ne, 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 Caesario.

_Amel._ (_starting_) Whom?

_Orsi._ Caesario is his name.

_Amel._ 'Tis not, 'tis not,
Or, if it be, it means not _that_ Caeesario,
Not _my_ Caesario! 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! Caesario,
And couldst thou have the heart to torture mine!

[_Exeunt._

Caeesario _enters, muffled in his cloak_.

_Caesa._ 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. F