Max. Ay, better than my golden one. (Gives it to Blasio) Hang it above my bed. My Queretaro crown!
Salm. Do not, your majesty!
Max. (To Blasio) Take it. (Exit Blasio) Why, prince, ’t is something to have won a crown. My first was given me. (Firing and falling of shells)
Salm. I beg you, sire, to move your quarters to a safer station. This is death at any moment!
Max. Death at any moment—(Regretfully) And I have been here sixty days.
Lop. Courage, sire! Marquez will come!
Max. (Eagerly) Has there been news?
Lop. Not yet, your majesty.
Max. Not yet! What does it mean? You heard him take the oath to bring me help or die. ’T was here he swore—before us all. Vowed to return with troops in fifteen days! Ah, he is dead.
Salm. No, your majesty.