Amel. I thank ye, holy friends. Now leave me here,
Where I must watch the live-long night and feed
Yon sacred lamps, telling each hour my beads,
And pouring thanks to heaven and good St. Juan.
Till morn farewell.
Bazil. May angels guard thee, daughter,
Pure as thy thoughts, and join thee in thy prayers.
[Exeunt.
Amel. (alone) He is not here. Oh how my bosom throbs
To know this fearful secret! Sure he cannot
Have missed the place.
Orsi. (entering) All's dark again and silent.
Perhaps her courage failed her, and she's gone.
If so, what must be done? No, no, a shadow
Moves on the chapel porch. 'Tis surely she.
Amel. Hark! steps! Orsino!
Orsi. He.
Amel. Oh, good Orsino!
What brings thee here? Those words, my father's life,
Like spells by witches breathed to raise the dead,
Filled my heart's circle with a crowd of phantoms,
Doleful and strange, which groan to be released.
Thy news! thy news! Oh! speak them in one word,
And let me know the worst.
Orsi. Thy fears though great,
Are justified by what I have to tell.
Princess, a plot is formed and ripe for action,
To spoil thy father of his throne and life.
Amel. My father! my good father!
Orsi What can goodness
And moral duties 'gainst the assaults of passion!
Those chains, e'en when they seem than diamond harder,
Soften, calcine, and fall like dust away,
Touched by the burning finger of ambition.
Amel. This vile, vile world! Oh is there one on earth
So lost to virtue he would harm my father!
Orsi. There is, and one most favoured! one who owns
He long has lived nearest Alfonso's heart;
His friend, his trusted friend; and yet this traitor,
This worst of traitors—shame denies me utterance!
This traitor, princess, is Orsino's son.
Amel. Thy son! thy long lost son!
Orsi. Long lost, late found,
And better than found thus if lost forever.
Go, princess, go; preserve your sire. I lay
Bound at my sovereign's feet this precious victim.
Yet, while you paint the son's offence, paint also
His father's anguish! Plead for him, dear lady,
Oh! plead for him and save him! since I own,
Own it with shame, clearer than air or eye-sight
I love, I doat upon Cæsario.
Amel. (starting) Whom?
Orsi. Cæsario is his name.
Amel. 'Tis not, 'tis not,
Or, if it be, it means not that Cæesario,
Not my Cæsario! No, no, no!
Orsi. A soldier
Who says he saved thee once——
Amel. Peace, death-bell, peace!
Thou ringst the knel of all my joys!
Orsi. What mean'st thou?
What sudden passion——
Amel. Hear me, wretched father!
This son, now guilty thought, but guiltier far,
Who knows with what idolatry I dote on
My father, and yet plots to tear him from me!
Is one to buy whose barbarous heart I spurned
All the world prizes, fame, respect, and empire,
Nay, risked my father's love: this man, this man
—He is—Oh Heaven!—my husband!
Orsi. (striking his forehead) Slave! wretch!—fiend——
And yet Orsino's son!—--Alas, poor princess!
Gav'st thou him all, and rends he all from thee!
Was he thy love, and would he be thy bane!
Has he thy heart and stabs it! Now all plagues
Hell ever forged for demons light——
Amel. hold, hold!
Oh! curse him not; no, save him. Some one comes.
We shall be marked. This way, and let us study
How we may rescue best——
Orsi. No, let him perish!
Perish, and seek the flames his guilt deserves.
The sooner 'tis the better.
Amel. Silence, silence!
Dear friend, this way, be patient. Oh! Cæsario,
And couldst thou have the heart to torture mine!
[Exeunt.
Cæesario enters, muffled in his cloak.
Cæsa. Not come yet! 'Tis past midnight, and 'twas here
She bade me join her. Ha! why flame yon lamps?
Should any loitering monk—no, no, 'tis vacant,
And all as yet is safe. Fate let this hour
Be mine, and with the rest do what thou wilt.
I hear her—to my work then. Why this shivering?
I would fain spare her.—If she yields to reason
'Tis well: if not—she's here.
Enter Ottilia.
Otti. I find thee punctual.
'Tis well for thee thou art so. By my life,
If thou hadst failed me I had sought the king.
Where is the priest? On to the chapel.
Cæsa. Stay,
And hear me! for the hour is come that weighs
Our fates in the same balance. Thus then briefly,
Thou art most fair, in wit most choice and subtle,
In all rare talents still surpassing all,
And for these gifts, and thy long tried affection,
I feel I owe thee much, owe thee firm friendship,
Eternal gratitude, faith, favour, love,
And all things save my hand. Except but this,
Which now I must not give, nor couldst thou take,
And ask what else thou wilt.
Otti. Most gracious sir,
For thy fair praise, and these so liberal offers
Of granting all save that which I would have,
Accept my thanks, I've heard thee; now hear me.
I'll be thy wife or nothing.
Cæsa. Lady, Lady,
You know not what you ask.
Otti. I know myself
Worthy of what I ask, and know my power,
Which you, it seems, forget. Is not my dowry
Your life and crown? Let me but speak one word,
And straight your fancied throne becomes a scaffold.
No more, but to the chapel.
Cæsa. If to move thee
Ought would avail——
Otti. It cannot.
Cæsa. Once a king——
Otti. I share thy throne.
Cæsa. 'Mid all Castile's first honours
Make thou thy choice——
Otti. 'Tis made.
Cæsa. And still remaining
My friend, my love——
Otti. Thy wife, thy wife, or nothing!
Cæsa. Nay then I'll crush thy frantic hopes at once;
I'm married.
Otti. (Starting) What! I hope thou dost but feign;
For thy sake hope it; since, if true this marriage,
Thou'rt lost past saving.
Cæsa. Nay, unbend thy brow,
Nor stamp nor rave. The princess is my wife,
And frowns unbind not whom the church hath bound.
The javelin's thrown, and cannot be recalled;
Thine be the second prize the first is won,
And all thy grief and rage that tis another's
Will but torment thyself. Be wise, be wise,
And bear with patience what thou canst not cure.
Otti. I will not curse: no, I'll not waste in vapour.
The fire which burns within me. What I feel,
My deeds shall tell thee best. (Going.)
Cæsa. (detaining her) Ottilia, stay.
If yet one spark of love remains——
Otti. (passionately) of love!
Of love for thee! Mark me. Ere sets the sun
My rival dies, and thou once more art free:
But now so deadly is the hate I bear thee,
'Twill joy me less to see thee mine than dead.
Thy blood! thy blood! 'Tis for thy blood I thirst,
And it shall stream. Farewell.
Cæsa. Go then, proud woman,
I brave thy rancour. Ere thou gain'st the palace,
I'll spring the mine.
Otti. Indeed! Now hark awhile,
Then die for spite, thou base, thou baffled traitor!
Six trusty slaves wait but my call to bind
And bear thee to the king. Ay, rage, rage, rage,
For I'll invent such tortures to despatch thee,
Such racks, such whips, such baths of boiling sulphur,
The damned shall think their pains mere mirth and pastime,
And envying furies own their skill outdone.
I go to prove my words.
Cæsa. Thou must not leave me.
Otti. Worlds should not bribe my stay.
Cæsa. Thou'rt in my power.
Otti. Thy power! thy power! I brave it! I defy it!
Scorn both thy power and thee. Unhand me, ruffian!
I'll not be held. Within there! hasten hither!
Anthonio! Lopez! Treason? treason!
Cæsa. Nay then,
This to thy heart. (stabbing her.)
Otti. Help, help! Oh, vile assassin!
Enter Orsino, hastily.
Orsi. What clamours——Hold, you pass not.
Cæsa. Give me way,
Or else thy life——
Orsi. Ruffian defend thine own. [Exeunt fighting.
Otti. [Alone, leaning against a pillar.] My blood streams fast!
I'm wounded, deeply wounded!——
My voice too fails; I cannot call for help.
To hope for life were vain; but for revenge.——
Could I but reach the palace——
[Advancing a few steps, then sinking on the ground.] 'Twill not be.
I faint!—--Oh, heaven!