Ere lady that you close in sleep Those eyes that I would die to view, Think, think on mine that watch and weep, And on my heart that breaks for you! The sun does not disdain to turn, And on the meanest weed to shine, That scorch'd up dies, and seems to burn With love, as hopelessly as mine. One look--one word--hear, hear my call! O cruel! can you still deny One look,--though it in scorn should fall? One word,--although it bid me die? _Perez, coming forward, looking up at the window after pause._ She will not hear, nor bless me with her sight! _Enter Gaspar in cavalier's dress._ _Gasp._ Well met, Don Perez. Thus I keep my word. And "when you least do wish it," I am here. Was it well done to send out hired stilettos When you had challenged me to measure swords? _Perez_ (_aside_). The scoundrels then have miss'd him! (_Aloud._) Know, Don Gaspar, I do not deem thee worthy of my steel. But, as we meet--'tis well--defend thyself! (_Draws._) _Gasp._ Defend _thyself_, Don Perez! Thy best might And skill befriend thee,--else thy life is nought! (_They fight round. Don Perez falls._) _Perez._ I'm slain! Don Gaspar, or whoe'er thou art, If thou have Christian charity, seek out Some holy man. (_Gaspar retires._) He's gone! [_Gaspar, with friar's gown and hood on, returns to Don Perez._ _Gasp._ Look up, Don Perez! Knowest thou this form? Thou dost require some holy man to shrive thee, Ere thou pass away.----Don Perez, answer! Know'st thou this form,--these features? _Perez._ Thou art the Friar Anselmo. I have wrong'd thee, And ask forgiveness. O then pardon me! And, as thou hop'st t' enjoy eternal life, Feel no resentment 'gainst a dying man! (_Faintly._) Shrive me, good father, for I'm sinking fast. Yon stream of blood will not creep on its course Another foot, ere I shall be no more. _Gasp._ Thou saw'st Anselmo. Now raise up thine eyes, (_Throws off his disguise._) And see Don Gaspar! who has just reveng'd The wrongs inflicted on the spurn'd at monk. _Perez._ Whoe'er thou art, mysterious, awful being! At least be satisfied with thy revenge. If thou art holy, shrive me! _Gasp._ I am a monk, and yet not holy (_putting on gown, and folding his arms_). _Perez._ If thou art a monk by vows, thou'rt holy. 'Tis not my blood that's now upon thy hand, And shall hereafter be upon thy soul, Which makes thee less so: thou'rt but an instrument. I pray thee, shrive me, that my guilty soul May quit in peace this tenement of clay. _Gasp._ Does he not speak the truth? Tell me, my heart, I think--I feel----I can forgive him now! [_Gaspar takes out his crucifix, returns to Don Perez, and, kneeling, presents it to him. Perez kisses the crucifix, and falls back dead. Gaspar remains hanging over him._ _Don Felix_ (_without_). What hoa! _Enter Don Felix with servants bearing torches._