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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