Phil. Stand off—or I’ll make way upon thy Bosom.
Abd. How got you, Sir, this daring?
Phil. From injur’d Philip’s Death,
Who, whilst he liv’d, unjustly cherish’d thee,
And set thee up beyond the reach of Fate;
Blind with thy brutal Valor, deaf with thy Flatteries,
Discover’d not the Treason thou didst act,
Nor none durst let him know ‘em—but did he live,
I wou’d aloud proclaim them in his Ears.
Abd. You durst as well been damn’d.
Phil. Hell seize me if I want Revenge for this—
Not dare!
Arise, thou injur’d Ghost of my dead King,
And thro thy dreadful Paleness dart a Horror,
May fright this pair of Vipers from their Sins.
Abd. Oh insupportable! dost hear me, Boy?
Qu. Are ye all mute, and hear me thus upbraided? [To the Lords.
Phil. Dare ye detain me whilst the Traitor braves me?
Men. Forbear, my Prince, keep in that noble Heat That shou’d be better us’d than on a Slave.
Abd. You politick Cheat—