Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/431

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Of weakness and of anguish brings to him A wound that cannot be up-bound. Poor nature! (Enter many fugitives from the walls.) Turn, turn, O soldiers! let not this shame be. (To the fugitives.) What shout was that?

The Turks have gain'd the breach, and thro' it pour Like an o'erboiling flood.

Then is the city lost—the dark hour come— And as an emperor my task is clos'd. God's will be done!(Throwing away the imperial purple.) Now is there left for me these sinew'd arms, And this good sword, the wherewithal to earn A noble soldier's death. Come on with me who will, and share the fate Of a brave comrade.

Yes, we'll share thy fate, Comrade or sov'reign, noble Constantine! We will die by thy side. (Exit Constantine,