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Our gallant gen'ral! (Others call out) We'll spend our heart's blood for thee, noble Basil!

Bas. And so you thought me false? this bites to th' quick! My soldiers thought me false! Away, away, you have disgusted me. (Soldiers retire to their ranks.) 'Tis well—retire, and hold yourselves prepar'd To march upon command; nor meet again Till you are summon'd by the beat of drum. Some secret enemy has tamper'd with you, For yet I will not think that in these ranks, There moves a man who wears a traitor's heart.

Basil holding up his hand.) Cease, cease triumphant sounds, Which our brave fathers, men without reproach, Rais'd in the hour of triumph; but this hour To us no glory brings— Then silent be your march—ere that again Our steps to glorious strains like these shall move A day of battle o'er our heads must pass,