Vit. Stand off, I am too many of my self.
Enter Bobadilla.
Bob. Murther, murther, murther, your friend my Lord,
Don Sayavedra is set upon in the streets, by your enemies
Vitelli, and his Faction: I am almost kill'd with looking on
them.
Alv. I'll free him, or fall with him: draw thy sword
And follow me.
Cla. Fortune, I give thee thanks
For this occasion once more to use it. [Exit.
Bo. Nay, hold not me Madam; if I do any hurt, hurt me.
Luc. Oh I am dead with fear! let's flie into
Your Closet, Mother.
Eug. No hour of my life
Secure of danger? heav'n be merciful,
Or now at once dispach me.
Enter Vitelli, pursued by Alvarez, and Sayavedra, Clara beating of Anastro.