Aust. Ha! at Tunis?

  Seiz'd with thy mother? Lives she, gentle youth?

 Theod. Ah, no, dear saint! fate ended soon her woes,

  In pity, ended! On her dying couch,

  She pray'd for blessings on me.

 Aust. Be thou blessed!

  O fail not, nature, but support this conflict!

  'Tis not delusion, sure. It must be he.—

  But one thing more; did she not tell thee too,

  Thy wretched father's name?

 Theod. The lord of Clarinsal.

  Why dost thou look so eagerly upon me?

  If yet he lives, and thou know'st Clarinsal,

  Tell him my tale.

 Aust. Mysterious Providence!

 Count. What's this? the old man trembles and turns pale.  [Aside.

[Aside.

 Theod. He will not let his offspring's timeless ghost

  Walk unappeas'd; but on this cruel head

  Exact full vengeance for his slaughter'd son.

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