Volume Ii Part 22 (1/2)

--I know thou'st greater Power too--thank thy Treachery!

_Abd_. Dost thou not fear that Power?

_Alon_. By Heaven, not I, Whilst I can this--command.

[_Lays his Hand on his Sword_.

_Abd_. I too command a Sword.

[Abd. _lays his Hand on his, and comes close up to him_.

But not to draw on thee, _Alonzo_; Since I can prove thy Accusation false By ways more grateful--take this Ring, _Alonzo_; The sight of it will break down Prison-Gates, And set all free, as was the first-born Man.

_Alon_. What means this turn?

_Abd_. To enlarge _Philip_; but on such Conditions, As you think fit to make for my Security: And as thou'rt brave, deal with me as I merit.

_Alon_. Art thou in earnest?

_Abd_. I am, by all that's sacred.

_Leon_. Oh, let me fall before you, and ne'er rise, Till I have made you know what Grat.i.tude Is fit for such a Bounty!-- Haste, my _Alonzo_--haste--and treat with _Philip_; Nor do I wish his Freedom, but on such Terms As may be advantageous to the Moor.

_Alon_. Nor I, by Heaven! I know the Prince's Soul, Though it be fierce, has Grat.i.tude and Honour; And for a Deed like this, will make returns, Such as are worthy of the brave Obliger.

[_Exit_ Alon.

_Abd_. Yes, if he be not gone to Heaven before you come. [_Aside_.

--What will become of _Abdelazer_ now, Who with his Power has thrown away his Liberty?

_Leon_. Your Liberty! Oh, Heaven forbid that you, Who can so generously give Liberty, Should be depriv'd of it!

It must not be whilst _Leonora_ lives.

_Abd_. 'Tis she that takes it from me.

_Leon_. I! Alas, I wou'd not for the World Give you one minute's Pain.

_Abd_. You cannot help it, 'tis against your Will; Your Eyes insensibly do wound and kill.

_Leon_. What can you mean? and yet I fear to know.

_Abd_. Most charming of your s.e.x! had Nature made This clouded Face, like to my Heart, all Love, It might have spar'd that Language which you dread; Whose rough harsh sound, unfit for tender Ears, Will ill express the Business of my Life.

_Leon_. Forbear it, if that Business, Sir, be Love.

_Abd_. G.o.ds!

Because I want the art to tell my Story In that soft way, which those can do whose Business Is to be still so idly employ'd, I must be silent and endure my Pain, Which Heaven ne'er gave me so much lameness for.

Love in my Soul is not that gentle thing It is in other b.r.e.a.s.t.s; instead of Calms, It ruffles mine into uneasy Storms.

--I wou'd not love, if I cou'd help it, Madam; But since 'tis not to be resisted here-- You must permit it to approach your Ear.

_Leon_. Not when I cannot hear it, Sir, with Honour.

_Abd_. With Honour!

Nay, I can talk in the Defence of that: By all that's sacred, 'tis a Flame as virtuous, As every Thought inhabits your fair Soul, And it shall learn to be as gentle too; --For I must merit you--

_Leon_. I will not hear this Language; merit me!

_Abd_. Yes--why not?

You're but the Daughter of the King of _Spain_, And I am Heir to great Abdela, Madam; I can command this Kingdom you possess, (Of which my Pa.s.sion only made you Queen) And re-a.s.sume that which your Father took From mine--a Crown as bright as that of _Spain_.