- [first lines]
- [a troop of Bengal Lancers rides past where Akbar's cutthroats are hiding]
- Yasin Karim: Shall I fire a shot and order them to surrender?
- Mohammed Akbar: Shhh! You want them to hear you?
- Yasin Karim: But you are the great Mohammed Akbar.
- Mohammed Akbar: I know that.
- Yasin Karim: And I know it.
- Mohammed Akbar: But the Lancers - do they know it?
- Yasin Karim: But of course! They consider you a treacherous and unscrupulous enemy.
- Mohammed Akbar: Please, no flattery. I'm thinking.
- Mohammed Akbar: If only the Lancers would accept defeat gracefully, but always they insist on more fighting - never satisfied until they win!
- Yasin Karim: Greedy dogs. Ah, well - they will have to give up soon... otherwise we will have no men left.