Strong to assist, and secret to contrive,
And watching each occasion to foment
The people's fears into a discontent;
Which, from Almanzor's loss, before were great,
And now are doubled by their late defeat:
These letters from their chiefs the news assures.
[_Gives letters to the_ KING.

_K. Ferd._ Be mine the honour, but the profit yours.

_To them the_ DUKE OF ARCOS, _with_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA,
_Prisoners._

_K. Ferd._ That tertia of Italians did you guide,
To take their post upon the river side?

_D. Arcos._ All are according to your orders placed:
My chearful soldiers their intrenchments haste;
The Murcian foot hath ta'en the upper ground,
And now the city is beleaguered round.

_K. Ferd._ Why is not then their leader here again?

_D. Arcos._ The master of Alcantara is slain;
But he, who slew him, here before you stands:
It is that Moor whom you behold in bands.

_K. Ferd._ A braver man I had not in my host;
His murderer shall not long his conquest boast:
But, Duke of Arcos, say, how was he slain?