Alon. I will not, Sir.
Phil. I was indeed too rash; ‘tis such a Villain, As shou’d receive his Death from nought but Slaves.
Abd. Thou’st Reason, Prince! nor can they wound my Body More than I’ve done thy Fame; for my first step To my Revenge, I whor’d the Queen thy Mother.
Phil. Death! though this I knew before, yet the hard Word
Runs harshly thro my Heart;—
If thou hadst murder’d fifty Royal Ferdinands,
And with inglorious Chains as many Years
Had loaded all my Limbs, ‘t had been more pardonable
Than this eternal Stain upon my Name:
—Oh, thou hast breath’d thy worst of Venom now.
Abd. My next advance was poisoning of thy Father.
Phil. My Father poison’d! and by thee, thou Dog!
Oh, that thou hadst a thousand Lives to lose,
Or that the World depended on thy single one,
That I might make a Victim
Worthy to offer up to his wrong’d Ghost.—
But stay, there’s something of thy Count of Sins untold,
That I must know; not that I doubt, by Heaven,
That I am Philip’s Son—
Abd. Not for thy Ease, but to declare my Malice, Know, Prince, I made thy amorous Mother Proclaim thee Bastard, when I miss’d of killing rhee.
Phil. Gods! let me contain my Rage!
Abd. I made her too betray the credulous Cardinal,
And having then no farther use of her,
Satiated with her Lust,
I set Roderigo on to murder her.
Thy Death had next succeeded; and thy Crown
I wou’d have laid at Leonora’s Feet.
Alon. How! durst you love the Princess?