Zar. My Lord, the King has swounded twice, And being recover’d, calls for her Majesty.
Abd. The King not dead!—go, Zafrack, and aloud Tell Don Ordonio and the Cardinal, He that dares enter here to seek the Queen, [Puts his Hand to his Sword. Had better snatch the She from the fierce side Of a young amorous Lion, and ‘twere safer.— Again, more knocking!— [Knocking.
Zar. My gracious Lord, it is your Brother, Don Alonzo.
Abd. I will not have him enter—I am disorder’d.
Zar. My Lord, ‘tis now too late. Enter Alonzo.
Alon. Saw you not the Queen, my Lord?
Abd. My Lord!
Alon. Was not the Queen here with you?
Abd. The Queen with me!
Because, Sir, I am married to your Sister,
You, like your Sister, must be jealous too:
The Queen with me! with me! a Moor! a Devil!
A Slave of Barbary! for so
Your gay young Courtiers christen me—But, Don,
Altho my Skin be black, within my Veins
Runs Blood as red, and royal as the best.—
My Father, Great Abdela, with his Life
Lost too his Crown; both most unjustly ravish’d
By Tyrant Philip, your old King I mean.
How many Wounds his valiant Breast receiv’d
E’er he would yield to part with Life and Empire:
Methinks I see him cover’d o’er with Blood,
Fainting amidst those numbers he had conquer’d.
I was but young, yet old enough to grieve,
Tho not revenge, or to defy my Fetters:
For then began my Slavery; and e’er since
Have seen that Diadem by this Tyrant worn,
Which crown’d the sacred Temples of my Father,
And shou’d adorn mine now—shou’d! nay, and must—
Go tell him what I say—’twill be but Death—
Go, Sir,—the Queen’s not here.
Alon. Do not mistake me, Sir,—or if I wou’d, I’ve no old King to tell—the King is dead— And I am answer’d, Sir, to what I came for, And so good night. [Exit.