Securing thus to his fair daughter's issue,

   All that now hangs on the sword's doubtful point.

 Enter Officer. 

Officer

  Now, what tidings?

  Where is the lady?

 Offi. We have search'd in vain

  The castle round; left not an aisle, or vault,

  Unvisited.

 Count. Damnation!

 Offi. Near the cloister,

  From whence, by the flat door's descent, a passage

  Beneath the ground leads onward to the convent,

  We heard the echo of a falling weight,

  And sought it by the sound.

 Count. Well, and what then?

 Offi. The unsettled dust left us no room to doubt

  The door had just been rais'd.

 Count. She has escap'd,

  And by confed'racy: to force that bar,

 Prev. P 11/106 next