Bert. I think all fortune is reserved for him!—
He might have sent us word though;
And then we could have favoured his attempt
With sallies from the town.
Alph. It could not be:
We were so close blocked up, that none could peep
Upon the walls and live. But yet 'tis time.
Bert. No, 'tis too late; I will not hazard it:
On pain of death, let no man dare to sally.
389 Ped. Oh envy, envy, how it works within him![Aside.
How now? what means this show?
Alph. 'Tis a procession.
The queen is going to the great cathedral,
To pray for our success against the Moors.
Ped. Very good: she usurps the throne, keeps the old king in prison, and, at the same time, is praying for a blessing. Oh religion and roguery, how they go together!
[A Procession of Priests and Choristers in White, with Tapers, followed by the Queen and Ladies, goes over the Stage: the Choristers singing,
Look down, ye blessed above, look down,
Behold our weeping matrons' tears,
Behold our tender virgins' fears,
And with success our armies crown.