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. [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! Came of no scratch! Lucetta. Loosen her bodice— Duke. Blood? Why blood? Where's blood? Why blood? Where's blood? (Stares as the mantle is imclasped and falls open). Ah, my God! Ah, my God! Lucetta. Murder! murder! The Countess Fulvia—
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