_Des._ But I
That lose my son, what shall console me?

_Ad._ God!
Who comforts us for all things. And oh, thou
Proud foe of mine! _(Turning to Carlo.)_

_Carlo._ Nay, by this name, Adelchi,
Call me no more; I was so, but toward death
Hatred is impious and villainous. Nor such,
Believe me, knows the heart of Carlo.

_Ad._ Friendly
My speech shall be, then, very meek and free
Of every bitter memory to both.
For this I pray thee, and my dying hand
I lay in thine! I do not ask that thou
Should'st let go free so great a captive--no,
For I well see that my prayer were in vain
And vain the prayer of any mortal. Firm
Thy heart is--must be--nor so far extends
Thy pity. That which thou can'st not deny
Without being cruel, that I ask thee! Mild
As it can be, and free of insult, be
This old man's bondage, even such as thou
Would'st have implored for thy father, if the heavens
Had destined thee the sorrow of leaving him
In others' power. His venerable head
Keep thou from every outrage; for against
The fallen many are brave; and let him not