I thy prisoner, sultan,
SALADIN.
Thou my prisoner—
And shall I not to him whose life I gave
Also give freedom?
TEMPLAR.
What ’twere worthy thine
To do, it is my part to hear of thee,
And not to take for granted. But, O Sultan,
To lay loud protestations at thy feet
Of gratitude for a life spared, agrees
Not with my station or my character.
At all times, ’tis once more, prince, at thy service.
SALADIN.
Only forbear to use it against me.
Not that I grudge my enemy one pair more
Of hands—but such a heart, it goes against me
To yield him. I have been deceived with thee,
Thou brave young man, in nothing. Yes, thou art
In soul and body Assad. I could ask thee,
Where then hast thou been lurking all this time?
Or in what cavern slept? What Ginnistan
Chose some kind Perie for thy hiding-place,
That she might ever keep the flower thus fresh?
Methinks I could remind thee here and yonder
Of what we did together—could abuse thee
For having had one secret, e’en to me—
Cheat me of one adventure—yes, I could,
If I saw thee alone, and not myself.
Thanks that so much of this fond sweet illusion
At least is true, that in my sear of life
An Assad blossoms for me. Thou art willing?
TEMPLAR.
All that from thee comes to me, whatsoever
It chance to prove, lies as a wish already
Within my soul.
SALADIN.