Abdal. Now, madam, at your feet a king you see;
Or, rather, if you please, a sceptered slave:
'Tis just you should possess the power you gave.
Had love not made me yours, I yet had been
But the first subject to Boabdelin.
Thus heaven declares the crown I bring your due;
And had forgot my title, but for you.
Lyndar. Heaven to your merits will, I hope, be kind;
But, sir, it has not yet declared its mind.
'Tis true, it holds the crown above your head;
But does not fix it 'till your brother's dead.
Abdal. All, but the Alhambra, is within my power;
And that my forces go to take this hour.
Lyndar. When, with its keys, your brother's head you bring,
I shall believe you are indeed a king.
Abdal. But since the events of all things doubtful are,
And, of events, most doubtful those of war;
I beg to know before, if fortune frown,
Must I then lose your favour with my crown?
Lyndar. You'll soon return a conqueror again;
And, therefore, sir, your question is in vain.
Abdul. I think to certain victory I move;
But you may more assure it, by your love.
That grant will make my arms invincible.
Lyndar. My prayers and wishes your success foretell.—
Go then, and fight, and think you fight for me;
I wait but to reward your victory.
Abdal. But if I lose it, must I lose you too?
Lyndar. You are too curious, if you more would know.
I know not what my future thoughts will be:
Poor women's thoughts are all extempore.
Wise men, indeed,
Beforehand a long chain of thoughts produce;
But ours are only for our present use.