You yourself shall put the letters of it together. This morning the Prince spoke to your daughter at church; this afternoon he has her at his----his summer-palace. ODOARDO. Spoke to her at church? The Prince to my daughter? ORSINA. With such familiarity and such fervour. Their agreement was about no trifling matter; and if they did agree, all the better: all the better if your daughter made this her voluntary asylum. You understand--and in that case this is no forcible seduction, but only a trifling--trifling assassination. ODOARDO. Calumny! Infamous calumny! I know my daughter. If there be murder here, there is seduction also, (_Looks wildly round, stamping and foaming_.) Now, Claudia! Now, fond mother! Have we not lived to see a day of joy? Oh, the gracious Prince! Oh, the mighty honour! ORSINA (_aside_). Have I roused thee, old man? ODOARDO. Here I stand before the robber's cave. (_Throws his coat back on both sides, and perceives he has no weapon_.) 'Tis a marvel that, in my haste, I have not forgotten my hands too. (_Feeling in all his pockets_.) Nothing, nothing. ORSINA. Ha! I understand, and can assist you. I have brought one. (_Produces a dagger_.) There! Take it, take it quickly, ere any one observes us. I have something else, too--poison--but that is for women, not for men. Take this (_forcing the dagger upon him_), take it. ODOARDO. I thank thee. Dear child, whosoever again asserts thou art a lunatic, he shall answer it to me. ORSINA. Conceal it, instantly. (Odoardo _hides the dagger_.) The opportunity for using it is denied to me. You will not fail to find one, and you will seize the first that comes, if you are a man. I am but a woman, yet I came hither resolute. We, old man, can trust each other, for we are both injured, and by the same seducer. Oh, if you knew how preposterously, how inexpressibly, how incomprehensibly, I have been injured by him, you would almost forget his conduct towards yourself. Do you know me? I am Orsina, the deluded, forsaken Orsina--perhaps forsaken only for your daughter. But how is she to blame? Soon she also will be forsaken; then another, another, and another. Ha! (_As if in rapture_) What a celestial thought! When all who have been victims of his arts shall form a band, and we shall be converted into Mænads, into furies; what transport will it be to tear him piecemeal, limb from limb, to wallow through his entrails, and wrench from its seat the traitor's heart--that heart which he promised to bestow on each, and gave to none. Ha! that indeed will be a glorious revelry! Scene VIII. Claudia, Odoardo, Orsina. _Enter_ Claudia.