Mont.  The more the number, still the greater shame.

Alm.  What if some one should seek immortal fame, By ending of the siege at one brave blow?

Mont.  That were too happy!

Alm.  Yet it may be so.  What if the Spanish general should be slain?

Guy.  Just heavens I hope, does otherwise ordain.

[Aside.

Mont.  If slain by treason, I lament his death.

Enter ORBELLAN, and whispers his sister.

Odm.  Orbellan seems in haste, and out of breath.

Mont.  Orbellan, welcome; you are early here, A bridegroom’s haste does in your looks appear.

[ALMERIA aside to her brother.

Alm.  Betrayed! no, ’twas thy cowardice and fear;
He had not ’scaped with life, had I been there: 
But since so ill you act a brave design,
Keep close your shame;—­fate makes the next turn mine.

Enter ALIBECH and CYDARIA.

Alib.  O sir, if ever pity touched your breast,
Let it be now to your own blood exprest: 
In tears your beauteous daughter drowns her sight,
Silent as dews that fall in dead of night.

Cyd.  To your commands I strict obedience owe,
And my last act of it I come to show: 
I want the heart to die before your eyes,
But grief will finish that which fear denies.

Alm.  Your will should by your father’s precept move.

Cyd.  When he was young, he taught me truth in love.

Alm.  He found more love than he deserved, ’tis true,
And that, it seems, is lucky too to you;
Your father’s folly took a headstrong course,
But I’ll rule yours, and teach you love by force.

Enter Messenger.

Mess.  Arm, arm, O king! the enemy comes on,
A sharp assault already is begun;
Their murdering guns play fiercely on the walls.

Odm.  Now, rival, let us run where honour calls.

Guy.  I have discharged what gratitude did owe, And the brave Spaniard is again my foe.

[Exeunt ODMAR and GUYOMAR.

Mont.  Our walls are high, and multitudes defend:  Their vain attempt must in their ruin end; The nuptials with my presence shall be graced.

Alib.  At least but stay ’till the assault be past.

Alm.  Sister, in vain you urge him to delay, The king has promised, and he shall obey.

Enter second Messenger.

2 Mess.  From several parts the enemy’s repelled, One only quarter to the assault does yield.

Enter third Messenger.

3 Mess.  Some foes are entered, but they are so few, They only death, not victory, pursue.

Orb.  Hark, hark, they shout!  From virtue’s rules I do too meanly swerve, I, by my courage, will your love deserve.