One that is sure.
(_Steps are heard._)
But through those curtains, quick. For more seek out
The Captain of the guard. The duke comes hither.
(_HAEMON goes through the curtains._

_CHARLES enters, worn, dishevelled, and followed by CECCO. He sees
FULVIA and pauses._

FULVIA: I come to plead.

CHARLES: (_turning away_): Ah! Nature should have pled
With her your mother, 'gainst conception.

FULVIA: Your trust is causelessly withdrawn. Yet for
A breath again I beg it--for a moment!

CHARLES: A moment were too much--or not enough.
Is trust a flower of sudden birth we may
Bid bloom with a command?

FULVIA: Ah, that it were,
Or bloomed as amaranth in those we love,
Beyond all drought and withering of ill!
But hear me----!

CHARLES: Leave these words.

FULVIA: Will you not turn
Out of this rage?

CHARLES: Leave them, I say, and cease!
Still down the vortex of this destiny
I would not farther have you drawn.

FULVIA: Then from
It draw yourself!

CHARLES: Myself am but a hulk
Whose treasures have already been engulfed.

FULVIA: Yet shrink from it!

CHARLES: A son, a friend, a--No,
She was not mine!--I will not turn.

FULVIA: It is
Your fury that distorts us into guilt.
Although he will not render up his heart,
But flings you stony and unfilial speech,
Fearing for her----

CHARLES: Leave!

FULVIA: We----

CHARLES: Thrice have I said it!

FULVIA: Yet must I not until your will is wasted.

CHARLES (_angrily_): Ah!

(_FULVIA sighs then goes slowly._)

CHARLES: Cecco!

CECCO: My lord?

CHARLES: The hour?

CECCO (_going to window_): It leans to sunset.

CHARLES: The sky--the sky?

CECCO: A murk moves slowly up.

CHARLES (_wearily_): There should be storm--gloating of wind and
grind
Of hopeless thunders. Lightnings should laugh out
As tongues of fiends. There should be storm.
(_His head sinks on his breast._)
(_Suddenly._) Yet!--yet!----

CECCO: My lord?

CHARLES: The glow and glory of her seem
Dead in me!

CECCO: Of--the Greek?

CHARLES: