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?