_Cari._ My noble son, since that thy mind is such For to revenge thy father's foul abuse, As that my words may not a whit prevail To stay thy journey, go with happy fate, And soon return unto thy father's cell, With such a train as Julius Cæsar came To noble Rome, whenas he had achiev'd[33] The mighty monarch of the triple world. Meantime Carinus in this silly[34] grove Will spend his days with prayers and orisons, To mighty Jove to further thine intent. Farewell, dear son, Alphonsus, fare you well. [_Exit._
_Alphon._ And is he gone? then hie, Alphonsus, hie, To try thy fortune where thy fates do call. A noble mind disdains to hide his head, And let his foes triumph in his overthrow. [_Makes as though to go out._
_Albi._ What loitering fellow have we spièd here? Presume not, villain, further for to go, Unless[35] you do at length the same repent.
_Alphon._ [_coming towards_ ALBINIUS]. "Villain," say'st thou? nay, "villain" in thy throat! What, know'st thou, skipjack, whom thou villain call'st?
_Albi._ A common vassal I do villain call.
_Alphon._ That shalt thou soon approve, persuade thyself, Or else I'll die, or thou shalt die for me.
_Albi._ What, do I dream, or do my dazzling eyes Deceive me? Is't Alphonsus that I see? Doth now Medea use her wonted charms For to delude Albinius' fantasy? Or doth black Pluto, king of dark Avern, Seek to flout me with his counterfeit? His body like to Alphonsus' framèd is; His face resembles much Alphonsus' hue; His noble mind declares him for no less; 'Tis he indeed. Woe worth Albinius, Whose babbling tongue hath caus'd his own annoy! Why doth not Jove send from the glittering skies His thunderbolts to chástise this offence? Why doth Dame Terra cease[36] with greedy jaws To swallow up Albinius presently? What, shall I fly and hide my traitorous head, From stout Alphonsus whom I so misus'd? Or shall I yield? Tush, yielding is in vain: Nor can I fly, but he will follow me. Then cast thyself down at his grace's feet, Confess thy fault, and ready make thy breast To entertain thy well-deservèd death. [_Kneels._
_Alphon._ What news, my friend? why are you so blank, That erst before did vaunt it to the skies?
_Albi._ Pardon, dear lord! Albinius pardon craves For this offence, which, by the heavens I vow, Unwittingly I did unto your grace; For had I known Alphonsus had been here, Ere that my tongue had spoke so traitorously, This hand should make my very soul to die.