ADALBERT. I may not dare ! THE HEAD (whom tone grew* more piteous). Deliver me ! ADALBERT (taking the gold chains oj} him). A Ins, thou poor apostate ! ARMED MAS. Tnke off his crown ! ADALBERT. It seems so dire a weight ! ARMED MAS. Thou necd'st but touch it, and it will be light. ADALBERT («/7er he has taken, off the Crown and thrown it on the ground as he did the chaitis). 'Tis done !— ARMED MAS. Now take off from his brow the heart Of gold ! ADALBERT. Ah me ! it seems to burn. AHMED MAS. Thou err'st, 'Tis colder far than ice. ADALBERT (taking the heart from the forehead). Ah !—freezing cold ! ARMED MAS. The cross take from his back. Throw it on the ground ! ADALBERT. The token of my Saviour's martyrdom ?— THE HEAD. Deliver, oh, deliver me ! 170 THE TEMPLARS IS CYPRUS. [ACT V.