Act 3 — 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.