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It cuts you off from old companionship, It needeth iron heart and iron eye, For its resolves are terrible, when life Waits on your word, and when you know one breath— One little breath—takes what it cannot give! I yield the Count Arrezi to the axe, But have no word that could recall the blow!

His doom is just!

And needful; vain, indeed, my present mood— Power must submit to its dark comrade—death!

A lady craves a moment's speech, my lord.

Let her approach: leave us awhile, Cesario. [Exeunt. I know the step:—(Enter )—my sweet lady here, What would she ask?

What thou hast once denied, A pardon for Arrezi.

Let me entreat thy silence—grieve me not With useless prayers I may not—dare not grant; Thy hand is cold—your lip is white—sweet love, For my sake, wear not such wild wretchedness.

You cannot dream what misery brings me to you;