Sono i colpi della sorte

English Libretto or Translation:

Unulfo
My lord, I must confess, I’m at a loss,
I’m not myself, an know not what to think.
Hope still the best, and lay aside despair,
while thus dejected and alone I go
to seek for comfort, and appease your woe.
Great and cruel are the blows,
fate does to the brave oppose,
yet not mortal, though they’re great,
to brave souls that face their fate.
But when Cupid throws his darts,

he both wise and brave confounds,
when he strikes the noblest hearts
then he deals the deadliest wounds.
Great etc.
Exits