_K._ The darkness is our friend. We know the ground. Would I could blot the moon from heaven to-night. My plan is fixed. Take thou five hundred men 2061 And steal upon their rear, when battle joins I with the rest will charge their front. _Sa._ My duty Bids me dissuade thee, ere I can obey. _K._ I am brave to fight, Sala: but not to wait; I will not wait an hour; nay, not an instant. Thou wilt not move me. Not a word, I bid thee. ’Tis my last hope. Come, get thy men together: If once they hear these hellish tales, we are lost. ACT · V _Moonlight. ALMEH entering, followed by ZAPEL._ _ZAPEL._ My lady, I pray come back. 2070 The night is sharp and cold: thou art not clad To encounter its brisk sting. _ALMEH._ Nay, I must breathe. I fell into a stifling slumber, Zapel; And woke affrighted in a sweat of terror. _Za._ For heaven’s sake, lady, let thy spirit be soothed: Thou killest thyself. _Al._ Air, air! that from the thousand frozen founts Of heaven art rained upon the drowsy earth, And gathering keenness from the diamond ways Of faery moonbeams visitest our world 2080 To make renewal of its jaded life, Breathe, breathe! ’Tis drunken with the stolen scents Of sleeping pinks: heavy with kisses snatched From roses, that in crowds of softest snow Dream of the moon upon their blanchèd bowers. I drink, I drink. _Za._ If thou wilt tarry here, Let me go fetch thy cloak. _Al._ Where is my father? _Za._ He is not in the castle. _Al._ Where is Sala? I must speak with him. _Za._ They are both sallied forth To assault the Christian camp. _Al._ O then ’twas true 2090 The noise I heard. They are fighting: ’twas the guns, The shouts I heard. I thought ’twas in my ears. —I have had strange visions, Zapel, these last days: ’Twere past belief what I have seen and heard. I’ll tell thee somewhat when I have time—O love, If thou wouldst be my muse, I would enchant the sun; And steal the silken hues, Whereof his light is spun: And from the whispering way 2100 Of the enarching air Look with the dawn of day Upon the countries fair. _Za._ See, I will fetch thy cloak. [_Exit._ _Al._ This is the reason Why all’s so quiet. Sweet peace, thou dost lie. Men steal forth silently to kill: they creep, That they may spring to murder. Who would think, Gazing on this fair garden, as it lieth Lulled by the moonlight and the solemn music Made everlastingly by the grave sea, 2110 That ’twas a hell of villany, a dungeon Of death to its possessors. Death.— _Za._ (_re-entering_). Here is thy cloak.