_K. Ferd._ By that assault which last we made, I find, Their courage is with their success declined: Almanzor's absence now they dearly buy, Whose conduct crowned their arms with victory. _Alonzo._ Their king himself did their last sally guide; I saw him, glistering in his armour, ride To break a lance in honour of his bride: But other thoughts now fill his anxious breast; Care of his crown his love has dispossest. _To them_ ABDALLA. _Q. Isabel._ But see, the brother of the Moorish king: He seems some news of great import to bring. _K. Ferd._ He brings a spacious title to our side: Those, who would conquer, must their foes divide. _Abdal._ Since to my exile you have pity shown, And given me courage yet to hope a throne; While you without our common foes subdue, I am not wanting to myself or you; But have, within, a faction still alive, Strong to assist, and secret to contrive, And watching each occasion to foment The people's fears into a discontent; Which, from Almanzor's loss, before were great, And now are doubled by their late defeat: These letters from their chiefs the news assures. [_Gives letters to the_ KING. _K. Ferd._ Be mine the honour, but the profit yours. _To them the_ DUKE OF ARCOS, _with_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA, _Prisoners._ _K. Ferd._ That tertia of Italians did you guide, To take their post upon the river side? _D. Arcos._ All are according to your orders placed: My chearful soldiers their intrenchments haste; The Murcian foot hath ta'en the upper ground, And now the city is beleaguered round. _K. Ferd._ Why is not then their leader here again? _D. Arcos._ The master of Alcantara is slain; But he, who slew him, here before you stands: It is that Moor whom you behold in bands. _K. Ferd._ A braver man I had not in my host; His murderer shall not long his conquest boast: But, Duke of Arcos, say, how was he slain? _D. Arcos._ Our soldiers marched together on the plain; We two rode on, and left them far behind, Till, coming where we found the valley wind, We saw these Moors; who, swiftly as they could, Ran on to gain the covert of a wood. This we observed; and, having crossed their way, The lady, out of breath, was forced to stay: The man then stood, and straight his faulchion drew; Then told us, we in vain did those pursue, Whom their ill fortune to despair did drive, And yet, whom we should never take alive. Neglecting this, the master straight spurred on; But the active Moor his horse's shock did shun, And, ere his rider from his reach could go, Finished the combat with one deadly blow. I, to revenge my friend, prepared to fight; But now our foremost men were come in sight, Who soon would have dispatched him on the place, Had I not saved him from a death so base, And brought him to attend your royal doom. _K. Ferd._ A manly face, and in his age's bloom; But, to content the soldiers, he must die: Go, see him executed instantly.