Far. To it roundly,
Now to the harvest feast: then sport again boyes. [Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Silvio, arm'd.
Sil. What shall I do? live thus unknown, and base still?
Or thrust my self into the head o' th' Battel?
And there like that I am, a Gentleman,
And one that never fear'd the face of danger,
(So in her angry eyes s[h]e carried honor)
Fight nobly, and (to end my cares) die nobly?
Song within.
Silvio go on, and raise thy noble mind
To noble ends; fling course base thoughts behind:
Silvio, thou Son of everliving fame,
Now aim at virtue, and a Noble Name.
Silvio consider, Honor is not won,
Nor virtue reach'd, till some brave thing be done:
Thy Countrey calls thee now; she burns, and bleeds,
Now raise thy self, young man, to noble deeds.
Into the battel Silvio, there seek forth
Danger, and blood, by them stands sacred worth.
What heavenly voice is this that follows me?
This is the second time 't has waited on me,
Since I was arm'd, and ready for the battel;
It names me often, steels my heart with courage.
Enter Belvidere deformed.
And in a thousand sweet notes comforts me;
What Beldam's this? how old she is, and ugly,
Why does she follow me?
Bel. Be not dismaid Son,
I wait upon thee for thy good, and honor,
'Twas I that now sung to thee, stirr'd thy mind up,
And rais'd thy spirits to the pitch of nobleness.