in? This flame, which burns
My blood up, shall it ne'er be quenched with his?
'Tis he! 'tis he!--I see the high plume waving
O'er his crowned helmet:--Thunders, cease, nor rob me,
Of his expiring shriek!--Turn, turn, Alfonso!

[_Exit._

[_Shouts of victory._]

_Enter_ Henriquez, Melchior, Marcos, Gomez, _and soldiers_.

_Hen._ We triumph, Melchior!--See our trusty squadrons
Range the field unopposed. But where's our chief?

_Mar._ How now! what clamour.----

_Mel._ Look, Henriquez, look!
Caesario and the king in single combat!

_Hen._ They come this way!--mark, with their ponderous blows
How their shields ring!--Caesario loses ground!
Yield thee, Alfonso!--_Interposing between_ Alfonso
_and_ Caesario, _who enter fighting._

_Caesa._ Back, I say! back, back!
No arm but mine----

_Alfon._ Caesario, pause, and hear me!
Whate'er thou wilt----

_Caesa._ Thy life!

_Alfon._ Medina's dukedom,
And Amelrosa.

_Caesa._ Flames consume the tongue,
That names her! Thou hast rent my wound anew,
Recalling what was mine, but is no longer!
Look to thy heart, for if my sword can reach it,
Thou diest!--Come on!--[_They fight_; Alfonso
_loses his sword, and is beaten on his knees._]

_Caesa._ Thou'rt mine!--and thus--[_At the moment
that he motions to stab_ Alfonso, Orsino, _without
his helmet, deadly pale, and bleeding profusely,
rushes in, and arrests his arm._]

_Orsi._ Hold, hold!

_Caesa._ My father bleeding! Horror!

_Orsi._ Does that pain thee?
Oh by this blood, a father's blood, the same
Which fills thy veins, and feeds thy life I charge thee,
Shed not thy king's.

_Caesa._ Father thy prayers are vain!
He broke my mother's heart! his own must bleed for't!
Release my arm.

_Orsi._ My son, I kiss thy feet:
Thy father kneels; let him not kneel in vain.
Nay, if thou stirr'st, my deadliest curse.----

_Caesa._ 'Twill grieve me,
But yet e'en that I'll brave:--Curse; still I'll strike!
No more!

_Orsi._ Can nought appease thee----

_Caesa._ Nothing, nothing!

_Alfon._ Nay, cease, Orsino: 'tis in vain----

_Caesa._ True, true!
This to thy heart.

_Orsi._ Oh! yet arrest thy sword,
My son.----

_Caesa._ He dies!

_Orsi._ One word, but one!

_Caesa._ Despatch them.

_Orsi._ Swear, ere you strike the blow, if still your power
Answers your will, as now it does, the king
Has not an hour to live!

_Caesa._ An hour?--An age!
Thrones shall not buy that hour. By hell I swear,
Alfonso breathes h