Give me your hand; and whether all awake
Or all a-dreaming, ride, Clotaldo, ride—
Dream-swift—for fear we dreams should overtake.
(A Battle may be supposed to take place; after which)
Scene II.—A wooded pass near the field of battle; drums, trumpets, firing, etc. Cries of ‘God save Basilio! Segismund,’ etc.
Enter Fife, running.
Fife. God save them both, and save them all! say I!—
Oh—what hot work!—Whichever way one turns
The whistling bullet at one’s ears—I’ve drifted
Far from my mad young—master—whom I saw