_A Voice_. Sir, on the sea no sail!

_One of the Crowd_. But through the town below a horseman spurs--
I think, Count Lucio! Yes--Count Lucio!
He nears, draws rein, dismounts!

_Cesario_. Sure, he brings news.


_Gamba_. I think he brings word the Duke is sick;
his loyal folk have drunk so much of his
health.

[_A murmur has been growing in the town below. It
breaks into cheers as Count Lucio comes springing
up to the terrace._

_Enter Lucio._


_Lucio._ News! Where's the Regent? Eh? is Mass not said?
Cesario, news! I rode across the dunes;
A pilot--Nestore--you know the man--
Came panting. Sixteen sail beyond the point!
That's not a galley lost!

_Crowd._ Long live the Duke!

_Lucio._ Hark to the tocsin! I have carried fire--