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So like a seraph's, stricken to the dust,
Could I receive my punishment alone
And leave thee happy, I could bear my fate
With decent fortitude—but thus, oh thus,—
My spirit sinks subdued.
Enter the Jailer.
Veronica.
Sforza, he comes!—Thou horrid minister
Of cruel laws, for once be merciful,
And kill me in these arms. Nay, nay, in vain
You strive to separate us, he is mine—
I will not leave him, will not quit my grasp
Till my hewed limbs are severed from their trunk.
In death's convulsive agonies I'll fold ⠀
My loved Geraldi in my strong embrace.
Geraldi.
Dead! is my Veronica dead? Oh, no,
That blessing is denied her. Must I leave
Upon the cold earth that pale lifeless form?
She'll wake and find me gone. Beseech ye, sirs,
