The Count of Narbonne - Robert Jephson - Bog

A Hall. Enter the Count, speaking to an Officer; Fabian following. Count. Not to be found! is this your faithful service? How could she pass unseen? By hell, 'tis false! Thou hast betray'd me. Offi. Noble sir! my duty-- Count. Your fraud, your negligence-away, reply not. Find her within this hour; else, by my life, The gates of Narbonne shall be clos'd against thee; Then make the world thy country. [Exit Officer. Fabian, stay! Misfortunes fall so thick upon my head, They will not give me time to think-to breathe. Fab. Heaven knows, I wish your peace; but am to learn, What grief more fresh than my young lord's decease, A sorrow but of three days past, can move you. Count. O bitter memory! gone, gone for ever! The pillar of my house, my only son!