(Though not preserved) yet, like a king, die free;
The general left your daughter in the tower,
We may a while resist the Spaniards' power,
If Guyomar prevail.
_Mont_. Make haste and call;
She'll hear your voice, and answer from the wall.
_Alm_. My voice she knows and fears, but use your own;
And, to gain entrance, feign you are alone.
[ALM. _steps behind_.
_Mont_. Cydaria!
_Alm_. Louder.
_Mont_. Daughter!
_Alm_. Louder yet.
_Mont_. Thou canst not, sure, thy father's voice forget.
[_He knocks at the door, at last_ CYDARIA _looks over the balcony_.
_Cyd_. Since my love went, I have been frighted so,
With dismal groans, and noises from below;
I durst not send my eyes abroad, for fear
Of seeing dangers, which I yet but hear.
_Mont_. Cydaria!
_Cyd_. Sure, 'tis my father calls.
_Mont_. Dear child, make haste;
All hope of succour, but from thee, is past:
As when, upon the sands, the traveller
Sees the high sea come rolling from afar,
The land grow short, he mends his weary pace,
While death behind him covers all the place:
So I, by swift misfortunes, am pursued,
Which on each other are, like waves, renewed.
_Cyd_. Are you alone?
_Mont_. I am.
_Cyd_. I'll strait descend;
Heaven did you here for both our safeties send.
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