Part 57 (2/2)

Filippo! will you take the word out of your master's own mouth?

FILIPPO.

Was it there to take? Put it there, my lord.

COUNT.

Giovanna, my dear lady, in this same battle We had been beaten--they were ten to one.

The trumpets of the fight had echo'd down, I and Filippo here had done our best, And, having pa.s.sed unwounded from the field, Were seated sadly at a fountain side, Our horses grazing by us, when a troop, Laden with booty and with a flag of ours Ta'en in the fight----

FILIPPO.

Ay, but we fought for it back, And kill'd----

ELISABETTA.

Filippo!

COUNT.

A troop of horse----

FILIPPO.

Five hundred!

COUNT.

Say fifty!

FILIPPO.

And we kill'd 'em by the score!

ELISABETTA.

Filippo!

FILIPPO.

Well, well, well! I bite my tongue.

COUNT.

We may have left their fifty less by five.

However, staying not to count how many, But anger'd at their flaunting of our flag, We mounted, and we dash'd into the heart of 'em.

I wore the lady's chaplet round my neck; It served me for a blessed rosary.

I am sure that more than one brave fellow owed His death to the charm in it.

ELISABETTA.

Hear that, my lady!

COUNT.

I cannot tell how long we strove before Our horses fell beneath us; down we went Crush'd, hack'd at, trampled underfoot. The night, As some cold-manner'd friend may strangely do us The truest service, had a touch of frost That help'd to check the flowing of the blood.

My last sight ere I swoon'd was one sweet face Crown'd with the wreath. _That_ seem'd to come and go.

They left us there for dead!

ELISABETTA.

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