SOLDIERS. My lord?
CLOTALDO. Disarm the two,
And their eyes securely bandage,
So that they may not be able
To see whither they are carried.
ROSAURA. This is, sir, my sword; to thee
Only would I wish to hand it,
Since in fine of all the others
Thou art chief, and I could hardly
Yield it unto one less noble.
CLARIN. Mine I'll give the greatest rascal
Of your troop: [To a Soldier.] so take it, you.
ROSAURA. And if I must die, to thank thee
For thy pity, I would leave thee
This as pledge, which has its value
From the owner who once wore it;
That thou guard it well, I charge thee,
For although I do not know
What strange secret it may carry,
This I know, that some great mystery
Lies within this golden scabbard,
Since relying but on it
I to Poland here have travelled
To revenge a wrong.
CLOTALDO [aside.] Just heavens!
What is this? Still graver, darker,
Grow my doubts and my confusion,
My anxieties and my anguish.—
Speak, who gave you this?
ROSAURA. A woman.
CLOTALDO. And her name?
ROSAURA. To that my answer
Must be silence.
CLOTALDO. But from what
Do you now infer, or fancy,
That this sword involves a secret?