Of fortune's gilded minion. I confess
My want of fortitude,—I cannot gaze
On my triumphant rival, all unmoved,
Or view the contrast with a Stoic's eye,
When baffled, beaten, chased by land and sea,
I brought the remnant of my soldiers home,
Mid hisses and disgrace.
Carlotti.
The chance of war,
Disease and famine, want and mutiny,
Were all combined against thee.
Angelo.
Here I swear
By all the sacred attributes of heaven!
By all the much-loved honours I have lost!
What man could do I did, to stem the tide,
Which ran so strong against me:—I had died
Upon the field of war, but that I hoped
Some future period would see me rise
From base defeat to glorious victory;
