Amph. Alas, great duke! instead
Of pining for your change, you find me midst
A thousand joys in this new choice.
Duke. So you do me, Amphelia, amidst
Ten thousand; not all the glories that
Attend a conquering soldier can create
One joy so great in me,
As being conquer'd here in my own triumphs.
I am but a slave;
Nor does my victory over thousands please
Me so much, as being overcome by
One—by this fair one, whose eyes, by shining
On my triumph only, make it glorious.
Amph. Well, sir, we will not change our happy states;
You cannot brag of happiness so great
To make me envy: I am only sorry for
This lady, that had nothing else to do
With her heart but to give it you. Madam,
If your breast had been crowded with some twenty
Or thirty hearts, and amongst these one very
Ill, you might have
Made present of that to this mighty duke.
Duke. Madam, does not this lady's discourse make you
Afraid of me.
Art. Not in the least, sir.
Duke. Where's this bold prisoner?
Guard. Here, and [it] please your highness.
Duke. Well, sir, tho' you did attempt to kill me
In our camp, after you were our prisoner,
You shall not die, since you are of the same
Country this lady is; therefore thank her
And fortune for your life.
Zor. I'd sooner curse them both.
Shall I thank any for my life, but heaven
That gave it me? I'd rather give it to
A cat. A noble death were far more welcome
To me, than a mean life at second hand.
My being here I owe unto the gods.
When they think fit to lend it me no longer,
They know the way to take it from me. I scorn
To run in debt unto a mortal duke for two
Or three days' breath.
Amph. Brave captive! [Aside.