Cort. 'Tis Vasquez's voice, he brings me liberty.
Vasq. In spite of fate I'll set my general free; [Within. Now victory for us, the town's our own.
Alm. All hopes of safety and of love are gone:
As when some dreadful thunder-clap is nigh,
The winged fire shoots swiftly through the sky,
Strikes and consumes, ere scarce it does appear,
And by the sudden ill prevents the fear:
Such is my state in this amazing woe,
It leaves no power to think, much less to do.
—But shall my rival live, shall she enjoy
That love in peace, I laboured to destroy? [Aside.
Cort. Her looks grow black as a tempestuous wind; Some raging thoughts are rolling in her mind.
Alm. Rival, I must your jealousy remove, You shall, hereafter, be at rest for love.
Cyd. Now you are kind.
Alm.—He whom you love is true: But he shall never be possest by you.
[Draws her dagger, and runs towards her.
Cort. Hold, hold, ah barbarous woman! fly, oh fly!
Cyd. Ah pity, pity, is no succour nigh!