Thou shouldst be harnessed 'neath the common yoke.
Al. My will is nothing, prince, and if Morocco
Already hath three wives, I shall rank first.
Fer. Monstrous! Wilt thou stoop to such servile change?
Al. Unwittingly thou speak’st against thyself.
Fer. Alas! what words have injured me with thee?
Al. None: but thy fate is knit in one with theirs,
Whose happiness thou bidst me now not weigh.
Fer. On that day shall I too be given to thee?
Al. Betray me not, I pray.