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(_CECCO goes._
FULVIA: Reason, Antonio.
She will but whimper, tell what overmuch Of grief her mistress makes for you: of tears Your sunny coming will dry in her.
ANTONIO (_putting her aside_): These Hours come not of any good, but are Infected with resolved adversity.
This dread!----
FULVIA: They ever dread who have but quit The shadow of some doom and the dismay.
_Re-enter CECCO, with PAULA weeping._
ANTONIO: Girl! girl! Thy mistress?
PAULA (_shrinking_): O!----
ANTONIO: I am no ghost.
Thy mistress?
PAULA: Mary, Mother! (_Sinks praying._)
ANTONIO (_lifting her up_): Look on me. See!
I have not been down in the grave, nor ev'n A moment beyond earth. Do you not hear!
PAULA (_looking at him_): Sir!
ANTONIO: Tell me.
PAULA (_hysterically_): Go to her, O, go to her.
ANTONIO: But, child----?
PAULA: She, O!--go seek her, O, she is----
ANTONIO: Where, Paula?
PAULA: Blind all day she moaned and wept.
ANTONIO: My Helena!
PAULA: And when the sun was gone, Came quiet, kissed me--O, go seek her, sir!
ANTONIO: Kissed you----?
PAULA: Then to me gave these jewels. O!
And darkly cloaked stole out into the night.
CHARLES: Alone?
ANTONIO: Whither, quick, whither?
PAULA: Ah, I do Not know: but she----
ANTONIO: Pray, pray, tell out your dread.
PAULA: Last night she said, "My heart is in my lord Antonio's to beat or cease with it."
I learned her words--they seemed so pretty.
Charles (_gasping_): Ah!
ANTONIO: Why do you gasp?--Paula----
CHARLES: If she--the cliff!
ANTONIO: The cliff! The--?
(_Staggers dizzily, then rushes out._
CHARLES: Let one go with him--bring Us what hath pa.s.sed--hath pa.s.sed.
(_A SOLDIER goes._
PAULA (_with uncontrollable terror_): My lady!
CHARLES: Child, I cannot bear thy voice upon my heart!
It hath a tone--a clutch--no more, no more!
I cannot bear it! We must wait. No hap Has been--no hap, I think--surely no hap.
_Enter BARDAS deprecatingly, followed by ANTONIO._
BARDAS: Antonio! not in the sea? You live?
ANTONIO: I say, where is she?
BARDAS: You are mortal?
ANTONIO (_groaning with impatience_): O This utter superst.i.tion! (_p.r.i.c.king his arm._) Is it not blood?
BARDAS: You live! and live? but let her think your death!
You let her! still devising for yourself Safety and preservation!
ANTONIO: She's not safe?
BARDAS: O, safe--if she had shrift!
CHARLES (_hoa.r.s.ely_): The dead are so!
BARDAS: Ay, so.
ANTONIO: And none above the grave?--no answer?
BARDAS: She came unto the cliff amid her tears-- Her being all into one want was fused, You down the wave to follow.
