Xim. My brothers!

Her. All is well.

(To Garcias.) Hush! wouldst thou chill

That which hath sprung within them, as a flame

From th’ altar-embers mounts in sudden brightness?

I say, ’tis not too late, ye men of Spain!

On to the rescue!

Xim. Bless me, O my father!

And I will hence, to aid thee with my prayers,

Sending my spirit with thee through the storm