Cly. See with blood
The dagger drops:—my hands—my face—my garment,
All, all are blood. Ah! for a deed like this
What vengeance shall be wreaked? I see already,
Already to my breast that very sword
I see hurled back—and by what hand! I freeze,
I faint, I shudder, I dissolve with horror!
My strength, my utterance fail me. Where am I,
What have I done? Alas!
Egis. Tremendous cries