_Alph._ I saw you, sir, engaged in ceremonies, And therefore thought I might defer this office, To give you time for decent thanks to Garcia.
_Vera._ You rather went where more affection called you.
_Alph._ I may have been too slack in outward shew; But when your service, and my honour called, None was more forward in the fighting part.
_Vera._ The rugged business of the war is over; Softness and sweetness, and a gentle air, Would make a mixture, that would temper well That inborn fierceness of your boiling mind.
_Alph._ I stand corrected, sir; and let me tell you now, That sweetness, which so well you have advised, Fortune has put in your own hand to practise Upon this royal soldier; till we fought, [_Showing_ RAMIREZ. Your equal, now your prisoner of the war; And once, (alas, that still it is not so!) The partner of your thoughts, and bosom friend.
_Xim._ [_Aside._] Heaven, that inspired thee with this pious thought, Add virtue and persuasion to thy words, And bend my stubborn lord!
_Vera._ Say, have you more to speak on his behalf?
_Alph._ Much more; his fair behaviour in the war, Not plundering towns, nor burning villages; His bravery of mind, his dauntless courage, When, hand to hand, he made me stoop beneath His weighty blows, and often forced to doubt The fortune of my youth against his age.
_Vera._ Proceed, proceed; for this is but to say, That thou wert almost worsted in the combat.
_Alph._ I have already said much more than needs, To move a noble mind; Such as my father's is, or ought to be.
_Vera._ Come, let me hear my duty from my son.
_Alph._ If more be wanting on so plain a theme, Think on the slippery state of human things, The strange vicissitudes, and sudden turns Of war, and fate recoiling on the proud, To crush a merciless and cruel victor. Think, there are bounds of fortune set above, Periods of time, and progress of success, Which none can stop before the appointed limits, And none can push beyond.
_Alph._ Ramirez is an honourable foe; Use him like what he is, and make him yours.
_Ver._ By heaven, I think, That, when you coped with him in single fight, You had so much ado to conquer then, You fear to engage him in a second combat.
_Alph._ The world knows how I fought: But old men have prerogative of tongue, And kings of power, and parents that of nature. Your pardon, royal sir.