Leon. Alas, I’ve no Commands; or if I had, I am too wretched now to be obey’d.
Abd. Can one so fair, and great, ask any thing Of Men, or Heaven, they wou’d not grant with Joy?
Leon. Hea’vns Will I’m not permitted to dispute, And may implore in vain; but ‘tis in you To grant me what may yet preserve my Life.
Abd. In me! in me! the humblest of your Creatures!
By yon bright Sun, or your more splendid Eyes,
I wou’d divest my self of every Hope,
To gratify one single Wish of yours.
—Name but the way.
Leon. I am so unhappy, that the only thing I have to ask, is what you must deny; —The Liberty of Philip—
Abd. How! Philip’s Liberty—and must I grant it?
I (in whose Hands Fortune had put the Crown)
Had I not lov’d the Good and Peace of Spain,
Might have dispos’d it to my own Advantage;
And shall that Peace,
Which I’ve preferr’d above my proper Glories,
Be lost again in him, in him a Bastard?
Alon. That he’s a Bastard, is not, Sir, believ’d;
And she that cou’d love you, might after that
Do any other Sin, and ‘twas the least
Of all the Number to declare him Bastard.
Abd. How, Sir! that you’d love me! what is there here, Or in my Soul, or Person, may not be belov’d?
Alon. I spoke without Reflection on your Person,
But of dishonest Love, which was too plain,
From whence came all the Ills we have endur’d;
And now being warm in Mischiefs,
Thou dost pursue the Game, till all be thine.
Abd. Mine!