Thy glory's dearer
Than life to me.
V:3:22 ALAR.
I knew it, I knew it.
Thou shalt share all; thy alien blood shall be
No bar to thy preferment. Hast thou brothers?
I'll send for them. An aged sire, perchance?
Here's gold for him. Count it thyself. Contrive
All means of self-enjoyment. To the full
They shall lap up fruition. Thou hast, all have,
Some master wish which still eludes thy grasp,
And still's the secret idol of thy soul;
'Tis gained. And only if thou dost, good Oran,
What love and duty prompt.
V:3:23 ORAN.
Count on my faith,
I stand prepared to prove it.
V:3:24 ALAR.
Good, good, Oran.
It is an hour to midnight?
V:3:25 ORAN.
The moon is not
Within her midnight bower, yet near.
V:3:26 ALAR.
So late!
The Countess sleeps?
V:3:27 ORAN.
She has long retired.
V:3:28 ALAR.
She sleeps,
O, she must wake no more!
V:3:29 ORAN.
Thy wife!
V:3:30 ALAR.
It must
Be done, ere yet the Castle chime shall tell
Night wanes.
V:3:31 ORAN.
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