Mount. New trouble rather,
And I expect it.
Abd. Who is this? Mountferrat?
Rise up for shame, and like a river dri'd up
With a long drought, from me, your bounteous Sea
Receive those tides of comfort that flow to you;
If ever I look[t] lovely: if desert.
Could ever challenge welcome; if revenge,
And unexpected wreak, were ever pleasing
Or could endear the giver of such blessings,
All these I come adorn'd with, and, as due,
Make challenge of those so long wish'd embraces
Which you (unkind) have hitherto deny'd me.
Mount. Why, what have you done for me?
Abd. Made Gomera
As truely miserable, as you thought him happy,
Could you wish more?
Mount. As if his sickness could
Recover me; the injuries I receiv'd
Were Oriana's.
Abd. She has paid dear for 'em,
She's dead.
Mount. How?
Abd. Dead; my hate could reach no farther:
Taking advantage of her in a swoon,
Under pretence to give a Cordial to her
I poyson'd her: what stupid dulness is this?
What you should entertain with sacrifice,
Can you receive so coldly?
Mount. Bloody deeds
Are grateful offerings, pleasing to the devill,
And thou, in thy black shape, and bla[c]ker actions
Being hels perfect character, art delighted
To do what I thought infinitely wicked,
Tremble to hear: thou hast, in this taen from me
All means to make amends with penitence,
To her wrong'd virtues, and dispoil'd me of
The poor remainder of that hope was left me,
For all I have already, or must suffer.
Abd. I did it for the best.