Ern. You mean the beauteous orphan, fair Monimia.
Paul. The same, the daughter of the brave Chamont.
He was our lord's companion in the wars;
Where such a wondrous friendship grew between them
As only death could end. Chamont's estate
Was ruined in our late and civil discords;
Therefore, unable to advance her fortune,
He left his daughter to our master's care,—
To such a care, as she scarce lost a father.
Ern. Her brother to the emperor's wars went early,
To seek a fortune, or a noble fate;
Whence he with honour is expected back,
And mighty marks of that great prince's favour.
Paul. Our master never would permit his sons
To launch for fortune in the uncertain world;
But warns them to avoid both courts and camps,
Where dilatory Fortune plays the jilt
With the brave, noble, honest, gallant man,
To throw herself away on fools and knaves.
Ern. They both have forward, generous, active spirits:
'Tis daily their petition to their father,
To send them forth where glory's to be gotten;
They cry they're weary of their lazy home,
Restless to do some thing that Fame may talk of.
To-day they chased the boar, and near this time
Should be returned.
Paul. Oh, that's a royal sport!
We yet may see the old man in a morning,
Lusty as health, come ruddy to the field,
And there pursue the chase, as if he meant
To o'ertake time, and bring back youth again.
[Exeunt Paulino and Ernesto.
Enter Castalio, Polydore, and Page.
Cast. Polydore, our sport
Has been to-day much better for the danger:
When on the brink the foaming boar I met,
And in his side thought to have lodged my spear,
The desperate savage rushed within my force,
And bore me headlong with him down the rock.
Pol. But then—