_ They tell me I am fair: yet what avails
This gift of nature?
Could those who envy me but see my heart--
My bleeding, lacerated, breaking heart!
How would their bitter nature change to pity!
I did require but him in this wide world;
My beauty valued, but to gain his love!
My wealth rejoiced in, but to share with him!
He was my all! and every other 'vantage
Was but of value as subservient to him.
As is the gold of costly workmanship
Round the fair gem imbedded in the centre.
Oh! Gaspar, were I sure I could o'ertake
Thy spirit, soaring up in its young flight,
This little steel should free my anxious soul,
To join thine in the high empyrean,
And, fondly link'd, in joy ascend to Heaven.
Why waits the friar? Some idle mummery,
To him more sacred than my Gaspar's relic,
From his dull memory hath chased his promise.
Why waits my woman, whom I have despatch'd
To learn the history of my Gaspar's death?
Alas! alas! they know not love.

_Enter Beppa._

_Bep._ Madam, I've news for you; but news so strange
That I can scarce impart it. Dry your tears,
Nor more lament Don Gaspar,--for he lives!

_Ser._ He lives? say that again! You said he lived--
Did you not, Beppa? Then may Heav'n reward you
For those blissful words!--He lives!--support me--
(_Faints in Beppa's arms._)

_Bep._ I should have first inform'd her he was false.
Now will the shock be greater.--Dear lady--(_Serafina
recovering gradually_).

_Ser._ (_faintly_). Now do I feel like some poor criminal,
Who, having closed his eyes, to look no more
Upon the world he is about to leave,
With curdling blood, and faint and flutt'ring pulse,
Waits for the last terrific moment
When the sharp axe shall free his trembling soul.
So wakes he at the distant shouts of men,
Rolling the waves of sound until they dash
Against his worn-out sense the glad reprieve.
Don Gaspar lives! Oh Heav'n, I thank thee!

_Bep._ At the cup's brim the sweets have kiss'd your lips.
But, madam, like some weak, distemper'd child,
You've yet to taste the nauseous dreaded draught
Which is to cure you.

_Ser._ What mean you? Cure me!

_Bep._ 'Tis true Don Gaspar lives--as true he's false.

_Ser._ False! Beppa--false?

_Bep._ Most false and treacherous!
He loves another.

_Ser._ (_after a pause_). Did I hear rightly?
Impossible! It was but three days gone,
He swore such oaths, if true, as Heav'n would register--
Should they prove false, as hell might chuckle at.

_Bep._ And yet it is