_Alfon._ My child--No, no!--'Twere weakness--
_Amel._ Weakness, say'st thou? Oh! glorious fault! Oh! fair defect!--Oh! weakness Passing all strength! If to forgive be sin, How deeply then must Heaven have sinned to man! Oh! be thy faults like Heaven's! Relent, my father! Pardon--! Oh! speak that word!
_Alfon._ My heart! my heart! My bursting heart!
_Amel._ That word, that blessed word, So quickly said, so easy, as 'twere magic Breaks sorrow's spell and bids her phantoms fly! That word, that word, that one, one little word. And I am blest!----
_Alfonso._ [_Yielding to his emotions, and clasping her eagerly to his bosom._] Be blest then! _Exit._
_Amel._ Now, ye stars, Which nightly grace the sky, if ye love goodness Pour dews celestial from your golden vials On yon dear gracious head!--Oh why is now My husband absent? Lend thy doves dear Venus, That I may send them where Cæsario strays; And while he smoothes their silver wings, and gives them For drink the honey of his lips, I'll bid them Coo in his ear, his Amelrosa's happy! Joy, joy, my soul! Bound, my gay dancing heart! Waft me, ye winds! To bear so blest a creature Earth is not worthy! Loved by those I love, I've all my soul e'er wished, my hopes e'er fancied, My father's friendship, and Cæsario's heart! Leave me but these, and, fortune I defy thee! [_Exit._
_Cæsa._ He spurned him, Marquis, spurned him! With such scorn, Such genuine ardent hate, repaid his soothing-- Oh! by that hate I feel, the blood which fills These veins is right Orsino's!
_Hen._ 'Tis reported, The king shed tears.
_Cæsa._ Marquis, he wept, fawned, pleaded Remorse, and sued for pardon, with such fervour, As starving souls for bread!
_Hen._ Did not at this Orsino's ire melt?
_Cæsa._ Melt? Like yon fortress rock, (Which rears his tower-clad front above the billows, Nor heeds the winds that blow, nor rains that beat) Proof against tears, and deaf to all entreaties, Unmoved the stern one stood, and frowned his answer. Oh! fear not, friend: like me he loaths Alfonso, And, when I place revenge within his grasping, Will spring to reach it.
_Hen._ 'Tis past doubt, his aid Were to our cause a tower of strength; yet still I fear, lest----Some one leaves the cave!--'Tis he! I'll wait beneath yon limes. [_Exit._