_Otti._ Thy power! thy power! I brave it! I defy it! Scorn both thy power and thee. Unhand me, ruffian! I'll not be held. Within there! hasten hither! Anthonio! Lopez! Treason? treason!
_Cæsa._ Nay then, This to thy heart. (_stabbing her._)
_Orsi._ What clamours----Hold, you pass not.
_Cæsa._ Give me way, Or else thy life----
_Orsi._ Ruffian defend thine own. [_Exeunt fighting._
_Otti._ [_Alone, leaning against a pillar._] My blood streams fast! I'm wounded, deeply wounded!---- My voice too fails; I cannot call for help. To hope for life were vain; but for revenge.---- Could I but reach the palace---- [_Advancing a few steps, then sinking on the ground._] 'Twill not be. I faint!----Oh, heaven!
_Amel._ All's hushed again; how fearful After those shrieks appear the midnight calm. --Orsino?--Speak, Orsino?--No one answers. What can this mean?
_Otti._ Fainter and fainter still---- And no one comes.----
_Amel._ Hark! 'Twas a groan! whence came it? [_Seeing_ Ottilia.] Stranger look up!
_Otti._ A voice! Oh! blessed sound, Who'er thou art, mark well my dying words; A villain's hand--I'm wounded----
_Amel._ Gracious heaven! Oh! let me fly for aid.
_Otti._ All aid were vain. Stay, mark! Revenge!--[_Taking a paper from her bosom._] This paper--take it--bear it Swift to the royal tower--lose not a moment-- Insist to see the king--take no denial, For 'tis of most dear import.
_Otti._ [_Starting up wildly._] Heaven, who speaks? 'Tis she herself: My victim, 'tis my victim!--Dost thou live then? Hast thou escaped? Spare me, thou God of mercy! Oh! spare me this one crime.
_Amel._ What means this passion? How wild she eyes me; how she grasps my hand!
_Otti._ Answer and bless me: Say thou didst not drink it! Say Inis did not--While I speak, the blood Fades from thy cheek! Thine eyes close! Dying pangs Distort thy features; pangs like those which shortened His life, whose angry ghost, grim, fierce, and ghastly, Comes gliding yonder. See his livid finger Points to the poisoned cup! He frowns and threatens. Pray for me, angel! Pray for me! I dare not.
_Otti._ Help! help! The spectre grasps me, And folds me to his breast, where the worm feeds! He tears my heart-strings!--Now he sinks, he sinks! And sinking grasps me still, and drags me down with him, A thousand fathom deep!--Oh! lost, lost, lost!