Abd. Look on that Object, Thy Sister and my Wife, who’s doubly murder’d, First in her spotless Honour, then her Life.
Alon. Heaven is more guilty than the King in this.
Qu. My Lords, be calm; and since your King is murder’d. Think of your own dear Safeties; chuse a new King, That may defend you from the Tyrant’s Rage.
Alon. Who should we chuse? Prince Philip is our King.
Abd. By Heaven, but Philip shall not be my King;
Philip’s a Bastard, and Traytor to his Country:
He braves us with an Army at our Walls,
Threatning the Kingdom with a fatal Ruin.
And who shall lead you forth to Conquest now,
But Abdelazer, whose Sword reap’d Victory,
As oft as ‘twas unsheath’d?—and all for Spain
—How many Laurels has this Head adorn’d?
Witness the many Battles I have won;
In which I’ve emptied all my youthful Veins!—
And all for Spain!—ungrateful of my Favours!
—I do not boast my Birth,
Nor will not urge to you my Kingdom’s Ruin;
But loss of Blood, and numerous Wounds receiv’d—
And still for Spain!—
And can you think, that after all my Toils,
I wou’d be still a Slave?—to Bastard Philip too?
That dangerous Foe, who with the Cardinal,
Threatens with Fire and Sword.—I’ll quench those Flames,
Such an esteem I still preserve for Spain.
Alon. What means this long Harangue? what does it aim at?
Abd. To be Protector of the Crown of Spain, Till we agree about a lawful Successor.
Alon. Oh Devil!
Qu. We are betray’d, and round beset with Horrors;
If we deny him this—the Power being his,
We’re all undone, and Slaves unto his Mercy.—
Besides—Oh, give me leave to blush when I declare,
That Philip is—as he has rendred him.—
But I in love to you, love to my Spain,
Chose rather to proclaim my Infamy,
Than an ambitious Bastard should be crown’d.
Alon. Here’s a fine Plot, What Devil reigns in Woman, when she doats? [Aside.