1ST BRAVO.
Ah!

III:3:30 2ND BRAVO.
Away!

III:3:31 3RD BRAVO.
Fly, fly!

III:3:32 4TH BRAVO.
No place for quiet men.

[The BRAVOs run off.]

III:3:33 ALAR.
A little breath
Is all they have cost me, tho' their blood has stained
My damask blade. And still the Moor! What ho!
Why fliest not like thy mates?

III:3:34 ORAN.
Because I wait
To fight.

III:3:35 ALAR.
Rash caitiff! knowest thou who I am?

III:3:36 ORAN.
One who I heard was brave, and now has proved it.

III:3:37 ALAR.
Am I thy foe?

III:3:38 ORAN.
No more than all thy race.

III:3:39 ALAR.
Go, save thy life.

III:3:40 ORAN.
Look to thine own, proud lord.

III:3:41 ALAR.
Perdition catch thy base-born insolence.

[They fight: after a long and severe encounter,
ALARCOS disarms ORAN, who falls wounded.]

III:3:42 ORAN.
Be brief, dispatch me.

III:3:43 ALAR.
Not a word for mercy?

III:3:44 ORAN.
Why should'st thou give it?

III:3:45 ALAR.
'Tis not merited,
Yet might be gained. Who set thee on to this?
My sword is at thy throat. Give me his name,
And thine shall live.

III:3:46 ORAN.
I cannot.

III:3:47 ALAR.
What, is life
So light a boon? It hangs upon this point.
Bold Moor, is't then thy love to him who fees thee
Makes thee so faithful?

III:3:48 ORAN.
No; I hate him.

III:3:49 ALAR.
What
Restrains thee, then?

III:3:50 ORAN.
The feeling that restrained
My arm from joining stabbers--Honour.

III:3:51 ALAR.
Humph!
An overseer of stabbers for some ducats.
And is that honour?

III:3:52 ORAN.
Once