ave come at midnight--a most honest hour.
Enter this postern--a most honest way,
And seem most honest--Why, I could not, sir!

HAEMON: You wrong me, and have wronged me. I but come
To loose my sister.

CHARLES: As to-day you would
Have loosed her with a piercing--into death?

HAEMON: Rather, could I! Antonio--yet neither.
Since you, not he, are here, my passion melts
Into a plea. Humbly as manhood may--

CHARLES: This fever still?

HAEMON: This fever! Must I be
As ice while soiling flames leap out at her?
And passionless--as one cold in a trance?
Rigid while she in stealth is drugged to shame?
Be voiceless and be vain, unstung, and still?
I must wait softly while her innocence
Is drained as virgin freshness from the morn?--
Though he were twice Antonio and your son,
An emperor and a god, I would not!

CHARLES: Ever,
And ever bent upon Antonio?
Be not a torrent, boy, of rush and foam.
Be not, of roar!--Yet--look: Antonio?
You said Antonio?

HAEMON: Yes.

CHARLES (_troubled_): You did ill
To say it! He's my son.

HAEMON: I care not.

CHARLES: Have
You cause--a ground--some reason? Men should when
Suspicions curve their lips.

HAEMON: Cause! reason!

CHARLES: No:
He is my son. His flesh has memories
That would cry out and curdle him to madness,
Palsy and strangle every pregnant wish,
Or bring in him compassion like a flood.

HAEMON (_contemptuous_): O----?

CHARLES: Never!--Yet, a lurking at my brain!

_Enter PAULA, hurriedly._

PAULA: My lord Antonio! my lady! (_Seeing CHARLES._) O!

CHARLES (_strangely_): Come here.

PAULA: O, sir!

CHARLES (_taking her wrist_): Were you not in a haste?

PAULA: I--I--I do not know.

CHARLES: Girl!--Why do you
Drop fearful to your knees?

PAULA: 'Tis late, sir, late,
Let me go in!

CHARLES: You have a mistress who
Keeps quick temptation in her eyes and hair.
A shy mole too lies pillowed on her cheek--
Does she rest well?

PAULA: My lord----

CHARLES: Ah, you would say
She sometimes walks asleep: and you have come
To fetch her?