Abd. Fool, durst! had I been born a Slave, I durst with this same Soul do any thing: Yes, and the last Sense that will remain about me, Will be my Passion for that charming Maid, Whom I’d enjoy’d e’er now, but for thy Treachery. [To Osmin.
Phil. Deflour’d my Sister! Heaven punish me eternally, If thou out-liv’st the Minute thou’st declar’d it.
Abd. I will, in spite of all that thou canst do.
—Stand off, fool-hardy Youth, if thou’dst be safe,
And do not draw thy certain Ruin on,
Or think that e’er this Hand was arm’d in vain.
Phil. Poor angry Slave, how I contemn thee now!
Abd. As humble Huntsmen do the generous Lion;
Now thou darst see me lash my Sides, and roar,
And bite my Snare in vain; who with one Look
(Had I been free) hadst shrunk into the Earth,
For shelter from my Rage:
And like that noble Beast, though thus betray’d,
I’ve yet an awful Fierceness in my Looks,
Which makes thee fear t’approach; and ‘tis at distance
That thou dar’st kill me; for come but in my reach,
And with one Grasp I wou’d confound thy Hopes.
Phil. I’ll let thee see how vain thy Boastings are, And unassisted, by one single Rage, Thus—make an easy Passage to thy Heart.
[Runs on him, all the rest do the like in the same Minute. Abd. aims at the Prince, and kills Osmin, and falls dead himself.
—Die with thy Sins unpardon’d, and forgotten—
[Shout within.
Alon. Great Sir, your Throne and Kingdom want you now; Your People rude with Joy, do fill each Street, And long to see their King—whom Heaven preserve.