_Amu._ And do they come? you kings of Turkey-[land], Now is the time in which your warlike arms Must raise your names above the starry skies. Call to your mind your predecessors' acts, Whose martial might, this many a hundred year, Did keep those fearful dogs in dread and awe, And let your weapons show Alphonsus plain, That though that they be clappèd up in clay, Yet there be branches sprung up from those trees, In Turkish land, which brook no injuries. Besides the same, remember with yourselves What foes we have; not mighty Tamburlaine, Nor soldiers trainèd up amongst the wars, But fearful boors, pick'd from their rural flock, Which, till this time, were wholly ignorant What weapons meant, or bloody Mars doth crave. More would I say, but horses that be free Do need no spurs, and soldiers which themselves Long and desire to buckle with the foe, Do need no words to egg them to the same.
_Enter_ ALPHONSUS, _with a canopy carried over him by three_ Lords, _having over each corner a king's head crowned; with him_ ALBINIUS, LÆLIUS _and_ MILES _with crowns on their heads, and their_ Soldiers.
Besides the same, behold whereas our foes Are marching towards us most speedily. Courage, my lords, ours is the victory.
_Alphon._ Thou pagan dog, how dar'st thou be so bold To set thy foot within Alphonsus' land? What, art thou come to view thy wretched kings, Whose traitorous heads bedeck my tent so well? Or else, thou hearing that on top thereof There is a place left vacant, art thou come To have thy head possess the highest seat? If it be so, lie down, and this my sword Shall presently that honour thee afford. If not, pack hence, or by the heavens I vow, Both thou and thine shall very soon perceive That he that seeks to move my patience Must yield his life to me for recompense.
_Amu._ Why, proud Alphonsus, think'st thou Amurack, Whose mighty force doth terrify the gods, Can e'er be found to turn his heels, and fly Away for fear from such a boy as thou? No, no, although that Mars this mickle while Hath fortified thy weak and feeble arm, And Fortune oft hath view'd with friendly face Thy armies marching victors from the field, Yet at the presence of high Amurack Fortune shall change, and Mars, that god of might, Shall succour me, and leave Alphonsus quite.