Wretch, thy life--[_Staggering back._] Strengthen me, heaven! 'Tis he? the king himself! _Alfon._ [_Offering to take his hand._] Thy friend! _Orsi._ [_Recovering himself, and drawing back his hand._] Friend! Friend!---- I've none!-- [_Coldly._] _Alfon._ Orsino. _Orsi._ Never had but one, And he--! Sir, though a king, you'd shrink to hear How that friend used me! _Alfon._ Hear me speak, in pity! _Orsi._ What need of words? I'm found, I'm in your power, And you may torture me e'en how you list. Where are your chains? these are the self-same arms Which bore them ten long years, nor doubt their weighing Heavy as ever! These same eyes, which bathed So oft with bitterest tears your dungeon-grate, Have streams not yet exhausted! and these lips Can still with shrieks make the Black Tower re-echo, Which heard my voice so long in frantic anguish Rave of my wife and child, and curse Alfonso! Lead on, Sir! I'm your prisoner! _Alfon._ Not for worlds Would I but harm one hair of thine!--Nay, hear me! And learn, most wronged Orsino, thy clear innocence Is now well known to all. _Orsi._ Ay? Nay, I care not Who thinks me innocent! I know myself so-- Was this your business, Sir? 'Tis done! Farewell. _Alfon._ Oh! part not from me thus! I fain would say---- _Orsi._ What? _Alfon._ I have wronged thee!---- _Orsi._ [_Sternly_] True! _Alfon._ Deeply, most deeply! But wounding thine, hurt my own heart no less, Where none has filled thy place: 'tis thine, still thine-- And if my court---- _Orsi._ What should I there? No, no, Sir! Sorrow has crazed my wits; long cramped by fetters My arm sinks powerless; and my wasted limbs, Palsied by dungeon-damps, would bend and totter Beneath yon armour's weight, once borne so lightly! Then what should I at court? I cannot head Your troops, nor guide your councils; leave me, leave me, You cannot use me further! _Alfon._ Oh! I must, And to a most dear service--my heart bleeds, And needs a friend! Be but that friend once more! Be to me what thou wert, (and that was all things!) Forgive my faults, forget thy injuries---- _Orsi._ [_Passionately._] Never! _Alfon._ That to Alfonso? That to him whose friendship---- _Orsi._ Peace, peace! You felt no friendship! felt no flame, Steady and strong!--Yours was a vain light vapour, A boyish fancy, a caprice, a habit, A bond you wearied of, and gladly seized A lame pretext to break. Did not my heart From earliest youth lie naked to your eyes? Knew you not every comer, nerve, turn, twist on't? And could you still suspect----? No, no! You wished To find me false, or must have known me true. _Alfon._ You wrong me, on my life! So fine, so skilful The snare was spread----I knew not---- _Orsi._ Knew not? Knew not? Thou knew'st I was Orsino! Knowing that, Thou should'st have known, I never could be guilty. _Alfon._ Proofs seemed so strong----