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SCENE VII.

Tancred. Osmond. Sigismunda.
Osmond,
entering.
Turn, Tyrant! turn! and answer to my Honour,
For this thy base insufferable Outrage!

Tancred.
Insolent Traitor! think not to escape
Thyself my Vengeance!

[They fight. Osmond falls.
Sigismunda.
Help here! Help!—O Heavens!
[Throwing herself down by him.
Alas! my Lord, what meant your headlong Rage?
That Faith, which I, this Day, upon the Altar
To You devoted, is unblemish'd, pure,
As Vestal Truth; was resolutely yours,
Beyond the Power of aught on Earth to shake it.

Osmond.
Perfidious Woman! dy!—
[Shortening his Sword, he plunges it into her Breast.
and to the Grave
Attend a Husband, yet but half aveng'd!


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Tancred.
O Horror! Horror! execrable Villain!

Osmond.
And, Tyrant! Thou!—Thou shalt not o'er my Tomb
Exult—'Tis well—'Tis great!—I die content.—

[dies.