_Bearers._ Alas, ah! noble prince, What burial wilt thou have? Far from where thy fathers lie, In a heathen grave, If grave they give thee at all. 1930 Yet will thy country mourn; And where victorious banners hang, And hymns of Christian joy are sung, Upraise thine empty tomb. _The others._ We see our fate to-night. Thus shall we die.— If thus they treated him, how shall we fare?— Who bids us hope?—There is no hope, no hope: I’ll mask my thought no more. _Bearers re-enter from bower._ _Ch._ (1.) (_Who has Fer.'s letter and sword._) We are saved! we are saved! _Ch._ How saved?—How so?—Tell us!— (1.) This letter here. _Ch._ What letter? say. 1940 (1.) ’Tis from the prince Enrique. _Ch._ Read! read! (1.) ’Tis written to prince Ferdinand, In our home speech. ’Twas in his grasp. _Ch._ Read! read! (1.) _Unless I have thee in my camp to-night, At morn I rescue thee._ _Ch._ Where is the camp? (1.) A league hence to the west, he writes. _Ch._ Alas! Now they have slain his brother he will not come.— Or, should he come, then in the siege he makes Hunger will slay us all.— (1.) Hark then to me. (_Stage darkens more._) He lying so near we may escape to him. _Ch._ How shall we escape?—The guards upon the walls 1950 Would see us.—They would send pursuit of horse To cut us down.— (1.) Not now. I said not now; But later in darkest night. _Ch._ And how to escape? (1.) See here the prince’s sword: with this in hand To creep at midnight on our sentinel, And slay him: then in darkness unperceived To climb out o’er the wall. _Ch._ Now sayst thou well. (1.) Ye trust me now? _Ch._ Ay, ay: if thou canst kill him. (1.) Obey me, and I will lead you forth to-night. _Ch._ What to do? 1960 (1.) Hush ye! Our careless sentinel Must soon return. Let him not see us here. Begone, and some take up this food and wine, Which we may share below to help our strength, Hiding it 'neath your garments, as do I The sword. With silent step troop to your shades. [_Exeunt. As they go out the stage darkens quite._ _Re-enter K. and Sala, Left. There is light on them from the doorway, where they stand awhile._ _K._ Come forth and see! _Sa._ The night hath wrapped thy deed In fourfold darkness, that I should not see. _K._ Thine eyes are straitened by the light within: ’Tis not so dark but we shall see anon. _Sa._ I have loved thee, sire, so well: served thee so long.... 1970 _K._ What sayst thou?