Zapolya. Angel of mercy, I was perishing
And thou did'st bring me food: and now thou bring'st 125
The sweet, sweet food of hope and consolation
[[922]]To a mother's famished heart! His name, sweet maiden!

Glycine. E'en till this morning we were wont to name him
Bethlen Bathory!

Zapolya. Even till this morning?
This morning? when my weak faith failed me wholly! 130
Pardon, O thou that portion'st out our sufferance,
And fill'st again the widow's empty cruse!
Say on!

Glycine. The false ones charged the valiant youth
With treasonous words of Emerick—

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.