Page:Oriental Sketches Dramatic Sketches and Tales.pdf/152

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143

Sforza.

                                              Husband?
Thy husband, Princess Isabel? No, no.
There stands his guilty wretched paramour.

Julian.

    Fly, Sforza, I am dying; thy rash hand
Has slain thy truest friend. My Isabel,
Forgive him; life is ebbing fast.——My wife,
Live for the sake of our unhappy child.
Clasp me again within thy sweet embrace;
I die, my Isabel! These rigid arms
Cannot return thy pressure. Bless thee, Heaven!
Where is Geraldi Sforza? There were words
Still keener than thy sword; my dying breath
Proclaims my unstained friendship.——Seek in flight
Thy safety.——Wipe these heavy damps, my love,
From off my brow. Oh, even thy fragrant breath
Oppresses me. My last, last prayers are―― [Dies.

Isabel.

                                                        Wretch!
Complete thy work; bury within my breast
Thy fatal sword.