_Iphi_ [_kneeling_]. Mighty Alphonsus, since my mother's suit Is so rejected that in any case You will not grant us pardon for her sake, I now will try if that my woful prayers May plead for pity at your grace's feet. When first you did, amongst the thickest ranks, All clad in glittering arms encounter me, You know yourself what love you did protest You then did bear unto Iphigena: Then for that love, if any love you had, Revoke this sentence, which is too-too bad. _Alphon._ No, damsel; he that will not when he may, When he desires, shall surely purchase nay: If that you had, when first I proffer made, Yielded to me, mark, what I promis'd you I would have done; but since you did deny, Look for denial at Alphonsus' hands. [IPHIGENA _rises, and stands aside._ ALPHONSUS _talks with_ ALBINIUS. _Enter_ CARINUS _in pilgrim's apparel._ _Cari._ [_aside_]. O friendly Fortune, now thou show'st thy power In raising up my son from banish'd state Unto the top of thy most mighty wheel! But, what be these which at his sacred feet Do seem to plead for mercy at his hands? I'll go and sift this matter to the full. [_Goes toward_ ALPHONSUS, _and speaks to one of his soldiers._ Sir knight, an may a pilgrim be so bold To put your person to such mickle pain For to inform me what great king is this, And what these be, which, in such woful sort, Do seem to seek for mercy at his hands? _Sol._ Pilgrim, the king that sits on stately throne Is call'd Alphonsus; and this matron hight Fausta, the wife to Amurack the Turk; That is their daughter, fair Iphigena; Both which, together with the Turk himself, He did take prisoners in a battle fought. _Alphon._ [_spying out_ CARINUS]. And can the gods be found so kind to me As that Carinus now I do espy? 'Tis he indeed.--Come on, Albinius: The mighty conquest which I have achiev'd, And victories the which I oft have won, Bring not such pleasure to Alphonsus' heart As now my father's presence doth impart. [ALPHONSUS _and_ ALBINIUS _go toward_ CARINUS: ALPHONSUS _stands looking on him._ _Cari._ What, ne'er a word, Alphonsus? art thou dumb? Or doth my presence so perturb thy mind That, for because I come in pilgrim's weed, You think each word which you do spend to me A great disgrace unto your name to be? Why speak'st thou not? if that my place you crave, I will be gone, and you my place shall have.