When first my ancestors from Afric sailed,
In Rodrique's death your Gothic title failed.

_D. Arcos._ The successors of Rodrique still remain,
And ever since have held some part of Spain:
Even in the midst of your victorious powers,
The Asturias, and all Portugal, were ours.
You have no right, except you force allow;
And if yours then was just, so ours is now.

_Boab._ 'Tis true from force the noblest title springs;
I therefore hold from that, which first made kings.

_D. Arcos._ Since then by force you prove your title true,
Ours must be just, because we claim from you.
When with your father you did jointly reign,
Invading with your Moors the south of Spain,
I, who that day the Christians did command,
Then took, and brought you bound to Ferdinand.

_Boab._ I'll hear no more; defer what you would say;
In private we'll discourse some other day.

_D. Arcos._ Sir, you shall hear, however you are loth,
That, like a perjured prince, you broke your oath:
To gain your freedom you a contract signed,
By which your crown you to my king resigned,
From thenceforth as his vassal holding it,
And paying tribute such as he thought fit;
Contracting, when your father came to die,