To conquer Pisa was sheer inspiration?
Well then, to perish for a single fault,
Let that be simple justice! There, my Lapo!
A Moorish front ill suits our Duomo's body:
Blot it out—and bid Luria's sentence come!
(Luria, who, with Domizia, has entered unobserved
at the close of the last phrase, now advances.)
Luria. And Luria, Luria, what of Luria now?
Brac. Ah, you so close, sir? Lady Domizia too?
I said it needs must be a busy moment
For one like you; that you were now i' the thick