carlos.
Oh, I'm wounded!—
There, may thy paramour complete thy work,
Unblushing traitress!—Home to my heart—
Strike deep! thou canst not give so keen a thrust
As her rude tongue!—Haste, ere thy weapon cool;—
Yet, ere I die, Hermione—I loved thee once,
Now—from my heart I proudly tear thine image,
Blotting it out for ever, as the memory
Of some loathed wanton!—Hence!—haunt not my sight,
Fell murderess!—Now unbar my prison, death!—
duke.
Nay,—I'll not haste thee to thy last acquittance,
Ill-fated wretch!—I do repent mine haste.
Enter Bertrand.
bertrand.
Foul deeds betray ye, sirs!—Carlos!
Wounded!—Unhand him, villain!—'tis to thee
He owes this bitter thrust. If thou art aught
But what I deem thee, by the earliest dawn
Again we meet. The outskirts of yon wood,
Nigh to the city, with thy weapon, there
Uphold thee for this most unjust assault.
An innocent man, if yet protection be
Upon the stranger in proud Mantua,
I bear to his abode; but on thy head
His blood doth rest, a dastard's recreant crow
Down drawing Heaven's hot vengeance!
Enter Ridolfi, Laura, and Attendants, with lights.
laura.
Oh! they have slain him! Help! Who dealt this blow?
Sweetheart, for love thou diest, and for love,
Malicious fate! thy maiden too must die.
[Bertrand bears off Carlos.
Yet stay, Carlos! I follow thee.
ridolfi.
Nay, maid, content thee;
Thou followest not this stranger.
laura.
Oh, he was mine!
But they have ta'en him.
ridolfi.
Thine! Some demon sure
Makes ye his sport. My Lord—the Duke—I dream—
This night, methinks, the storm doth send confusion
To men's calm thoughts, o'ermaster'd with its frenzy.
On they would rush, malign, to the fulfilment
Of some sure, unscaped doom.
hermione.
I know not whence
These changes come,—inexplicable, dark
As lies my fate,—the abyss to which I hasten!
My lord, can you unriddle these events?
Your presence would denote, at least to me,
Some knowledge of their bearing.