Page:Castelvines y Monteses Translated.pdf/68

Rh Teobaldo. Is his wound mortal?

Antonio. Yes.

Roselo. Fly, my father, fly.

Antonio. Castelvines here!

Teobaldo. Son—!

Otavio. Confession!

Antonio. He murmurs for confession.

Teobaldo. Oh, misery! oh, woe!

Antonio. Quick, bear him within the church, Ere his soul doth wing itself above.

Teobaldo. And I the cause of all this woe.

Fesenio. Teobaldo 'mid this sullen calm hath raised This sad and senseless storm, The fatal error then was his. Let him hope pardon for the wrong, I saw Roselo did but in due defence of honour draw.

Duke. Not one in fault shall 'scape alive.

Captain. Of this event Teobaldo Castelvin alone Doth bear all blame.

Duke. And the wounded, count they for much?

Captain. Many of each rival house.

Duke. Who slain?