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

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_Flor_. A Deed like that my Virtue wou'd undo,
And leave a Stain upon your Glories too;
A Sin, that wou'd my Hate, not Passion move;
I owe a Duty, where I cannot love.

_King_. Thou think'st it then no Sin to kill thy King;
For I must die, without thy Love, _Florella_.

_Flor_. How tamely, Sir, you with the Serpent play,
Whose fatal Poison must your Life betray;
And though a King, cannot divine your Fate;
Kings only differ from the Gods in that.--
See, Sir, with this--I am your Murderer made;
[_Holds up a Dagger_.
By those we love, we soonest are betray'd.

_King_. How! can that fair Hand acquaint it self with Death?
--What wilt thou do, _Florella_?

_Flor_. Your Destiny divert,
And give my Heart those Wounds design'd for yours.
--If you advance, I'll give the deadly Blow.

_King_. Hold!--I command thee hold thy impious Hand,
My Heart dwells there, and if you strike--I die.

_Enter_ Queen, Alonzo, _and_ Elvira.

_Qu. Florella_! arm'd against the King?
[_Snatches the Dagger and stabs her: the_ King _rises_.
Oh Traitress!

_King_. Hold, hold, inhuman Murdress;
What hast thou done, most barbarous of thy Sex!
[_Takes_ Flor. _in his Arms_.

_Qu_. Destroy'd thy Murdress,--and my too fair Rival. [_Aside_.

_King_. My Murdress!--what Devil did inspire thee
With Thoughts so black and sinful? cou'd this fair Saint
Be guilty of a Murder?--No, no, too cruel Mother,
With her Eyes, her charming lovely Eyes,
She might have kill'd, and her too virtuous Cruelty.
--Oh my _Florella_! Sacred lovely Creature!

_Flor_. My Death was kind, since it prevented yours,
And by that Hand, which sav'd mine from a Guilt.
[_Points to the_ Queen.
--That Dagger I receiv'd of _Abdelazer_,
To stab that Heart,--he said, that lov'd me best;
But I design'd to overcome your Passion,
And then to have vanquish'd _Abdelazer's_ Jealousy:
But finding you too faithful to be happy,
I did resolve to die--and have my wish.
--Farewel--my King--my Soul begins its flight,
--And now--is hovering--in eternal--Night.
[Dies.

_King_. She's gone--she's gone--her sacred Soul is fled
To that Divinity, of which it is a part;
Too excellent to inhabit Earthly Bodies.

_Alon_. Oh, Sir, you grieve too much, for one so foul.

_King_. What profane Breath was that pronounc'd her foul?
Thy Mother's Soul, though turn'd into a Cherubim,
Was black to hers--Oh, she was all divine.
--_Alonzo_, was it thou?--her Brother!

_Alon_. When she was good, I own'd that Title, Sir.

_King_. Good!--by all the Gods, she was as chaste as Vestals,
As Saints translated to Divine Abodes.
I offer'd her to be my Queen, _Alonzo_,
To share the growing Glories of my Youth;
But uncorrupted she my Crown contemn'd,
And on her Virtue's Guard stood thus defended.
[Alon. _weeps_.
--Oh my _Florella_! let me here lie fix'd,
[_Kneels_.
And never rise, till I am cold and pale
As thou, fair Saint, art now--But sure
She cou'd not die;--that noble generous Heart,
That arm'd with Love and Honour, did rebate
All the fierce Sieges of my amorous Flame,
Might sure defend it self against those Wounds
Given by a Woman's Hand,--or rather 'twas a Devil's.
[_Rises_.
--What dost thou merit for this Treachery?
Thou vilest of thy Sex--
But thou'rt a thing I have miscall'd a Mother,
And therefore will not touch thee--live to suffer
By a more shameful way;--but here she lies,
Whom I, though dead, must still adore as living.

_Alon_. Sir, pray retire, there's danger in your stay;
When I reflect upon this Night's Disorder,
And the Queen's Art to raise my Jealousy;
And after that my Sister's being murder'd,
I must believe there is some deeper Plot,
Something design'd against your sacred Person.

_King. Alonzo_, raise the Court, I'll find it,
[_Ex_. Alonzo.
Tho 'twere hid within my Mother's Soul.

_Qu_. My gentle Son, pardon my kind mistake,
I did believe her arm'd against thy Life.

_King_. Peace, Fury! Not ill boding Raven Shrieks,
Nor midnight Cries of murder'd Ghosts, are more
Ungrateful, than thy faint and dull Excuses.
--Be gone! and trouble not the silent Griefs,
Which will insensibly decay my Life,
Till like a Marble Statue I am fixt,
Dropping continual Tears upon her Tomb.
[_Kneels and--weeps at_ Florella's _Feet_.

_Abd. [Within]_. Guard all the Chamber-Doors--Fire and Confusion
Consume the _Spanish_ Dogs--was I for this
Sent to fetch back a _Philip_, and a Cardinal,
To have my Wife abus'd?

_Enter_ Abdelazer.

_Qu_. Patience, dear _Abdelazer_.

_Abd_. Patience and I am Foes: where's my _Florella_?
The King! and in _Florella's_ Bed-Chamber!
_Florella_ dead too!--
Rise, thou eternal Author of my Shame;
Gay thing--to you I speak, [King _rises_.
And thus throw off Allegiance.

_Qu_. Oh, stay your Fury, generous _Abdelazer_.

_Abd_. Away, fond Woman.
[_Throws her from him_.

_King_. Villain, to me this Language?

_Abd_. To thee, young amorous King.
How at this dead and silent time of Night,
Durst you approach the Lodgings of my Wife?

_King_. I scorn to answer thee.

_Abd_. I'll search it in thy Heart then.

[_They fight_, Queen _and_ Elv. _run out crying Treason_.

_King_. The Devil's not yet ready for his Soul,
And will not claim his due.--Oh, I am wounded. [_Falls_.

_Abd_. No doubt on't, Sir, these are no Wounds of Love.

_King_. Whate'er they be, you might have spar'd 'em now,
Since those _Florella_ give me were sufficient:
--And yet a little longer, fixing thus
Thou'dst seen me turn to Earth, without thy aid.
_Florella!--Florella!_--is thy Soul fled so far
It cannot answer me, and call me on?
And yet like dying Ecchoes in my Ears,
I hear thee cry, my Love--I come--I come, fair Soul.
--Thus at thy Feet--my Heart shall bleeding--lie.
Who since it liv'd for thee--for thee--will die. [_Dies_.

_Abd_. So--thou art gone--there was a King but now,
And now a senseless, dull, and breathless nothing.
[_A noise of fighting without_.
_Enter_ Queen _running_.

_Qu_. Oh Heavens! my Son--the King, the King is kill'd!--
Yet I must save his Murderer:--Fly, my Moor;

_Alonzo_, Sir, assisted by some Friends,
Has set upon your Guards,
And with resistless Fury is making hither.

_Abd_. Let him come on.

_Enter Alonzo and others, led in by Osmin, Zarrack, and Moors_.

Oh, are you fast?
[_Takes away their Swords_.

_Alon_. What mean'st thou, Villain?

_Abd_. To put your Swords to better uses, Sir,
Than to defend the cause of Ravishers.

_Alon_. Oh Heavens, the King is murder'd!

_Abd_. Look on that Object,
Thy Sister and my Wife, who's doubly murder'd,
First in her spotless Honour, then her Life.

_Alon_. Heaven is more guilty than the King in this.

_Qu_. My Lords, be calm; and since your King is murder'd.
Think of your own dear Safeties; chuse a new King,
That may defend you from the Tyrant's Rage.

_Alon_. Who should we chuse? Prince _Philip_ is our King.

_Abd_. By Heaven, but _Philip_ shall not be my King;
_Philip's_ a Bastard, and Traytor to his Country:
He braves us with an Army at our Walls,
Threatning the Kingdom with a fatal Ruin.
And who shall lead you forth to Conquest now,
But _Abdelazer_, whose Sword reap'd Victory,
As oft as 'twas unsheath'd?--and all for _Spain_
--How many Laurels has this Head adorn'd?
Witness the many Battles I have won;
In which I've emptied all my youthful Veins!--
And all for _Spain!_--ungrateful of my Favours!
--I do not boast my Birth,
Nor will not urge to you my Kingdom's Ruin;
But loss of Blood, and numerous Wounds receiv'd--
And still for _Spain!_--
And can you think, that after all my Toils,
I wou'd be still a Slave?--to Bastard _Philip_ too?
That dangerous Foe, who with the Cardinal,
Threatens with Fire and Sword.--I'll quench those Flames,
Such an esteem I still preserve for _Spain_.

_Alon_. What means this long Harangue? what does it aim at?

_Abd_. To be Protector of the Crown of _Spain_,
Till we agree about a lawful Successor.

_Alon_. Oh Devil!

_Qu_. We are betray'd, and round beset with Horrors;
If we deny him this--the Power being his,
We're all undone, and Slaves unto his Mercy.--
Besides--Oh, give me leave to blush when I declare,
That _Philip_ is--as he has rendred him.--
But I in love to you, love to my _Spain_,
Chose rather to proclaim my Infamy,
Than an ambitious Bastard should be crown'd.

_Alon_. Here's a fine Plot,
What Devil reigns in Woman, when she doats? [_Aside_.

_Rod_. My Lords, I see no remedy but he must be Protector.

_Alon_. Oh, Treachery--have you so soon forgot
The noble _Philip_, and his glorious Heir,
The murder'd _Ferdinand?_--
And, Madam, you so soon forgot a Mother's Name,
That you wou'd give him Power that kill'd your Son?

_Abd_. The Modesty wherewith I'll use that Power,
Shall let you see, I have no other Interest
But what's intirely _Spain's_.--Restore their Swords,
And he amongst you all who is dissatisfy'd,
I set him free this minute.

_Alon_. I take thee at thy word--
And instantly to _Philip's_ Camp will fly.
[_Exit_.

_Abd_. By all the Gods my Ancestors ador'd,
But that I scorn the envying World shou'd think
I took delight in Blood--I wou'd not part so with you.
--But you, my Lords, who value _Spain's_ Repose,
Must for it instantly with me take Arms.
Prince _Philip_, and the Cardinal, now ride
Like _Jove_ in Thunder; we in Storms must meet them.
To Arms! to Arms! and then to Victory,
Resolv'd to conquer, or resolv'd to die.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Abdelazer's _Tent_.

_Enter_ Abdelazer, Osmin _bearing his Helmet of Feathers_,
Zarrack _with his Sword and Truncheon_.

_Abd_. Come, _Osmin_, arm me quickly; for the Day
Comes on apace, and the fierce Enemy
Will take advantages by our delay.

_Enter_ Queen _and_ Elvira.

_Qu_. Oh, my dear Moor!
The rude, exclaiming, ill-affected Multitude
(Tempestuous as the Sea) run up and down,
Some crying, kill the Bastard--some the Moor;
These for King _Philip_,--those for _Abdelazer_.

_Abd_. Your Fears are idle,--blow 'em into Air.
I rush'd amongst the thickest of their Crouds,
And with the awful Splendor of my Eyes,
Like the imperious Sun, dispers'd the Clouds.
But I must combat now a fiercer Foe,
The hot-brain'd _Philip_, and a jealous Cardinal.

_Qu_. And must you go, before I make you mine?

_Abd_. That's my Misfortune--when I return with Victory,
And lay my Wreaths of Laurel at your Feet,
You shall exchange them for your glorious Fetters.

_Qu_. How canst thou hope for Victory, when their Numbers
So far exceed thy Powers?

_Abd_. What's wanting there, we must supply with Conduct.
I know you will not stop at any thing
That may advance our Interest, and Enjoyment.

_Qu_. Look back on what I have already done;
And after that look forward with Assurance.

_Abd_. You then (with only Women in your Train)
Must to the Camp, and to the Cardinal's Tent;--
Tell him, your Love to him hath drawn you thither:
Then undermine his Soul--you know the way on't.
And sooth him into a Belief, that the best way
To gain your Heart, is to leave _Philip's_ Interest;
Urge 'tis the Kingdom's safety, and your own;
And use your fiercest Threats, to draw him to a Peace with me;
Not that you love me, but for the Kingdom's good:
Then in a Tent which I will pitch on purpose,
Get him to meet me: He being drawn off,
Thousands of Bigots (who think to cheat the World
Into an Opinion, that fighting for the Cardinal is
A pious Work) will (when he leaves the Camp)
Desert it too.

_Qu_. I understand you, and more than I have time to be
Instructed in, I will perform; and possibly
Before you can begin, I'll end my Conquests.

_Abd_. 'Twill be a Victory worthy of your Beauty.
--I must to Horse, farewel, my generous Mistress.

_Qu_. Farewel! and may thy Arms as happy prove,
As shall my Art, when it dissembles Love.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE II. Philip's _Tent_.

_Enter_ Philip, Alonzo, _and Guards_.

_Phil_. 'Tis a sad Story thou hast told, _Alonzo_;
Yet 'twill not make me shed one single Tear:
They must be all of Blood that I will offer
To my dear Brother's Ghost--
But, gallant Friend, this Good his Ills have done,
To turn thee over to our juster Interest,
For thou didst love him once.

_Alon_. Whilst I believ'd him honest, and for my Sister's sake;
But since, his Crimes have made a Convert of me.

_Phil_. Gods! is it possible the Queen should countenance
His horrid Villanies?

_Alon_. Nay, worse than so,'tis thought she'll marry him.

_Phil_. Marry him! then here upon my Knees I vow,
[_Kneels_.
To shake all Duty from my Soul;
And all that Reverence Children owe a Parent,
Shall henceforth be converted into Hate. [_Rises_.
--Damnation! marry him! Oh, I cou'd curse my Birth!
This will confirm the World in their Opinion,
That she's the worst of Women;
That I am basely born too, (as she gives it out)
That Thought alone does a just Rage inspire,
And kindles round my Heart an active Fire.

_Alan_. A Disobedience, Sir, to such a Parent,
Heaven must forgive the Sin, if this be one:
--Yet do not, Sir, in Words abate that Fire,
Which will assist you a more effectual way.

_Phil_. Death! I could talk of it an Age;
And, like a Woman, fret my Anger high:
Till like my Rage, I have advanc'd my Courage,
Able to fight the World against my Mother.

_Alan_. Our Wrongs without a Rage, will make us fight,
Wrongs that wou'd make a Coward resolute.

_Phil_. Come, noble Youth,
Let us join both our several Wrongs in one,
And from them make a solemn Resolution,
Never to part our Interest, till this Moor,
This worse than Devil Moor be sent to Hell.

_Alon_. I do.

_Phil_. Hark--hark--the Charge is sounded, let's to Horse,
St. _Jaques_ for the Right of _Spain_ and me.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _A Grave_.

_Drums and Trumpets afar off,--with noise of fighting at a
distance: After a little while, enter_ Philip _in a Rage_.

_Phil_. Oh unjust Powers! why d'ye protect this Monster?--
And this damn'd Cardinal, that comes not up
With the Castilian Troops? curse on his formal Politicks--
_Enter_ Alonzo.
--_Alonzo_, where's the Moor?

_Alon_. The Moor--a Devil--never did Fiend of Hell,
Compell'd by some Magician's Charms,
Break thro the Prison of the folded Earth
With more swift Horrour, than this Prince of Fate
Breaks thro our Troops in spite of Opposition.

_Phil_. Death! 'tis not his single Arm that works the Wonders,
But our Cowardice--Oh, this Dog Cardinal!

_Enter_ Antonio.

_Ant_. Sound a Retreat, or else the Day is lost.

_Phil_. I'll beat that Cur to Death that sounds Retreat.

_Enter_ Sebastian.

_Sebast_. Sound a Retreat.

_Phil_. Who is't that tempts my Sword?--continue the Alarm,
Fight on Pell-mell--fight--kill--be damn'd--do any thing
But sound Retreat--Oh, this damn'd Coward Cardinal!
[_Exeunt_.

_The noise of fighting near; after a little while enter
Philip again_.

_Phil_. Not yet, ye Gods! Oh, this eternal Coward!

_Enter_ Alonzo.

_Alon_. Sir, bring up your Reserves, or all is lost;
Ambition plumes the Moor, that makes him act
Deeds of such Wonder, that even you wou'd envy them.

_Phil_. 'Tis well--I'll raise my Glories to that dazling height,
Shall darken his, or set in endless Night.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE IV. _A Grove_.

_Enter_ Card. and Queen; _the noise of a Battel continuing
afar off all the Scene_.

_Qu_. By all thy Love, by all thy Languishments,
By all those Sighs and Tears paid to my Cruelty,
By all thy Vows, thy passionate Letters sent,
I do conjure thee, go not forth to fight:
Command your Troops not to engage with _Philip_,
Who aims at nothing but the Kingdom's ruin.
--_Fernando's_ kill'd--the Moor has gain'd the Power,
A Power that you nor _Philip_ can withstand;
And is't not better he were lost than _Spain_,
Since one must be a Sacrifice?
Besides--if I durst tell it,
There's something I cou'd whisper to thy Soul,
Wou'd make thee blush at ev'ry single Good
Thou'ast done that insolent Boy;--But 'tis not now
A time for Stories of so strange a Nature,--
Which when you know, you will conclude with me,
That every Man that arms for _Philip's_ Cause,
Merits the name of Traitor.--
Be wise in time, and leave his shameful Interest,
An Interest thou wilt curse thy self for taking;
Be wise, and make Alliance with the Moor.

_Card_. And, Madam, should I lay aside my Wrongs,
Those publick Injuries I have receiv'd,
And make a mean and humble Peace with him?
--No, let Spain be ruin'd by our Civil Swords,
E'er for its safety I forego mine Honour.--

_Enter an Officer_.

_Offi_. Advance, Sir, with your Troops, or we are lost.

_Card_. Give order--

_Qu_. That they stir not on their Lives;
Is this the Duty that you owe your Country?
Is this your Sanctity--and Love to me?
Is't thus you treat the Glory I have offer'd
To raise you to my Bed?
To rule a Kingdom, be a Nation's Safety,
To advance in hostile manner to their Walls;
Walls that confine your Countrymen, and Friends,
And Queen, to whom you've vow'd eternal Peace,
Eternal Love? And will you court in Arms?
Such rude Addresses wou'd but ill become you.
No, from this hour renounce all Claims to me,
Or _Philip's_ Interest; for let me tell you, Cardinal,
This Love, and that Revenge, are inconsistent.

_Card_. But, Madam--

_Qu_. No more--disband your Rebel Troops,
And strait with me to _Abdelazer's_ Tent,
Where all his Claims he shall resign to you,
Both in my self, the Kingdom, and the Crown:
You being departed, thousands more will leave him,
And you're alone the Prop to his Rebellion.

_Enter_ Sebastian.

_Sebast_. Advance, advance, my Lord, with all your Force,
Or else the Prince and Victory is lost,
Which now depends upon his single Valour;
Who, like some ancient Hero, or some God,
Thunders amongst the thickest of his Enemies,
Destroying all before him in such numbers,
That Piles of Dead obstruct his passage to the living--
Relieve him strait, my Lord, with our last Cavalry and
Hopes.

_Card_. I'll follow instantly.--
[_Ex_. Sebast.

_Qu_. Sir, but you shall not, unless it be to Death--
Shall you preserve the only Man I hate,
And hate with so much reason?--let him fall
A Victim to an injur'd Mother's Honour.
--Come, I will be obey'd--indeed I must--[_Fawns on him_.

_Card_. When you're thus soft, can I retain my Anger?
Oh, look but ever thus--in spite of Injuries--
I shall become as tame and peaceable,
As are your charming Eyes, when dress'd in Love,
Which melting down my Rage, leave me defenceless.
--Ah, Madam, have a generous care of me,
For I have now resign'd my Power to you.

[_Shouts within_.

_Qu_. What Shouts are these?

_Enter_ Sebastian.

_Sebast_. My Lord, the Enemy is giving ground,
And _Philip's_ Arm alone sustains the day:
Advance, Sir, and compleat the Victory.
[_Exit_.

_Qu_. Give order strait, that a Retreat be sounded;
And whilst they do so, by me conducted,
We'll instantly to _Abdelazer's_ Tent--
Haste--haste, my Lord, whilst I attend you here.
[_Ex. severally_.
[Cardinal _going out, is met by_ Philip.

_Phil_. Oh, damn your lazy Order, where have you been, Sir?
--But 'tis no time for Questions,
Move forward with your Reserves.

_Card_. I will not, Sir.

_Phil_. How, will not!

_Card_. Now to advance would be impolitick;
Already by your desperate Attempts,
You've lost the best part of our Hopes.

_Phil_. Death! you lye.

_Card_. Lye, Sir!

_Phil_. Yes, lye, Sir,--therefore come on,
Follow the desperate Reer-Guard, which is mine,
And where I'll die, or conquer--follow my Sword
The bloody way it leads, or else, by Heaven,
I'll give the Moor the Victory in spite,
And turn my Force on thee--
Plague of your Cowardice--Come, follow me.

[_Ex_. Card.

SCENE V. _The Grove_.

_As_ Philip _is going off, he is overtook by_ Alonzo, Antonio,
Sebastian, _and other Officers: At the other side some Moors,
and other of_ Abdelazer's _Party, enter and fall on_ Philip _and
the rest--the Moors are beaten off--one left
dead on the Stage_.--

_Enter_ Abdelazer, _with_ Roderigo _and some others_.

_Abd_. Oh, for more Work--more Souls to send to Hell!
--Ha, ha, ha, here's one going thither,--Sirrah--Slave
Moor--who kill'd thee?--how he grins--this Breast,
Had it been temper'd and made proof like mine,
It never wou'd have been a Mark for Fools.

Abd. _going out: Enter_ Philip, Alonzo, Sebastian, Antonio,
_and Officers, as passing over the Stage_.

_Phil_. I'll wear my Sword to th' Hilt, but I will find
The Subject of my Vengeance.--
Moor, 'tis for thee I seek, where art thou, Slave?--

_Abd_. Here, _Philip_. [Abd. _turns_.

_Phil_. Fate and Revenge, I thank thee.--

_Abd_. Why--thou art brave, whoe'er begot thee.

_Phil_. Villain, a King begot me.

_Abd_. I know not that,
But I'll be sworn thy Mother was a Queen,
And I will kill thee handsomly for her sake.

[_Offers to fight, their Parties hinder them_.

_Alon_. Hold--hold, my Prince.

_Osm_. Great Sir, what mean you? [_To_ Abd.
The Victory being yours, to give your Life away
On one so mad and desperate.
[_Their Parties draw_.

_Phil. Alonzo_, hold,
We two will be the Fate of this great Day.

_Abd_. And I'll forego all I've already won,
And claim no Conquest; the whole heaps of Bodies,
Which this Right-hand has slain, declare me Victor.

_Phil_. No matter who's the Victor; I have thee in my view,
And will not leave thee,
Till thou hast crown'd those Heaps, and made 'em all
The glorious Trophies of my Victory--Come on, Sir.

_Alon_. You shall not fight thus single;
If you begin, by Heaven, we'll all fall on.

_Phil_. Dost thou suspect my Power?
Oh, I am arm'd with more than compleat Steel,
The Justice of my Quarrel; when I look
Upon my Father's Wrongs, my Brother's Wounds,
My Mother's Infamy, _Spain's_ Misery,
I am all Fire; and yet I am too cold
To let out Blood enough for my Revenge:
--Therefore stir not a Sword on my side.

_Abd_. Nor on mine.

_They fight; both their Parties engage on either side; the
Scene draws off, and discovers both the Armies, which
all fall on and make the main Battel:_ Philip _prevails,
the_ Moors _give ground: Then the Scene closes to the
the Grove. Enter some_ Moors _flying in disorder_.

SCENE VI. _Changes to a Tent_.

_Enter_ Abdelazer, Roderigo, Osmin, Zarrack, _and some
others of his Party_.

_Rod_. Oh, fly, my Lord, fly, for the Day is lost.

_Abd_. There are three hundred and odd Days i'th Year,
And cannot we lose one? dismiss thy Fears,
They'll make a Coward of thee.

_Osm_. Sir, all the noble _Spaniards_ have forsook you;
Your Soldiers faint, are round beset with Enemies,
Nor can you shun your Fate, but by your Flight.

_Abd_. I can--and must--in spite of Fate:
The Wheel of War shall turn about again,
And dash the Current of his Victories.--
This is the Tent I've pitched, at distance from the Armies,
To meet the Queen and Cardinal;
Charm'd with the Magick of Dissimulation,
I know by this h'as furl'd his Ensigns up,
And is become a tame and coward Ass.
[_A Retreat is sounded_.
--Hark--hark, 'tis done: oh, my inchanting Engine!
--Dost thou not hear Retreat sounded?

_Rod_. Sure 'tis impossible.

_Abd_. She has prevail'd--a Woman's Tongue and Eyes
Are Forces stronger than Artilleries.
_Enter_ Queen, Cardinal, _Women, and Soldiers_.
--We are betray'd--

_Qu_. What means this Jealousy? lay by your Weapons.
And embrace--the sight of these beget Suspicion:
--_Abdelazer_, by my Birth he comes in peace;
Lord Cardinal, on my Honour so comes he.

_Abd_. Let him withdraw his Troops then.

_Qu_. They're Guards for all our Safeties:
Give me your Hand, Prince Cardinal--thine, _Abdelazer_--
[_She brings them together, they embrace_.
This blest Accord I do behold with Joy.

_Card. Abdelazer_,
I at the Queen's Command have met you here,
To know what 'tis you will propose to us.

_Abd_. Peace and eternal Friendship 'twixt us two.
How much against my Will I took up Arms,
Be witness, Heav'n: nor was it in revenge to you,
But to let out th' infected Blood of _Philip_,
Whose sole aim
Is to be King--which Spain will never suffer;
Spain gave me Education, though not Birth,
Which has intitled it my native Home,
To which such Reverence and Esteem I bear,
I will preserve it from the Tyrant's Rage.
The People who once lov'd him, now abhor him,
And 'tis your Power alone that buoys him up:
And when you've lifted him into a Throne,
'Tis time to shake you off.

_Card_. Whilst I behold him as my native Prince,
My Honour and Religion bids me serve him;
Yet not when I'm convinc'd that whilst I do so,
I injure _Spain_.

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