Blasco.

Excellent.—Manuel was drowned, drowned like a dog. I have seen the captain of the ship that ’scaped. He tells that, putting forth at night, they kept Their course till dawn, when in a fog they drave On the French fleet, some two-and-twenty sail. Of our five vessels three were taken: one, His own, escaped, and the other—that’s the one On which sailed Manuel—by a tall ship, Which flew the admiral’s pennon, was run down, And sunk in sight.

Liv. The news will please my father, As it doth thee. For me ’tis ruin: my hope I might please Margaret working for her brother Is gone. Now will she hate me more than ever.

Bl. You never could have won her while he lived.

Liv. Well, take these papers. There are here the orders For the execution of Palicio To-morrow, in the public square, at noon. See them in proper hands. They need a seal.

Bl. ’Twill be a pleasure. ’Twas the kindest freak, This self-surrender.

Liv. He was strangely dashed, Looking for Manuel, to find me here.

Bl. He’ll find that friend no more.

Liv. Take them and go. And for the present, count, avoid the duke: He is angry with thee. [Exit Blasco.

I shall not leave this house Till I be sure Margaret means not to come. The unkindest tempers are broke down by grief: And since she cannot blame me, she may find Comfort in my compassion,—ay, and thank me For some consideration.—She will see I have put on black, and set the house in mourning, Have ordered mass, have had his room shut up ... Is there now nothing more? Why, who is this?

Enter Margaret, throwing off a veil.