Ros. (flinging her sword toward him). Take my sword!
Rosaura and Fife hide in the rocks; enter Clotaldo.
Clotaldo. These stormy days you like to see the last of
Are but ill opiates, Segismund, I think,
For night to follow: and to-night you seem
More than your wont disorder’d. What! A sword?
Within there!
Enter Soldiers with black vizors and torches.
Fife. Here’s a pleasant masquerade!
Clo. Whosever watch this was