SCENE IV.--[_The inner cavern, partially lighted with lamps. In the middle, folding doors guarded with iron bars; on one side a rough hewn staircase leading to a small door above._]
Gomez, Marcos, _and conspirators, discovered in listening attitudes_.
_Gom._ 'Tis strange, the time is past, and yet not here?
_Gom._ Steps approach. [_Kneeling at the folding door._] Who knocks?
Henriquez, Melchior, _and_ Lucio, _enter through the folding doors, which_ Marcos _again closes_.
_Gom._ Friends welcome. Melchior, is thy work complete?
_Mel._ Complete, and fit for springing. Nought is wanting. The train is laid. One spark and all is done. Our chief alone----
Cæsario _descends the staircase swiftly. His looks are wild; his hair flows loose; and he grasps a bloody dagger_.
_Cæsa._ Ay, shout, shout, And, kneeling greet your blood anointed king, This steel his sceptre. Tremble, dwarfs in guilt, And own your master. Thou art proof, Henriquez, 'Gainst pity. I once saw thee stab in battle A page who clasped thy knees; and Melchior, there Made quick work with a brother whom he hated But what did I this night? Hear, hear, and reverence! There was a breast on which my head had rested A thousand times; a breast which loved me fondly, As Heaven loves martyred saints; and yet this breast I stabbed, knaves, stabbed it to the heart! Wine, wine, there! For my soul's joyous. [Gomez _brings a goblet_.]
_Hen._ Friend, what means this frenzy? What hast thou done? Where is Ottilia?
_Cæsa._ (_dashing down the goblet_) Dead! Dead, Marquis! At that word how the vault rings, And the ground shakes. It shall not shake my purpose. Murder and I are grown familiar, friends. The assassin's trade is sweet. I've tasted blood, And thirst for more. Say, is the mine----
_Hen. Mel. and all the conspirators._ I, I!
_Cæsa._ Oh, cheerful cry! Oh! glorious strife for guilt: Let each man throw His dagger in my casque; be his the service, Whose steel I draw.
_Cæsa._ [_To_ Lucio.] Thy torch, boy, [_giving it to_ Henriquez.] Take it! Here lies thy way--speed, speed, and let yon vaults, Shivering in fragments, tell my ravished ear Alfonso dies. Away, away!--[_On his throwing open the folding doors_, Amelrosa _is discovered_.]
_Amel._ No, no, Princess; 'tis a daughter, Fierce through despair, frantic with fear, and anguish. Hear me ye dread unknown: Yon flinty man Ne'er knew a father's care, and knows not now What 'tis to _love_, what 'tis to _lose_ a father. But ye, (if e'er a parent's hand hath dried Your infant tears; if e'er your eyes have streamed To see him weep, knowing your hand but scarred Gave him more pain, than his own heart torn piece meal) Oh! spare my father! Bid those hours revive Which filial love once bless'd; recall youth's feelings, And by those feelings learn to pity mine. Spare, spare my father!