Glycine (aside). So looks the statue, in our hall, o' the god,
The shaft just flown that killed the serpent!

Bethlen. King!

Glycine. Ah, often have I wished you were a king. 260
You would protect the helpless every where,
As you did us. And I, too, should not then
Grieve for you, Bethlen, as I do; nor have
[[910]] The tears come in my eyes; nor dream bad dreams
That you were killed in the forest; and then Laska 265
Would have no right to rail at me, nor say
(Yes, the base man, he says,) that I—I love you.

Bethlen. Pretty Glycine! wert thou not betrothed—
But in good truth I know not what I speak.
This luckless morning I have been so haunted 270
With my own fancies, starting up like omens,
That I feel like one, who waking from a dream
Both asks and answers wildly.—But Bathory?

Glycine. Hist! 'tis my lady's step! She must not see you!
[Bethlen retires.

Enter from the Cottage Sarolta and Bathory.

Sarolta. Go, seek your son! I need not add, be speedy— [275]
You here, Glycine? [Exit Bathory.

Glycine. Pardon, pardon, Madam!
If you but saw the old man's son, you would not,
You could not have him harmed.

Sarolta. Be calm, Glycine!

Glycine. No, I shall break my heart.