Lyndar. Methinks it is a noble, sprightly sound,
The trumpet’s clangor, and the clash of arms! 
This noise may chill your blood, but mine it warms.
                            [Shouting and clashing of swords within.
We have already passed the Rubicon;
The dice are mine; now, fortune, for a throne!
                   [A shout within, and clashing of swords afar off.
The sound goes farther off, and faintly dies;
Curse of this going back, these ebbing cries! 
Ye winds, waft hither sounds more strong and quick;
Beat faster, drums, and mingle deaths more thick. 
I’ll to the turrets of the palace go,
And add new fire to those that fight below: 
Thence, hero-like, with torches by my side,
(Far be the omen, though) my love will guide. 
No; like his better fortune I’ll appear,
With open arms, loose veil, and flowing hair,
Just flying forward from my rolling sphere: 
My smiles shall make Abdalla more than man;
Let him look up, and perish if he can. [Exit.

  An alarum nearer:  Then Enter ALMANZOR and SELIN, at the head of
  the Zegrys; OZMYN Prisoner.

Almanz. We have not fought enough; they fly too soon;
And I am grieved the noble sport is done. 
This only man, of all whom chance did bring [Pointing to OZMYN. 
To meet my arms, was worth the conquering. 
His brave resistance did my fortune grace;
So slow, so threatning forward he gave place. 
His chains be easy, and his usage fair.

Selin. I beg you would commit him to my care.

Almanz. Next, the brave Spaniard free without delay; And with a convoy send him safe away. [Exit a Guard.

To them HAMET and others.

Hamet. The king by me salutes you; and, to show That to your valour he his crown does owe, Would from your mouth I should the word receive, And that to these you would your orders give.

Almanz. He much o’er-rates the little I have done.
              [ALMANZOR goes to the door, and there seems to give out
               orders, by sending people several ways.

Selin to Ozmyn. Now, to revenge the murder of my son, To morrow for thy certain death prepare; This night I only leave thee to despair.

Ozmyn. Thy idle menaces I do not fear: 
My business was to die or conquer here. 
Sister, for you I grieve I could no more: 
My present state betrays my want of power;
But, when true courage is of force bereft,
Patience, the only fortitude, is left. [Exit with SELIN.

Almah. Ah, Esperanza, what for me remains But death, or, worse than death, inglorious chains!

Esper. Madam, you must not to despair give place;
Heaven never meant misfortune to that face. 
Suppose there were no justice in your cause,
Beauty’s a bribe that gives her judges laws. 
That you are brought to this deplored estate,
Is but the ingenious flattery of your fate;
Fate fears her succour, like an alms, to give;
And would you, God-like, from yourself should live.