Denied his daughter to him;—drove him hither,
To meet your cruelty;—and now, that daughter,
Grown desperate as he, doth brave it, King!
And we will die together.
[Runs and embraces Ribaumont.
Ribau. Heaven!—my Julia!
Art thou then true?—O give me utterance!
Now, fortune, do thy worst!—
[Throws off his Disguise.