_Medea._ Nay, Amurack, this is no time to jar: Although thy wife did, in her frantic mood, Use speeches which might better have been spar'd, Yet do thou not judge this same time to be A season to requite that injury. More fitteth thee, with all the wit thou hast, To call to mind which way thou mayst release Thyself, thy wife, and fair Iphigena, Forth of the power of stout Alphonsus' hands; For, well I wot, since first you breathèd breath, You never were so nigh the snares of death. Now, Amurack, your high and kingly seat, Your royal sceptre, and your stately crown, Your mighty country, and your men-at-arms, Be conquer'd all, and can no succour bring. Put, then, no trust in these same paltry toys, But call to mind that thou a prisoner art, Clapt up in chains, whose life and death depend Upon the hands of thy most mortal foe. Then take thou heed, that whatsome'er he say, Thou dost not once presume for to gainsay.
_Amu._ Away, you fool! think you your cursèd charms Can bridle so the mind of Amurack As that he will stand crouching to his foe? No, no, be sure that, if that beggar's brat Do dare but once to contrary my will, I'll make him soon in heart for to repent That e'er such words 'gainst Amurack he spent.
_Medea._ Then, since thou dost disdain my good advice, Look to thyself, and if you fare amiss, Remember that Medea counsel gave, Which might you safe from all those perils save. But, Fausta, you, as well you have begun, Beware you follow still your friend's advice: If that Alphonsus do desire of thee To have your daughter for his wedded spouse, Beware you do not once the same gainsay, Unless with death he do your rashness pay.
_Fausta._ No, worthy wight; first Fausta means to die Before Alphonsus she will contrary.
_Medea._ Why, then, farewell.--But you, Iphigena, Beware you do not over-squeamish wax, Whenas your mother giveth her consent.
_Iphi._ The gods forbid that e'er I should gainsay That which Medea bids me to obey. [_Exit_ MEDEA.
ALPHONSUS, _who all this while has been talking to_ ALBINIUS, _rises up out of his chair._
_Alphon._ Now, Amurack, the proud blasphémous dogs, For so you term'd us, which did brawl and rail Against God Mars, and fickle Fortune's wheel, Have got the goal for all your solemn prayers. Yourself are prisoner, which as then did think That all the forces of the triple world Were insufficient to fulfil the same. How like you this? Is Fortune of such might, Or hath God Mars such force or power divine, As that he can, with all the power he hath, Set thee and thine forth of Alphonsus' hands? I do not think but that your hope's so small As that you would with very willing mind Yield for my spouse the fair Iphigena, On that condition, that without delay Fausta and you may scot-free 'scape away.