Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 1.pdf/189

Rh

2d Sol. And when that sounds it will not wake a braver.

3d Sol. How pleasantly he shar'd our hardest toil; Our coarsest food the daintiest fare he made.

4th Sol. Ay, many a time i'the cold damp plains has he With cheerful count'nance cried, good rest my hearts! Then wrapp'd him in his cloak, and laid him down E'en like the meanest soldier in the field.

Valt. This is too sad, my lord.

Ros. There, seest thou how he lies? so fix'd, so pale? Ah! what an end is this! thus lost! thus fall'n! To be thus taken in his middle course, Where he so nobly strove; till cursed passion Came like a sun-stroke on his mid-day toil, And cut the strong man down. O Basil! Basil!

Valt. Forbear, my friend, we must not sorrow here.

Ros. He was the younger brother of my soul.

Valt. Indeed, my lord, it is too sad a sight. Time calls us, let the body be remov'd.

Ros. He was—O! he was like no other man!

''Valt. (Still endeavouring to draw him away.)'' Nay now forbear.

Ros.I lov'd him from his birth!