(Worthy a monarch's envy) or to meet him,

   And try my right by arms. But pr'ythee tell,

   (Nor let a fear to wound thy master's pride

   Restrain thy licens'd speech) hast thou e'er heard

   My father Raymond——(cast not down thine eye)

   By any indirect or bloody means,

   Procur'd that instrument, Alphonso's will,

   That made him heir to Narbonne?

 Fab. My best lord,

   At all times would I fain withhold from you,

   Intelligence unwelcome, but most now.

   At seasons such as this, a friendly tongue

   Should utter words like balm; but what you ask—

 Count. I ask, to be inform'd of. Hast thou known me

   From childhood, up to man, and canst thou fear

   I am so weak of soul, like a thin reed,

   To bend and stagger at such puny blast?

   No; when the tempest rages round my head,

   I give my branches wider to the air,

   And strike my root more deeply.—To thy tale:

 Prev. P 7/106 next