_Osw._ [_To_ GUIL.] I know that face: 'Tis the ungrateful fair, who, scorning mine, Accepts my rival's love.--Heaven, thou art bounteous, Thou owest me nothing now. _Mat._ Fear grows upon me.-- Speak what you are; speak, or I call for help. _Osw._ We are your guards. _Mat._ Ah me, we are betrayed! 'tis Oswald's voice. _Em._ Let them not see our voices, and then they cannot find us. _Osw._ Passions in men oppressed are doubly strong. I take her from king Arthur; there's revenge: If she can love, she buoys my sinking fortunes: Good reasons both: I'll on.--Fear nothing, ladies, You shall be safe. [OSWALD _and_ GUILLAMAR _seize_ EMMELINE _and_ MATILDA. _Em._ and _Mat._ Help, help! a rape, a rape! _Osw._ By heaven, ye injure me; though force is used, Your honour shall be sacred. _Em._ Help, help! Oh, Britons, help! _Osw._ Your Britons cannot help you. This arm through all their troops shall force my way, Yet neither quit my honour, nor my prey. [_Exeunt, the Women still crying. An Alarm within: Some Soldiers running over the Stage_, "Follow, follow, follow." _Enter_ ALBANACT, _Captain of the Guards, with Soldiers_. _Alb._ Which way went the alarm? _1 Sol._ Here, towards the castle. _Alb._ Pox o'this victory, the whole camp's debauched; All drunk, or whoring.--This way; follow, follow. [_Exeunt. The Alarm renews: Clashing of Swords within for a while._ _Re-enter_ ALBANACT, _Officer, and Soldiers_. _Offi._ How sits the conquest on great Arthur's brow? _Alb._ As when the lover with the king is mixt. He puts the gain of Britain in a scale, Which weighing with the loss of Emmeline, He thinks he's scarce a saver. [_Trumpet within._ _Offi._ Hark, a trumpet! It sounds a parley. _Alb._ 'Tis from Oswald then, An echo to king Arthur's friendly summons, Sent since he heard the rape of Emmeline, To ask an interview, [_Trumpet answering on the other side._ _Offi._ But hark! already Our trumpet makes reply; and see both present. _Enter_ ARTHUR _on one side attended_, OSWALD _on the other with Attendants, and_ GUILLAMAR. _They meet and salute._ _Arth._ Brave Oswald! we have met on friendlier terms, Companions of a war, with common interest, Against the bordering Picts: but times are changed. _Osw._ And I am sorry that those times are changed, For else we now might meet on terms as friendly. _Arth._ If so we meet not now, the fault's your own; For you have wronged me much. _Osw._ Oh you would tell me, I called more Saxons in, to enlarge my bounds. If those be wrongs, the war has well redressed ye.