Chapter V: 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: ’.is 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_. ’.is 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; ’.is 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.

_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_.