secret. Yes, you love the Princess!
But, while I breathe, if e'er her hand is yours,
Strike me dead, lightnings!

_Caesa._ Hear me!

_Otti._ Look on this [_showing a paper_.]

_Caesa._ 'Tis Guzman's hand.

_Otti._ He bade me to the king
Bear it with other papers; but my prudence,
For mine own purposes, kept back the scroll.
Lo! here a full confession of your plots--
The mine described--the vault--the hour--the signal--
What troops are gained--the list of sworn confederates--
And foremost in the list here stands Caesario!

_Caesa._ Confusion!

_Otti._ Nay, 'tis so! Now mark me, youth!
Either mine hand at midnight as my husband's
Clasps thine, or gives this paper to Alfonso!
Prepare a friar--at Juan's chapel meet me
At midnight, or the king----

_Caesa._ You rave, Ottilia!
While Guzman lives.

_Otti._ Young man, his hours are counted:
Three scarce are his--Last night I drugged the bowl
In which he drank a farewell to the world.
Ay, ay, 'tis true! thou'rt mine! With blood I've bought thee!
Nothing now parts us but the grave,--and there,
E'en there I'll claim thee!--If tonight thou com'st not--

_Caesa._ I will, by heaven!

_Otti._ Nay, fail at your own peril----
Your life is in my power! my breath can blast you!
Choose, then, Caesario, 'twixt thy bane and bliss--
Love or a grave! a kingdom or a scaffold!
My arms or death's--By yonder sun I swear,
Ere morning dawns, thou shalt be mine or nothing! [_Exit._

_Caesa._ Is't so?--Thy blood then on thy head--This paper--
----This female fiend--the scarf too!--I must straight
Appease the princess--some well-varnished tale
----Some glib excuse--Oh! hateful task! Oh, Truth!
How my soul longs once more to join thy train,
Tear off the mask, and show me as I am!
The wretch for life immur'd; the Christian slave
Of Pagan lords; or he whose bloody sweat
Speeds the fleet galley o'er the sparkling waves,
Bears easy toil, light chains, and pleasant bondage,
Weighed with thy service, Falsehood! Still to smile
On those we loath; to teach the lips a lesson
Smooth, sweet, and false; to watch the tell-tale eye,
Fashion each feature, sift each honest word
That swells upon the tongue, and fear to find
A traitor in one's self--By heaven, I know
No toil, no curse, no slavery, like dissembling!

[_Exit._

SCENE II. _A wild forest, with rocks, waterfalls, &c. On one side a
hermitage and a rustic tomb, with various pieces of armour scattered
near it, "Victoria" is e