TORELLI.
She never drank! Thou hast her pure as when
She kissed thy lips last night!
BERTUCCIO.
Oh, bless you, bless you!
She lives—lives—lives! Leave us to pray together.
TORELLI (to Francesca).
Madame, you are our prisoner: the Duke
Lies foully murdered.
FRANCESCA.
Ha! what call you "foully"?
Who but myself can estimate my wrongs?
For those who stand, like him, past reach of justice,
Vengeance takes Justice's sharp sword.
BERTUCCIO.
No, no!
Vengeance is hellish! Justice is from heaven!
Look, Guido Malatesta, I am he
Whose wife, long years ago, you stole from him:
I am Antonio Bordiga!
MALATESTA.
You?
BERTUCCIO.
I thirsted for revenge; for that I wrought
Upon the Duke to carry off your wife,—
Your innocent Ginevra. Seeking that,
See to what verge of terrible disaster
I've brought my own dear daughter!—seeking that,
I've compassed the Duke's death, whose blood must lie
Still on my head!
