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Rich in the dear good-will of gen'rous minds, But poor in kingly allies. One thou'lt see, Whose manly faculties, beset with gifts Of gentler grace, and soft domestic habits, And kindliest feelings, have within him grown Like a young forest-tree, beset and 'tangled, And almost hid with sweet incumb'ring shrubs; That, till the rude blast rends this clust'ring robe, Its goodly hardy stem to the fair light Discovers not.—Hark! now they come. (Flourish of trumpets.) Stand thou secure, and see whate'er thou wilt. (Calling to some people off the stage.) Ho! you without! move there with more dispatch. (Several domestics again cross the stage as before.)

See, yonder come the brave imperial friends, If right I guess. They bear a noble mien. And who is he who foremost walks with steps Of gravely-measur'd length, and heavy eyes Fix'd on the ground?(Pointing off the stage.)

That is Justiniani; a brave soldier, Who doth o' tiptoe walk, with jealous care, Upon the very point and highest ridge Of honour's path, demure and circumspect, Like nicest maid, proud of her spotless fame; A steady, cheerless friend.