is steel his sceptre. Tremble, dwarfs in guilt,
And own your master. Thou art proof, Henriquez,
'Gainst pity. I once saw thee stab in battle
A page who clasped thy knees; and Melchior, there
Made quick work with a brother whom he hated
But what did I this night? Hear, hear, and reverence!
There was a breast on which my head had rested
A thousand times; a breast which loved me fondly,
As Heaven loves martyred saints; and yet this breast
I stabbed, knaves, stabbed it to the heart! Wine, wine, there!
For my soul's joyous. [Gomez _brings a goblet_.]

_Hen._ Friend, what means this frenzy?
What hast thou done? Where is Ottilia?

_Caesa._ (_dashing down the goblet_) Dead!
Dead, Marquis! At that word how the vault rings,
And the ground shakes. It shall not shake my purpose.
Murder and I are grown familiar, friends.
The assassin's trade is sweet. I've tasted blood,
And thirst for more. Say, is the mine----

_Mel._ All's ready.

_Caesa._ Who fires the train?

_Hen. Mel. and all the conspirators._ I, I!

_Caesa._ Oh, cheerful cry!
Oh! glorious strife for guilt: Let each man throw
His dagger in my casque; be his the service,
Whose steel I draw.

_Hen._ 'Tis me----

_Caesa._ [_To_ Lucio.] Thy torch, boy, [_giving it to_
Henriquez.] Take it!
Here lies thy way--speed, speed, and let yon vaults,
Shivering in fragments, tell my ravished ear
Alfonso dies. Away, away!--[_On his throwing open the folding doors_,
Amelrosa _is discovered_.]

_Amel._ Forbear!

_All._ The princess.

_Amel._ No, no, Princess; 'tis a daughter,
Fierce through despair, frantic with fear, and anguish.
Hear me ye dread unknown: Yon flinty man
Ne'er knew a father's care, and knows not now
What 'tis to _love_, what 'tis to _lose_ a father.
But ye, (if e'er a parent's hand hath dried
Your infant tears; if e'er your eyes have streamed
To see him weep, knowing your hand but scarred
Gave him more pain, than his own heart torn piece meal)
Oh! spare my father! Bid those hours revive
Which filial love once bless'd; recall youth's feelings,
And by those feelings learn to pity mine.
Spare, spare my father!

_Caesa._ [_Struggling to conceal his confusion._] Spare him? Sure
thou rav'st:
What fears my gentle love?

_Amel._ I'm not thy love;
Not gentle: Strange despair has changed my nature;
Steeled my soft bosom, braced my woman's nerves,
And brought me here, prepared and proud to perish,
If my heart's blood may save my sire's from streaming.
The