The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. II by Aphra Behn

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_Ant_. That, Sir, will I.

_Sebast_. And I.

_Phil_. Page, fill my Glass, I will begin the Round,
Ye all shall pledge it--_Alonzo_, first to thee.
[_Drinks_.

_Alon_. To me, Sir!

_Phil_. Why, yes, thou lovest him--therefore--
Nay, you shall drink it, tho 'twere o'th' _Stygian_ Lake.
Take it--by Heaven, thoud'st pimp for him to my Mother--
Nay, and after that, give him another Sister.

_Alon_. 'Tis well you are my Prince.

_Phil_. I'd rather be a Prince of Curs--come pledge me--

_Alon_. Well, Sir, I'll give you way.
[_Drinks_.

_Phil_. So wou'dst thou any--though they trod on thee.
So--nay, Prince Cardinal, tho it be not decent
For one so sanctify'd to drink a Health;
Yet 'tis your Office both to damn and bless--
Come, drink and damn the Moor.

_Men_. Sir, I'm for no carousing.

_Phil_. I'm in an Humour now to be obey'd,
And must not be deny'd--But see, the Moor
_Enter_ Abdelazer, _gazes on them_.
Just come to pledge at last--Page, fill again--

_Abd_. I'll do you Reason, Prince, what'er it be.
[_Gives him the Glass_.

_Phil_. 'Twas kindly said--Confusion to the Moor.

_Abd_. Confusion to the Moor--if this vain Boy,
See the next rising Sun. [_Aside_.

_Phil_. Well done, my Lad.

_King_. _Abdelazer_, you have been missing long,
The publick Good takes up your whole Concern,
But we shall shortly ease you of that Load--
Come, let's have some Musick;
_Ordonio_, did I not call for Musick?

_Ord_. You did, Sir.

_Abd_. _Roderigo!_

_Rod_. My gracious Lord--
[Roderigo _whispers to_ Abd.

_Abd_. No more--the Prince observes us.

_Phil_. There's no good towards when you are whisp'ring.

_Ord_. The Musick you commanded, Sir, is ready.

SONG.

Nymph.

_Make haste_, Amintas, _come away,
The Sun is up and will not stay;
And oh how very short's a Lover's_ Day!
_Make haste_, Amintas, _to this Grove,
Beneath whose Shade so oft I've sat,
And heard my dear lay'd Swain repeat,
How much he_ Galatea _lov'd;
Whilst all the listening Birds around,
Sung to the Musick of the blessed Sound.

_Make haste_, Amintas, _come away,
The Sun is up and will not stay;
And oh how very short's a Lover's Day_!

Swain enters, with Shepherds and Shepherdesses, and Pipes.

_I hear thy charming Voice, my Fair,
And see, bright Nymph, thy Swain is here;
Who his Devotions had much earlier paid,
But that a Lamb of thine was stray'd;
And I the little Wanderer have brought,
That with one angry Look from thy fair Eyes,
Thou may'st the little Fugitive chastise,
Too great a Punishment for any Fault.
Come_, Galatea, _haste away,
The Sun is up and will not stay,
And oh how very short's a Lover's Day_! [Dance.

_King_. How likes _Florella_ this?

_Flor_. Sir, all Delight's so banish'd from my Soul,
I've lost the Taste of every single Joy.

_Abd_. God's! this is fine! Give me your Art of Flattery,
Or something more of this, will ruin me--
Tho I've resolv'd her Death, yet whilst she's mine,
I would not have her blown by Summer Flies.

_Phil_. Mark how he snarls upon the King!
The Cur will bite anon.

_Abd_. Come, my _Florella_, is't not Bed-time, Love?

_Flor_. I'll wait upon you, Sir.
[Going out.

_Phil_. The Moor has ta'en away, we may depart.

_Abd_. What has he ta'en away?
[_Turns about_.

_Phil_. The fine gay play-thing, that made us all so merry.

_Abd_. Was this your Sport? [To his Wife.

_King_. _Abdelazer_, keep your way--Good night, fair Creature!

_Abd_. I will obey for once.

[_Ex_. Abd. _and_ Flor.

_King_. Why this Resentment, Brother, and in publick?

_Phil_. Because he gives me Cause, and that in Publick.
And, Sir, I was not born to bear with Insolence;
I saw him dart Revenge from both his Eyes,
And bite his angry Lip between his Teeth,
To keep his Jealousy from breaking forth,
Which, when it does--stand fast, my King.

_King_. But, _Philip_, we will find a way to check him;
Till when we must dissemble--take my Counsel--Good night.

_Phil_. I cannot, nor I will not--yet good Night.
[_Exit_ King, _and all but_ Philip's _Party_.
Well, Friends, I see the King will sleep away his Anger,
And tamely see us murder'd by this Moor;
But I'll be active, Boys--
Therefore, _Antonio_, you command the Horse;
Get what more Numbers to our Cause you can:
'Tis a good Cause, and will advance our Credit.
We will awake this King out of his Lethargy of Love,
And make him absolute--Go to your Charge,
And early in the Morning I'll be with you--
[_Ex. all but_ Phil.
If all fail, Portugal shall be my Refuge,
Those whom so late I conquer'd, shall protect me--
But this Alanzo I shou'd make an Interest in;
Cou'd I but flatter--'tis a Youth that's brave.

_Enter_ Cardinal _in haste_.

_Men_. Fly, fly, my Prince, we are betray'd and lost else.

_Phil_. Betray'd and lost! Dreams, idle Coward Dreams.

_Men_. Sir, by my Holy Order, I'm in earnest,
And you must either quickly fly, or die;
'Tis so ordain'd--nor have I time to tell
By what strange Miracle I learn'd our Fate.

_Phil_. Nor care I, I will stay, and brave it.

_Men_. That, Sir, you shall not, there's no safety here,
And 'tis the Army only can secure us.

_Phil_. Where had you this Intelligence?

_Men_. I'll tell you as we go to my Apartment;
Where we must put ourselves in Holy Dress;
For so the Guards are set in every Place,
(And those all Moors, the Slaves of _Abdelazer_)
That 'tis impossible in any other Habit to escape.
Come, haste with me, and let us put 'em on.

_Phil_. I had rather stay and kill till I am weary--
Let's to the Queen's Apartment and seize this Moor;
I'm sure there the Mongrel's kennel'd.

_Men_. Sir, we lose time in talking--Come with me.

_Phil_. Where be these lousy Gaberdines?

_Men_. I will conduct you to 'em.

_Phil_. Mother--and Moor, farewel,
I'll visit you again; and if I do,
My black Infernal, I will conjure you.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT III.

SCENE I. _A Gallery in the Palace_.

_Enter_ Abdelazer _and_ Zarrack.

_Zar. Osmin_ (my Lord) by this has done his Task,
And _Philip_ is no more among the living:
Will you not rest to night?

_Abd_. Is this a time for Sleep and Idleness--dull Slaves?

_Zar_. The Bus'ness we have Order, Sir, to do,
We can without your Aid.

_Enter_ Osmin.

_Abd. Osmin_!
Thy ominous Looks presage an ill Success;
Thy Eyes no joyful News of Murders tell:
I thought I shou'd have seen thee drest in Blood--
Speak! Speak thy News--
Say that he lives, and let it be thy last.

_Osm_. Yes, Sir, he lives.

_Abd_. Lives! thou ly'st, base Coward--lives!--renounce thy Gods!
It were a Sin less dangerous--speak again.

_Osm_. Sir, _Philip_ lives.

_Abd_. Oh treacherous Slave!

_Osm_. Not by my Fault, by Heav'n!

_Abd_. By what curst Chance,
If not from thee, could he evade his Fate?

_Osm_. By some Intelligence from his good Angel.

_Abd_. From his good Devil!
Gods! must the Earth another Day at once
Bear him and me alive?

_Osm_. Another Day!--an Age for ought I know;
For, Sir, the Prince is fled, the Cardinal too.

_Abd_. Fled! fled--say'st thou?
Oh, I cou'd curse the Stars, that rule this Night:
'Tis to the Camp they're fled; the only Refuge
That Gods, or Men cou'd give 'em--
Where got you this Intelligence?

_Osm_. My Lord, inquiring for the Prince
At the Apartment of the Cardinal, (whither he went)
His Pages answer'd me, he was at his Devotions:
A lucky time (I thought) to do the Deed;
And breaking in, found only their empty Habits,
And a poor sleepy Groom, who with much threatning,
Confess'd that they were fled, in holy Robes.

_Abd_. That Case of Sanctity was first ordain'd,
To cheat the honest World:
Twas an unlucky Chance--but we are idle--
Let's see, how from this ill, we may advance a good--
[_Pauses_.
'Tis now dead time of Night, when Rapes, and Murders
Are hid beneath the horrid Veil of Darkness--
I'll ring thro all the Court, with doleful Sound
The sad Alarms of Murder--Murder--_Zarrack_,
Take up thy standing yonder--_Osmin_, thou
At the Queen's Apartment--cry out, Murder:
Whilst I, like his ill Genius, do awake the King;
Perhaps in this Disorder I may kill him. [_Aside_.
--Treason--Murder--Murder--Treason.

_Enter_ Alonzo, _and Courtiers_.

_Alon_. What dismal Crys are these?--

_Abd_. Where is the King?--Treason--Murder!
Where--is the sleeping Queen?--Arise, arise.

_Osm_. The Devil taught him all his Arts of Falshood. [_Aside_.

_Enter_ King _in a Night-Gown, with Lights_.

_King_. Who frights our quiet Slumbers with this Noise?

_Enter_ Queen _and Women, with Lights_.

_Qu_. Was it a Dream, or did I hear the Sound
Of Treason, call me from my silent Griefs?

_King_. Who rais'd this Rumour, _Abdelazer_, you?

_Abd_. I did, Great Sir.

_King_. Your Reasons.

_Abd_. Oh Sir, your Brother _Philip_, and the Cardinal,
Both animated by a Sense of Wrongs,
(And envying, Sir, the Fortune of your Slave)
Had laid a Plot this Night, to murder you:
And 'cause they knew it was my waiting Night,
They wou'd have laid the Treason, Sir, on me.

_King_. The Cardinal, and my Brother! bring them forth,
Their Lives shall answer it.

_Abd_. Sir, 'tis impossible:
For when they found their Villany discover'd,
They in two Friers Habits made escape.

_King_. That Cardinal is subtle, and ambitious,
And from him _Philip_ learnt his dangerous Principles.

_Qu_. The Ambition of the one infects the other,
And they are both too dangerous to live--
But might a Mother's Counsel be obey'd,
I wou'd advise you, send the valiant Moor
To fetch 'em back, e'er they can reach the Camp:
For thither they are fled--where they will find
A Welcome fatal to us all.

_King_. Madam, you counsel well; and, _Abdelazer_,
Make it your Care to fetch these Traitors back,
Not only for my Safety, and the Kingdom's,
But as they are your Enemies; and th' envious World
Will say, you made this story to undo 'em.

_Abd_. Sir, I'll obey; nor will I know repose,
Till I have justify'd this fatal Truth.
[Abd. _goes to the_ Queen, _and talks to her_.

_King_. Mean time I will to my _Florella's_ Lodging,
Silence, and Night, are the best Advocates [_Aside_.
To plead a Lover's Cause--_Abdelazer_--haste.
Madam, I'll wait on you to your Chamber.

_Abd_. Sir, that's my Duty.

_King_. Madam, good Night--_Alonzo_, to your rest.
[_Ex. all but_ Qu. _and_ Abd.

_Qu. Philip_ escap'd!
Oh, that I were upon some Desart Shoar,
Where I might only to the Waves and Winds
Breathe out my Sense of Rage for this Defeat.

_Abd_. Oh, 'tis no time for Rage, but Action, Madam.

_Qu_. Give me but any Hopes of blest Revenge,
And I will be as calm as happy Lovers.

_Abd_. There is a way, and is but that alone;
But such a way, as never must be nam'd.

_Qu_. How! not be nam'd! Oh, swear thou hat'st me rather,
It were a Torment equal to thy Silence.

_Abd_. I'll shew my Passion rather in that Silence.

_Qu_. Kind Torturer, what mean'st thou?

_Abd_. To shew you, Madam, I had rather live
Wrong'd and contemn'd by _Philip_,
Than have your dearer Name made infamous.

_Qu_. Heavens! dost thou mock my Rage? can any Sin
I could commit, undo my Honour more
Than his late Insolence?
Oh, name me something may revenge that Shame:
I wou'd encounter killing Plagues, or Fire,
To meet it--Come, oh quickly give me ease.

_Abd_. I dare no more reveal the guilty Secret,
Than you dare execute it when 'tis told.

_Qu_. How little I am understood by thee--
Come, tell me instantly, for I grow impatient;
You shall obey me--nay, I do command you.

_Abd_. Durst you proclaim--_Philip_ a Bastard, Madam?

_Qu_. Hah! proclaim my self--what he wou'd have me thought!
What mean'st thou?--

_Abd_. Instruct you in the way to your Revenge.

_Qu_. Upon my self thou meanest--

_Abd_. No--
He's now fled to th' Camp, where he'll be fortify'd
Beyond our Power to hurt, but by this means;
Which takes away his Hopes of being a King,
(For he'd no other Aim in taking Arms)
And leaves him open to the People's Scorn;
Whom own'd as King, Numbers wou'd assist him,
And then our Lives he may dispose,
As he has done our Honours.

_Qu_. There's Reason in thy Words: but oh my Fame!

_Abd_. Which I, by Heaven, am much more tender of,
Than my own Life or Honour; and I've a way
To save that too, which I'll at leisure tell you.
In the mean time send for your Confessor,
And with a borrow'd Penitence confess,
Their Idol _Philip_ is a Bastard;
And zealously pretend you're urg'd by Conscience,
A cheap Pretence to cozen Fools withal.

_Qu_. Revenge, although I court you with my fatal Ruin,
I must enjoy thee: there's no other way,
And I'm resolv'd upon the mighty Pleasure;
He has profan'd my purer Flame for thee,
And merits to partake the Infamy.
[_He leads her out_.

_Abd_. Now have at my young King--
I know he means to cuckold me to Night,
Whilst he believes I'll tamely step aside--
No, let _Philip_ and the Cardinal gain the Camp,
I will not hinder 'em--
I have a nobler Sacrifice to make
To my declining Honour, shall redeem it,
And pay it back with Interest--well, then in order to't,
I'll watch about the Lodgings of _Florella_,
And if I see this hot young Lover enter,
I'll save my Wife the trouble of allaying
The amorous Heat--this--will more nimbly do't,
[_Snatches out his Dagger_.
And do it once for all--

_Enter_ Florella _in her Night-Clothes_.

_Flor_. My _Abdelazer_--why in that fierce posture,
As if thy Thoughts were always bent on Death?
Why is that Dagger out?--against whom drawn?

_Abd_. Or stay,--suppose I let him see _Florella_,
And when he's high with the expected Bliss,
Then take him thus--Oh, 'twere a fine surprize!

_Flor_. My Lord--dear _Abdelazer_.

_Abd_. Or say--I made her kill him--that were yet
An Action much more worthy of my Vengeance.

_Flor_. Will you not speak to me? what have I done?

_Abd_. By Heaven, it shall be so.

_Flor_. What shall be so?

_Abd_. Hah--

_Flor_. Why dost thou dress thy Eyes in such unusual wonder?
There's nothing here that is a stranger to thee,
Or what is not intirely thine own.

_Abd_. Mine!

_Flor_. Thou canst not doubt it.

_Abd_. No,--and for a proof that thou art so,--take this Dagger.

_Flor_. Alas, Sir!--what to do?

_Abd_. To stab a Heart, _Florella_, a Heart that loves thee.

_Flor_. Heaven forbid!

_Abd_. No matter what Heaven will, I say it must--

_Flor_. What must?

_Abd_. That Dagger must enter the Heart of him
That loves thee best, _Florella_;--guess the Man.

_Flor_. What means my Moor?
Wouldst thou have me kill thy self?

_Abd_. Yes--when I love thee better than the King.

_Flor_. Ah, Sir! what mean you?

_Abd_. To have you kill this King,
When next he does pursue thee with his Love--
What, do you weep?--
By Heaven, they shall be bloody Tears then.

_Flor_. I shall deserve them--when I suffer Love
That is not fit to hear;--but for the King,
That which he pays me, is so innocent--

_Abd_. So innocent! damn thy dissembling Tongue;
Did I not see, with what fierce wishing Eyes
He gazed upon thy Face, whilst yours as wantonly
Returned, and understood the amorous Language?

_Flor_. Admit it true, that such his Passions were,
As (Heaven's my witness) I've no cause to fear;
Have not I Virtue to resist his Flame,
Without a pointed Steel?

_Abd_. Your Virtue!--Curse on the weak Defence;
Your Virtue's equal to his Innocence.
Here, take this Dagger, and if this Night he visit thee,
When he least thinks on't--send it to his Heart.

_Flor_. If you suspect me, do not leave me, Sir.

_Abd_. Oh--I'm dispatch'd away--to leave you free--
About a wonderful Affair--mean time,
I know you will be visited--but as you wish to live,
At my return let me behold him dead.--
Be sure you do't--'tis for thy Honour's safety--
I love thee so, that I can take no rest,
Till thou hast kill'd thy Image in his Breast.
--Adieu, my dear _Florella_.
[Exit_.

_Flor_. Murder my King! the Man that loves me too--
What Fiend, what Fury such an act wou'd do?
My trembling Hand wou'd not the Weapon bear,
And I should sooner strike it here--than there.
[_Pointing to her Breast_.
No! though of all I am, this Hand alone
Is what thou canst command, as being thy own;
Yet this has plighted no such cruel Vow;
No Duty binds me to obey thee 'now.
To save my King's, my Life I will expose,
No Martyr dies in a more glorious Cause.

[_Exit_.

SCENE II. _The Queen's Apartments_.

_Enter the_ Queen _in an undress alone, with a Light_.

_Qu_. Thou grateful Night, to whom all happy Lovers
Make their devout and humble Invocations;
Thou Court of Silence, where the God of Love,
Lays by the awful Terror of a Deity,
And every harmful Dart, and deals around
His kind Desires; whilst thou, blest Friend to Joys,
Draw'st all thy Curtains, made of gloomy Shades,
To veil the Blushes of soft yielding Maids;
Beneath thy Covert grant the Love-sick King,
May find admittance to _Florella's_ Arms;
And being there, keep back the busy Day;
Maintain thy Empire till my Moor returns;
Where in her Lodgings he shall find his Wife,
Amidst her amorous Dalliance with my Son.--
My watchful Spies are waiting for the Knowledge;
Which when to me imparted, I'll improve,
Till my Revenge be equal to my Love.
_Enter_ Elvira.
--_Elvira_, in thy Looks I read Success;
What hast thou learnt?

_Elv_. Madam, the King is gone as you imagin'd,
To fair _Florella's_ Lodging.

_Qu_. But art thou sure he gain'd Admittance?

_Elv_. Yes, Madam;
But what Welcome he has found, to me's unknown;
But I believe it must be great, and kind.

_Qu_. I am of thy Opinion.--
But now, _Elvira_, for a well-laid Plot,
To ruin this _Florella_;--though she be innocent,
Yet she must die; so hard a Destiny
My Passion for her Husband does decree:
But 'tis the way I stop at.--
His Jealousy already I have rais'd;
That's not enough, his Honour must be touch'd.
This Meeting twixt the King and fair _Florella_,
Must then be render'd publick;
'Tis the Disgrace, not Action, must incense him--
Go you to Don _Alonzo's_ Lodging strait,
Whilst I prepare my Story for his Ear.--
[Exit Elvira.
Assist me all that's ill in Woman-kind,
And furnish me with Sighs, and feigned Tears,
That may express a Grief for this Discovery.--
My Son, be like thy Mother, hot and bold;
And like the noble Ravisher of Rome,
Court her with Daggers, when thy Tongue grows faint,
Till thou hast made a Conquest o'er her Virtue.
_Enter_ Alonzo, Elvira.
--Oh, _Alonzo_, I have strange News to tell thee!

_Alon_. It must be strange indeed, that makes my Queen
Dress her fair Eyes in Sorrow.

_Qu_. It is a Dress that thou wilt be in love with,
When thou shalt hear my Story.--
You had a Sister once.

_Alon_. Had!

_Qu_. Yes, had,--whilst she was like thy self, all Virtue;
Till her bewitching Eyes kindled such Flames,
As will undo us all.

_Alon_. My Sister, Madam! sure it cannot be:--
What Eyes? what Flames?--inform me strait.

_Qu. Alonzo_, thou art honest, just and brave:
And should I tell thee more,--
(Knowing thy Loyalty's above all Nature)
It would oblige thee to commit an Outrage,
Which baser Spirits will call Cruelty.

_Alon_. Gods, Madam! do not praise my Virtue thus,
Which is so poor, it scarce affords me patience
To attend the end of what you wou'd deliver--
Come, Madam, say my Sister--is a Whore.
I know 'tis so you mean; and being so,
Where shall I kneel for Justice?
Since he that shou'd afford it me,
Has made her Criminal.--
Pardon me, Madam, 'tis the King I mean.

_Qu_. I grieve to own, all thy prophetick Fears
Are true, _Alonzo_, 'tis indeed the King.

_Alon_. Then I'm disarm'd,
For Heaven can only punish him.

_Qu_. But, _Alonzo_,
Whilst that religious Patience dwells about thee,
All Spain must suffer, nay, Ages that shall ensue
Shall curse thy Name, and Family;
From whom a Race of Bastards shall proceed,
To wear that Crown.

_Alon_. No, Madam, not for mine,
My Sister's in my power, her Honour's mine;
I can command her Life, though not my King's.
Her Mother is a Saint, and shou'd she now
Look down from Heaven upon a Deed so foul,
I think even there she wou'd invent a Curse,
To thunder on her Head.--
But, Madam, whence was this Intelligence?

_Qu. Elvira_ saw the King enter her Lodgings,
With Lover's haste, and Joy.

_Alon_. Her Lodgings!--when?

_Qu_. Now, not an Hour ago,
Now, since the Moor departed.

_Alon_. Damnation on her! can she be thus false?
Come, lead me to the Lodgings of this Strumpet,
And make me see this truth, [_To_ Elvira.
Or I will leave thee dead, for thus abusing me.

_Qu_. Nay, dear _Alonzo_, do not go inrag'd,
Stay till your Temper wears a calmer look;
That if, by chance, you shou'd behold the Wantons,
In little harmless Dalliance, such as Lovers
(Aided with Silence, and the shades of Night)
May possibly commit,
You may not do that which you may repent of.

_Alon_. Gods! should I play the Pander!
And with my Patience, aid the amorous Sin--
No, I shall scarce have so much Tameness left,
To mind me of my Duty to my King.
Ye Gods! behold the Sacrifice I make
To my lost Honour: behold, and aid my Justice.
[_Ex_. Alon.

_Qu_. It will concern me too to see this Wonder,
For yet I scarce can credit it.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. Florella's _Lodgings_.

_Enter the_ King, _leading in_ Florella _all in fear_.

_Flor_. Ah, Sir, the Gods and you would be more merciful,
If by a Death less cruel than my Fears,
You would preserve my Honour; begin it quickly,
And after that I will retain my Duty,
And at your Feet breathe Thanks in dying Sighs.

_King_. Where learnt you, Fairest, so much Cruelty
To charge me with the Power of injuring thee?
Not from my Eyes, where Love and Languishment
Too sensibly inform thee of my Heart.

_Flor_. Call it not Injury, Sir, to free my Soul
From fears which such a Visit must create,
In dead of Night, when nought but frightful Ghosts
Of restless Souls departed walk the Round.

_King_. That fleeting thing am I, whom all Repose,
All Joys, and every good of Life abandon'd,
That fatal Hour thou gavest thy self away;
And I was doom'd to endless Desperation:
Yet whilst I liv'd, all glorious with my hopes,
Some sacred Treasures in thy Breast I hid,
And near thee still my greedy Soul will hover.

_Flor_. Ah, rather like a Ravisher you come,
With Love and Fierceness in your dangerous Eyes;
And both will equally be fatal to me.

_King_. Oh, do not fear me, as the fair _Lucretia_
Did the fierce Roman Youth; I mean no Rapes,
Thou canst not think that I wou'd force those Joys,
Which cease to be so, when compell'd, _Florella_--
No, I would sooner pierce this faithful Heart,
Whose Flame appears too criminal for your Mercy.

_Flor_. Why do you fright me, Sir? methinks your Looks
All pale, your Eyes thus fixt, and trembling Hands,
The awful Horror of the dark and silent Night,
Strike a cold Terror round my fainting Heart,
That does presage some fatal Accident.

_King_. 'Tis in your cruel Eyes the Danger lies--
Wou'd you receive me with that usual Tenderness,
Which did express it self in every Smile,
I should dismiss tin's Horror from my Face,
And place again its native Calmness there;
And all my Veins shall re-assume their Heat,
And with a new and grateful Ardour beat.

_Flor_. Sir, all my Soul is taken up with fear,
And you advance your Fate, by staying here--
Fly, fly, this place of Death--if _Abdelazer_
Shou'd find you here--all the Divinity
About your sacred Person could not guard you.

_King_. Ah, my _Florella_, cease thy needless Fear,
And in thy Soul let nothing reign but Love;
Love, that with soft Desires may fill thy Eyes,
And save thy Tongue the pain t' instruct my Heart,
In the most grateful Knowledge Heaven can give me.

_Flor_. That Knowledge, Sir, wou'd make us both more wretched,
Since you, I know, wou'd still be wishing on,
And I shou'd grant, till we were both undone.
And, Sir, how little she were worth your care,
Cou'd part with all her honourable Fame,
For an inglorious Life--short and despis'd--

_King_. Canst thou believe a Flame thy Eyes have kindled,
Can urge me to an infamous pursuit?--
No, my _Florella_, I adore thy Virtue,
And none profane those Shrines, to whom they offer;
--Say but thou lov'st--and I thus low will bow--
[_Kneels_.
And sue to thee, to be my Sovereign Queen?
I'll circle thy bright Forehead with the Crowns
Of _Castile, Portugal_, and _Arragon_;
And all those petty Kingdoms, which do bow
Their Tributary Knees to thy Adorer.

_Flor_. Ah, Sir! have you forgot my sacred Vow?
All that I am, is _Abdelazer's_ now.

_King_. By Heav'n, it was a sacrilegious Theft;
But I the Treasure from his Breast will tear,
And reach his Heart, though thou art seated there.

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