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That suits not with my scheme: take you this ring, And hurry with it to the Florentines, Who lay in ambush near the ruin'd tower; Hasten their march; I did not wish their aid Until our party muster'd in its strength: But now, our life and death hangs on their speed. Hence, good Rinaldo.

Not till I know your purpose for yourself. Half of the danger is my proper share.

On my right hand alone I must rely. You may remember, in our boyish days My father held the Castrucani palace— The Castrucani were themselves in exile; I know each turn and winding—there was one, A secret passage leading to the city, And from the very room which now Castruccio Makes his own private chamber—leave that way, And, Fortune, I will worship thee again.

Methinks that Fortune owes us some amends For past ill-favour.

We must away; each moment that we lose Brings my old kinsman nearer to the scaffold. Off to the Florentines! Now life and death Hang on an hour's chance.[Exeunt different ways.