This noise may chill your blood, but mine it warms.
[_Shouting and clashing of swords within._
We have already passed the Rubicon;
The dice are mine; now, fortune, for a throne!
[_A shout within, and clashing of swords afar off._
The sound goes farther off, and faintly dies;
Curse of this going back, these ebbing cries!
Ye winds, waft hither sounds more strong and quick;
Beat faster, drums, and mingle deaths more thick.
I'll to the turrets of the palace go,
And add new fire to those that fight below:
Thence, hero-like, with torches by my side,
(Far be the omen, though) my love will guide.
No; like his better fortune I'll appear,
With open arms, loose veil, and flowing hair,
Just flying forward from my rolling sphere:
My smiles shall make Abdalla more than man;
Let him look up, and perish if he can. [_Exit._

_An alarum nearer: Then Enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ SELIN, _at the head of
the Zegrys_; OZMYN _Prisoner._

_Almanz._ We have not fought enough; they fly too soon;
And I am grieved the noble sport is done.
This only man, of all whom chance did bring [_Pointing to_ OZMYN.
To meet my arms, was worth the conquering.
His brave resistance did my fortune grace;
So slow, so threatning forward he gave place.
His chains be easy, and his usage fair.