He’s safe, my Lord.
[They hold him, disarmed.
Lucia
(Held.) Paulo, my Paulo! (Moans.) Oh, that I were dead, to have done this thing!
Paulo
(Firmly.) My soul stands by yours. I know you true. Fear nothing!
Medici
(Quietly.) Signor Salviati, I regret that my sense of duty—my deep desire that you shall achieve your greatest—force me to this unpleasant remedy. But poverty is not helpful to your work, and I must—as patron of unreasonable genius—protect your art and yourself. I offer, therefore, the best help in my power. If you accept—then I need take nothing (glancing at Lucia) from your store of beauty.
Paulo