_Gasp._ That I cannot, the casement is too high; Nor can I tarry longer. The last message, Together with the scarf, I will deliver Before to-morrow's sun shall gild these trees.
_Ser._ Then be it so. O Gaspar! Gaspar! [_Exit from window, and closes it._
_Gasp._ One hour of misery, like hers, exceeds An age of common earthly suffering; And when at last she hears the unvarnish'd truth, 'Twill but perplex her more. Oh destiny! Why am I thus a blood-stain'd guilty man In early years? still yearning towards virtue, Yet ever falling in the snares of vice! Now do I loathe the amorous Serafina, Who sacrifices all--her fame--her honour, At Passion's shrine. How do I adore The chaste, the innocent, sweet Isidora! Yet in my love, so ardent and so pure, There's guilt--deep damning guilt--and more, There's cruelty and baseness! I plant a dagger In the fond breast that cherishes the wound; Nor will she feel the pain until withdrawn, And happiness--nay, life--will issue with it. How inconsistent, selfish, treacherous! Heav'n pardon me--how can I pardon ask For that I never can forgive myself! [_Exit Gaspar._
_Ant._ At last I have his secret, and one of moment too. A monk, and yet a cavalier! A friar's gown and a gala suit! vowing to heaven and vowing to the ladies! Abjuring the world, and roaming through it with a vengeance! Telling his beads, and telling me lies! But I am not so easily to be deceived. I thought very often that there was a similarity of voice between his and my confessor's, but when I saw the friar's gown, and he accused me of having two wives, it all flashed upon me at once. A pretty fool has he made of me! No wonder that he knew my rogueries when I confessed them to him. What's the having two wives to this? Mine is a paltry secret of a poor lacquey, but his is one which will obtain a price, and it is well to be first in the market. Whom shall I sell it to? let me see--Don Felix----?
_Bep._ What of Don Felix, husband? Do you wish to serve him?
_Bep._ I presume Don Gaspar has not paid you: then must you help yourself.
_Ant._ Why so I do, whenever I can. But he takes care of that.
_Bep._ He might have done, but hardly will do so now.
_Bep._ Quite sure, for I myself beheld the contest. Such fierce exchange of hate I ne'er imagined, or that you men were such incarnate devils.