Arb.

      Thy sadness brave Tigranes takes away

      From my full victory, am I become

      Of so small fame, that any man should grieve

      When I o'recome him? They that plac'd me here,

      Intended it an honour large enough, (though he

      For the most valiant living, but to dare oppose me single,

      Lost the day. What should afflict you, you are as free as I,

      To be my prisoner, is to be more free

      Than you were formerly, and never think

      The man I held worthy to combate me

      Shall be us'd servilely: Thy ransom is

      To take my only Sister to thy Wife.

      A heavy one Tigranes, for she is

      A Lady, that the neighbour Princes send

      Blanks to fetch home. I have been too unkind

      To her Tigranes, she but nine years old

      I left her, and ne're saw her since, your wars

      Have held me long and taught me though a youth,

      The way to victory, she was a pretty child,

      Then I was little better, but now fame

      Cries loudly on her, and my messengers

      Make me believe she is a miracle;

      She'l make you shrink, as I did, with a stroak

      But of her eye Tigranes.

      Tigr.

      Is't the course of Iberia to use their prisoners thus?

      Had fortune thrown my name above Arbace,

      I should not thus have talk'd Sir, in Armenia

      We hold it base, you should have kept your temper

      Till you saw home again, where 'tis the fashion

      Perhaps to brag.

      Arb.

      Be you my witness earth, need I to brag,

      Doth not this captive Prince speak

      Me sufficiently, and all the acts

      That I have wrought upon his suffering Land;

      Should I then boast! where lies that foot of ground

      Within his whole Realm, that I have not past,

      Fighting and conquering; Far then from me

      Be ostentation. I could tell the world

      How I have laid his Kingdom desolate

      By this sole Arm prop't by divinity,

      Stript him out of his glories, and have sent

      The pride of all his youth to people graves,

      And made his Virgins languish for their Loves,

      If I would brag, should I that have the power

      To teach the Neighbour world humility,

      Mix with vain-glory?

      Arb.

      But he shall wrong his and my modesty,

      That thinks me apt to boast after any act

      Fit for a good man to do upon his foe.

      A little glory in a souldiers mouth

      Is well-becoming, be it far from vain.

      Mar.

      'Tis pity that valour should be thus drunk.

      Arb.

      I offer you my Sister, and you answer

      I do insult, a Lady that no suite

      Nor treasure, nor thy Crown could purchase thee,

      But that thou fought'st with me.

      Tigr.

      Though this be worse

      Than that you spake before, it strikes me not;

      But that you think to overgrace me with

      The marriage of your Sister, troubles me.

      I would give worlds for ransoms were they mine,

      Rather than have her.

      Arb.

      See if I insult

      That am the Conquerour, and for a ransom

      Offer rich treasure to the Conquered,

      Which he refuses, and I bear his scorn:

      It cannot be self-flattery to say,

      The Daughters of your Country set by her,

      Would see their shame, run home and blush to death,

      At their own foulness; yet she is not fair,

      Nor beautiful, those words express her not,

      They say her looks have something excellent,

      That wants a name: yet were she odious,

      Her birth deserves the Empire of the world,

      Sister to such a brother, that hath ta'ne

      Victory prisoner, and throughout the earth,

      Carries her bound, and should he let her loose,

      She durst not leave him; Nature did her wrong,

      To Print continual conquest on her cheeks,

      And make no man worthy for her to taste

      But me that am too near her, and as strangely

      She did for me, but you will think I brag.

      Tigr.

      Do I refuse her that I doubt her worth?

      Were she as vertuous as she would be thought,

      So perfect that no one of her own sex

      Could find a want, had she so tempting fair,

      That she could wish it off for damning souls,

      I would pay any ransom, twenty lives

      Rather than meet her married in my bed.

      Perhaps I have a love, where I have fixt

      Mine eyes not to be mov'd, and she on me,

      I am not fickle.

      Arb.

      Is that all the cause?

      Think you, you can so knit your self in love

      To any other, that her searching sight

      Cannot dissolve it? So before you tri'd,

      You thought your self a match for me in [f]ight,

      Trust me Tigranes, she can do as much

      In peace, as I in war, she'l conquer too,

      You shall see if you have the power to stand

      The force of her swift looks, if you dislike,

      I'le send you