_Sound! sound in solemn strains, and slow!_ _Dully beat the muffled drum!_ _Bid the hollow trumpet blow,_ _In deaden'd tones, clear, firm, and low;--_ _For, see! the patriot heros come!_ [_Towards the End of the Chorus, the Characters proceed on their March out of the Town; and when the last Persons of the Procession are going through the Gates, the Curtain drops._ ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. _An Apartment in the House of JOHN de VIENNE._ _Enter JULIA, in Man's Apparel, and O'CARROL._ _Julia._ Come on; bestir thee, good fellow! Thou must be my guide, and conduct me. _O'Carrol._ 'Faith, and I'll conduct you, with all my heart and soul; and some good creature, I warrant, will be kind enough to show me the way. _Julia._ But art thou well assured, O'Carrol, of what thou hast informed me? _O'Carrol._ To be sure I am well assured; for I informed myself, and I never yet catched myself out in telling a lie. There was six of them, as tall fellows as any in France, with ugly ropes about their good-looking necks, going to the town-gates; and Count Ribaumont marched second in the handsome half dozen. The whole town followed them with their eyes, till they were as full of water as if they had been peeping into so many mustard pots. And so, madam, knowing he loves you better than dear life,(which, to be sure, he seems to hold cheap enough at present), and thinking you would be glad to hear the terrible news, why, I made all the haste I could to come and tell it to you. _Julia._ And thus, in haste, have I equipped myself. Come, good O'Carrol;--dost think I shall 'scape discovery in these accoutrements? _O'Carrol._ Escape!--By my soul, lady, one would think you had been a young man, from the very first day you were born. Och! what a piece of work a little trimming and drapery makes in a good fellow's fancy! A foot is a foot, all the world over;--but take the foot of the sweetest little creature that ever tripped over green sward, and if it doesn't play at bo-peep under a petticoat--'faith, I don't know the reason of it; but it gives a clean contrary turn to a man's imagination. But what is it you would be after now, Lady Julia? _Julia._ Something I will do; and it must be speedy: at all hazards, we will to the English camp, O'Carrol:--opportunity must shape the rest. _O'Carrol._ The camp?--O, 'faith, that's my element; and Heaven send us success in it! If an Irishman's prayers, lady, could make you happy, your little heart should soon be as light as a feather-bed. _Julia._ I thank thee, my honest fellow: thy care for me shall not long go unrewarded. _O'Carrol._ Now the devil fetch rewarding, say I! If a man does his best friends a piece of service, he must be an unconscionable sort of an honest fellow, to look for more reward than the pleasure he gets in assisting them. _Julia._ Well, well! each moment now is precious! Haste thee, O'Carrol; Time has wings.