Hurl her own force against the city straight!
And, even at the moment when the foe
Sounded defiance ...
[Tiburzio's trumpet sounds in the distance.
Lur. Ah, you Florentines!
So would you do? Wisely for you, no doubt!
My simple Moorish instinct bids me clench
The obligation you relieve me from,
Still deeper! [To Puc.] Sound our answer, I should say.
And thus:—[Tearing the paper.]—The battle!