[AMURACK _draws his sword_; ALPHONSUS _and all the other_ Kings _draw theirs. Alarum;_ AMURACK _and his company fly, followed by_ ALPHONSUS _and his company._ ACT THE FIFTH PROLOGUE _Alarum. Enter_ VENUS. _Venus._ Fierce is the fight, and bloody is the broil. No sooner had the roaring cannon shot Spit forth the venom of their firèd paunch, And with their pellets sent such troops of souls Down to the bottom of the dark Avern, As that it cover'd all the Stygian fields; But, on a sudden, all the men-at-arms, Which mounted were on lusty coursers' backs, Did rush together with so great a noise As that I thought the giants one time more Did scale the heavens, as erst they did before. Long time dame Fortune temper'd so her wheel As that there was no vantage to be seen On any side, but equal was the gain; But at the length, so God and Fates decreed, Alphonsus was the victor of the field, And Amurack became his prisoner; Who so remain'd, until his daughter came, And by her marrying did his pardon frame. [_Exit._ SCENE I.--_A Battle-field near Naples._ _Alarum:_ AMURACK _flies, followed by_ ALPHONSUS, _who takes him prisoner and carries him in. Alarum: as_ CROCON _and_ FAUSTUS _are flying, enter_ FAUSTA _and_ IPHIGENA, _with their army, meeting them._ _Fausta._ You Turkish kings, what sudden flight is this? What mean the men, which for their valiant prowess Were dreaded erst clean through the triple world, Thus cowardly to turn their backs and fly? What froward fortune happen'd on your side? I hope your king in safety doth abide? _Cro._ Ay, noble madam, Amurack doth live, And long I hope he shall enjoy his life; But yet I fear, unless more succour come, We shall both lose our king and sovereign. _Fausta._ How so, King Crocon? dost thou speak in jest, To prove if Fausta would lament his death? Or else hath anything hapt him amiss? Speak quickly, Crocon, what the cause might be, That thou dost utter forth these words to me. _Cro._ Then, worthy Fausta, know that Amurack Our mighty king, and your approvèd spouse, Prick'd with desire of everlasting fame, As he was pressing in the thickest ranks Of Arragonians, was, with much ado, At length took prisoner by Alphonsus' hands. So that, unless you succour soon do bring, You lose your spouse, and we shall want our king. _Iphi._ O hapless hap, O dire and cruel fate! What injury hath Amurack, my sire, Done to the gods, which now I know are wroth, Although unjustly and without a cause? For well I wot, not any other king, Which now doth live, or since the world begun Did sway a sceptre, had a greater care To please the gods than mighty Amurack: And for to quite our father's great good-will, Seek they thus basely all his fame to spill?