Castile! Castile!
Voice. (from the tower.) Line after line of spears,
Lance after lance, upon th’ horizon’s verge,
Like festal lights from cities bursting up,
Doth skirt the plain. In faith, a noble host!
Another voice. The Moor hath turn’d him from our walls, to front
Th’ advancing might of Spain!
Cits. (shouting.) Castile! Castile!
Gonzalez enters, supported by Elmina and a citizen.
Gon. What shouts of joy are these?