Boab. Abenamar, this evening thither haste;
Desire him to forget his usage past:
Use all your rhetoric, promise, flatter, pray.
To them Almahide, attended.
Aben. Good fortune shows you yet a surer way:
Nor prayers nor promises his mind will move;
'Tis inaccessible to all, but love.
Boab. Oh, thou hast roused a thought within my breast,
That will for ever rob me of my rest.
Ah jealousy, how cruel is thy sting!
I, in Almanzor, a loved rival bring!
And now, I think, it is an equal strife,
If I my crown should hazard, or my wife.
Where, marriage, is thy cure, which husbands boast,
That in possession their desire is lost?
Or why have I alone that wretched taste,
Which, gorged and glutted, does with hunger last?
Custom and duty cannot set me free,
Even sin itself has not a charm for me.
Of married lovers I am sure the first,
And nothing but a king could be so curst.
Almah. What sadness sits upon your royal heart?
Have you a grief, and must not I have part?
All creatures else a time of love possess;
Man only clogs with cares his happiness:
And, while he should enjoy his part of bliss,
With thoughts of what may be, destroys what is.
Boab. You guess aright; I am oppressed with grief,
And 'tis from you that I must seek relief. [To the company.
Leave us; to sorrow there's a reverence due:
Sad kings, like suns eclipsed, withdraw from view. [The Attendants go off, and chairs are set for the King and Queen.
Almah. So, two kind turtles, when a storm is nigh,
Look up, and see it gathering in the sky:
Each calls his mate, to shelter in the groves,
Leaving, in murmur, their unfinished loves:
Perched on some drooping branch, they sit alone,
And coo, and hearken to each other's moan.
Boab. Since, Almahide, you seem so kind a wife, [Taking her by the hand.
What would you do to save a husband's life?
Almah. When fate calls on that hard necessity,
I'll suffer death, rather than you shall die.
Boab. Suppose your country should in danger be;
What would you undertake to set it free?