had it on me depended—— I cannot speak——My heart——Oh! yet have mercy, Think I had other duties than a friend's—— Alas! I was a king!

Orsi. And are one still—— Have still your wealth, and pomp, and pride, and power, And herd of cringing courtiers—still have children—— I had but one, and him I lost through thee. I, I have nothing! Yon rude cave my palace, These rocks my court, the wolf my fit companion— Lost all life's blessings, wife, son, health! Oh! nothing Is left me, save the right to hate that man Who made me what I am!—And would'st thou rob me E'en of this last poor pleasure? Go Sir! go, Regain your court; resume your pomp and splendour! Drink deep of luxury's cup! be gay, be flattered, Pampered and proud, and, if thou canst, be happy. I'll to my cave, and curse thee!

Alfon. Stay, Orsino! If ever friendship warmed, or pity melted Thy heart, I charge thee——

Orsi. Pity? In thy dungeons, Sir, I forgot the meaning of that word. For ten long years no gentle accents soothed me, No tears with mine were mixed—no bosom sighed That anguish tortured mine! King, king, thou know'st not, How solitude makes the soul stern and savage!

Alfon. Yet were thy soul than adamantine rocks More hard, these deep-drawn sighs——

Orsi. My wife's last groan Rings in my ear, and drowns them.

Alfon. And these tears Might touch thy heart——

Orsi. My heart is dead, King! dead! 'Tis yonder buried in Victoria's Grave!

Alfon. Could prayers, unfeigned remorse, ceaseless affection, And influence as my own unbounded——

Orsi. Hold! I'll try thee, and make two demands! But first, Swear by all hopes of happiness hereafter, And Heaven's best gift on earth, thine angel-daughter, Whate'er I ask shall be fulfilled.

Alfon. I swear! And Heaven so treat my prayers, as I shall thine.

Orsi. 'Tis well: now mark, and keep thine oath. My first Request is—Leave me instantly! my second, Ne'er let me see thee more.—Thou hast heard, begone! [Exit into the cave.

Alfon. 'Tis well, proud man,—Alas! my heart's too humbled To chide e'en him who spurns it.

Inis. Nay my liege, Despair not——Sure the princess.

Alfon. Right, I'll seek her; To her he owes his freedom, and her prayers Shall win me back this dear obdurate heart Oh! did he know how sweet 'tis to forgive, And raise the wounded soul, which, crushed and humbled Sinks in the dust, and owns that it has erred: To quench all wrath, and cancel all offences, Sure he would need no motive but self love.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.——A garden.

Amel. [Alone] And are ye all then vanished, sylphs of bliss? All fled in air, and not one trace, one shadow Left of my bright day-visions? Is not rather All this some fearful dream?——Caesario false! I know 'tis so, yet scarce can think 'tis so! Gods! when last night, after long absence meeting, What looks!—what joy!—and was then all deceit? Did he but mock me, when with tears of rapture He bathed my hand; knelt; sighed; as had his voice By pleasure been o'erwhelmed, a while was silent; But soon came words, sweet as those most sweet kisses Which grateful Venus gave the swain whose care Brought back her truant doves!——So sweet, so sweet—— Distrust, herself, must have believed those words. Oh! and was all but feigned?

Enter Caesario and Estella.

Estella. Wait here awhile; I'll try to sooth her.

Caesa. My best friend!

Estel. Withdraw [Caesario retires. Still bathed in tears?

Amel. [Throwing herself on her bosom.] Oh! my soul's sick, Estella. My heart is broken, broken!

Estel. Nay, be calm! I bring you comfort.

Amel. How?

Estel. Caesario sues For one short moment's audience.

Amel. I'll not see him.

Estel. Dear princess!

Amel. Never! saw I not Ottilia Decked with my gift? did I not hear.——Shame! shame! Go, go, Estella, see him! say, and firmly, We meet no more! say, that the veil is rent! Say, that I know him wavering, vain, ungrateful, Flattering and false! and having said this, add, False as he is, he's my soul's tyrant still!

Caesa. [Throwing himself at her feet] Accents of Heaven!—my life! my love!

Amel. Caesario? Farewell forever!

Caesa. Nay you must not leave me. Hear me but speak.——

Amel. Release me!

Caesa. But one word.—

Amel. I'll not be held!—Your pardon. I forgot sir! I thought myself still mistress of my actions! Still princess of Castile!—Now I remember I'm that despised, unhappy thing, your wife! Sir, I obey!—Your pleasure!

Caesa. Oh! how lovely Those eyes can make e'en scorn! yet calm their lightnings— Once more let love.—

Amel. Never—the hours are past When I believed thee all my fond heart wished; Thought thee the best, the kindest, truest——thought thee—— Oh! Heaven! no Eastern tale portrays the palace Of fay, or wizard (where in bright confusion Blaze gold and gems) so glorious fair, as seemed, Tricked in the rainbow-colours of my fancy, Caesario's form this morn:——Too late I know thee; The spell is broke; and where an Houri smiled, Now scowls a fiend. Oh! thus benighted pilgrims Admire the glow-worm's light, while gloom prevails But find that seeming lamp of fiery lustre A poor dark worthless worm, when viewed in sunshine. Away, and seek Ottilia.

Caesa. Oh! my princess, Deep as thy anger wounds my heart, more deeply I grieve to think, how thine will bleed at finding This anger undeserved.

Amel. Oh! that it were so, But no! I saw my scarf——that very scarf—— My own hands wrought it.——Many a midnight lamp, While thou wert at the wars, in toil I wasted, And made it my sole joy to toil for thee, There was no thread I had not blest! no flower I had not kist a thousand times, and murmured With every kiss a prayer for thy return, And yet thou gav'st this sacred work to buy A wanton's favours.——

Caesa. Say, to buy her silence?

Amel. Her silence?

Caesa. As this morn I left the palace, She marked my flight.

Amel. Just heaven!

Caesa. Though unrequited, Her love has long been mine.—She raved; she threatened; She would have vengeance; she would rouse the guards; Alarm the king.——

Amel. [Shuddering.] My father!

Caesa. But her silence Bought by that scarf.—

Amel. Caesario, could I trust thee? Were this tale true, could I but think.—

Caesa. I'll swear.

Amel. No! at the altar thou hast sworn already Mine were thy hand and heart, and mine forever: If thou canst break this oath, none else will bind thee—— Yet did I wrong thee? art thou true? I fain Would think thee so.——But this fond heart, my husband, Is such a weak sad thing and where it loves, Loves so devoutly——Spare me, dear Caesario, Such fears in future; let no word, no thought, Cloud thy pure faith, for so my soul dotes on thee, But to suspect thee racks each nerve, and almost Drives my brain mad,—Oh! could'st thou know, Caesario, How painful 'tis for one who loves like me, To cease to love——Cease, said I?——No, my heart Ceased to esteem, but never ceased to love thee.

[Falling on his neck.]

Caesa. My soul! my Amelrosa,—Now all planets Rain plagues upon my perjured head, if e'er I break the vow, which here I breathe; this heart, Filled but with thee, and formed but to adore thee, Is thine, my love, thine now, and thine forever!

Amel. Hark!—steps approach——Estella?

Estel. [who has retired, advances hastily.] Haste, Caesario, You must away! the king's returned, I see His train now loitering near the garden-gate, Fly by the private postern.

Caesa. Straight I'll follow. [Exit Estella. And must I leave thee, leave thee for so long too? The king's affairs now call me far from Burgos, And ere we meet again twelve hours must pass.

Amel. Ah! me, to love, an age.

Caesa. Yet should I leave thee With calmer soul, nor feel such pain in absence, Were I but sure one wish——

Amel. [Eagerly.] Oh! name it, name it, But ask me nothing light in action: ask me Something strange, hard, and painful: Something, such As none would dare to do but one who loves. Name, name this blessed wish.

Caesa.'Tis this—From midnight, Till my return, avoid the royal tower.

Amel. I promise; yet what reason——

Caesa. When we meet Thou shalt know all; till then forgive my silence: Seal with a kiss thy promise, then farewell.

[Here Alfonso advances in silence; his eyes are fixed on his daughter, his hands are folded, and his whole appearance expresses the utmost dejection.]

Amel. Farewell, since it must be farewell——But mark, See not Ottilia ere you go.

Caesa. I will not.

Amel. And when the bell's deep tongue announces midnight, Breathe thou my name, for at that hour, my love, I'll think on thee.—That hour! Oh, fool! as if Hours could be found in which I think not on thee. And must thou go?—Nay, if thou must, away, Or I shall bid thee stay, and stay forever. Farewell my husband!

Caesa. My soul's joy, farewell!

Amel. Oh! pain of parting!

[Turning round, her eye rests on Alfonso. She starts, and remains as petrified with terror. After a pause, he passes her in silence; but, on his reaching the door, she rushes towards him, her hands clasped in supplication.]

Father!

[Alfonso motions to forbid her following, and goes off.]

Amel. Oh! I'm lost! [She falls senseless on the ground.]

End of Act II.



ACT III.

SCENE I.——A chamber in the palace.

Enter Ottilia and Inis.

Otti. Was it so sudden?—What, no cause assigned, And so severe a shock too?—Trust me, Inis, Thy tale alarms me.

Inis. On the earth we found her Senseless and cold: we raised and bore her hither, Where she revived only to sigh and sorrow, Wring her fair hands, and shriek her father's name.

Otti. 'Tis wondrous strange,—Mourning my own afflictions, This rumour reached me; straight all else forgotten, Hither by love and duty urged I sped, Nor come I trust in vain,——this phial holds Drops of most precious power.—Good Inis take it, And in your lady's drink infuse this liquid: My life upon her cure.

Inis. Obedience best Will speak my thanks, nor doubt——Lo, where approaches My lady's ghostly father, holy Bazil.

Enter Father Bazil.

Bazil. Pardon that rudely thus I break your parley, But from the king I come, to bid the Infanta Attend him here.——Good Inis lead me to her.

Inis. Here lies our way—Again I thank you, lady; Ere night I'll use your gift. [Exit with Bazil.

Otti. And if thou dost, Go ring a funeral knel, and get thee mourning, And gather flowers to strew thy lady's grave: Thou'lt gather none so sweet as that I wither, —Hark! 'twas her voice.——How at the sound seemed ice To seize my every vein!—My victim comes! —I cannot bear her sight!—So young to die! So young, so fair, so gentle, and so good! With such an angel's life, and my soul's quiet— Oh, God! Caesario, thou art purchased dearly.

[Exit.

Enter Amelrosa, Bazil, Estella, Inis, and attendants.

Bazil. No passion flushed his cheek; his voice, his manner, Though solemn were not stern; and when he named you, A tear gushed forth, ere he could turn him from me. Then droop not thus, nor doubt paternal love.—

Amel. Oh! 'tis that love distracts me, for his love Was love so great! 'Twas but this morn he termed me The only tie which chained him still to life! And I have broke that tie!

Bazil. Nay, gentle princess!

Amel. Perhaps have broke his heart too! from his lips Have dashed joy's last poor lingering drop, and shown him, His only prop was frail as all the former! Could I but think he felt like common parents, That when he found my fault, affection died, Then I were blest! then I alone should suffer, And when his hatred broke my heart, could seek Some lone sad place, and lay me down and die! Alas! alas! I know I was his darling! Know by the joy I gave him once, too well How sharp the grief must be, I cause him now!

Bazil. That partial love which cherished thus your virtues, Will now absolve your fault.

Amel. But when he frowns? I ne'er yet saw him frown,—but sure he's dreadful! Oh! ere I meet those eyes (which yet ne'er viewed me But their kind language spoke uncounted blessings) And find them dark with gloom, and dread with lightnings, Closed be my own in death!—Hark! hark! he comes In all his terrors, comes to spurn and drive me For ever from his sight.—His frown will kill me! Shield me, Estella, shield me!

Alfonso enters, followed by Ricardo and courtiers.

Alfon. [Aside, looking at Amelrosa.] Can it be! Can she too have deceived—!—Retire awhile.

[Exeunt Estella, &c.

Manent Alfonso and Amelrosa.

Amel. [Advancing with timidity, then rushing forward and falling prostrate at his feet.] My father?—Oh! my father.

Alfon. Rise! Nay rise: what fears't thou? Wherefore weep, and tremble? Thou hast no cause for grief! The poisoned arrow Has pierced no heart but mine! These eyes alone Need weep for what they've seen! Thou hast not felt What 'tis to lose all faith in man! to see Joy and hope die together; and to find, When all thy soul loved best hung on thy neck, Each kiss was false, and each sweet smile was hollow! Well! well! 'Tis past grief's curing! wondrous bitter, But must be borne! a few short months, and then The grave mends all.

Amel. [Aside.] Pangs of the dying sinner, Are ye more sharp than mine!

Alfon. More tears?—Perhaps You tremble, lest my regal wrath should crush The audacious slave who stole his sovereign's daughter? No, princess, no! I can excuse the youth, Nor look from mortals for divine forbearance. A fairer fruit than ever dragon guarded, Courting his hand and hung within his grasp, He could not choose but pluck it.

Amel. Oh! I would My heart would spring before thine eyes, and show thee Each word thou utter'st, written there in blood! That it could speak——!

Alfon. What could it say? but plead The youth's fair form, high fame, and great acquirements! Gratitude that from ruffian hands he saved thee, Feelings too fond, and thus excuse thy love! But could it e'er excuse thy long dissembling, Thy seeming confidence, thy vows all broken, Thy arts to lull me in a blissful dream, From which the waking's dreadful! Why deceive me? Why hide as from a foe thy thoughts from me? Why banish me thy bosom? didst thou fear me? Didst fear my power, my pride, my wrath? Oh! was I— Was I so harsh a father, Amelrosa?

Amel. [Aside.] Heart, sure thy strings are steel, or they would break!

Alfon. Yet 'Tis deserved? I was too fond! too partial! Still loved thee better than my son, whose heart Perhaps this partial love has turned against me— If so, my pain is just!—Daughter I'll chide No more; nor came I here to chide, but bless thee, This parchment gives thy lord Medina's dukedom, With all its fair domains; the dowry promised, When my fond bosom hoped that princely Arragon—— But that's now passed!—Take it—farewell—be happy—— We meet no more!

Amel. [Covering her face with her hands] Oh? heaven!

Alfon. 'Twere vain, 'twere cruel, To make thee toil to fan thy love's faint embers, Since faith is dead; and though I still doat on thee, I'll trust no more—Thy choice is made, and may That choice prove all thy fondest dreams e'er pictured! Blest be thy days as the first man's in Eden, Before sin was! Be thy brave lord's affection Firm as his valour, lovely as thy form! And shouldst thou ever know, with thy whole soul What 'tis to love a child, and hold it dearer Than freedom, light, or life—Oh may that darling Show thee more faith than thou hast shown to me. I've done—Have there the deed—Farewell!

Amel. [Grasping the hand which he extends with the parchment, and pressing it to her lips.] Have mercy!

Alfon. Mercy?—On whom?

Amel. An humbled, breaking heart, But which, though breaking, loves thee dearly, dearly! Throw me not from thee!

Alfon. Hast not all thy wishes? Thy husband's pardon, honour, wealth, and freedom, To live with whom, and how, and where thou wilt? What wouldst thou more?

Amel. That, without which all these Are nothing, and each seeming grace true curses! Thy heart! thy heart my father! Give me that! Thy whole, whole heart, such as I once possessed it, Soft—kind—indulgent—open—feeling—fond! 'Tis this I ask,—or, this denied, to die. Yes! strike me at your foot; spurn, trample, crush me! Twist in my streaming locks your hand, and drag me, Till from my wounded bosom streams of blood Gush forth, and dye the marble red!—All this Were far less anguish to a generous soul, Than this so torturing love, so cruel kindness!

Alfon. I will not hear——

Amel. Oh! leave me not, my father, Nor bid me leave thee! Let my anguish move thee; Let not, though great, a single error lose me The fruits of twenty years pass'd in thy service, Which in thy service pass'd seemed short as moments.

Alfon. It must not be—

Amel. You would, but cannot hide it; I still am dear! Each look, each feature speaks it, Speaks to a softening heart—Oh! hear its pleading, And bid me stay! I'll only stay to love thee! Look on me! mark my altered form! observe The strong convulsions of my gasping bosom! See my wan cheeks, eyes swoln, lips trembling! feel How scalding are the tears with which I dew This dear, dear hand! Judge by thy own my sufferings, And bid me cease to suffer; when with force, Such as despair alone can give, and louder Than fiends implore from their volcanic prisons The Arch-angel's grace, I cry to thee—"Have mercy."—

Alfon. My child—No, no!—'Twere weakness—

Amel. Weakness, say'st thou? Oh! glorious fault! Oh! fair defect!—Oh! weakness Passing all strength! If to forgive be sin, How deeply then must Heaven have sinned to man! Oh! be thy faults like Heaven's! Relent, my father! Pardon—! Oh! speak that word!

Alfon. My heart! my heart! My bursting heart!

Amel. That word, that blessed word, So quickly said, so easy, as 'twere magic Breaks sorrow's spell and bids her phantoms fly! That word, that word, that one, one little word. And I am blest!——

Alfonso. [Yielding to his emotions, and clasping her eagerly to his bosom.] Be blest then! Exit.

Amel. Now, ye stars, Which nightly grace the sky, if ye love goodness Pour dews celestial from your golden vials On yon dear gracious head!—Oh why is now My husband absent? Lend thy doves dear Venus, That I may send them where Caesario strays; And while he smoothes their silver wings, and gives them For drink the honey of his lips, I'll bid them Coo in his ear, his Amelrosa's happy! Joy, joy, my soul! Bound, my gay dancing heart! Waft me, ye winds! To bear so blest a creature Earth is not worthy! Loved by those I love, I've all my soul e'er wished, my hopes e'er fancied, My father's friendship, and Caesario's heart! Leave me but these, and, fortune I defy thee! [Exit.

SCENE II. The forest as before.

Enter Caesario and Henriquez.

Caesa. He spurned him, Marquis, spurned him! With such scorn, Such genuine ardent hate, repaid his soothing— Oh! by that hate I feel, the blood which fills These veins is right Orsino's!

Hen. 'Tis reported, The king shed tears.

Caesa. Marquis, he wept, fawned, pleaded Remorse, and sued for pardon, with such fervour, As starving souls for bread!

Hen. Did not at this Orsino's ire melt?

Caesa. Melt? Like yon fortress rock, (Which rears his tower-clad front above the billows, Nor heeds the winds that blow, nor rains that beat) Proof against tears, and deaf to all entreaties, Unmoved the stern one stood, and frowned his answer. Oh! fear not, friend: like me he loaths Alfonso, And, when I place revenge within his grasping, Will spring to reach it.

Hen. 'Tis past doubt, his aid Were to our cause a tower of strength; yet still I fear, lest——Some one leaves the cave!—'Tis he! I'll wait beneath yon limes. [Exit.

Orsino enters from the cave.

Caesa. Now by my life A noble ruin!

Orsi. I return to Burgos? For what? To show my scars and hear court ladies Rail at the wars for making men so hideous? To bear the coxcomb's sneer, the minion's fawning, And see fools sweetly smile at my good fortune, Who, when my death was signed, smiled full as sweetly? No, no, I'll none on't. [Seeing Caesario.] Plagues and fiends! another! More gold and silk; more musk, fair words, and lying! Will these court flies ne'er cease to buz around me? Well, sir, what seek ye here?

Caesa. Revenge.

Orsi. Indeed! On whom?

Caesa. On lawless power. Ask ye for what? A father's wrongs and mother's murder!

Orsi. (starting.) How! That voice—Let me look on thee well—Those lips, Those eyes—Oh Heaven! those eyes, too! I ne'er saw But one have eyes like thine, an earthly angel, And with the angels now. Fair youth, who art thou?

Caesa. Speaks not thy heart?

Orsi. It does, youth, Oh! It does; But I'll not trust it; for if false its whispers So sweet, so painful sweet—Dear good youth tell me, Spare a poor broken heart, and tell me quickly Thy father's name.

Caesa. My father! Oh! that was A man indeed, and model for all others! His country's sword, his country's shield, a hero, A demigod; and great as were his actions, So were his wrongs.

Orsi. His name! his name!

Caesa. (rushing into his arms) Orsino!

Orsi. I have him! hold him here! Death alone parts us. My son! Victoria's son! Come, come, my boy, Kneel at this tomb with me; join thou my suit For the blest dust beneath, and read through tears Here sleeps thy mother. Wandering forth to seek her, Unknown her fate and thine, chance led me hither. I marked yon tablet, read yon piteous lines, Threw those now useless arms forever from me, Sank on Victoria's grave, nor left it more; Yet, yet I died not! Amelrosa's kindness, Which gave me freedom, traced me to this spot, And saved my life, my wretched life, which still I only use to mourn thy loss, Victoria. Know'st thou, my boy, when her eyes closed forever? Whose hand——

Caesa. Her son's—

Orsi. (grasping Caesario's hand) Was't thine?

Caesa. 'Twas mine too raised Yon rustic tomb, and 'twas this cave received her When, desperate at your loss, she fled the court. Here long she sorrowed, here at length she died, Died of a broken heart! Ay weep, my father; For know the king shall pay each tear thou shed'st With drops of blood.

Orsi. The king? Boy, name him not. That sound is poison. I was once so happy; Was once so rich—and that one man stole all. My curse be on him!

Caesa. Man, thy curse is heard.

Orsi. Is heard! What mean'st thou?

Caesa. Vengeance! Hark, Orsino— Soon as my mother died (believed Caesario A young unknown) I sought the court, where chance Gave me from ruffian Moors to save the princess. This made Alfonso mine, and still I've used him To further mine own ends. Joy, joy, my father! My plots are ripe, the king's best troops corrupted, His son, too, through my arts, declared a rebel; And, ere two nights are past, I'll strip the tyrant Both of his throne and life. Rouse then, and aid ——Now, sir, why gaze you thus?

Orsi. I fain would doubt it; Fain find some plea—No, no, each look, each feature, And my own heart——'Tis true thou art my son!

Caesa. What mean you?

Orsi. (passionately) Art my son, and yet a villain!

Caesa. (starting) Villain!

Orsi. Destroy Alfonso! What! Alfonso, The wise, the good?

Caesa. With thee then was he either? Has he not wronged thee?

Orsi. Deeply, boy, most deeply. But in his whole wide kingdom none but me. Look through Castile; see all smile, bloom, and flourish. No peasant sleeps ere he has breathed a blessing On his good king; no thirst of power, false pride, Or martial rage he knows; nor would he shed One drop of subject-blood to buy the title Of a new Mars! E'en broken hearted widows And childless mothers, while they weep the slain, Cursing the wars, confess his cause was just. Such is Alfonso, such the man whose virtues Now fill thy throne, Castile, to bliss thy children! What shows the adverse scale! What find we there? My sufferings, mine alone! And what am I, That I should weigh me 'gainst the public welfare? What are my wrongs against a monarch's rights? What is my curse against a nation's blessings?

Caesa. Yet hear me.

Orsi. I assist your plots! I injure One hair that's nourished with Alfonso's blood! No! The wronged subject hates the ungrateful master; But the world's friend must love the patriot king.

Caesa. Amazement! Can it be Orsino speaking? 'Tis some court minion sure, some tool of office, Some threadbare muse pensioned to praise the throne; This cannot be the man whose burning vengeance, Whose fixed aversion——

Or. Boy, 'Tis fixed as ever. Alfonso's sight, his name, his very goodness, Forcing my praise, torture my soul to madness. I hate him, hate him; but still own his virtues; And though I hate, Oh bless the good king, Heaven!

Caesa. Oh most strange patience! most rare stretch of temper! What! bless the man who thought you treacherous, base, Ungrateful!

Orsi. And because he thought me such, (Remembering only what his fault deserves, Forgetting all that's due to mine own honour) Shall I become the wretched thing he thought me? Prove his suspicions just? quit the proud station Where injured Virtue towers and sink me down to His level who oppressed me? Oh, not so! When hostile arms strain every nerve to crush me, Pang follows pang, and wrong to wrong succeeds, Piled like the Alps, each loftier than the last one, To pay those wrongs with good, those pangs with kindness, To raise the foe once fallen, bind his gored breast, And heap, with generous zeal, favours on favours, Till his repentant spirit melts and bleeds To think he ever pained a heart like mine, Such is my hate! such my proud soul's whole object. The only vengeance noble minds should take.

Caesa. Farewell, then, since far other hate is mine, And asks for other vengeance. I'll to seek it.

Orsi. Stay, youth, and hear me. Ere you quit this spot. Since virtue has no power to chain or awe thee, Swear to forgo thy traitorous schemes, or straight I'll seek the king——

Caesa. You dare not: no, you dare not. Nay, start not. I but know my power and use it. Look on these lips and eyes; they are Victoria's. And shall Victoria's lips be sealed forever? And shall Victoria's eyes be closed in death? E'en while you rage, with looks so fond you eye me, They speak, your love will guaranty your silence.

Orsi. 'Tis true, too true: but dear and cruel boy, Though threats succeed not, let these tears prevail, Tears for thy dying virtue. Oh look round thee! See to mankind what curses bad kings are, And learn from them the blessings of a good one.

Caesa. Father, in vain you urge me. Know I've sworn Alfonso's death. My mother's shade demands it. Who asked that promise, with an oath confirmed. And what she asked I gave.

Orsi. Oh! Wherefore did'st thou? Since she required an oath to seal thy promise, Thou shouldst have known thy promise must be wrong. Virtue and truth are in themselves convincing, Nor need the feeble sanction of man's lips; As the sun needs no aid from foreign orbs, Itself a fire-formed world of light and glory. What meant thine oath? What meant those magic words? Save by thy lips to bind thy hand to do What makes each wise head shake, each good heart shudder. Thy impious vow——

Caesa. Impious or just, once sworn, To break it sure were shame.

Orsi. My son, 'twere virtue, When to perform it were the worst of crimes, 'Twas wrong to swear; be with that wrong contented. A second fault cannot make right the first; And acts of guilt absolve no act of folly.

Caesa. Guilt! Then we jar for words. I see but glory Where thou seest guilt: yet call it what thou wilt. I may be guilty, but I must be great.

Orsi. A dreadful word!

Caesa. A crown, a crown invites me! A glorious crown!

Orsi. Glorious! Oh no! True glory Is not to wear a crown but to deserve one. The peasant swain who leads a good man's life, And dies at last a good man's death, obtains In Wisdom's eye wreaths of far brighter splendour Than he whose wanton pride and thirst for empire Make kings his captives, and lay waste a world.

Caesa. And is't not glorious then to bless my country By just and gentle ruling; fight her battles; Preserve her laws——

Orsi. Thou, thou preserve her laws—— Thou fight her battles! thou—I tell thee, boy, The hand which serves its country should be pure. Ambition, selfish love, vain lust of power Ravage thy head and heart! and would'st thou hold The judgment balance with a hand still red With royal blood? Would'st thou dare speak a penance On guilt, thyself so guilty? Canst thou hope Castile will trust her to thee? God forbid! Mad is that nation, mad past thought of cure, Past chains and dungeons, whips, spare food, and fasting, Who yields the immortal man a patriot's name, And looks in private vice for public virtue. Thou play the patriot's part! Away, away! Who wounds his country is the worst of monsters; But good men only should presume to serve her. Thy guilt once seen——

Caesa. And who shall see that guilt When wrapt in purple, and the world's eye dazzled By the o'erpowering blaze a crown emits? What pilgrim, gazing on some awful torrent, Thinks through what roads it passed? Let golden fortune But smile propitious on my daring crimes, And all my crimes are virtues! Mark this, father, The world ne'er holds those guilty who succeed. [Exit.

Orsi. (alone.) How shall I act? He said within two nights—— Whate'er is done must be done soon—Oh! how, How shall I tread this labyrinth; how contrive To save my king, yet not destroy my son? The princess! Ha! well thought! It shall be so. I'll seek her, and Alfonso's life preserved, At once shall pay her kindness for my freedom, And buy my son's full pardon. Yes, I'll haste, And snatch my sovereign from this gulf of ruin. I, I the Atlas of his tottering throne—— Prosperous I shunned; unhappy, I forgive him; He reigned, I scorned his power; he sinks, I'll save him. [Exit.

End of Act III.



ACT IV.

SCENE I. Amelrosa's chamber.

Amelrosa in white robes, crowned with flowers, Estella, with a letter.

Amelrosa. 'Tis strange! At this late hour! In armour say'st thou?

Estel. In sable armour; round his neck was slung A bugle horn. In courteous guise he prayed me Give you this note unseen.

Amel. Unseen! How is this? [Reading]

"One, not unknown, requests an immediate audience on matters most important. Princess, delay not as you value your father's life." Not signed! My father's life! Estella say, Did he not tell his name?

Estel. He said this jewel Would speak whence came his letter.

Amel. Ha! The ring I gave Orsino! Quickly seek yon stranger, And charge him meet me at St. Juan's chapel; For there to pass the night in grateful prayer, E'en now I go——Friend speed thee.

Amel. [Alone] Doubt and terror—— My father's life?—And yet, for such a father What need I fear? Heaven will defend its own, And wings of seraphs shield that king from harm, Whose proudest title is—"his people's father," Whose dearest treasure is his people's love! [Exit.

SCENE II. St. Juan's cloisters by moon-light.—On one side a gothic chapel.

Orsi. [Alone in black armour.] Yes, this must be the place— Estella named, St. Juan's shrine, and sure 'tis for the princess Yon altar flames—Oh! hallowed vaults, how often Ye ring with prayers, which granted would destroy The fools who form them! Virgins there request Their charms may fire the heart of some gay rake, Who proves a wedded curse—There wives ask children, And, when they have them, find their vices such They mourn their birth—The spendthrift begs some kinsman May die, and vows that heaven shall share the spoil— While the young soldier prays his sword ere long May blush with blood, (and with whose blood he cares not,) Swearing, if so his arm may purchase glory, He'll pay its price, a thousand human hearts. And all these mad, these impious vows are ushered With chant of cloistered maids, and swell of organs— As could our earthly songs charm Him, who hears Seraphs and cherubs wake their harps divine, While the blest planets, hymning in their orbits, Pour fourth such tones as reached their mortal ears, Man would go mad for very extasy. Well, well! Such forms are good to force example On purblind eyes: but prayer from earth abstracted, Breathed in no ear but Heaven's; when lips are silent, But the heart speaks full loudly; thanks the music, Man's soul the censer, and pure thoughts the incense Kindling with grace celestial: that's the worship Which suits Him best who, past all prayer and praise, Esteems one grateful tear, one heart-drawn blessing, Which, thanking God, declares that man is happy. —Ha! Gleams of torches gild yon distant aisle!

Enter Father Bazil.

Bazil. Stranger, What dost thou here, where now to offer Gifts at yon shrine, for wondrous favour shown her, The princess hastens? See, she comes: retire?

Orsi. Your pardon, reverend father, I obey.

[Exit Orsino.

A procession enters of nuns and friars with lighted tapers, then follow Amelrosa, Estella, Inis, and ladies, carrying offerings.

Amel. I thank ye, holy friends. Now leave me here, Where I must watch the live-long night and feed Yon sacred lamps, telling each hour my beads, And pouring thanks to heaven and good St. Juan. Till morn farewell.

Bazil. May angels guard thee, daughter, Pure as thy thoughts, and join thee in thy prayers.

[Exeunt.

Amel. (alone) He is not here. Oh how my bosom throbs To know this fearful secret! Sure he cannot Have missed the place.

Orsi. (entering) All's dark again and silent. Perhaps her courage failed her, and she's gone. If so, what must be done? No, no, a shadow Moves on the chapel porch. 'Tis surely she.

Amel. Hark! steps! Orsino!

Orsi. He.

Amel. Oh, good Orsino! What brings thee here? Those words, my father's life, Like spells by witches breathed to raise the dead, Filled my heart's circle with a crowd of phantoms, Doleful and strange, which groan to be released. Thy news! thy news! Oh! speak them in one word, And let me know the worst.

Orsi. Thy fears though great, Are justified by what I have to tell. Princess, a plot is formed and ripe for action, To spoil thy father of his throne and life.

Amel. My father! my good father!

Orsi What can goodness And moral duties 'gainst the assaults of passion! Those chains, e'en when they seem than diamond harder, Soften, calcine, and fall like dust away, Touched by the burning finger of ambition.

Amel. This vile, vile world! Oh is there one on earth So lost to virtue he would harm my father!

Orsi. There is, and one most favoured! one who owns He long has lived nearest Alfonso's heart; His friend, his trusted friend; and yet this traitor, This worst of traitors—shame denies me utterance! This traitor, princess, is Orsino's son.

Amel. Thy son! thy long lost son!

Orsi. Long lost, late found, And better than found thus if lost forever. Go, princess, go; preserve your sire. I lay Bound at my sovereign's feet this precious victim. Yet, while you paint the son's offence, paint also His father's anguish! Plead for him, dear lady, Oh! plead for him and save him! since I own, Own it with shame, clearer than air or eye-sight I love, I doat upon Caesario.

Amel. (starting) Whom?

Orsi. Caesario is his name.

Amel. 'Tis not, 'tis not, Or, if it be, it means not that Caeesario, Not my Caesario! No, no, no!

Orsi. A soldier Who says he saved thee once——

Amel. Peace, death-bell, peace! Thou ringst the knel of all my joys!

Orsi. What mean'st thou? What sudden passion——

Amel. Hear me, wretched father! This son, now guilty thought, but guiltier far, Who knows with what idolatry I dote on My father, and yet plots to tear him from me! Is one to buy whose barbarous heart I spurned All the world prizes, fame, respect, and empire, Nay, risked my father's love: this man, this man —He is—Oh Heaven!—my husband!

Orsi. (striking his forehead) Slave! wretch!—fiend—— And yet Orsino's son!——Alas, poor princess! Gav'st thou him all, and rends he all from thee! Was he thy love, and would he be thy bane! Has he thy heart and stabs it! Now all plagues Hell ever forged for demons light——

Amel. hold, hold! Oh! curse him not; no, save him. Some one comes. We shall be marked. This way, and let us study How we may rescue best——

Orsi. No, let him perish! Perish, and seek the flames his guilt deserves. The sooner 'tis the better.

Amel. Silence, silence! Dear friend, this way, be patient. Oh! Caesario, And couldst thou have the heart to torture mine!

[Exeunt.

Caeesario enters, muffled in his cloak.

Caesa. Not come yet! 'Tis past midnight, and 'twas here She bade me join her. Ha! why flame yon lamps? Should any loitering monk—no, no, 'tis vacant, And all as yet is safe. Fate let this hour Be mine, and with the rest do what thou wilt. I hear her—to my work then. Why this shivering? I would fain spare her.—If she yields to reason 'Tis well: if not—she's here.

Enter Ottilia.

Otti. I find thee punctual. 'Tis well for thee thou art so. By my life, If thou hadst failed me I had sought the king. Where is the priest? On to the chapel.

Caesa. Stay, And hear me! for the hour is come that weighs Our fates in the same balance. Thus then briefly, Thou art most fair, in wit most choice and subtle, In all rare talents still surpassing all, And for these gifts, and thy long tried affection, I feel I owe thee much, owe thee firm friendship, Eternal gratitude, faith, favour, love, And all things save my hand. Except but this, Which now I must not give, nor couldst thou take, And ask what else thou wilt.

Otti. Most gracious sir, For thy fair praise, and these so liberal offers Of granting all save that which I would have, Accept my thanks, I've heard thee; now hear me. I'll be thy wife or nothing.

Caesa. Lady, Lady, You know not what you ask.

Otti. I know myself Worthy of what I ask, and know my power, Which you, it seems, forget. Is not my dowry Your life and crown? Let me but speak one word, And straight your fancied throne becomes a scaffold. No more, but to the chapel.

Caesa. If to move thee Ought would avail——

Otti. It cannot.

Caesa. Once a king——

Otti. I share thy throne.

Caesa. 'Mid all Castile's first honours Make thou thy choice——

Otti. 'Tis made.

Caesa. And still remaining My friend, my love——

Otti. Thy wife, thy wife, or nothing!

Caesa. Nay then I'll crush thy frantic hopes at once; I'm married.

Otti. (Starting) What! I hope thou dost but feign; For thy sake hope it; since, if true this marriage, Thou'rt lost past saving.

Caesa. Nay, unbend thy brow, Nor stamp nor rave. The princess is my wife, And frowns unbind not whom the church hath bound. The javelin's thrown, and cannot be recalled; Thine be the second prize the first is won, And all thy grief and rage that tis another's Will but torment thyself. Be wise, be wise, And bear with patience what thou canst not cure.

Otti. I will not curse: no, I'll not waste in vapour. The fire which burns within me. What I feel, My deeds shall tell thee best. (Going.)

Caesa. (detaining her) Ottilia, stay. If yet one spark of love remains——

Otti. (passionately) of love! Of love for thee! Mark me. Ere sets the sun My rival dies, and thou once more art free: But now so deadly is the hate I bear thee, 'Twill joy me less to see thee mine than dead. Thy blood! thy blood! 'Tis for thy blood I thirst, And it shall stream. Farewell.

Caesa. Go then, proud woman, I brave thy rancour. Ere thou gain'st the palace, I'll spring the mine.

Otti. Indeed! Now hark awhile, Then die for spite, thou base, thou baffled traitor! Six trusty slaves wait but my call to bind And bear thee to the king. Ay, rage, rage, rage, For I'll invent such tortures to despatch thee, Such racks, such whips, such baths of boiling sulphur, The damned shall think their pains mere mirth and pastime, And envying furies own their skill outdone. I go to prove my words.

Caesa. Thou must not leave me.

Otti. Worlds should not bribe my stay.

Caesa. Thou'rt in my power.

Otti. Thy power! thy power! I brave it! I defy it! Scorn both thy power and thee. Unhand me, ruffian! I'll not be held. Within there! hasten hither! Anthonio! Lopez! Treason? treason!

Caesa. Nay then, This to thy heart. (stabbing her.)

Otti. Help, help! Oh, vile assassin!

Enter Orsino, hastily.

Orsi. What clamours——Hold, you pass not.

Caesa. Give me way, Or else thy life——

Orsi. Ruffian defend thine own. [Exeunt fighting.

Otti. [Alone, leaning against a pillar.] My blood streams fast! I'm wounded, deeply wounded!—— My voice too fails; I cannot call for help. To hope for life were vain; but for revenge.—— Could I but reach the palace—— [Advancing a few steps, then sinking on the ground.] 'Twill not be. I faint!——Oh, heaven!

Enter Amelrosa.

Amel. All's hushed again; how fearful After those shrieks appear the midnight calm. —Orsino?—Speak, Orsino?—No one answers. What can this mean?

Otti. Fainter and fainter still—— And no one comes.——

Amel. Hark! 'Twas a groan! whence came it? [Seeing Ottilia.] Stranger look up!

Otti. A voice! Oh! blessed sound, Who'er thou art, mark well my dying words; A villain's hand—I'm wounded——

Amel. Gracious heaven! Oh! let me fly for aid.

Otti. All aid were vain. Stay, mark! Revenge!—[Taking a paper from her bosom.] This paper—take it—bear it Swift to the royal tower—lose not a moment— Insist to see the king—take no denial, For 'tis of most dear import.

Amel. Sure, it must be—? Ottilia.

Otti. [Starting up wildly.] Heaven, who speaks? 'Tis she herself: My victim, 'tis my victim!—Dost thou live then? Hast thou escaped? Spare me, thou God of mercy! Oh! spare me this one crime.

Amel. What means this passion? How wild she eyes me; how she grasps my hand!

Otti. Answer and bless me: Say thou didst not drink it! Say Inis did not—While I speak, the blood Fades from thy cheek! Thine eyes close! Dying pangs Distort thy features; pangs like those which shortened His life, whose angry ghost, grim, fierce, and ghastly, Comes gliding yonder. See his livid finger Points to the poisoned cup! He frowns and threatens. Pray for me, angel! Pray for me! I dare not.

Amel. Alas, poor wretch!

Otti. Help! help! The spectre grasps me, And folds me to his breast, where the worm feeds! He tears my heart-strings!—Now he sinks, he sinks! And sinking grasps me still, and drags me down with him, A thousand fathom deep!—Oh! lost, lost, lost!

[Dies.

Amel. She's gone.—Sure earth affords no sight more awful, Than when a sinner dies—She named the king.— Perhaps this writing—By yon favouring lamp I'll find its meaning, [Ascending the chapel steps.

Enter Orsino.

Orsi. Aided by night The villain has escaped me. [Seeing Amelrosa, who, while reading by the lamp suspended in the chapel-porch, expresses the most violent agitation.] Princess,—Ha! Why thus alarmed?—[Amelrosa gives him the paper in silence, with a look of agony.] This paper?—Heaven, what's this? [Reading. ——"My king, Caesario plots your destruction: —A mine is formed in the Claudian vaults, beneath the royal Tower, and which the conspirators mean to spring this night. This warning will enable you to defeat their purpose: Accept it as an atonement for the crimes of the dying Guzman. The mine is appointed to be sprung when the clock strikes one."— [The letter falls from his hand.

Amel. [Rushing from the chapel in despair] One, one!—'Tis that already.—Oh! he's lost! My father's lost!—Ere we can reach his chamber 'Twill sink in flames!

Orsi. That must be tried—Say, princess, How may I gain admittance to the king, Nor meet delay?

Amel. This signet——[Giving a ring.]

Orsi. 'Tis enough. Know you the Claudian vaults?

Amel. I do.

Orsi. Away then; Reach them with speed: cling round Caesario, kneel, Weep, threaten, sooth, implore! to rouse his feelings Use every art; at least delay his purpose, Till thou shalt hear this bugle sound; that signal Shall speak Alfonso safe.—Farewell.

Amel. Oh! heaven! Oh! dreadful hour!

Orsi. Take heart: if time allows me, I'll save thy father: if too late——

Amel. Then, then, What wilt thou do?

Orsi. What? Plunge into the flames, And perish with my king!—Away! away!

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE III.—A cavern.

Enter Melchior with a lamp, as from an inner cavern.

Mel. Hush!—No, he comes not; sure 'tis near the time. A light:—Who's there?—Henriquez.

Enter Henriquez, lighted by Lucio.

Hen. Ay, the same.

Mel. Now, Lucio, where's thy lord?

Lucio. He charged me tell you, He would not fail at one.

Mel. The rest wait yonder. Gomez, Sebastian, Marcos, none are wanting: Our chief alone is absent.

Hen. He'll not tarry. Lead to the inner vault, I'll wait him there.

[Exeunt.

Enter Amelrosa.

Amel. Those gleams of light: I must be near the place. —Voices!—I'll on—Oh! heaven! I can no further. —I faint!—I die! [Catching at a fragment of the cave, against which she leans as stupified.—A pause.—The bell strikes one.] Hark! the bell gives the signal. Oh! for a moment's strength.—Hold, murderers hold! [Rushes off.

SCENE IV.—[The inner cavern, partially lighted with lamps. In the middle, folding doors guarded with iron bars; on one side a rough hewn staircase leading to a small door above.]

Gomez, Marcos, and conspirators, discovered in listening attitudes.

Gom. 'Tis strange, the time is past, and yet not here?

Mar. Henriquez too is absent.

Gom. Steps approach. [Kneeling at the folding door.] Who knocks?

Hen. (without) A friend.

Mar. The pass word.

Hen. Empire.

Gom. Open. [Marcos unbars the door.]

Henriquez, Melchior, and Lucio, enter through the folding doors, which Marcos again closes.

Gom. Friends welcome. Melchior, is thy work complete?

Mel. Complete, and fit for springing. Nought is wanting. The train is laid. One spark and all is done. Our chief alone——

Gom. The private door unlocks.

Hen. Caesario only has the key.

Mel. 'Tis he.

Caesario descends the staircase swiftly. His looks are wild; his hair flows loose; and he grasps a bloody dagger.

All. Welcome, Caesario, welcome!

Caesa. Ay, shout, shout, And, kneeling greet your blood anointed king, This steel his sceptre. Tremble, dwarfs in guilt, And own your master. Thou art proof, Henriquez, 'Gainst pity. I once saw thee stab in battle A page who clasped thy knees; and Melchior, there Made quick work with a brother whom he hated But what did I this night? Hear, hear, and reverence! There was a breast on which my head had rested A thousand times; a breast which loved me fondly, As Heaven loves martyred saints; and yet this breast I stabbed, knaves, stabbed it to the heart! Wine, wine, there! For my soul's joyous. [Gomez brings a goblet.]

Hen. Friend, what means this frenzy? What hast thou done? Where is Ottilia?

Caesa. (dashing down the goblet) Dead! Dead, Marquis! At that word how the vault rings, And the ground shakes. It shall not shake my purpose. Murder and I are grown familiar, friends. The assassin's trade is sweet. I've tasted blood, And thirst for more. Say, is the mine——

Mel. All's ready.

Caesa. Who fires the train?

Hen. Mel. and all the conspirators. I, I!

Caesa. Oh, cheerful cry! Oh! glorious strife for guilt: Let each man throw His dagger in my casque; be his the service, Whose steel I draw.

Hen. 'Tis me——

Caesa. [To Lucio.] Thy torch, boy, [giving it to Henriquez.] Take it! Here lies thy way—speed, speed, and let yon vaults, Shivering in fragments, tell my ravished ear Alfonso dies. Away, away!—[On his throwing open the folding doors, Amelrosa is discovered.]

Amel. Forbear!

All. The princess.

Amel. No, no, Princess; 'tis a daughter, Fierce through despair, frantic with fear, and anguish. Hear me ye dread unknown: Yon flinty man Ne'er knew a father's care, and knows not now What 'tis to love, what 'tis to lose a father. But ye, (if e'er a parent's hand hath dried Your infant tears; if e'er your eyes have streamed To see him weep, knowing your hand but scarred Gave him more pain, than his own heart torn piece meal) Oh! spare my father! Bid those hours revive Which filial love once bless'd; recall youth's feelings, And by those feelings learn to pity mine. Spare, spare my father!

Caesa. [Struggling to conceal his confusion.] Spare him? Sure thou rav'st: What fears my gentle love?

Amel. I'm not thy love; Not gentle: Strange despair has changed my nature; Steeled my soft bosom, braced my woman's nerves, And brought me here, prepared and proud to perish, If my heart's blood may save my sire's from streaming. The savage tigress guards her new-born young With tenderest, fiercest care; the timorous swallow, If robber-hands approach her brood; defends it With eagle-fury; and what brutes will do To guard their offspring, born perhaps that day, Shall I not do for one, to whom I owe Full twenty years of love? Caesario, mark me, For by heaven's host, no power shall move my purpose: Or thou must save my sire, or murder me.

Hen. What must be done?

Mel. Time presses.

Caesa. [Recovering from his stupor.] Fire the train.

Amel. [Interposing between the inner vault and Henriquez.] He shall not.

Caesa. Amelrosa.

Amel. No, he shall not! Back, ruffian, back! and throw that torch away, Which burns to light my father's funeral pile: Here I'll defy thy rage, thus check thy malice, Thus bar thy road, and, if thou needs wilt pass, Make thee a way by trampling on my corse, I stir not else.

Caesa. Nay, then I'll use my power, And, as thy husband now command thee——

Amel. Thou? Man, thou canst not command me.

Caesa. Art thou not My wife?

Amel. I am; but ere I was a wife, I was a daughter, was a subject; nay, Am still a princess, and as such command Thee, traitor, thee! and bid thee turn from evil. [To Henriquez,]—Away! you pass not.

Caesa. Force her from the door!

Amel. [Clinging to a column.] Oh! for the Hebrew's strength to shake yon vaults, And crush these traitors and myself.

Mel. In vain You struggle.

Amel. Cut my hands off! stab me! kill me!

[They force her away.]

Caesa. Henriquez, to your work.

[Henriquez enters the vault.]

Amel. Oh! barbarous men, Where shall I turn—Caesario, dear Caesario! Once thou wert kind—Aid, aid my prayers, ye angels, And force this cruel man to save at once My husband's honour, and my father's life. Turn not away! look on me! see my tears, And pity me: Friend, husband, lover, all That makes life dear, I charge you! I implore you——

Hen. [Returning from the vault.] The train is fired.

Amel. [Dashing herself on the earth.] Barbarians! fiends, distraction! Fall, fall, ye vaults and crush me.

[A bugle horn sounds, Amelrosa starts from the ground.]

Hark the signal—— He lives, he lives! [Kneeling and clasping her hands.] Oh, Heaven, my thanks!

Caesa. 'Tis done.

[The mine blows up with a loud explosion, and the back part of the vault bursts into flames.]

End of Act IV.



ACT V.

SCENE I.—The interior of Orsino's hermitage.

Alfonso is discovered sleeping.

Enter Orsino and Ricardo.

Orsi. Come they in force?

Ricar. At least five thousand strong, But stronger far in loyalty than numbers. Scarce heard my tale, clamours of rage and pity Burst from the croud, and every peasant swore, He'd perish or preserve that sovereign's rights, Who used them ever for the poor man's good.

Orsi. Honest Ricardo: When to serve thy king I judged thee truest of the true, I erred not. The lords to whom I sent thee, what reception Found'st thou from them?

Ricar. Such as almost would prove, Ingratitude is not the vice of courts: But when I said, Orsino was to head them, Their zeal, their joy——-

Orsi. No more.—Are they at hand?

Ricar. An hour will bring them here.

Orsi. We'll then tow'rds Burgos, And ere the swarth Castilian sees the sun Pour on his rip'ning vines meridian beams, Caesario's royal dream shall close forever. —[Looking on Alfonso.]—-He sleeps—Oh! come all ye who envy monarchs, Look on yon bed of leaves, and thank heaven's kindness, Which saved ye from the sorrows of a throne.

Ricar. My dear, my injured master.

Orsi. Go, Ricardo, Watch for your friends; and when from yonder rock Thou see'st their forces, warn me. [Exit Ricardo.

Orsi. [To Alfonso,] Canst thou sleep, And sleep thus soundly on so rude a pallet? There's many a prince, whose couch is strown with roses, Finds their sweet leaves but serve to harbour aspies: There's many a conqueror stretched on down, who passes The live-long night to woo repose in vain, And view with aching, restless, sated eyes, The trophies which nod round his crimson bed. But fraud, ambition, treachery, plots, and murder, In vain would banish his repose who sleeps, Watched by his prospering kingdom's anxious angel; And lull'd to slumber by his people's prayers. But see,—He wakes.—(Lowering his vizor.)

Alfon. (Waking.) Do what thou wilt, Caesario, But harm not my poor child.—How now!——Where am I? —What place—I see it all.—Lo!—where he stands, Whose well-timed warning snatched me from the flames, And led me hither.—Say, thou dread preserver, Mysterious stranger, ease a father's anguish: How fares it with my child? What news from Burgos?

Orsi. Burgos believes thee dead. Caesario fills Thy vacant throne.

Alfon. I ask not of my throne. My child! Oh! say, my child?——

Orsi. Is safe, is well, And hopes ere long to see her sire once more Adorned, with regal pomp, and lord of Burgos.

Alfon. Alas! vain hope.

Orsi. Not so: thy faithful nobles, By me apprized, now haste to give thee succour. Ere night, Caesario falls; and piercing his, Thy just revenge shall print a mortal wound On his proud father's heart.

Alfon. His father's?

Orsi. Ay, On his, who paid thy love this morn with curses, Spurning thy proffered friendship—Know'st thou not Caesario is Orsino's son?

Alfon. Just Heaven! And does Orsino love him?

Orsi. Dearly, dearly, Loves him to madness; loves him with like fury. As hates he thee.—Oh! glorious field for vengeance: Think how 'twill writhe his haughty soul to hear, This son, this darling, perished on the scaffold, Branded, disgraced, a traitor, a foiled traitor. Joy, joy, Alfonso; ere 'tis night thy wrath Shall gorge itself with blood.

Alfon. Now blessings on thee, Who giv'st me more than all my foes can take. Come, come, my friend; where are these troops? Away, Forward to Burgos.

Orsi. (Detaining him.) Whither now?

Alfon. To Burgos. Down with the walls: make once Caesario mine—

Orsi. And then——?

Alfon. I'll seek his father, grasp his hand, And say,—"This stripling stole my darling daughter, Betrayed my confidence, usurped my throne, Aimed at my life, and almost broke my heart: But he's Orsino's son; Orsino loves him, And all's forgiven."——(Orsino kneels, takes the king's hand, and presses it to his lips.)—How now?

Orsi. (Raising his vizor.) All is forgiven.

Alfon. 'Tis he:—Orsino's self.

Orsi. My pride is vanquished: My king—Thy hand, my king.

Alfon. My heart, my heart; There find thy place, and never leave it more. Oh, from my joy again to name thee friend, Judge of my grief to think thou wert my foe; How could I doubt thee? how commit an error So gross.

Orsi. No more; e'en now thou pay'st its penance: In this long chain of present woes, that error (Which seems at first so light) was the first link. It tore me from my son: else, reared by me, Formed in thy court, and schooled by my example, My son must sure have proved thy truest subject, Oh! learn from this, how weighty is the charge, A monarch bears; how nice a task to guide His power aright, to guide it wrong, how fatal. If subjects sin, with them the crime remains, With them the penance; but when monarchs err, The mischief spreads swift as their kingdom's rivers, Strong as their power, and wide as their domains.

Enter Ricardo.

Orsi. Now friend?

Ricar. From yonder height I caught distinctly The gleam of arms.

Orsi. 'Tis well—Away, my sovereign, And join your troops; then shape your march tow'rds Burgos, Nor doubt the event, for who that loves his country. To save his king shall fear to die himself? None, surely none! The patriot glow shall catch From heart to heart throughout Castile, as swiftly As sparks of fire disperse through summer forests; Till all in care of thee forget themselves, And every good man's bosom bucklers thine! Forward, my king!—Lead on! [Exeunt.

Scene II.—A chamber in the palace.

Enter Henriquez and Melchior.

Mel. And the grave council Fell blindfold in the snare?

Hen. They could not fail, So well Caesario spread it—With such art He told his tale, and in such glowing colours Painted Alfonso's worth, and his son's guilt, That all cried vengeance on the prince Don Pedro, And bade Caesario mount his forfeit throne.

Mel. And he, no doubt, obeyed?

Hen. In modest guise He owned his union with the princess gave him Some rights, but vowed, so heavy seemed its weight, He feared to wear a crown, so prayed them spare him: Till won by urgent prayer at length he yielded, And kindly deigned to be a king.

Mel. He's here, And Bazil with him.

Enter Caesario, father Bazil, and attendants.

Caesa. (Entering.) Bid her rest assured, Her king is her first subject. But, good father, How bears her health, this shock? Say, looks she pale? Does she e'er name——

Bazil. She bade me lead thee hither, And claimed my promise not to tell thee more. I'll warn her, thou art here. [Going.]

Caesa. Say too, my heart Shares every pang of her's; that crowns are worthless Bought with her tears; that could my prayers my blood, Restore Alfonso's life——

Bazil. Hold!—On that subject What thou wouldst tell her, will come best from thee. [Exit.

Caesa. Ha!—Meant he——No! Sure had he known my secret, The monk had canted 'gainst the guilt of treason, Thundering out saint-like curses!——Vile, vile chance, Which led the princess.—Yet what fear I now? She keeps my secret: then she loves me still, And, loving, must forgive me—Hark! I hear her. Now all ye powers of bland persuasion, shed Your honey on my lips. Come to my aid, Ye soft memorials of departed pleasures, Kind words, fond looks, sweet tears, and melting kisses! Sighs of compassion, drown her anger's voice! Smooth ye her frown, smiles of delight and love! Make her but mine once more, and this day crowns me Monarch of all my soul e'er wished from fate: Yes, in my wildest dreams I asked but this, "Love and revenge! A throne and Amelrosa!"— Retire!—I dread to meet her.

[Henriquez &c. Exeunt.

Amelrosa enters, pale, and leaning on father Bazil.—Estella, Inis, and ladies follow weeping.

Amel. 'Tis enough, Good father, and one task performed, I'll meet That hour with joy, which seems to guilt so fearful. Leave me awhile: Anon, if time allows it, We'll talk again—Farewell, my friends.

Inis. [Kneeling.] Oh! princess! Oh! royal victim!

Amel. Nay, be calm, my Inis. Pass a few years, and all had been as now, Perhaps far worse: Receive this kiss of pardon, And give it back in heaven!——Farewell!

[Exeunt Estella &c.

Manent Caesario and Amelrosa.

Caesa. How grief Has changed her! Ah! how sunk her eyes! her cheeks How pale!—She comes!—How shall I bear her anguish!

Amel. Not to reproach, for that you sought a life, Which you well knew I prized above my own; Not to complain, that when my heart reposed On you for all its earthly joys, you broke it, I seek you now: but with true zeal I come To warn thee, yea with tears implore thee, turn From those most dangerous paths, which now thou tread'st. Oh! wake, my husband! Close thy guilty dream; Be just, be good! be what till how I thought thee! That when we part (as ere two hours me must) We may not part forever.

Caesa. How to answer, Or in what words excuse—Could my best blood Wash out thy knowledge of my fault.—

Amel. My knowledge? And say, on earth none knew it! say thy crime To eye of man were viewless as the winds, And secret as the laws which rule the dead: Could'st hide it from thyself?—Would not he know it, Whose knowledge more than all thou ought to dread, His, who knows all things?—Oh! short-sighted mortals! Oh! vain precautions! Oh! misjudging sense! Man thinks his secret safe, for no ear heard it! Man thinks his act unknown, for no eye saw it! But there was one above both saw and heard, When neither ear could hear, nor eye could——

Caesa. Thou lovely moralist! Oh! take me! school me! Mould thou my heart, and make it like thine own.

Amel. Dost thou speak thus?

Caesa. Be that one act forgiven, And prove——

Amel. Oh! that were light: As yet thou'rt guilty In thought alone. My father lives!

Caesa. Indeed!

Amel. He starts!—He feigned!—Oh! for heaven's love; my husband, Trifle not now! this hour is precious, precious! My soul is winged for heaven, and stays its flight, In hopes of teaching thine the way to follow: Let not its stay be vain! let my tears win thee, And turn from vice: Repent; be wise; be warned; For 'tis no idle voice that gives the warning; I speak it from the grave!

Caesa. The grave!

Amel. What fear'st thou? Why shudder at a name?—Oh! if thou needs Wilt tremble, tremble for thyself, not me. I die to live; thy death may be for ever! Short are my pangs; thy soul's may be eternal!

Caesa. Die? Die!—Each word—Each look—Dreadful suspicions. But no! it cannot, shall not be!

Amel. It shall not? As I've a soul, in one short hour, Caesario, That soul must kneel before the throne of God.

Caesa. Mean'st thou——

Amel. E'en so; I'm poisoned!

Caesa. Torture! madness! Within there!

Re-enter father Bazil, Estella, &c.

Caesa. Help! Oh! help! The princess dies! I'll speed myself.——

Amel. [Detaining him.] No, no, thou must not leave me: My hour of death is near, and thou must see it—

Caesa. Distraction!

Amel. Must observe, how calm the transit, How light the pain, how free death's cup from bitter, When virtue soothes, and hope exalts the soul, I've seen a sinner die; Last night I closed Ottilia's lids, and 'twas a night of horror! Each limb, each nerve was writhed by strange convulsions, Clenched were her teeth, her eye-balls fixed and glaring; She foamed, she raved, and her last words were curses!—— But look, Caesario!—I can die, and smile!

[Sinks into Estella's arms.

Caesa. [In despair.] My life!—My soul!——

Amel. [In a faint voice.] But while one moment's mine, By all thy vows of love, by those I breathed, And never broke through life, never, no, never, I charge thee, I conjure thee——

[Starting suddenly forward.]

Powers of mercy, Whence this so glorious blaze?

Caesa. How her eyes sparkle!

Amel. Look, friends! Look, look!—My mother, my dead mother! Rich in new youth, and bright in lasting beauty! She floats in air; her limbs are clothed with light! Her angel-head is wreathed with Eden's roses! Heaven's splendours rove amid her golden locks, While her blest lips and radiant eyes pour round her Airs of delight and floods of placid glory! She moves!—She smiles!—She lifts her hand!—She beckons! World, fare thee well!—Mother, lead on!—I follow! [Exit with Estella, &c.

Caesa. [Alone.] My brain! my brain!—Oh! I ne'er knew till now, How well I loved her!—[Following her.]

Enter Henriquez.

Hen. Turn, Caesario, turn! We're lost! Alfonso lives; e'en now his troops Assail our walls.

Caesa. Confusion! is all hell Combined——

Enter Melchior.

Mel. Betrayed, betrayed! The gates are opened; The townsmen join our foes; I saw the king First in the fight.——

Caesa. The king?—My brain is burning; I'll cool it with his blood.—Forth, forth, my sword: Forth, nor be sheathed till I return thee dyed With royal gore—Away!

[Exeunt Henriquez, and Melchior; Caesario is following when Amelrosa shrieks from within: he stops and remains motionless.]

Amel. [Within.] Oh! mercy, mercy!

Inis. [Within.] She dies!

Estel. [Within.] Nay, hold her! hold her down!

Amel. [Within.] Oh! Oh!

[Solemn requiem chanted within.]

Peace to the parted saint! Pure soul, farewell!

[The scene closes.]

Scene III.—A field of battle—alarums—thunder and lightning.

Soldiers cross the stage fighting.

Enter Orsino.

Orsi. Oh! shame, shame, shame!—Sun, thou dost well to hide thee, Nor light Castile's disgrace.—Oh! I could tear My flesh for rage!

Enter Ricardo.

Ricar. All's lost!—the foe prevails! What must be done, Orsino?

Orsi. Where's the king?

Ricar. He fights still.

Orsi. Seek him! save him! bid him fly, Fly with all speed: thou know'st to find his courser. Away!

Ricar. General, thou'rt wounded!

Orsi. 'Tis no matter.

Ricar. Thou'lt bleed to death.——

Orsi. And if I should, I care not: The king, the king!—Oh! waste no thought on me: The best of subjects can but lose one life, But thousands perish when a good king bleeds. Nay, speed!

Ricar. [Looking out.] See! see! our troops—

Orsi. They fly, by heaven! Turn, turn, ye cowards! 'Tis Orsino calls! Follow, slaves follow me, and die or conquer!

[Soldiers enter pursued by Henriquez, &c. Orsino rallies them, and drives Henriquez back.]

Scene IV.—Before the walls of Burgos—The storm continues.

Enter Caesario.

Caesa. Shall I ne'er find him? Shall my mother's spirit Still ask revenge in vain? This flame, which burns My blood up, shall it ne'er be quenched with his? 'Tis he! 'tis he!—I see the high plume waving O'er his crowned helmet:—Thunders, cease, nor rob me, Of his expiring shriek!—Turn, turn, Alfonso!

[Exit.

[Shouts of victory.]

Enter Henriquez, Melchior, Marcos, Gomez, and soldiers.

Hen. We triumph, Melchior!—See our trusty squadrons Range the field unopposed. But where's our chief?

Mar. How now! what clamour.——

Mel. Look, Henriquez, look! Caesario and the king in single combat!

Hen. They come this way!—mark, with their ponderous blows How their shields ring!—Caesario loses ground! Yield thee, Alfonso!—Interposing between Alfonso and Caesario, who enter fighting.

Caesa. Back, I say! back, back! No arm but mine——

Alfon. Caesario, pause, and hear me! Whate'er thou wilt——

Caesa. Thy life!

Alfon. Medina's dukedom, And Amelrosa.

Caesa. Flames consume the tongue, That names her! Thou hast rent my wound anew, Recalling what was mine, but is no longer! Look to thy heart, for if my sword can reach it, Thou diest!—Come on!—[They fight; Alfonso loses his sword, and is beaten on his knees.]

Caesa. Thou'rt mine!—and thus—[At the moment that he motions to stab Alfonso, Orsino, without his helmet, deadly pale, and bleeding profusely, rushes in, and arrests his arm.]

Orsi. Hold, hold!

Caesa. My father bleeding! Horror!

Orsi. Does that pain thee? Oh by this blood, a father's blood, the same Which fills thy veins, and feeds thy life I charge thee, Shed not thy king's.

Caesa. Father thy prayers are vain! He broke my mother's heart! his own must bleed for't! Release my arm.

Orsi. My son, I kiss thy feet: Thy father kneels; let him not kneel in vain. Nay, if thou stirr'st, my deadliest curse.——

Caesa. 'Twill grieve me, But yet e'en that I'll brave:—Curse; still I'll strike! No more!

Orsi. Can nought appease thee——

Caesa. Nothing, nothing!

Alfon. Nay, cease, Orsino: 'tis in vain——

Caesa. True, true! This to thy heart.

Orsi. Oh! yet arrest thy sword, My son.——

Caesa. He dies!

Orsi. One word, but one!

Caesa. Despatch them.

Orsi. Swear, ere you strike the blow, if still your power Answers your will, as now it does, the king Has not an hour to live!

Caesa. An hour?—An age! Thrones shall not buy that hour. By hell I swear, Alfonso breathes his last, if fate allows me To live one moment more.

Orsi. [Stabbing him.] Then die this moment.

Caesa. My heart, my heart!—Oh! oh!

[Falls lifeless at Orsino's feet.

Alfon. What hast thou done?

Orsi. Preserved Castile in thee.

Mel. Hew him to pieces!

Hen. Monster thy son——

Orsi. He was so; yet I slew him. Think ye, I loved him not?—Oh! heaven, the blood My breast now pours, gives me not half such pain As that which stains this poniard: yet I slew him, I, I his father!—And as I with him, So, traitors, shall your father deal with ye, Your father who frowns yonder.—[Thunder.]—mark! he speaks! The avenger speaks, and stretches from the clouds His red right arm.—See, see! his javelins fly, And fly to strike you dead!—While yet 'tis time, Down, rebels, down!—Tremble, repent, and tremble! Fall at your sovereign's feet, and sue for grace.

The conspirators sink on their knees.

Alfon. Oh! soul of honour.—Oh! my full, full heart! Orsino, friend!——

Orsi. No more—Thy hand—farewell. Life ebbs apace—Oh, lay me by my son, That I may bless him ere I die—Pale, pale: No warmth:—No sense:—Not one convulsive throb: Not one last lingering breath on those wan lips! All gone! all, all!—So fair, so young, to die Was hard, most hard: canst thou forgive thy father, Canst thou, my boy? he loved thee dearly, dearly, And would to save thy life have died himself, Though he had rather see thee dead than guilty. My sand runs fast.—Oh! I am sick at soul! I'll breathe my last sigh on my son's cold lips. Clasp his dead hand in mine, and lay my heart Close to his gaping wound, that it may break 'Gainst his dear breast.—My eyes grow faint and clouded. I see thy face no more, my boy, but still Feel thy blood trickle!—Oh! that pang, that pang! 'Tis done—All's dark!—My son, my son, my son!

[Dies.

End of Act V.