With an ill omen’s aspect, shaping forth,
From the dull clouds, wild menacing forms and signs
Foreboding ruin. Man might be withstood,
But who shall cope with famine and disease
When leagued with armèd foes? Where now the aid,
Where the long-promised lances of Castile?
We are forsaken in our utmost need—
By heaven and earth forsaken!
Gon. If this be,
(And yet I will not deem it,) we must fall