ad them here!

_Amel._ Canst thou forgive
My long deceit----

_Alfon._ Forgive thee? To my heart
Thus let me clasp thee, best of earthly blessings,
Balm of my soul, and saviour of my justice!
Oh! blest were kings, when fraud ensnares their sense,
And passion arms their hands, if still they found
One who like thee dared stand the victim's friend,
Wrest from proud lawless Power his brandished javelin,
And make him virtuous in his own despite!

_Enter_ Ricardo.

_Ricar._ My liege, your conquering general brave Caesario,
Draws near the walls.

_Alfon._ I hasten to receive
The hero and his troops: that duty done,
I'll seek my wronged friend's pardon. Say my child,
Where dwells Orsino?

_Amel._ In the neighbouring forest
He lives a hermit: Inis knows the place.

_Alfon._ Ere night I'll seek him there. And now farewell
Ever beloved, but now more loved than ever!
Oh! still as now watch o'er and timely check
My hasty nature; still, their guardian-angel,
Protect my people, e'en from _me_ protect them:
Then, after ages, pondering o'er the page
Which bears my name, shall see, and seen shall bless
That union most beloved of man and heaven,
A patriot monarch, and a people free!

[_Exit with_ Ricardo _and attendants_.]

_Amel._ My good kind father! fatal, fatal, secret,
How weigh'st thou down my heart! [_Remains buried in thought._]

_Otti._ I'll haste and calm
My husband's conscience with Orsino's safety.
But when our Spanish beauties throng the ramparts,
Anxious to see, and anxious to be seen,
Why stays Estella from the walls?

_Estel._ Both duty
And friendship chain me where the princess stays.

_Otti._ Duty and friendship? trust me, glorious words;--
Yet there's a sweeter--Love! Boasts the gay band,
Which circles brave Caesario's laurelled car,
No youth who proudly wears Estella's colours,
And knows no glory like Estella's smile?

_Estel._ Ha! Sure my sight must err?

_Otti._ [_Aside._] She sees and knows it.

_Estel._ It must be that!----Princess!

_Otti._ [Aside.] So so! now flies she
To her she--Pylades for aid and comfort.
Oh most rare sympathy! How the fiend starts!
And, trust me, changes colour!

_Amel._ Say'st thou? how?
Away, it cannot be!

_Estel._ Convince thyself then.

_Otti._ [_Aside._] Ay, look your fill! look till your eye-strings break.
For 'tis that scarf; that very, very scarf?----
So now the question comes.

_Estel._ Forgive me lady,
Nor hold me rude, that much I wish to