_Odm_. 'Tis, sir, the general cry; nor seems it strange,
The face of plenty should so swiftly change:
This city never felt a siege before,
But from the lake received its daily store;
Which now shut up, and millions crowded here,
Famine will soon in multitudes appear.
_Mont_. The more the number, still the greater shame.
_Alm_. What if some one should seek immortal fame,
By ending of the siege at one brave blow?
_Mont_. That were too happy!
_Alm_. Yet it may be so.
What if the Spanish general should be slain?
_Guy_. Just heavens I hope, does otherwise ordain.
[_Aside_.
_Mont_. If slain by treason, I lament his death.
_Enter_ ORBELLAN, _and whispers his sister_.
_Odm_. Orbellan seems in haste, and out of breath.
_Mont_. Orbellan, welcome; you are early here,
A bridegroom's haste does in your looks appear.
[ALMERIA _aside to her brother_.
_Alm_. Betrayed! no, 'twas thy cowardice and fear;
He had not 'scaped with life, had I been there:
But since so ill you act a brave design,
Keep close your shame;--fate makes the next turn mine.
_Enter_ ALIBECH _and_ CYDARIA.
_Alib_. O sir, if ever pity touched your breast,
Let it be now to your own blood exprest:
In tears your beauteous daughter drowns her sight,
Silent as dews that fall in dead of night.
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