IPPOLITO.
LUCREZIA.
Some voice to tell me!
IPPOLITO.
[To Cristofero.] Call Juanito. [Exit Cristofero.
Sister, if you would learn, the King Don Juan
Has sent the faithful squire whose feet have followed
Your soldier to his grave.
LUCREZIA.
Whose feet have followed,
Among the foreigners....
IPPOLITO.
O Light of Arms!
His wife, his sister will lament for him,
As round the dead Achilles wept Cassandra,
And wept Polyxena,
That in the world none lived redoubtable
As he who everywhere brought peace or war.
He drew his doom as lightnings ever strike
The mountain-heights Acroceraunian,
While lesser mountains stretch along, unflamed.
We leave him to God’s judgment, in the glory
And terror of those strokes.