(Enter Astolfo)

ASTOLFO.
Welcome, thrice welcome, the auspicious day,
When from the mountain where he darkling lay,
The Polish sun into the firmament
Sprung all the brighter for his late ascent,
And in meridian glory--

SEG.
Where is he?
Why must I ask this twice?--

A LORD.
The Page, my Lord?
I wonder at his boldness--

SEG.
But I tell you
He came with Angel written in his face
As now it is, when all was black as hell
About, and none of you who now--he came,
And Angel-like flung me a shining sword
To cut my way through darkness; and again
Angel-like wrests it from me in behalf
Of one--whom I will spare for sparing him:
But he must come and plead with that same voice
That pray'd for me--in vain.