_Læli._ As for your king, Miles, I hold with you, He bare no friendship to Flaminius, But hated him as bloody Atropos; But for your country, Lælius doth avow He loves as well as any other land, Yea, sure, he loves it best of all the world. And, for because you shall not think that I Do say the same without a reason why, Know that the knight Alphonsus hath to name, Both son and heir to old Carinus, whom Flaminius' sire bereavèd of his crown; Who did not seek the ruin of our host For any envy he did bear to us, But to revenge him on his mortal foe; Which by the help of high celestial Jove He hath achiev'd with honour in the field.
_Miles._ Alphonsus, man! I'll ne'er persuaded be That e'er Alphonsus may survive again, Who with Carinus, many years ago, Was said to wander in the Stygian fields.
_Læli._ Truth, noble Miles: these mine ears have heard, For certainty reported unto me, That old Carinus, with his peerless son, Had felt the sharpness of the Sisters' shears; And had I not of late Alphonsus seen In good estate, though all the world should say He is alive, I would not credit them. But, fellow soldiers, wend you back with me, And let us lurk within the secret shade Which he himself appointed unto us; And if you find my words to be untroth, Then let me die to recompense the wrong.
_Alarum: re-enter_ ALBINIUS _with his sword drawn._
_Albi._ Lælius, make haste: soldiers of Arragon, Set lingering by, and come and help your king, I mean Alphonsus, who, whilst that he did Pursue Belinus at the very heels, Was suddenly environèd about With all the troops of mighty Milan-land.
_Miles._ What news is this! and is it very so? Is our Alphonsus yet in human state, Whom all the world did judge for to be dead? Yet can I scarce give credit to the same: Give credit! yes, and since the Milan Duke Hath broke his league of friendship, be he sure, Ere Cynthia, the shining lamp of night, Doth scale the heavens with her hornèd head, Both he and his shall very plainly see The league is burst that causèd long the glee.
_Læli._ And could the traitor harbour in his breast Such mortal treason 'gainst his sovereign, As when he should with fire and sword defend Him from his foes, he seeks his overthrow? March on, my friends: I ne'er shall joy at all, Until I see that bloody traitor's fall. [_Exeunt._