ainst all the mortifications of
enmity and malice, believe me, I will guard her, dear Galotti.

ODOARDO.

Prince, paternal love is jealous of its duties. I think I know what
alone suits my daughter in her present situation. Retirement from the
world--a cloister as soon as possible.

PRINCE.

A cloister?

ODOARDO.

Till then, let her weep under the protection of her father.

PRINCE.

Shall so much beauty wither in a cloister?----Should one disappointed
hope embitter one against the world?--But as you please. No one has a
right to dictate to a parent. Take your daughter wherever you think
proper, Galotti.

ODOARDO (_to_ Marinelli).

Do you hear, my lord?

MARINELLI.

Nay, if you call upon me to speak----

ODOARDO.

By no means, by no means.

PRINCE.

What has happened between you two?

ODOARDO.

Nothing, your Highness, nothing. We were only settling which of us had
been deceived in your Highness.

PRINCE.

How so?--Speak, Marinelli.

MARINELLI.

I am sorry to interfere with the condescension of my Prince, but
friendship commands that I should make an appeal to him as judge.

PRINCE.

What friendship?

MARINELLI.

Your Highness knows how sincerely I was attached to Count Appiani--how
our souls were interwoven----

ODOARDO.

Does his Highness know that? Then you are indeed the only one who does
know it.

MARINELLI.

Appointed his avenger by himself----

ODOARDO.

You?

MARINELLI.

Ask your wife. The name of Marinelli was the last word of the dying
Count, and was uttered in such a tone----Oh may that dreadful tone
sound in my ears for ever, if I do not strain every nerve to discover
and to punish his murderers!

PRINCE.

Rely upon my utmost aid.

ODOARDO.

And upon my most fervent wishes. All this is well. But what further?

PRINCE.

That I, too, want to k