Belisanta.
He thinks his sister guilty. Was I not banished by my husband the Emperor of Greece, fatally wrought on by traiterous slander, when, you, alone, accompanied a weak, defenceless woman?
Blandiman.
Never shall I forget when, wearied with anguish and fatigue, you sat beneath a blasted oak; the wind with mournful sound scattered the falling leaves—meanwhile your groans were echoed by the distant murmur of nightly prowling wolves.
Belisanta.
When, at my request you left me, in the hope of finding human aid, two babes, the offspring of my unkind husband, first saw the light. Starting with agony, these eyes beheld one of my children in the savage gripe of a most hideous bear. One desperate effort, short as furious, impelled me to attempt pursuit. I fell, and knew no more of sense, till from a peasant's wife I learned that she had found and borne me to her humble dwelling.
Blandiman.
I wandered far, till the sound of horns led me to where I met the king, who with a frown at hearing of your name, on pain of death, warned me to leave his presence.
Belisanta.