ny?
But may that traitor, shall that vile wretch live,
By whom I have receiv'd this injury?
Or shall I longer make account of her,
That fondly prostitutes her widow's shame?--
I have bethought me what I shall request. [_He kneels_.
On bended knees, with hands heav'd up to heaven,
This, sacred senate of the gods, I crave:
First on the traitor your consuming ire;
Next on the cursed strumpet dire revenge;
Last on myself, the wretched father, shame. [_He riseth_.
O! could I stamp, and therewithal command
Armies of furies to assist my heart,
To prosecute due vengeance on their souls!
Hear me, my friends; but as ye love your lives,
Reply not to me; hearken and stand amaz'd.
When I, as is my wont, O fond delight!
Went forth to seek my daughter, now my death--
Within her chamber, as I thought, she was;
But there I found her not--I deemed then
For her disport she and her maidens were
Down to the garden walk'd to comfort them;
And thinking thus, it came into my mind
There all alone to tarry her return:
And thereupon I, weary, threw myself
Upon her widow's bed, for so I thought,
And in the curtain wrapp'd my cursed head.
Thus as I lay, anon I might behold
Out of the vault, up through her chamber floor,
My daughter Gismund bringing hand in hand
The County Palurin. Alas! it is too true;
At her bed's feet this traitor made me see
Her shame, his treason, and my deadly grief--
Her princely body yielded to this thief;
The high despite whereof so wounded me
That, trance-like, as a senseless stone I lay;
For neither wit nor tongue could use the mean
T'express the passions of my pained heart.
Forceless, perforce, I sank down to this pain,
As greedy famine doth constrain the hawk
Piecemeal to rend and tear the yielding prey:
So far'd it with me in that heavy stound.
But now what shall I do? how may I seek
To ease my mind, that burneth with desire
Of dire revenge? For never shall my thoughts
Grant ease unto my heart, till I have found
A mean of vengeance to requite his pains,
That first convey'd this sight unto my soul.--
Renuchio!

RENUCHIO. What is your highness' will?

TANCRED. Call my daughter: my heart boils, till I see
Her in my sight, to whom I may discharge
All the unrest that thus distempereth me. [_Exit_ RENUCHIO.
Should I destroy them both? O gods, ye know
How near and dear our daughter is to us.
And yet my rage persuades me to imbrue
My thirsty hands in both their trembling bloods,
Therewith to cool