And, therefore, captain, yield it quietly. 141 CAPTAIN. Were you, that are the friends of Tamburlaine, 142 Brothers of 143 holy Mahomet himself, I would not yield it; therefore do your worst: Raise mounts, batter, intrench, and undermine, Cut off the water, all convoys that can, 144 Yet I am 145 resolute: and so, farewell. [CAPTAIN, OLYMPIA, and SON, retire from the walls.] THERIDAMAS. Pioners, away! and where I stuck the stake, Intrench with those dimensions I prescrib'd; Cast up the earth towards the castle-wall, Which, till it may defend you, labour low, And few or none shall perish by their shot. PIONERS. We will, my lord. [Exeunt PIONERS.] TECHELLES. A hundred horse shall scout about the plains, To spy what force comes to relieve the hold. Both we, Theridamas, will intrench our men, And with the Jacob's staff measure the height And distance of the castle from the trench, That we may know if our artillery Will carry full point-blank unto their walls. THERIDAMAS. Then see the bringing of our ordnance Along the trench into 146 the battery, Where we will have gallions of six foot broad, To save our cannoneers from musket-shot; Betwixt which shall our ordnance thunder forth, And with the breach's fall, smoke, fire, and dust, The crack, the echo, and the soldiers' cry, Make deaf the air and dim the crystal sky. TECHELLES. Trumpets and drums, alarum presently! And, soldiers, play the men; the hold 147 is yours! [Exeunt.] SCENE IV. Alarms within. Enter the CAPTAIN, with OLYMPIA, and his SON. OLYMPIA. Come, good my lord, and let us haste from hence, Along the cave that leads beyond the foe: No hope is left to save this conquer'd hold. CAPTAIN. A deadly bullet, gliding through my side, Lies heavy on my heart; I cannot live: I feel my liver pierc'd, and all my veins, That there begin and nourish every part, Mangled and torn, and all my entrails bath'd In blood that straineth 148 from their orifex. Farewell, sweet wife! sweet son, farewell! I die. [Dies.] OLYMPIA. Death, whither art thou gone, that both we live? Come back again, sweet Death, and strike us both! One minute and our days, and one sepulchre Contain our bodies! Death, why com'st thou not Well, this must be the messenger for thee: [Drawing a dagger.] Now, ugly Death, stretch out thy sable wings, And carry both our souls