Sarolta. Hear me, hear me, Heaven!

Emerick. Nay, why this rage? Who best deserves you? Casimir,
Emerick's bought implement, the jealous slave
That mews you up with bolts and bars? or Emerick 285
Who proffers you a throne? Nay, mine you shall be.
Hence with this fond resistance! Yield; then live
This month a widow, and the next a queen!

Sarolta. Yet, yet for one brief moment [Struggling.
Unhand me, I conjure you.

[She throws him off, and rushes towards a toilet. Emerick follows, and as she takes a dagger, he grasps it in her hand.

Emerick. Ha! Ha! a dagger; 290
A seemly ornament for a lady's casket!
'Tis held, devotion is akin to love,
But yours is tragic! Love in war! It charms me,
And makes your beauty worth a king's embraces!

[During this speech Bethlen enters armed.

Bethlen. Ruffian, forbear! Turn, turn and front my sword! 295

Emerick. Pish! who is this?

Sarolta. O sleepless eye of Heaven!
A blest, a blessed spirit! Whence camest thou?
May I still call thee Bethlen?

Bethlen. Ever, lady,
[[935]] Your faithful soldier!