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In every victory thy arms achieve,
Be it o'er foreign, yea, or kindred foe,
Greet thee right heartily.

RASINGA.

I thank you, lady.

MONTEBESA.

But that my pride in thee may be unmix'd

With any sense of aught to taint thy glory,
Grant me a boon that will enhance thy triumph,
And make me say, with full, elated heart,
Rasinga is my son.

RASINGA.

Name it; whatever a man may grant is thine.

MONTEBESA.

The life of Samarkoon; that is my boon.

RASINGA.

The life of Samarkoon! then thou dost ask

The foul disgrace and ruin of thy son.

MONTEBESA.

Not so; for thine own peace and future weal,

I do adjure thee to be merciful.

RASINGA.

And would'st thou see the son whom thou didst bear

An unrevenged, despised, derided man?
And have I got from thee and my brave sire