Ros. (Hanging over him with pity and affection.)
Alas! my friend!
Bas. In all her lovely grace she disappear'd,
Ah! little thought I never to return.
Ros. Why so desponding? think of warlike glory.
The fields of fair renown are still before thee;
Who would not burn such noble fame to earn?
Bas. What now are arms, or fair renown to me?
Strive for it those who will—and yet a while
Welcome rough war, with all thy scenes of blood,
(Starting from his seat,)
Thy roaring thunders, and thy clashing steel,
Welcome once more! what have I now to do
But play the brave man o'er again, and die?
Enter Isabella.
Isab. to Bas. My princess bids me greet you, noble count.
Bas. (starting.) What dost thou say?
Ros.D—n this untimely message!
Isab. The princess bids me greet you, noble count;
In the cool grove, hard by the southern gate,
She with her train—
Bas.What, she indeed herself?
Isab. Herself, my lord, and she requests to see you.
Bas. Thank heav'n for this; I will be there
