What, another! thy hasty news?
2d Mess. The daring enemies have through their gates made a victorious sally: all our troops have jointly, like the dust before the wind, made a dishonoured flight. Hark!
[Alarum within.]
The conquering foe makes hitherward.
Ray. Run to my tent, fetch my Philippa, slave. Why movest thou not?
2d Mess. The enemy's upon us.
Ray. Shall I send thy coward soul down the vaults of horror? Fly, villain, or thou diest!
[Strikes him.
Alarum. Enter Machiavel, Alerzo, Fulgentio, Pandolpho, with Philippa prisoner, Giovanno with Tailor.
Mach. Let one post to my castle, and conduct
My lady; tell her I have a prisoner would become
Proud in her forc'd captivity, to wait
Upon her beauty: fly, let not the tardy clouds outsail thee.