_Isa._ Better late than never, my good lord; you think You use square dealing, Medina's mighty duke, Tyrant of France, sent hither by the devil. [_She ascends the scaffold._ _Med._ The fitter to meet you. _Car._ Peace! Good my lord, in death do not provoke her. 130 _Isa._ Servant, Low as my destiny I kneel to thee, [_To_ SAGO. Honouring in death thy manly loyalty; And what so e'er become of my poor soul, The joys of both worlds evermore be thine. Commend me to the noble Count Gniaca, That should have shared thy valour and my hatred: Tell him I pray his pardon, and-- Medina, art [thou] yet inspired from heaven? Show thy Creator's image: be like Him, 140 Father of mercy. _Med._ Head's-man, do thine office. _Isa._ Now God lay all thy sins upon thy head, And sink thee with them to infernal darkness, Thou teacher of the furies' cruelty! _Car._ O madam, teach yourself a better prayer; This is your latest hour. _Isa._ He is mine enemy, his sight torments me; I shall not die in quiet. _Med._ I'll be gone: off with her head there! [_Exit._ _Isa._ Takest thou delight to torture misery? 150 Such mercy find thou in the day of doom. _Soul._ My lord, here is a holy friar desires To have some conference with the prisoners. _Enter_ ROBERTO, _Count of Cyprus, in friar's weeds._ _Rob._ It is in private, what I have to say, With favour of your fatherhood. _Car._ Friar, in God's name, welcome. [ROBERTO _ascends to_ ISABELLA. _Rob._ Lady, it seems your eye is still the same-- Forgetful of what most it should behold. Do not you know me, then? _Isa._ Holy sir, So far you are gone from my memory, 160 I must take truce with time ere I can know you.