Zul. Methinks that peace of mind were bravely lost;
A crown, whate'er we give, is worth the cost.
Abdal. Justice distributes to each man his right;
But what she gives not, should I take by might?
Zul. If justice will take all, and nothing give,
Justice, methinks, is not distributive.
Abdal. Had fate so pleased, I had been eldest born,
And then, without a crime, the crown had worn!—
Zul. Would you so please, fate yet a way would find;
Man makes his fate according to his mind.
The weak low spirit, fortune makes her slave;
But she's a drudge, when hectored by the brave:
If fate weaves common thread, he'll change the doom,
And with new purple spread a nobler loom.
Abdal. No more!—I will usurp the royal seat;
Thou, who hast made me wicked, make me great.
Zul. Your way is plain: the death of Tarifa
Does on the king our Zegrys' hatred draw;
Though with our enemies in show we close,
'Tis but while we to purpose can be foes.
Selin, who heads us, would revenge his son;
But favour hinders justice to be done.
Proud Ozmyn with the king his power maintains,
And, in him, each Abencerrago reigns.
Abdal. What face of any title can I bring?
Zul. The right an eldest son has to be king.
Your father was at first a private man,
And got your brother ere his reign began;
When, by his valour, he the crown had won,
Then you were born a monarch's eldest son.
Abdal. To sharp-eyed reason this would seem untrue;
But reason I through love's false optics view.