SCENE I. A rich Chamber.
A Table with Lights, Abdelazer sullenly leaning his Head on his Hands: after a little while, still Musick plays.
SONG.
_Love _in fantastick Triumph sat,
Whilst bleeding Hearts around him flow’d,
For whom fresh Pains he did create,
And strange Tyrannick Pow’r he shewed;
From thy bright Eyes he took his Fires,
Which round about in sport he hurl’d;
But ‘twas from mine he took Desires,
Enough t’undo the amorous World.
From me he took his Sighs and Tears,
From thee his Pride and Cruelty;
From me his Languishments and Fears,
And ev’ry killing Dart from thee:
Thus thou, and I, the God have arrri’d,
And set him up a Deity;
But my poor Heart alone is harm’d,
Whilst thine the Victor is, and free_.
[After which he rouzes, and gazes.
Abd. On me this Musick lost?—this Sound on me That hates all Softness?—What, ho, my Slaves!
Enter Osmin, Zarrack.
Osm. My gracious Lord—
[Enter Queen, Elvira.