's
all.'

'He lives, he is my prisoner, he awaits his doom. It must be given.'

'Yes, yes!'

'Shall we pardon?'

'My lord will do that which it pleases him.'

'Nay, nay, Schirene, I pray thee be more kind. I am most wretched.
Speak, what wouldst thou?'

'If I must speak, I say at once, his life.'

'Ah me!'

'If our past loves have any charm, if the hope ot future joy, not less
supreme, be that which binds thee to this shadowy world, as it does me,
and does alone, I say his life, his very carnal life. He stands between
us and our loves, Alroy, and ever has done. There is no happiness if
Jabaster breathe; nor can I be the same Schirene to thee as I have been,
if this proud rebel live to spy my conduct.'

'Banish him, banish him!'

'To herd with rebels. Is this thy policy?'

'O Schirene! I love not this man, although me-thinks I should: yet didst
thou know but all!'

'I know too much, Alroy. From the first he has been to me a hateful
thought. Come, come, sweet bird, a boon, a boon unto thy own Schirene,
who was so frightened by these wicked men! I fear it has done more
mischief than thou deemest. Ay! robbed us of our hopes. It may be so. A
boon, a boon! It is not much I ask: a traitor's head. Come, give me thy
signet ring. It will not; nay, then, I'll take it. What, resist! I know
thou oft hast told me a kiss could vanquish all denial. There it is.
Is't sweet? Shalt have another, and another too. I've got the ring!
Farewell, my lovely bird, I'll soon return to pillow in thy nest.'

'She has got the ring! What's this? what's this? Schirene! art gone?
Nay, surely not. She jests. Jabaster! A traitor's head! What ho! there.
Pharez, Pharez!'

'My lord.'

'Passed the Queen that way?'

'She did, my lord.'

'In tears?'

'Nay! very joyful!'

'Call Honain, quick as my thought. Honain! Honain! He waits without. I
have seen the best of life, that's very sure. My heart is cracking. She
surely jests! Hah! Honain. Pardon these distracted looks. Fly to the
Armoury! fly, fly!'

'For what, my lord?'

'Ay! for what, for what! My brain it wanders. Thy brother, thy great
brother, the Queen, the Queen has stolen my signet ring, that is, I gave
it her. Fly, fly! or in a word, Jabaster is no more. He is gone. Pharez!
your arm; I swoon!'

'His Highness is sorely indisposed to-day.'

'They say he swooned this morn.'

'Ay, in the bath.'

'No, not in the bath. 'Twas when he heard of Jabaster's death.'

'How died