But yet mine all.—Oh! he hath still to run
A long bright race of glory.
Rai. Constance, peace!
I look upon thee, and my failing heart
Is as a broken reed.
Con. (still addressing Procida.) Oh, yet relent!
If 'twas his crime to rescue me, behold
I come to be the atonement! Let him live
To crown thine age with honour.—In thy heart
There 's a deep conflict; but great nature pleads
With an o'ermastering voice, and thou wilt yield!
—Thou art his father!
Pro. (after a pause.) Maiden, thou 'rt deceived!
I am as calm as that dead pause of nature
Ere the full thunder bursts.—A judge is not
Father or friend. Who calls this man my son?
—My son!—Ay! thus his mother proudly smiled—
But she was noble!—Traitors stand alone,
Loosed from all ties.—Why should I trifle thus?
—Bear her away!
Rai. (starting forward.) And whither?
Mon. Unto death.
Why should she live when all her race have perish'd?
Con. (sinking into the arms of Raimond.)
Raimond, farewell!—Oh! when thy star hath risen
To its bright noon, forget not, best beloved,
I died for thee!
Rai. High heaven! thou seest these things;
And yet endur'st them!—Shalt thou die for me,
Purest and loveliest being?—but our fate
