Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/309

Rh

Yes, he is now a valiant soldier grown: His Grecian lute, and pen, and books of grace Are thrown aside, and the soft letter'd sage Grasps a rude lance.

Nay, mock him not, for it is nobly done.

Art thou still here? (Exit Ella abashed and chidden. And now, my Lord,(Turning to Othus).

And now, my Lord, good evening: I too, belike, shall trespass on your patience, If longer I remain. (Exit.

Well, let him go, it suits our purpose better. But who could e'er have thought in warlike garb To see him guis'd? He, too, become a fool!

He thought, as well I guess, to move me also His brave devoted brotherhood to join: This was his errand here.