]
V:3:70 SEN.
Horsemen from Court.
V:3:71 ALAR.
The Court! I'm sick at heart. Perchance she's eager,
And cannot wait my coming.
[Enter two COURTIERS.]
Well, good sirs!
V:3:72 1ST COURT.
Alas, my lord.
V:3:73 ALAR.
I live upon thy words.
What now?
V:3:74 1ST COURT.
We have rode post, my lord.
V:3:75 ALAR.
Bad news
Flies ever. 'Tis the King?
V:3:76 1ST COURT.
Alas!
V:3:77 ALAR.
She's ill.
My horse, my horse there!
V:3:78 1ST COURT.
Nay, my lord, not so.
V:3:79 ALAR.
Why then I care for nought.
V:3:80 1ST COURT.
Unheard-of horror!
The storm, the storm --
V:3:81 ALAR.
I rode in it.
V:3:82 1ST COURT.
Methought
Each flash would fire the Citadel; the flame
Wreathed round its pinnacles, and poured in streams
Adown the pallid battlements. Our revellers
Forgot their festival, and stopped to gaze
On the portentous vision. When behold!
The curtained clouds re-opened, and a bolt
Came winged from the startling blue of heaven,
And struck -- the Infanta!
V:3:83 ALAR.
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