_Fer._ Too late to ask. When conscience, like an angel, 1070 Stood in the way to bar my setting forth, Zeal and ambition blinded me; tho’yet Against the voice of them that urged me on There lacked not prodigies of heaven to stay me. For as we sailed from Lisbon, all the host That lined the shore with banners and gay music, Was changed before my eyes to funeral trains Of black and weeping mourners, who with wails And screams affrighted us. The sun in heaven Turned to blood-red, and doleful mists of grey 1080 Shut us in darkness, while the sucking ebb Dragged us to doom. And here now that I stand In the rebuke of judgment, I have no plea Save that I suffer: unless thou be found My unsought prize. _Al._ Thou missest the conclusion, Considering but thyself, not those thou hast wronged. Thou must surrender Ceuta: ’tis a debt To justice and to peace: my father’s honour. Thy duty towards thy wretched countrymen, And thine own freedom— 1090 _Fer._ Let no words between us Be spoke in vain, as these words now must be. _Al._ Were thy words true, my words were not in vain. _Fer._ Lady, were Ceuta mine, had my sword won it, Thy words might move, though not thy father’s threats. _Al._ I hear the gate: some one comes forth. I pray Retire, ere we be seen. [_Exeunt R._ _Enter Sala and Tarudante._ _SALA._ I owe him life, your highness, and would stake it A thousand times upon his princely worth. As are his manners, you shall find his honour. I will go fetch him. _TARUDANTE._ Stay, I understand 1100 Something, and know that now he is in the grounds With the princess alone. Go if thou wilt. Assure thyself: I need to see no more. _Sa._ Await me here then while I go. I pray thee Judge not so hastily. _Tar._ I judge not hastily. _Sa._ Then wait me here. _Tar._ I wait for no man, Sala; Save out of courtesy; in which I hope I have not lacked hitherto. _Sa._ You have rather set us In everlasting debt. _Tar._ Speak not of that. _Sa._ Then mock not our repayment. 1110 _Tar._ Look you, Sala; I understand to seize a prize by force, Or kindly take a gift, but not to sue. _Sa._ Yet women must be wooed. _Tar._ Ay, that’s a game: But if ’tis more than play, I’ve no mind for it. Patch up the matter as you can. For me, I cry To horse. _Sa._ Wait but a moment longer; I will fetch Ferdinand. (_Aside._) To have two rivals, Tho’both be princes, may be better yet Than to have only one. [_Exit._