Men. A dagger?
An evil-omen’d pass-word.
Lope. Ah, Don Mendo,
What has a wretched robber got to give
Unless some implement of death! And see,
The wicked weapon cannot reach your hand,
But it must bite its master’s. (His hand bleeding.)
Ill-omen’d as you say!
Voices (within). Away! Away!
Vic. They’re close upon us!