I do not thank God often; but I think
I thank him now that I have got no son!
And you, what bastard blood flows in your veins
That when you have your enemy in your grasp
You let him go! I would that I had left you
With the dull hinds that reared you.
Guido
Better perhaps
That you had done so! May be better still
I’d not been born to this distressful world.
Moranzone
Farewell!
Guido
Farewell! Some day, Lord Moranzone,
You will understand my vengeance.
Moranzone
Never, boy.
[Gets out of window and exit by rope ladder.]