Man. Deliver us!
Wom. Deliver us!
Wife. Hark, George, what a woful cry there is. I think some one is ill there.
Man. Deliver us!
Wom. Deliver us!
Ralph. What ghastly noise is this? Speak, Barbaroso,
Or by this blazing steel thy head goes off.
Bar. Prisoners of mine, whom I in diet keep.
Send lower down into the cave,