L’Ec. O! blood and fire!—I swear I can’t speak coolly,
By Mars! to you, and only you, I bow.
Ros. Say, shall love’s chain of blossoms hold for ever?
Nor time, nor absence, bid its bloom depart?
L’Ec. Not sword, or gun, such magic links can sever,
Or rend from Rosabelle her hero’s heart.
Both. O! loudly, proudly, &c.
[SCENE III.]—A front wood, stage very dark, thunder and lightning.
Enter Longueville and Bertrand, the latter disguised and masqued.
Long. Come, sir, to your post! what! a coward even to the last? you tremble.