 | Alfonso, King of Castile |  |
22
ACT II.
SCENE I.
An hall in Cæsario's palace.[Shouts heard without.]
Enter CÆSARIO [a General's staff in his hand] followed by HENRIQUEZ, Citizens and Soldiers.
CÆSARIO.
Thanks, worthy friends! No further!—Pleased I hear
These shouts, which thank me for Alfonso's safety!
But though my arms have quelled the Moors, your love
Alone can shield him from a foe more dangerous,
From his proud rebel son!—Farewell, assured
I live but for your use!
First Citizen.
Long live Cæsario!
Second Citizen.
Long live the Conqueror of the Moors!
All.
Huzza!
[Exeunt.
Manent CÆSARIO and HENRIQUEZ.
CÆSARIO.
Kind friends, farewell!—Aye, shout, ye brawlers, shout!
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'Twill school your deep-toned throats to roar to-morrow,
—“Long live Cæsario! Sovereign of Castile!”—
Marked you, Henriquez, how the royal dotard
Hung on my neck, termed me his kingdom's angel,
His friend, his saviour, his ..... Oh! my tongue burned
To thunder in his startled ear—“The man
Who raised this war, and fired your son's ambition,
Your daughter's husband, and your mortal foe,
That man am I!”—
HENRIQUEZ.
Then absence has not cooled,
It seems, your hatred. ....
CÆSARIO.
Could'st thou think it? thou,
Who know'st a secret to all else unknown!
Know'st me no stranger-youth, no chance-adventurer,
Whose sword's his fortune, as Castile believes me;
But one of mightiest views and proudest hopes,
Called by injustice, panting for revenge,
Son of an hero! wronged Orsino's son!
HENRIQUEZ.
Yet might your wealth and power—yon General's staff—
Alfonso's countless favours. ....
CÆSARIO.
Favours? Insults!
Curses when proffered by an hand I hate!
Bright seems ambition to my eye, and sure
To reign is glorious; yet such fixed aversion
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I would not sell his head, once in my power,
Though the price tendered were the crown that decks it!
Yet that too shortly shall be mine!—Say, Marquis,
How speeds our plot?
HENRIQUEZ.
'Tis ripe: beneath his chambers
The vaults are ours, the sleeping sires disposed;
The mine waits but your word.
CÆSARIO.
To-night it springs then,
And hurls my foe in burning clouds to heaven—
O! rapturous sight!
HENRIQUEZ.
And can that sight give rapture
Which wrings with anguish Amelrosa's bosom?
She loves her father. ....
CÆSARIO.
Loves she not her husband?
HENRIQUEZ.
She'll hate him, when she knows. ...
CÆSARIO.
She ne'er shall know it!
All shall be held her rebel brother's deed;
And while contending passions shake the rabble,
(Grief for the sire, resentment 'gainst the son,
And pity for the Princess) forth I'll step,
Avow our marriage, claim the crown her right,
And, when she mounts the throne, ascend it with her.
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Oh! she will drown that bloody throne with tears!
And should she learn who bade them slow. ....
CÆSARIO.
Say on. ...
HENRIQUEZ.
She'll loath you!
CÆSARIO.
[With a scornful smile.]
She'll forgive me.
HENRIQUEZ.
Never, never!
I know the Princess; know a daughter's love,
A daughter's grief. ....
CÆSARIO.
And are not daughters women?
By nature tender, trustful, kind, and sickle,
Prone to forgive, and practised in forgetting?
Let the fair things but rave their hour at ease,
And weep their fill, and wring their pretty hands,
Faint between whiles, and swear by every saint
They'll never, never, never see you more!
Then when the larum's hushed, profess repentance,
Say a few kind false words, drop a few tears,
Force a fond kiss or two, and all's forgiven.
Away! I know her sex!
HENRIQUEZ.
But know not her!
Her heart will bleed; and can you wound that heart,
Yet swear you love her?
CÆSARIO.
Dearly, siercely love her!
But not so siercely as I loath this king!—
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My second nature! 'tis the air I breathe,
The stream which fills my veins, my life's chief source,
My food, my drink, my sleep, warmth, health, and vigour,
Mixed with my blood, and twisted round my heartstrings!
To cease to hate him, I must cease to breathe!—
Never to know one hour's repose or pleasure
While loathed Alfonso lived,—such was my oath,
Breathed on my broken-hearted mother's lips.
She heard! her eyes flashed with new fire; she kissed me,
Murmured Orsino's name, bless'd it, and died!—
That oath I'll keep!
Enter MELCHIOR.
CÆSARIO.
Melchior! why thus alarmed?
MELCHIOR.
I've cause too good! our lives hang by a thread!
Guzman is dying!
CÆSARIO and HENRIQUEZ.
How?
MELCHIOR.
Remorse already
Hath wrung one secret from him; and, I fear,
The next sit brings our plot.
CÆSARIO.
Speed, speed, Henriquez!
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Mark every face that comes or goes—Away!
[Exit Henriquez.
CÆSARIO.
I'll watch the King myself! [Going.]
MELCHIOR.
As yet he's safe.
Soon as he parted from the troops, Alfonso,
By Inis guided, tow'rds the forest sped,
To seek and soothe his late-found friend Orsino.
CÆSARIO.
[Starting].
Whom, whom? Orsino? what Orsino? speak.
MELCHIOR.
The Count San Lucar, long thought dead, but saved,
It seems, by Amelrosa's care—Time presses—
I must away: farewell.
CÆSARIO.
At one, remember—
Beneath the royal tower. ....
MELCHIOR.
Fear not my failing.
[Exit.
CÆSARIO.
[Alone.]
He lives! My father lives! Oh, let but vengeance
Fire him to spurn Alfonso and his friendship. ....
His martial fame, the memory of his virtues,
His talents, rank, and sufferings undeserved, .....
Oh! what a noble column to support
My new-raised power! [Going.]
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OTTILIA.
Cæsario, stay!
CÆSARIO.
Forgive me,
Fair lady, if my speech appears ungentle;
Such business calls. ....
OTTILIA.
[Unveiling.]
Than mine there's none more urgent.
CÆSARIO.
Ottilia!
OTTILIA.
Need I say what brings me hither?
CÆSARIO.
Those angry eyes too plainly speak, that still
Estella. ....
OTTILIA.
She? Dissembler! fiend!—Peace, peace;
I come not here to rave, but to command.
You love the Princess, are beloved again. ....
Speak not! She saw this scarf; her tears, her anguish
Betrayed her secret. Yes, you love the Princess!
But, while I breathe, if e'er her hand is yours,
Strike me dead, lightnings!
CÆSARIO.
Hear me!
OTTILIA.
Look on this [showing a paper].
CÆSARIO.
'Tis Guzman's hand.
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He bade me to the King
Bear it with other papers; but my prudence,
For mine own purposes, kept back this scroll.
Lo! here a full confession of your plots—
The mine described—the vault—the hour—the signal—
What troops are gained—the list of sworn confederates—
And foremost in the list here stands Cæsario!
CÆSARIO.
Confusion!
OTTILIA.
Nay, 'tis so! Now mark me, youth!
Either my hand at midnight as my husband's
Clasps thine, or gives this paper to Alfonso!
Prepare a friar—at Juan's chapel meet me
At midnight, or the King. ....
CÆSARIO.
You rave, Ottilia!
While Guzman lives. ....
OTTILIA.
Young man, his hours are counted:
Three scarce are his—Last night I drugged the bowl
In which he drank a farewell to the world.
Aye, aye, 'tis true! Thou'rt mine! With blood I've bought thee!
Nothing now parts us but the grave,—and there,
E'en there I'll claim thee! ..... If to-night thou com'st not. ...
CÆSARIO.
I will, by Heaven!
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Nay, sail at your own peril—
Your life is in my power! my breath can blast you!
Choose, then, Cæsario, 'twixt thy bane and bliss—
Love or a grave! a kingdom or a scaffold!
My arms or death's!—By yonder Sun I swear,
Ere morning dawns, thou shalt be mine or nothing!
[Exit.
CÆSARIO.
Is't so?—Thy blood then on thy head—This paper .....
—This female fiend ... the scarf too! ... I must straight
Appease the Princess ..... some well-varnished tale
.... Some glib excuse—Oh! hateful task! Oh, Truth!
How my soul longs once more to join thy train,
Tear off the mask, and show me as I am!
The wretch for life immured; the Christian slave
Of Pagan lords; or he whose bloody sweat
Speeds the fleet galley o'er the sparkling waves,
Bears easy toil, light chains, and pleasant bondage,
Weighed with thy service, Falsehood! Still to smile
On those we loath; to teach the lips a lesson
Smooth, sweet, and false; to watch the tell-tale eye,
Fashion each feature, sift each honest word
That swells upon the tongue, and fear to find
A traitor in one's self!—By Heaven, I know
No toil, no curse, no slavery, like dissembling!
[Exit.
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SCENE II.
A wild forest, with rocks, water-falls, &c. On one side an hermitage and a rustic tomb, with various pieces of armour scattered near it, “VICTORIA” is engraved on it; a river is in the back ground.ORSINO stands on a rock which over hangs the river.
ORSINO.
Yes, thou art lovely, World! That blue-robed sky;
These giant rocks, their forms grotesque and awful
Reflected on the calm stream's lucid mirror;
These reverend oaks, through which (their rustling leaves
Dancing and twinkling in the sun-beams) light
Now gleams, now disappears, while yon fierce torrent,
Tumbling from crag to crag with measured dash,
Makes to the ear strange music: World! oh, World!
Who sees thee such must needs confess thee fair!
Who knows thee not must needs suppose thee good!
[With a sudden burst of indignation.]
But I have tried thee, World! know all these beauties
Mere shows and snares; know thee a gilded serpent,
A flowery bank, whose sweets smile o'er a pit-fall;
A splendid prison, precious tomb, fair palace
Whose golden domes allure poor wanderers in,
And, when they've entered, crush them! Such I know thee
And, knowing, loath thy charms! Rise, rise, ye storms!
Mingle, ye elements! Flash, lightnings' flash!
Unmask this witch! blast her pernicious beauty!
And show me Nature as she is, a monster!
—I'll look no more! Oh! my torn heart! Victoria!
My son! Oh God! My son! Lost! lost! Both lost!
[Leaning against the tomb.]
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INIS.
This is the hermit's cave; and see, my liege, Orsino's self.
ALFONSO.
[Starting back.]
No, no, that living spectre
Is not my gallant friend! I seek in vain
The full cheek's healthful glow, the eye of fire,
The martial mien, proud gait, and limbs Herculean!
Oh! is that death-like form indeed Orsino?
ORSINO.
Never to see them more! Never, no never!
Wise, child, joy, hope, all gone!
ALFONSO.
That voice! Oh! Heaven,
Too well I know that voice!—How grief has changed him!
I'll speak, yet dread .... Retire [Inis, &c. withdraw.]
Look up, Orsino.
ORSINO.
Discovered!
[Stizing a lance which rests against the cavern, and putting himself in a posture of defence].
Wretch, thy life .... [staggering back]
Strengthen me, heaven!
'Tis he! the King himself!
ALFONSO.
[Offering to take his hand.]
Thy friend!
ORSINO.
[Recovering himself, and drawing back his hand.]
Friend! friend!—
I've none!— [Coldly.]
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Orsino! ....
ORSINO.
Never had but one,
And he ....! Sir, though a king, you'd shrink to hear
How that friend used me!
ALFONSO.
Hear me speak, in pity!
ORSINO.
What need of words? I'm found, I'm in your power,
And you may torture me e'en how you list.
Where are your chains? These are the self-same arms
Which bore them ten long years, nor doubt their weighing
Heavy as ever! These same eyes, which bathed
So oft with bitterest tears your dungeon-grate,
Have streams not yet exhausted! and these lips
Can still with shrieks make the Black Tower re-echo,
Which heard my voice so long in frantic anguish
Rave of my wife and child, and curse Alfonso!
Lead on, Sir! I'm your prisoner!
ALFONSO.
Not for worlds
Would I but harm one hair of thine!—Nay, hear me!
And learn, most wronged Orsino, thy clear innocence
Is now well known to all.
ORSINO.
Aye? Nay, I care not
Who thinks me innocent! I know myself so—
Was this your business, Sir? 'Tis done! Farewell.
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Oh! part not from me thus! I fain would say. ....
ORSINO.
What?
ALFONSO.
I have wronged thee! ....
ORSINO.
[Sternly.]
True!
ALFONSO.
Deeply, most deeply!
But wounding thine, hurt my own heart no less,
Where none has filled thy place: 'tis thine, still thine—
And if my Court. ....
ORSINO.
What should I there? No, no, Sir!
Sorrow has crazed my wits; long cramped by fetters
My arm sinks powerless; and my wasted limbs,
Palsied by dungeon-damps, would bend and totter
Beneath you armour's weight, once borne so lightly!—
Then what should I at Court? I cannot head
Your troops, nor guide your councils: Leave me, leave me,
You cannot use me further!
ALFONSO.
Oh! I must,
And to a most dear service—My heart bleeds,
And needs a friend! Be but that friend once more!
Be to me what thou wert, (and that was, all things!)
Forgive my faults, forget thy injuries. ....
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[Passionately.]
Never!
ALFONSO.
That to Alfonso? That to him, whose friendship. ...
ORSINO.
Peace, peace! You felt no friendship! felt no flame,
Steady and strong!—Yours was a vain light vapour,
A boyish fancy, a caprice, an habit,
A bond you wearied of, and gladly seized
A lame pretext to break. Did not my heart
From earliest youth lie naked to your eyes?
Knew you not every corner, nerve, turn, twist on't?
And could you still suspect ...? No, no! You wished
To find me false, or must have known me true.
ALFONSO.
You wrong me, on my life! So fine, so skilful
The snare was spread .... I knew not. ....
ORSINO.
Knew not? Knew not?
Thou knew'st I was Orsino! Knowing that,
Thou should'st have known, I never could be guilty.
ALFONSO.
Proofs seemed so strong. ...
ORSINO.
And had I none to prove
My innocence? These deep-hewn scars, received
While fighting in your cause, were these no proofs?
Your life twice saved by me! your very breath
My gift! your crown oft rescued by my valour!
Were these no proofs. My every word, thought, action,
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And, more than all, the love I ever bore thee,
Were these no proofs?—Oh! they had been conviction
In a friend's eyes, though they were none in thine!
ALFONSO.
Your pride? 'Twas that undid me! Your reserve,
Your silence. ....
ORSINO.
What! Should I have stooped to chase
Your brawling lawyers through their flaws and quibbles?
To bear the sneers of saucy questioners—
Their jests, their lies—and, when they termed me villain,
Calmly to cry—“Good Sirs, I'm none!”—No, no:
I heard myself called traitor—saw you calmly
Hear me so called, nor strike the speaker dead!
Then why defend myself? What hope was left me?
Truth lost its value, since you thought me false!
Speech had been vain, since your heart spoke not for me.
ALFONSO.
And it did speak ... Spite of the law's decision,
My love preserved your life. ....
ORSINO.
Oh! bounteous favour!
Oh! vast munificence! which, giving life,
Robbed me of every gem which made life precious!
Where is my wife? Distracted at my loss,
Sunk to her cold grave with a broken heart!
Where is my son? Or dead through want, or wandering
A friendless outcast! Where that health, that vigour,
Those iron nerves, once mine?—King, ask your dungeons!
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Oh! spare me!
ORSINO.
Give me these again, wife, son,
Health, strength, and ten most precious years of manhood,
And I'll perhaps forgive thee: till then, never!
ALFONSO.
What could I do? Thy son had been to me
Dear as my own, had not Victoria's pride,
Scorning all aid. ....
ORSINO.
'Twas right!
ALFONSO.
She sled, concealed
Herself and child ..... Had it on me depended .....
I cannot speak ... My heart. ... Oh! yet have mercy,
Think I had other duties than a friend's. ....
Alas! I was a king!
ORSINO.
And are one still. ....
Have still your wealth, and pomp, and pride and power,
And herd of cringeing courtiers—still have children ...
I had but one, and him I lost through thee.
I, I have nothing! Yon rude cave my palace,
These rocks my court, the wolf my fit companion—
Lost all life's blessings, wife, son, health! Oh! nothing
Is left me, save the right to hate that man
Who made me what I am!—And would'st thou rob me
E'en of this last poor pleasure? Go, Sir! go,
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Drink deep of luxury's cup! be gay, be flattered,
Pampered and proud, and, if thou canst, be happy.
I'll to my cave, and curse thee!
ALFONSO.
Stay, Orsino!
If ever friendship warmed, or pity melted
Thy heart, I charge thee. ....
ORSINO.
Pity? In thy dungeons,
Sir, I forgot the meaning of that word.
For ten long years no gentle accents soothed me—
No tears with mine were mixed—no bosom sighed
That anguish tortured mine!—King, King, thou know'st not,
How solitude makes the soul stern and savage!
ALFONSO.
Yet were thy soul than adamantine rocks
More hard, these deep-drawn sighs. ....
ORSINO.
My wife's last groan
Rings in my ear, and drowns them.
ALFONSO.
And these tears
Might touch thy heart. ....
ORSINO.
My heart is dead, King! dead!
'Tis yonder buried in Victoria's grave!
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Could prayers, unfeigned remorse, ceaseless affection,
And influence as my own unbounded. ....
ORSINO.
Hold!
I'll try thee, and make two demands!—But first,
Swear by all hopes of happiness hereafter,
And Heaven's best gift on earth, thine angel-daughter,
Whate'er I ask shall be fulfilled.
ALFONSO.
I swear!
And Heaven so treat my prayers, as I shall thine!
ORSINO.
'Tis well: now mark, and keep thine oath. My first
Request is—Leave me instantly! My second,
Ne'er let me see thee more!—Thou hast heard! Begone!
[Exit into the cave.
ALFONSO.
'Tis well, proud man!—Alas! my heart's too humbled
To chide e'en him who spurns it!—
INIS.
Nay, my liege,
Despair not—Sure the Princess. ....
ALFONSO.
Right! I'll seek her;
To her he owes his freedom, and her prayers
Shall win me back this dear obdurate heart.
Oh! did he know how sweet 'tis to forgive,
And raise the wounded soul, which, crush'd and humbled,
Sinks in the dust, and owns that it has erred;
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Sure he would need no motive but self-love!
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A garden.AMELROSA.
[Alone.]
And are ye all then vanished, sylphs of bliss?
All fled in air, and not one trace, one shadow
Left of my bright day visions? Is not rather
All this some fearful dream?—Cæsario false!
I know 'tis so, yet scarce can think 'tis so!
Gods! when last night, after long absence meeting,
What looks! ..... what joy! ..... and was then all deceit?
Did he but mock me, when with tears of rapture
He bathed my hand; knelt; sighed; as had his voice
By pleasure been o'erwhelmed, awhile was silent;
But soon came words, sweet as those most sweet kisses,
Which grateful Venus gave the swain whose care
Brought back her truant doves!—So sweet, so sweet. ...
Distrust, herself, must have believed those words!
Oh! and was all but feigned?
Enter CÆSARIO and ESTELLA.
ESTELLA.
Wait here awhile;
I'll try to soothe her.
CÆSARIO.
My best friend!
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Withdraw!—
[Cæsario retires.
Still bathed in tears?
AMELROSA.
[Throwing herself on her bosom.]
Oh! my soul's sick, Estella.
My heart is broken, broken!
ESTELLA.
Nay, be calm!
I bring you comfort.
AMELROSA.
How?
ESTELLA.
Cæsario sues
For one short moment's audience. ....
AMELROSA.
I'll not see him!
ESTELLA.
Dear princess. ....
AMELROSA.
Never! Saw I not Ottilia
Decked with my gift? Did I not hear ..... Shame! shame!
Go, go, Estella, seek him! Say, and firmly,
We meet no more! say, that the veil is rent!
Say, that I know him wavering, vain, ungrateful,
Flattering and false! and having said this, add,
False as he is, he's my soul's tyrant still!
CÆSARIO.
[Throwing himself at her feet.]
Accents of heaven!—My life! my love!
AMELROSA.
Cæsario?
Farewell for ever!
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Nay, you must not leave me.
Hear me but speak. ....
AMELROSA.
Release me!
CÆSARIO.
But one word. ....
AMELROSA.
I'll not be held!—Your pardon! I forgot, Sir!
I thought myself still mistress of my actions!
Still Princess of Castile!—Now I remember
I'm that despised, unhappy thing, your wife!
Sir, I obey!—Your pleasure!
CÆSARIO.
Oh! how lovely
Those eyes can make e'en scorn! Yet calm their lightnings—
Once more let love. ....
AMELROSA.
Never—the hours are past
When I believed thee all my fond heart wished;
Thought thee the best, the kindest, truest ...... thought thee .....
Oh! Heaven! No Eastern tale pourtrays the palace
Of fay, or wizard (where in bright confusion
Blaze gold and gems), so glorious-fair, as seemed,
Trickt in the rainbow-colours of my fancy,
Cæsario's form this morn!—Too late I know thee;
The spell is broke, and where an Houri smiled,
Now scowls a fiend. Oh! thus benighted Pilgrims
Admire the glow-worm's light, while gloom prevails;
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A poor dark worthless worm, when viewed in sunshine.
Away, and seek Ottilia.
CÆSARIO.
Oh! my princess,
Deep as thy anger wounds my heart, more deeply
I grieve to think, how thine will bleed at finding
This anger undeserved!
AMELROSA.
Oh! that it were so!
But no! I saw my scarf ..... that very scarf. ...
My own hands wrought it.—Many a midnight lamp,
While thou wert at the wars, in toil I wasted,
And made it my sole joy to toil for thee!
There was no thread I had not blest! no flower
I had not kist a thousand times, and murmured
With every kiss a prayer for thy return!
And yet thou gav'st this sacred work to buy
A wanton's favours. ....
CÆSARIO.
Say, to buy her silence!
AMELROSA.
Her silence?
CÆSARIO.
As this morn I left the palace,
She marked my flight. ....
AMELROSA.
Just heavens!
CÆSARIO.
Though unrequited,
Her love has long been mine.—She raved; she threatened;
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Alarm the king. .....
AMELROSA.
[Shuddering.]
My father!
CÆSARIO.
But her silence
Bought by that scarf. ....
AMELROSA.
Cæsario, could I trust thee! .....
Were this tale true, could I but think. ....
CÆSARIO.
I'll swear. ....
AMELROSA.
No! at the altar thou hast sworn already
Mine were thy hand and heart, and mine for ever:
If thou canst break this oath, none else will bind thee—
Yet did I wrong thee? Art thou true? I fain
Would think thee so ..... But this fond heart, my husband,
Is such a weak sad thing, and where it loves,
Loves so devoutly .....! Spare me, dear Cæsario,
Such fears in future; let no word no thought,
Cloud thy pure faith, for so my soul dotes on thee,
But to suspect thee, racks each nerve, and almost
Drives my brain mad!—Oh! could'st thou know, Cæsario,
How painful 'tis for one who loves like me,
To cease to love .....! Cease, said I?—No, my heart
Ceased to esteem, but never ceased to love thee.
[Falling on his neck.]
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My soul! my Amelrosa!—Now all planets
Rain plagues upon my perjured head, if e'er
I break the vow, which here I breathe!—This heart,
Filled but with thee, and formed but to adore thee,
Is thine, my love! thine now, and thine for ever!
AMELROSA.
Hark!—Steps approach—Estella?
Estella
[who has retired, advances hastily.]
Haste, Cæsario!
You must away! the King's returned! I see
His train now loitering near the garden-gate!
Fly by the private postern!
CÆSARIO.
Straight I'll follow.
[Exit Estella.
And must I leave thee, leave thee for so long too?
The King's affairs now call me far from Burgos,
And ere we meet again twelve hours must pass.
AMELROSA.
Ah! me! to love an age!
CÆSARIO.
Yet should I leave thee
With calmer soul, nor feel such pain in absence,
Were I but sure one wish. ....
AMELROSA.
[Eagerly.]
Oh! name it, name it!
But ask me nothing light in action: ask me
Something strange, hard, and painful! Something, such
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Name, name this blessed wish!
CÆSARIO.
'Tis this—From midnight,
Till my return, avoid the royal tower.
AMELROSA.
I promise; yet what reason. ....
CÆSARIO.
When we meet
Thou shalt know all; till then forgive my silence:
Seal with a kiss thy promise, then farewell!
[Here ALFONSO advances in silence; his eyes are fixed on his daughter, his hands are folded, and his whole appearance expresses the utmost dejection.]
AMELROSA.
Farewell, since it must be farewell—But mark!
See not Ottilia ere you go!
CÆSARIO.
I will not.
AMELROSA.
And when the bell's deep tongue announces midnight,
Breathe thou my name, for at that hour, my love,
I'll think on thee .... That hour? Oh, fool! as if
Hours could be found, in which I think not on thee.
And must thou go?—Nay, if thou must, away,
Or I shall bid thee stay, and stay for ever!
Farewell, my husband!
CÆSARIO.
My soul's joy, farewell!
[Exit.
47
Oh! pain of parting!
[Turning round, her eye rests on Alfonso. She starts, and remains as petrified with terror. After a pause, he passes her in silence; but, on his reaching the door, she rushes towards him, her hands clasped in supplication.]
Father!
[Alfonso motions to forbid her following, and goes off.]
AMELROSA.
Oh! I'm lost!
[She falls senseless on the ground.]
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
| Alfonso, King of Castile | |