_Fer._ Ah, wretched rebels! hath a little hardship Melted the metal from you? I see ye are dross Quite to the bottom. These hands that ye raise 860 Should have smote down the foe. Being as ye are, How took ye upon you to defend the cross? Doth not the shame of capture and defeat Suffice, but ye must kneel to beg the addition Of treason and betrayal, to deliver Your worthless bodies from the pains that ye Have thousandfold deserved? My brethren are ye? Nay, I’ll not look upon you. [_Turns away._ _Re-enter Almeh and Zapel._ _Al._ Lo, what is this? _Ch._ O gracious kind princess, Plead for us now. _Al._ What would ye? _Fer._ Noble lady, 870 I have a title to thy heart’s compassion Greater than these my countrymen, whose woes Have moved thy spirit; and by that kindness in thee, As by that beauty,—may I use the name Of what I only worship,—I beseech thee Hear them not speak, lest thou misjudge me much. _Al._ Rise, friends: ere I can help you, I must know What boon ye sue for. _Fer._ Not so: lest thou add To theirs thy prayer, too strong to be denied. _Al._ What fear’st thou that my voice might win for them? 880 _Fer._ Ask not of them nor me. _Al._ Thou must dissuade My pity, or meet it where ’tis first engaged. _Fer._ Then hear the truth from me. They vainly beg Their liberty. _Al._ From thee? _Fer._ Ay, lady. _Al._ How! For this I too was lately on my knees; But that was to the king. What power hast thou To grant this; or, being able, why deniest? _Fer._ They think at least that they would share my freedom, If I went forth: wherefore they urge me do For them the thing I will not for myself. 890 _Al._ And what is that? _Fer._ Thy father hath appointed The town of Ceuta for my ransom, lady. _Al._ And that lies then within thy power to grant? _Fer._ So far as ’tis within the power of him Who scorns base actions to commit the basest. _Al._ My sire, prince, hath a right and titled claim. _Fer._ Christ hath erased all titles with his cross; And by that sign reclaims the world he made. _Al._ I know, prince, thou art generous; for thou gavest Life to thine enemy: and for that gift 900 I am thy friend. ’Tis for thyself I plead. The king hath nothing nearer to his heart Than this possession: ’tis thy life’s condition. Yield where thou must. _Fer._ I hold my life as nought. _Al._ Then, prince, tho’not for these, nor for thyself Thou wilt be bent, nor to my sire wilt yield; Yet for the sake of holy peace submit; For pity of all our people and thine own, Whom pride will slay: think of the myriad wounds Softness may staunch; and how kings have no honour Above the keeping of their folk in peace. 911