Fife. 
     There, his word’s enough for it.

     Seg. 
     Oh, think, if you who move about at will,
     And live in sweet communion with your kind,
     After an hour lost in these lonely rocks
     Hunger and thirst after some human voice
     To drink, and human face to feed upon;
     What must one do where all is mute, or harsh,
     And ev’n the naked face of cruelty
     Were better than the mask it works beneath?—­
     Across the mountain then!  Across the mountain! 
     What if the next world which they tell one of
     Be only next across the mountain then,
     Though I must never see it till I die,
     And you one of its angels?

     Ros. 
     Alas; alas! 
     No angel!  And the face you think so fair,
     ’Tis but the dismal frame-work of these rocks
     That makes it seem so; and the world I come from—­
     Alas, alas, too many faces there
     Are but fair vizors to black hearts below,
     Or only serve to bring the wearer woe! 
     But to yourself—­If haply the redress
     That I am here upon may help to yours. 
     I heard you tax the heavens with ordering,
     And men for executing, what, alas! 
     I now behold.  But why, and who they are
     Who do, and you who suffer—­

     Seg. (pointing upwards). 
     Ask of them,
     Whom, as to-night, I have so often ask’d,
     And ask’d in vain.

     Ros. 
     But surely, surely—­

     Seg. 
     Hark! 
     The trumpet of the watch to shut us in. 
     Oh, should they find you!—­Quick!  Behind the rocks! 
     To-morrow—­if to-morrow—­

     Ros. (flinging her sword toward him). 
     Take my sword!

     (Rosaura and Fife hide in the rocks; Enter Clotaldo)

     Clotaldo. 
     These stormy days you like to see the last of
     Are but ill opiates, Segismund, I think,
     For night to follow:  and to-night you seem
     More than your wont disorder’d.  What!  A sword? 
     Within there!

     (Enter Soldiers with black vizors and torches)

     Fife. 
     Here’s a pleasant masquerade!

CLO. 
Whosever watch this was
Will have to pay head-reckoning.  Meanwhile,
This weapon had a wearer.  Bring him here,
Alive or dead.

Seg. 
Clotaldo! good Clotaldo!—­

CLO. (to Soldiers who enclose Segismund; others
searching the rocks). 
You know your duty.

Soldiers (bringing in Rosaura and Fife). 
Here are two of them,
Whoever more to follow—­

CLO. 
Who are you,
That in defiance of known proclamation
Are found, at night-fall too, about this place?

     Fife. 
     Oh, my Lord, she—­I mean he—­