For greatness ever has its summer friends,
Who, at the fall and winter of its glory,
Fly off like swallows—thou'lt betray me.
Gondi. Never.
Wrong me not in your thoughts, beseech you, madam;
For I will serve you truly;—truly guard
Your royal son.—He is but half a subject,
Who, in the zeal, and duty, for his monarch,
Feels not his breast glow for his prince's welfare.
And, in the moment when the time's rough trial