Must. In the name of the people, we command you speak: but that pretty lady shall speak first; for we have taken somewhat of a liking to her person.—Be not afraid, lady, to speak to these rude raggamuffians; there is nothing shall offend you, unless it be their stink, an't please you.
[Making a leg.
Alm. Why should I fear to speak, who am your queen?
My peaceful father swayed the sceptre long,
And you enjoyed the blessings of his reign,
While you deserved the name of Africans.
Then, not commanded, but commanding you,
Fearless I speak: know me for what I am.
Bend. How she assumes! I like not this beginning. [Aside.
Alm. I was not born so base to flatter crowds,
And move your pity by a whining tale.
Your tyrant would have forced me to his bed;
But in the attempt of that foul brutal act,
These loyal slaves secured me by his death. [Pointing to Benducar.
405 Bend. Makes she no more of me than of a slave?—[Aside.
Madam, I thought I had instructed you[To Almeyda.
To frame a speech more suiting to the times:
The circumstances of that dire design,
Your own despair, my unexpected aid,
My life endangered by his bold defence,
And, after all, his death, and your deliverance,
Were themes that ought not to be slighted o'er.
Must. She might have passed over all your petty businesses, and no great matter; but the raising of my rabble is an exploit of consequence, and not to be mumbled up in silence, for all her pertness.
Alm. When force invades the gift of nature, life,
The eldest law of nature bids defend;
And if in that defence a tyrant fall,
His death's his crime, not ours,
Suffice it, that he's dead; all wrongs die with him;
When he can wrong no more, I pardon him:
Thus I absolve myself, and him excuse,
Who saved my life and honour, but praise neither.
Bend. 'Tis cheap to pardon, whom you would not pay.
But what speak I of payment and reward!
Ungrateful woman, you are yet no queen,
Nor more than a proud haughty christian slave:
As such I seize my right.[Going to lay hold of her.
Alm. [Drawing a Dagger.] Dare not to approach me!—
Now, Africans,
He shows himself to you; to me he stood
Confessed before, and owned his insolence
To espouse my person, and assume the crown,
Claimed in my right; for this, he slew your tyrant;
Oh no! he only changed him for a worse;
Embased your slavery by his own vileness,
406 And loaded you with more ignoble bonds.
Then think me not ungrateful, not to share
The imperial crown with a presuming traitor.
He says, I am a Christian; true, I am,
But yet no slave: If Christians can be thought
Unfit to govern those of other faith,
'Tis left for you to judge.
Bend. I have not patience; she consumes the time
In idle talk, and owns her false belief:
Seize her by force, and bear her thence unheard.