Zapolya. Ha! my son!
Glycine. And of Lord Casimir—
Raab Kiuprili (aside). O agony! my son! [135]
Glycine. But my dear lady—
Zapolya and Raab Kiuprili. Who?
Glycine. Lady Sarolta
Frowned and discharged these bad men.
Raab Kiuprili (to himself). Righteous Heaven
Sent me a daughter once, and I repined
That it was not a son. A son was given me.
My daughter died, and I scarce shed a tear: 140
And lo! that son became my curse and infamy.
Zapolya (embraces Glycine). Sweet innocent! and you came here to seek him,
And bring him food. Alas! thou fear'st?
Glycine. Not much!
My own dear lady, when I was a child,
Embraced me oft, but her heart never beat so. 145
For I too am an orphan, motherless!
Raab Kiuprili (to Zapolya). O yet beware, lest hope's brief flash but deepen
The after gloom, and make the darkness stormy!
In that last conflict, following our escape,
The usurper's cruelty had clogged our flight 150
With many a babe and many a childing mother.
This maid herself is one of numberless
Planks from the same vast wreck. [Then to Glycine again.
Well! Casimir's wife—