Duke. There’s my blessing, boy! 
But stand aside.  Look in my face, Ottilia—­
Hearken me, all!  One thing these seven years
My life hath lacked, which wanting, all your cannon,
Your banners, vivas, bells that rock the roofs,
Throng’d windows, craning faces—­all—­all—­all
Were phantasms, were noise.—­

Lucio (exclaims).  Why look, here’s blood!  Here, on the boy’s hand!

Regent. Ay! a scratch, no worse, Here, when I pinned my robe.

Duke (continuing).  Nay, friends, this moment
My Duchy her dear hand restores to me
To me’s a dream.  More buoyant would I tread
Dumb street, deserted square, climb ruin’d wall,
Where in a heap beneath a broken flag
Lay Adria.—­
So that amid the ruins stood my love
And stretched her hands so faintly—­stretched her hands
So faintly.  See!  She’s mine!  She lifts them—­

Regent (totters and falls into his arms with a tired, happy laugh, which ends in a cry as his arms enfold her).  Ah!

[She faints.

Duke. (after a moment, releasing her a little).  What’s here?  Ottilia!

Lucetta. My mistress swoons!

A Courtier. ’Tis happiness—­

Duke. Fetch water!

Lucio. Nay this blood—­
    Came of no scratch!

Lucetta. Loosen her bodice—­

Duke. Blood? 
    Why blood?  Where’s blood?

(Stares as the mantle is imclasped and falls open). 
                                     Ah, my God!

Lucetta. Murder! murder!  The Countess Fulvia—­

Cesario. Speak!

Lucetta. There—­while she knelt—­ Stabbed her, and fled.

Cesario. Which way?

[Lucetta points to the stairs.  He dashes off in pursuit.

Duke. All-seeing God!  Where were thine eyes, or else thy justice?  Dead?  O, never dead!

Lucio. Ay, Duke, push God aside,
As I push thee.  I have the better right: 
I killed her—­I.  O never pass, sweet soul,
Till thou hast drunk a shudder of this wretch,
Thy brother, playmate, murderer!

Duke. Wine! bring wine—­

Regent (as the wine is brought and revives her).  Flower, he will crush thee—­but the bliss, the bliss!  I swim in bliss.  What ...  Lucio?  Where’s my lord?  Dear, bring him:  he was here awhile and held me.  Say he must hold, or the light air will lift And bear me quite away.

[Re-enter Cesario.  In one hand he carries his sword, in the other a dagger.

Lucio. Cesario!  What!  Is that devil escaped?  To think—­to think I drank her kisses!—­What?  Where is she?

Cesario. Dead.  I raised the cry:  the people pointed after; Ran with me, ravening.  Just this side the bridge She heard our howl and turned—­drew back the dagger Red with our lady’s blood, then drove it home Clean to her own black heart.