And if I were to give it you?--what then? There! (_He presents it_) EMILIA. And there! (_She seizes it with ardour, and is about to stab herself when_ Odoardo _wrests it from her_.) ODOARDO. See how rash----No; it is not for thy hand. EMILIA. Tis true; then with this bodkin will I! (_she searches for one in her hair, and feels the rose in her head_). Art thou still there? Down, down! thou shouldst not deck the head of one, such as my father wishes me to be! ODOARDO. Oh! my daughter! EMILIA. Oh, my father! if I understand you. But no, you will not do it, or why so long delayed. (_In a bitter tone, while she plucks the leaves of the rose_.) In former days there was a father, who, to save his daughter from disgrace plunged the first deadly weapon which he saw, into his daughter's heart--and thereby gave her life, a second time. But those were deeds of ancient times. Such fathers exist not now. ODOARDO. They do, they do, my daughter (_stabs her_). God of heaven! What have I done? (_supports her in his arms as she sinks_.) EMILIA. Broken a rose before the storm had robbed it of its bloom. Oh, let me kiss this kind parental hand. Scene VIII. The Prince, Marinelli, Odoardo, Emilia. PRINCE (_entering_). What means this? Is Emilia not well? ODOARDO. Very well, very well. PRINCE (_approaching her_.) What do I see? Oh, horror! MARINELLI. I am lost! PRINCE. Cruel father, what hast thou done. ODOARDO. Broken a rose before the storm had robbed it of its bloom. Said you not so, my daughter? EMILIA. Not you, my father. I, I myself---- ODOARDO. Not thou my daughter--not thou! Quit not this world with falsehood on thy lips. Not thou, my daughter--thy father, thy unfortunate father. EMILIA. Ah!--My father----(_Dies in his arms. He lays her gently on the floor_.) ODOARDO.