th 't is done, and here I hold the
doom of those proud lords who have so scorned my race. The hour has
come, and Bernardo is revenged. What, ho! Zara, where art thou?

[_Enter_ Zara.

Zara. Dear father, what hath troubled thee, and how can Zara cheer and
comfort thee?

Ber. 'Tis joy, not sorrow, Zara, gives this fierce light to mine eye. I
have hated, and am avenged. This one frail scroll is dearer far to me
than all the wealth of Spain, for 'tis the death-knell of the English
lords.

Zara. Must they all die, my father?

Ber. Ay, Zara,--all; ere to-morrow's sun shall set they will sleep
forever, and a good deed will be well done. I hate them, and their
paltry lives can ill repay the sorrow they have wrought.

Zara. Let me see the fatal paper. [_Takes the scroll; aside._] Yes,
_his_ name is here. Ah, how strange that these few lines can doom brave
hearts to such a death! [_Aloud._] Father, 'tis a fearful thing to hold
such power over human life. Ah, bid me tear the scroll, and win for thee
the thanks of those thy generous pity saves.

Ber. [_seizing the paper_]. Not for thy life, child! Revenge is sweet,
and I have waited long for mine. The king hath granted this; were it
destroyed, the captives might escape ere I could win another. Nay, Zara,
this is dearer to me than thy most priceless gems. To-night it shall be
well guarded 'neath my pillow. Go to thy flowers, child. These things
are not for thee,--thou art growing pale and sad. Remember, Zara, thou
art nobly born, and let no foolish pity win thee to forget it.

[_Exit_ Bernardo.

Zara. Oh, Father, Father, whom I have so loved and honored, now so cold,
so pitiless. The spirit of revenge hath entered thy kind heart, and
spread an evil blight o'er all the flowers that blossomed there. I
cannot win him back to tenderness, and Ernest, thou must perish. I
cannot save thee,--perhaps 'tis better so; but oh, 'twill be a bitter
parting! [_Weeps._] Nay, nay, it shall _not_ be! When this wild hate
hath passed, my father will repent. Alas! 't will be too late. _I_ will
save him from that sorrow when he shall find he hath wronged a noble
heart, and slain the friend he should have saved. But stay! how shall I
best weave my plot? That fatal paper, once destroyed, I will implore and
plead so tenderly, my father will repent; and ere another scroll can
reach his ha