But, mad or not, my hour is come, and I
     Will have my reckoning—­Either you lie,
     Under the skirt of sinless majesty
     Shrouding your treason; or if that indeed,
     Guilty itself, take refuge in the stars
     That cannot hear the charge, or disavow—­
     You, whether doer or deviser, who
     Come first to hand, shall pay the penalty
     By the same hand you owe it to—­
     (Seizing Clotaldo’s sword and about to strike him.)

     (Enter Rosaura suddenly.)

     Rosaura. 
     Fie, my Lord—­forbear,
     What! a young hand raised against silver hair!—­

     (She retreats through the crowd.)

     Seg. 
     Stay! stay!  What come and vanish’d as before—­
     I scarce remember how—­but—­

     (Voices within.  Room for Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy!)

     (Enter Astolfo)

     Astolfo. 
     Welcome, thrice welcome, the auspicious day,
     When from the mountain where he darkling lay,
     The Polish sun into the firmament
     Sprung all the brighter for his late ascent,
     And in meridian glory—­

     Seg. 
     Where is he? 
     Why must I ask this twice?—­

     A lord. 
     The Page, my Lord? 
     I wonder at his boldness—­

     Seg. 
     But I tell you
     He came with Angel written in his face
     As now it is, when all was black as hell
     About, and none of you who now—­he came,
     And Angel-like flung me a shining sword
     To cut my way through darkness; and again
     Angel-like wrests it from me in behalf
     Of one—­whom I will spare for sparing him: 
     But he must come and plead with that same voice
     That pray’d for me—­in vain.

     CHAMB. 
     He is gone for,
     And shall attend your pleasure, sir.  Meanwhile,
     Will not your Highness, as in courtesy,
     Return your royal cousin’s greeting?

     Seg. 
     Whose?

     CHAMB. 
     Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy, my Lord,
     Saluted, and with gallant compliment
     Welcomed you to your royal title.

     Seg. (to Astolfo). 
     Oh—­
     You knew of this then?

     Ast.
     Knew of what, my Lord?

     Seg. 
     That I was Prince of Poland all the while,
     And you my subject?

     Ast.
     Pardon me, my Lord,
     But some few hours ago myself I learn’d
     Your dignity; but, knowing it, no more
     Than when I knew it not, your subject.

     Seg. 
     What then?

     Ast.
     Your Highness’ chamberlain ev’n now has told you;
     Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy,
     Your father’s sister’s son; your cousin, sir: 
     And who as such, and in his own right Prince,
     Expects from you the courtesy he shows.