Why make my hope of bliss a heartless jest!
Oh, Heaven grant the ills I know ne'er be
Such as to tempt my heart to bitter thoughts of thee.
(There are several blanks in this speech, which will account for the want of a proper continuity.
An' this be thy revenge for that ill-fated blow
Which slew Otavio Castelvin. Why not, my love,
Have stabb'd me to the heart? oh! Julia sweet,
Such had been gentle mercy, oh forgive,
Thou shalt not wed Count Paris while I live.
Marin. Oh, pray be silent, for 'tis but silly fools
Who for revenge use lip and tongue as tools.
Roselo. How have revenge in deeds?
Marin. I'll tell thee, when we're safely housed
Beyond Ferrara's gates.
Roselo. How?
Marin. By seeking there new wives.
Roselo. To thee such may some solace bring.
Marin. Here there is danger; come.
Roselo. Ungrateful Julia!—can it be the curse of love
To strike the stricken?—Come, onward move.
