Osm. Not till I’ve done the Business which I came for.
Abd. Slave!—that thou cam’st for. [Stabs him in the Arm.
Osm. No, ‘twas to tell you, that Alonzo, Finding himself betray’d, made brave resistance; Some of your Slaves h’as killed, and some h’as wounded.
Abd. ‘Tis time he were secured; I must assist my Guards, or all is lost. [Exit.
Leon. Sure, Osmin, from the Gods thou cam’st,
To hinder my undoing; and if thou dy’st,
Heaven will almost forgive thy other Sins
For this one pious Deed.—
But yet I hope thy Wound’s not mortal.
Osm. ‘Tis only in my Arm—and, Madam, for this pity, I’ll live to do you Service.
Leon. What Service can the Favourite of the Moor, Train’d up in Blood and Mischiefs, render me?
Osm. Why, Madam, I command the Guard of Moors,
Who will all die, when e’er I give the Word.
Madam, ‘twas I caus’d Philip and the Cardinal
To fly to th’ Camp,
And gave ‘em warning of approaching Death.
Leon. Heaven bless thee for thy Goodness.
Osm. I am weary now of being a Tyrant’s Slave,
And bearing Blows too; the rest I could have suffer’d.
Madam, I’ll free the Prince.
But see, the Moor returns.