_Otti._ (_passionately_) of love!
Of love for thee! Mark me. Ere sets the sun
My rival dies, and thou once more art free:
But now so deadly is the hate I bear thee,
'Twill joy me less to see thee mine than dead.
Thy blood! thy blood! 'Tis for thy blood I thirst,
And it shall stream. Farewell.

_Caesa._ Go then, proud woman,
I brave thy rancour. Ere thou gain'st the palace,
I'll spring the mine.

_Otti._ Indeed! Now hark awhile,
Then die for spite, thou base, thou baffled traitor!
Six trusty slaves wait but my call to bind
And bear thee to the king. Ay, rage, rage, rage,
For I'll invent such tortures to despatch thee,
Such racks, such whips, such baths of boiling sulphur,
The damned shall think their pains mere mirth and pastime,
And envying furies own their skill outdone.
I go to prove my words.

_Caesa._ Thou must not leave me.

_Otti._ Worlds should not bribe my stay.

_Caesa._ Thou'rt in my power.

_Otti._ Thy power! thy power! I brave it! I defy it!
Scorn both thy power and thee. Unhand me, ruffian!
I'll not be held. Within there! hasten hither!
Anthonio! Lopez! Treason? treason!

_Caesa._ Nay then,
This to thy heart. (_stabbing her._)

_Otti._ Help, help! Oh, vile assassin!

_Enter_ Orsino, _hastily_.

_Orsi._ What clamours----Hold, you pass not.

_Caesa._ Give me way,
Or else thy life----

_Orsi._ Ruffian defend thine own. [_Exeunt fighting._

_Otti._ [_Alone, leaning against a pillar._] My blood streams fast!
I'm wounded, deeply wounded!----
My voice too fails; I cannot call for help.
To hope for life were vain; but for revenge.----
Could I but reach the palace----
[_Advancing a few steps, then sinking on the ground._] 'Twill not be.
I faint!----Oh, heaven!

_Enter_ Amelrosa.

_Amel._ All's hushed again; how fearful
After those shrieks appear the midnight calm.
--Orsino?--Speak, Orsino?--No one answers.
What can this mean?

_Otti._ Fainter and fainter still----
And no one comes.----

_Amel._ Hark! 'Twas a groan! whence came it? [_Seeing_ Ottilia.]
Stranger look up!

_Otti._ A voice! Oh! blessed sound,
Who'er thou art, mark well my dying words;
A villain's hand--I'm wounded----

_Amel._ Gracious heaven!
Oh! let me fly for aid.

_Otti._ All aid were vain.
Stay, mark! Revenge!--[_Taking a paper from her bosom._]
This paper--take it--bear it
Swift to the royal tower--lose not a moment--
Insist to see the king--take no denial,
For 'tis of most dear import.

_Amel._ Sure,