_Caesa._ [_Looking back at the palace._] Yet one look, One grateful blessing for this night of rapture; Then, shrine of my soul's idol! casket, holding My heart's most precious gem, awhile farewell! But, when my foot next bends thy floors, expect No more this cautious gait, this voice subdued! Proud and erect, with manly steps and strong, I'll come a Conqueror and a King, to lead With sceptred hand forth from her bower my bride, And bid Castile adore her, like Caesario. Farewell, once more farewell! _Otti._ [_Advancing._] I'll cross his path, And blast him with a look. _Caesa._ Ottilia? _Otti._ What! Am I then grown so hideous that my sight Withers the roses on a warrior's cheeks, And makes his steps recoil! In Moorish battles He gazed undaunted on death's frightful form, But shrinks to view a monster like Ottilia. _Caesa._ [_Aside._] Confusion! Should her rage alarm the guards. _Otti._ Or do I wrong myself? Is still _my_ form Unchanged, but not thy faith? Speak, traitor, speak! _Caesa._ I own, most dear Ottilia---- _Otti._ Hark! he owns it! Hear, Earth and Heaven, he owns it! No excuse! No varnish, no disguise!--He will not stoop To use dissembling with a wretch he scorns, Nor thinks it worth his pains to fool me further! Proceed, brave sir, proceed! In trivial strain Tell me how light are lovers' oaths, how fond Youth's heart of change, how quick love comes and flies; And own that yours for me is flown for ever. Then with indifference ask a parting kiss, Hope we shall still be friends, profess esteem, Thank me for favours past, and coldly leave me. _Caesa._ How shall I hush this storm? [_Aside._] _Otti._ Oh! fool, fool, fool! I thought him absent; thought mid-day would bring My hero back, and pass'd this sleepless night In prayers, and sighs, and vows for his return; While scorned all oaths, forgot all faith, all honour, Clasped in Estella's wanton arms he lay, And mock'd the poor, undone, deceiv'd Ottilia! _Caesa._ Estella? [_then aside_] Blest mistake! _Otti._ What! didst thou hope My rival's name unknown? Oh! well I know it, Estella! cursed Estella! Still I'll shriek it Piercing and loud, till Earth, and Air, and Ocean, Ring with her name, thy guilt, and my despair. _Caesa._ And need thy words, Ottilia, blame my falsehood? Oh! in each feature of thy beauteous face I blush to read reproaches far more keen. Those glittering eyes, though now with lightnings armed, Which erst were used to pour on blest Caesario Kind looks, and fondest smiles, and tears of rapture; That voice, by wrath untuned, once only breathing Sounds like the ringdove's, amorous, soft, and sweet; That snowy breast, now swelled by storms of passion, But which in happier days by love was heaved, By love for me!--The least of these, Ottilia, Gives to my heart a deeper stab than all Thy words could do, were every word a dagger. _Otti._ Thou prince of hypocrites!