Chapter 15

_Enter_ Caesario.

_Caesa._ Shall I ne'er find him? Shall my mother's spirit Still ask revenge in vain? 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 his last, if fate allows me To live one moment more.

_Orsi._ [_Stabbing him._] Then die this moment.

_Caesa._ My heart, my heart!--Oh! oh!

[_Falls lifeless at_ Orsino's _feet._

_Alfon._ What hast thou done?

_Orsi._ Preserved Castile in thee.

_Mel._ Hew him to pieces!

_Hen._ Monster thy son----

_Orsi._ He was so; yet I slew him. Think ye, I loved him not?--Oh! heaven, the blood My breast now pours, gives me not half such pain As that which stains this poniard: yet I slew him, I, I his father!--And as I with him, So, traitors, shall your father deal with ye, Your father who frowns yonder.--[_Thunder._]--mark! he speaks! The avenger speaks, and stretches from the clouds His red right arm.--See, see! his javelins fly, And fly to strike you dead!--While yet 'tis time, Down, rebels, down!--Tremble, repent, and tremble! Fall at your sovereign's feet, and sue for grace.

_The conspirators sink on their knees._

_Alfon._ Oh! soul of honour.--Oh! my full, full heart! Orsino, friend!----

_Orsi._ No more--Thy hand--farewell. Life ebbs apace--Oh, lay me by my son, That I may bless him ere I die--Pale, pale: No warmth:--No sense:--Not one convulsive throb: Not one last lingering breath on those wan lips! All gone! all, all!--So fair, so young, to die Was hard, most hard: canst thou forgive thy father, Canst thou, my boy? he loved thee dearly, dearly, And would to save thy life have died himself, Though he had rather see thee dead than guilty. My sand runs fast.--Oh! I am sick at soul! I'll breathe my last sigh on my son's cold lips. Clasp his dead hand in mine, and lay my heart Close to his gaping wound, that it may break 'Gainst his dear breast.--My eyes grow faint and clouded. I see thy face no more, my boy, but still Feel thy blood trickle!--Oh! that pang, that pang! 'Tis done--All's dark!--My son, my son, my son!

[_Dies._

_End of Act V._