+Duke.+ So you do me, Amphelia, amidst Ten thousand; not all the glories that Attend a conquering soldier can create One joy so great in me, As being conquer'd here in my own triumphs. I am but a slave; Nor does my victory over thousands please Me so much, as being overcome by One--by this fair one, whose eyes, by shining On my triumph only, make it glorious. +Amph.+ Well, sir, we will not change our happy states; You cannot brag of happiness so great To make me envy: I am only sorry for This lady, that had nothing else to do With her heart but to give it you. Madam, If your breast had been crowded with some twenty Or thirty hearts, and amongst these one very Ill, you might have Made present of that to this mighty duke. +Duke.+ Madam, does not this lady's discourse make you Afraid of me. +Art.+ Not in the least, sir. +Duke.+ Where's this bold prisoner? +Guard.+ Here, and [it] please your highness. +Duke.+ Well, sir, tho' you did attempt to kill me In our camp, after you were our prisoner, You shall not die, since you are of the same Country this lady is; therefore thank her And fortune for your life. +Zor.+ I'd sooner curse them both. Shall I thank any for my life, but heaven That gave it me? I'd rather give it to A cat. A noble death were far more welcome To me, than a mean life at second hand. My being here I owe unto the gods. When they think fit to lend it me no longer, They know the way to take it from me. I scorn To run in debt unto a mortal duke for two Or three days' breath. +Amph.+ Brave captive! [_Aside._ +Duke.+ You're Very high, considering you are in chains. +Zor.+ Why, sir, think you these fetters can confine My mind as they do my legs, or that my Tongue is your prisoner, and dares only say: May it please your highness? How much are you Mistaken? Know, sir, my soul is Prompter to my tongue, and gives it courage to say Anything that heaven will not frown at. We Should detract from those great pow'rs above, If we pay fears to any here below. Perhaps you think I'll beg my life now upon A pair of bent petitioning knees? No, sir; Had I a hundred lives, I'd give them all To sharpest deaths, rather than beg for one. +Duke.+ You're well resolv'd; perhaps your mind may alter, When you see the axe. In the meantime commit him To the closest prison where, if you have any Accounts with heaven, you will have time to cast Them up before your death.