Fla. O, Pascentius! O, my brother!
Pas. Fear naught, he shall not harm thee, gentle Flavia.
(To Horsus.) Insolent, presumptuous slave! what wouldst thou?
Hor. I’ll make thee dearly answer for thy rashness.
[They fight, and Horsus falls.
Oh! I am wounded! speak, what is thy name?
But thou art brave, and I forgive thee this:
Good youth, approach, I fain would tell thee something:
But O! I’m faint, death’s cold and heavy hand
Doth rest like ice upon my parting soul.