Cel. Navarre had done the same; 'twas fortune's fault,
That showed him not Ramirez.
Vict. You are too young to judge of men or merits;
You praise the vulgar flight a falcon makes,
When Jove's imperial bird, that bears the thunder,
Is towering far above him.
Re-enter Carlos, Sancho, and the rest of the Officers.
Vera. Are my commands performed?
Carl. With all exactness.
Vera. Approach, Victoria, and you, Celidea,