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One of our noble house should scorn such rise; Ancestral is our hatred, dark with time! And seal'd on either side with blood. To-day Cannot undo the work of many years.

Where are the well-laid schemes of yesterday?

Lost by your own weak fears: he should have died. Castruccio's only prison is the grave!

But still to slay him—coming as my guest In my own halls—

The strong may choose their time, The weak take opportunity to strike.

I cannot—dare not.

Dare not, is the word; I'll dare for both. Now listen, uncle mine; Bianca is my own betrothed bride! Castruccio shall not wed her; that alone Were cause enough to float these halls with blood: He is our house's ancient enemy, And, but for him, no citizen would dare Raise hand against the nobles; he must die!

But yet some fitter time.

The hour for action is the present hour!