And may it win us some more kindliness
Than we have met with yet.

CLO (examining the sword).
More mystery!
How came you by this weapon?

ROS.
From my father.

CLO.
And do you know whence he?

ROS.
Oh, very well:
From one of this same Polish realm of yours,
Who promised a return, should come the chance,
Of courtesies that he received himself
In Muscovy, and left this pledge of it--
Not likely yet, it seems, to be redeem'd.

CLO (aside).
Oh, wondrous chance--or wondrous Providence!
The sword that I myself in Muscovy,
When these white hairs were black, for keepsake left
Of obligation for a like return
To him who saved me wounded as I lay
Fighting against his country; took me home;
Tended me like a brother till recover'd,
Perchance to fight against him once again