[Exit Raimond.
Pro. He’s gone! Why, let it be!
I trust our Sicily hath many a son
Valiant as mine. Associates! ’tis decreed
Our foes shall perish. We have but to name
The hour, the scene, the signal.
Mon. It should be
In the full city, when some festival
Hath gather’d throngs, and lull’d infatuate hearts
To brief security. Hark! is there not