And, but the martial out-burst that proclaims
His coming, makes all further parley vain,
Unless my bosom, by which only wise
I prophesy, now wrongly prophesies,
By such a happy compact as I dare
But glance at till the Royal Sage declare.
Trumpets, etc. Enter King Basilio with his Council.
All. The King! God save the King!
Estrella. Astolfo. | } (Kneeling) | Oh, Royal Sir!— God save your Majesty!— |
King. Rise, both of you,