[Kisses the tips of his fingers.]

A rivederci, as the Italian saith. [Goes out, U.E.R.]

Flor. The hands of yonder clock do pierce my heart
Like daggers till he comes.  O God! forgive me,
Let me but know him safe, and die of joy,
Ere I have time to think upon the rest.

Enter ELIZABETH, L., as if just risen.  At the same time, WILLIAM and the HOST, accompanied by a Guard, pass by, from L. to U.E.R.

Will. This way, this way!

Eliz. Do you not hear the hollow bell still tolling?  Hark!

Flor. There is no sound now—­

Eliz. If my father said
He should not die, it was to comfort me;
Do not believe them, if they tell you so. 
Give me your arm unto the scaffold, girl.

[Florence hesitates.]

Jealous?—­Is this a time?—­What!—­

[Two or three Attendants come in.]

Then I’ll go
Alone—­ [She takes one of her Attendants by the arm.]

Flor. Nay, dear Elizabeth! his life Is sav’d—­

Eliz. Believe them not; wilt thou not come?  Nay, then! [Exit with Ladies, U.E.R.]

Flor. What means her passion?  He comes not! 
My heart grows chill—­
Would I might follow her. 
I promis’d not.  Did I not see the pardon. 
O, this is dreadful!

Re-enter BASIL, U.E.R.

Distant shouting is heard.

Basil. Hear you there?  He lives!

Flor. [Falls on her knees.] O Heaven!  I thank thy gracious mercy.

Basil. Now!  Remember thou art pledged to be my bride.

Flor. Have I then sav’d his life, to torture him With base destruction of the thing he loves?

Basil. Give me thine hand.

Flor. No! no!  There is a portal
By which the trembling victim may escape
From thy fierce tiger gripe—­There is a way
Unto the weak, and though a giant grasp,
He shall but seize with eager cruel hand
The white reflection other fluttering robe,
Leaving her pure and undefil’d to Heaven—­
Angels have whisper’d it to me—­

Basil. Forsworn?—­

Flor. Nay! traitor to thy God and king!  My hand I’ve pledg’d thee ere a short month have elaps’d, And thou shalt claim it then, if then thou wilt.

Basil. What mean’st thou, maiden?  There is a strange light
In the sweet lustre of thy thrilling eye,
There is a bright spot on thy velvet cheek;
Thy throat of arched fall is now thrown back,
As one had check’d a white Arabian steed;
Thy nostril wide dilates, Sibylline, grand;
Thy moist and crimson lip tempts wildly—­come! 
For thou art beautiful, and thy light step
Shall on the hills be glorious, when thou’rt given
A help-mate unto Israel—­