Flor. Sir, all my Soul is taken up with fear,
And you advance your Fate, by staying here—
Fly, fly, this place of Death—if Abdelazer
Shou’d find you here—all the Divinity
About your sacred Person could not guard you.
King. Ah, my Florella, cease thy needless Fear,
And in thy Soul let nothing reign but Love;
Love, that with soft Desires may fill thy Eyes,
And save thy Tongue the pain t’ instruct my Heart,
In the most grateful Knowledge Heaven can give me.
Flor. That Knowledge, Sir, wou’d make us both more wretched,
Since you, I know, wou’d still be wishing on,
And I shou’d grant, till we were both undone.
And, Sir, how little she were worth your care,
Cou’d part with all her honourable Fame,
For an inglorious Life—short and despis’d—
King. Canst thou believe a Flame thy Eyes have kindled,
Can urge me to an infamous pursuit?—
No, my Florella, I adore thy Virtue,
And none profane those Shrines, to whom they offer;
—Say but thou lov’st—and I thus low will bow—
[Kneels.
And sue to thee, to be my Sovereign Queen?
I’ll circle thy bright Forehead with the Crowns
Of Castile, Portugal, and Arragon;
And all those petty Kingdoms, which do bow
Their Tributary Knees to thy Adorer.
Flor. Ah, Sir! have you forgot my sacred Vow? All that I am, is Abdelazer’s now.
King. By Heav’n, it was a sacrilegious Theft; But I the Treasure from his Breast will tear, And reach his Heart, though thou art seated there.
Flor. A Deed like that my Virtue wou’d undo,
And leave a Stain upon your Glories too;
A Sin, that wou’d my Hate, not Passion move;
I owe a Duty, where I cannot love.
King. Thou think’st it then no Sin to kill thy King; For I must die, without thy Love, Florella.
Flor. How tamely, Sir, you with the Serpent play, Whose fatal Poison must your Life betray; And though a King, cannot divine your Fate; Kings only differ from the Gods in that.— See, Sir, with this—I am your Murderer made; [Holds up a Dagger. By those we love, we soonest are betray’d.
King. How! can that fair Hand acquaint it self with Death? —What wilt thou do, Florella?