(A great commotion amongst the soldiers; many of them quit their ranks, and croud about him, calling out,)
Our gallant gen'ral!
(Others call out)
We'll spend our heart's blood for thee, noble Basil!
Bas. And so you thought me false? this bites to th' quick!
My soldiers thought me false!
(They all quit their ranks, and croud eagerly around him. Basil waving them off with his hands.)
(Soldiers retire to their ranks.)
'Tis well—retire, and hold yourselves prepar'd
To march upon command; nor meet again
Till you are summon'd by the beat of drum.
Some secret enemy has tamper'd with you,
For yet I will not think that in these ranks,
There moves a man who wears a traitor's heart.
(The soldiers begin to march off, and musick strikes up.)
Basil holding up his hand.) Cease, cease triumphant sounds,
Which our brave fathers, men without reproach,
Rais'd in the hour of triumph; but this hour
To us no glory brings—
Then silent be your march—ere that again
Our steps to glorious strains like these shall move
A day of battle o'er our heads must pass,
