Abd. Ay! there’s your Cause of Hate! Curst be my Birth,
And curst be Nature that has dy’d my Skin
With this ungrateful Colour! cou’d not the Gods
Have given me equal Beauty with Alonzo!
—Yet as I am, I’ve been in vain ador’d,
And Beauties great as thine have languish’d for me.
The Lights put out, thou in thy naked Arms
Will find me soft and smooth as polish’d Ebony;
And all my Kisses on thy balmy Lips as sweet,
As are the Breezes, breath’d amidst the Groves
Of ripening Spices in the height of Day:
As vigorous too,
As if each Night were the first happy Moment
I laid thy panting Body to my Bosom.
Oh, that transporting Thought—
See—I can bend as low, and sigh as often,
[Kneels.
And sue for Blessings only you can grant;
As any fair and soft Alonzo can—
If you could pity me as well—
But you are deaf, and in your Eyes I read
[Rises with Anger.
A Scorn which animates my Love and Anger;
Nor know I which I should dismiss or cherish.
Leon. The last is much more welcome than the first;
Your Anger can but kill; but, Sir, your Love—
Will make me ever wretched, since ‘tis impossible
I ever can return it.
Abd. Why, kill me then! you must do one or t’other. [Kneels. For thus—I cannot live—why dost thou weep? Thy every Tear’s enough to drown my Soul! How tame Love renders every feeble Sense! [Rises. —Gods! I shall turn Woman, and my Eyes inform me The Transformation’s near—Death! I’ll not endure it, I’ll fly before sh’as quite undone my Soul— [Offers to go. But ‘tis not in my Power—she holds it fast— And I can now command no single part— [Returns. Tell me, bright Maid, if I were amiable, And you were uningag’d, could you then love me?
Leon. No! I could die first.
Abd. Hah!—awake, my Soul, from out this drousy Fit,
And with thy wonted Bravery scorn thy Fetters.
By Heaven, ‘tis gone! and I am now my self.
Be gone, my dull Submission! my lazy Flame
Grows sensible, and knows for what ‘twas kindled.
Coy Mistress, you must yield, and quickly too:
Were you devout as Vestals, pure as their Fire,
Yet I wou’d wanton in the rifled Spoils
Of all that sacred Innocence and Beauty.
—Oh, my Desire’s grown high!
Raging as midnight Flames let loose in Cities,
And, like that too, will ruin where it lights.
Come, this Apartment was design’d for Pleasure,
And made thus silent, and thus gay for me;
There I’ll convince that Error, that vainly made thee think
I was not meant for Love.
Leon. Am I betray’d? are all my Women gone? And have I nought but Heaven for my Defence?
Abd. None else, and that’s too distant to befriend you.
Leon. Oh, take my Life, and spare my dearer Honour!
—Help, help, ye Powers that favour Innocence.
[Enter Women.
Just as the Moor is going to force in Leonora,
enters to him Osmin in haste.
Osm. My Lord, Alonzo—
Abd. What of him, you Slave—is he not secur’d? Speak, dull Intruder, that know’st not times and seasons, Or get thee hence.