A TRAGEDY.
289
MARTHON.
His Grecian lute, and pen, and books of grace
Are thrown aside, and the soft letter'd sage
Grasps a rude lance.
ELLA.
PETRONIUS (sternly to Ella).
And now, my Lord,
OTHUS (angrily).
I too, belike, shall trespass on your patience,
If longer I remain. (Exit.
PETRONIUS.
But who could e'er have thought in warlike garb
To see him guis'd? He, too, become a fool!
MARTHON.
His brave devoted brotherhood to join:
This was his errand here.