_Ans._ Not words, but deeds, my Isidora,
Shall prove me worthy of the stolen treasure:
The first are due to God. This very night
With penance strict, I'll cleanse my tainted soul;
Deep in contrition, on my knees I'll wait
My dispensation from the sovereign pontiff;
Then----

_Isid._ And then--dear, dear Anselmo.

_Ans._ And then
Shall sneering cavalier or flaunting dame
Say, when a Guzman shall a Guzman wed,
The monk parades it boldly, and the bride
Hath cull'd the cloister for her wedded lord?
No, no; they never shall, my Isidora.
Then will I clad me in the warrior's steel:
Thou shalt receive me from the crimson'd field,
A laurel'd hero, or shall mourn me slain;
I will not steal to thee from cloister'd sloth,
But at thy portal light from battle steed.
Spain hath around and that within, shall make
The monk--a hero. Dost thou not think
The plumed helm will better fit this head,
Than the dull friar's cowl? My Isidora,
Now for a space--a brief one, fare thee well!
Once more I'll meet thee, and on bended knee,
As soldier should, I'll claim from my betroth'd
Some token that shall cheer me in the fight.
I must be worthy of you.

_Isid._ Thou art so. (_Embrace._)
Anselmo, fare thee well! may Heav'n bless thee! [_Exit._

_Ans._ All powerful virtue, unto thy shrine
I bow. Sweet maid, whose great perfection
Hath as a glass display'd to me my crimes;
Oh may'st thou ever keep me in the path
Where peace and happiness attend my steps!
Now must I to the monast'ry repair,
There to remain until I'm freed;--but then,
To-night it is I meet the brave Don Felix:
I had forgotten it. Most willingly
Would I avoid this foolish rash dispute;
And yet I must not. When I was friendless,
Reckless of life,--a life not worth preserving,--
I could have pass'd whole days in mortal strife. [_Exit._

_Scene III._

_A Part of Garden of Serafina's House._

_Enter Antonio._

_Ant._ This friar's gown, which I have borrowed from my master, has
proved most valuable. I never could have reached this spot, if I had not
been thus disguised. (_Opens his gown, and shows his face and clothes
smeared with blood._) Here's blood enough. Noble, for all I know. I
begged it from the barber. Thank Heaven, 'tis not mine own. Sancho will
never know me. I see them coming in the distance. (_Takes off the gown,
and puts it behind the trees, and then lies down._) Now for self-murder.
Lopez is no more.