Rouse and restore him to his royal right,
From which no royal wrong shall drive him more.
(They all kneel round his bed: trumpets, drums, etc.)
Soldiers.
Segismund! Segismund! Prince Segismund!
King Segismund! Down with Basilio!
Down with Astolfo! Segismund our King! etc.
Soldier 1. He stares upon us wildly. He cannot speak.
Soldier 2. I said so—driv’n him mad.
Soldier 3. Speak to him, Captain.