_Alphon._ Now, Amurack, the proud blasphémous dogs, For so you term'd us, which did brawl and rail Against God Mars, and fickle Fortune's wheel, Have got the goal for all your solemn prayers. Yourself are prisoner, which as then did think That all the forces of the triple world Were insufficient to fulfil the same. How like you this? Is Fortune of such might, Or hath God Mars such force or power divine, As that he can, with all the power he hath, Set thee and thine forth of Alphonsus' hands? I do not think but that your hope's so small As that you would with very willing mind Yield for my spouse the fair Iphigena, On that condition, that without delay Fausta and you may scot-free 'scape away. _Amu._ What, think'st thou, villain, that high Amurack Bears such a mind as, for the fear of death, He'll yield his daughter, yea, his only joy, Into the hands of such a dunghill-knight? No, traitor, no; for [though] as now I lie Clapt up in irons and with bolts of steel, Yet do there lurk within the Turkish soil Such troops of soldiers that, with small ado, They'll set me scot-free from your men and you. _Alphon._ "Villain," say'st thou? "traitor" and "dunghill-knight"? Now, by the heavens, since that thou dost deny For to fulfil that which in gentle wise Alphonsus craves, both thou and all thy train Shall with your lives requite that injury.-- Albinius, lay hold of Amurack, And carry him to prison presently, There to remain until I do return Into my tent; for by high Jove I vow, Unless he wax more calmer out of hand, His head amongst his fellow-kings shall stand. _Amu._ No, villain, think not that the fear of death Shall make me calmer while I draw my breath. [_Exit in custody of_ ALBINIUS. _Alphon._ Now, Lælius, take you Iphigena, Her mother Fausta, with these other kings, And put them into prisons severally; For Amurack's stout stomach shall undo Both he himself and all his other crew. _Fausta_ [_kneeling_]. O sacred prince, if that the salt brine tears, Distilling down poor Fausta's wither'd cheeks, Can mollify the hardness of your heart, Lessen this judgment, which thou in thy rage Hast given on thy luckless prisoners. _Alphon._ Woman, away! my word is gone and past; Now, if I would, I cannot call it back. You might have yielded at my first demand, And then you needed not to fear this hap.-- [FAUSTA _rises._ Lælius make haste, and go thou presently For to fulfil that I commanded thee.