The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 21

Guard well the Pa.s.sages.--

_Qu_. Thou art that sacrilegious--brutal thing!-- And false as are the Deities thou wors.h.i.+p'st.

_Abd_. G.o.ds! let me not understand that killing Language?

--Inform me quickly, how you came thus wounded, Lest looking on that sacred Stream of Blood, I die e'er I've reveng'd you on your Murderer.

_Qu_. Haste then, and kill thy self; thou art my Murderer.

Nor had his Hand, if not by thee instructed, Aim'd at a Sin so dangerous--

_Abd_. Surely she'll live--[_Aside_.]--This!-- Can Mischief dwell beneath this reverend Shape?

Confess who taught thee so much Cruelty.

Confess, or I will kill thee.

_Rod_. The Cardinal.

_Qu_. The Cardinal!

_Abd_. Oh impious Traitor!

How came I mention'd then?

_Rod_. To get Admittance.

_Abd_. But why do I delay thy Punishment?

Die,--and be d.a.m.n'd together. [_Aside.]

[Stabs him_.

But oh, my Queen!--_Elvira_, call for help.

Have I remov'd all that oppos'd our Flame, [_Kneels_.

To have it thus blown out, thus in a Minute?

When I, all full of youthful Fire, all Love, Had rais'd my Soul with Hopes of near Delights, To meet thee cold, and pale; to find those Eyes, Those charming Eyes thus dying--Oh ye Powers!

Take all the Prospect of my future Joys, And turn it to Despair, since thou art gone.

_Qu_. Cease,--cease--your kind Complaints--my struggling Soul, 'Twixt Death--and Love--holds an uneasy Contest; This will not let it stay--nor that depart;-- And whilst I hear thy Voice--thus breathing Love, It hovers still--about--the grateful--Sound.

My Eyes--have took--an everlasting Leave-- Of all that blest their Sight; and now a gloomy Darkness Benights the wis.h.i.+ng Sense,--that vainly strives-- To take another View;--but 'tis too late,-- And Life--and Love--must yield--to Death--and-- Fate.

[_Dies_.

_Abd_. Farewell, my greatest Plague, [_He rises with Joy_.

Thou wert a most impolitick loving thing; And having done my Bus'ness which thou wert born for, 'Twas time thou shouldst retire, And leave me free to love, and reign alone.

_Enter_ Leonora, Alonzo, Ordonio, _and other Men and Women_.

Come all the World, and pay your Sorrows here, Since all the World has Interest in this Loss.

_Alon_. The Moor in Tears! nay, then the Sin was his.

_Leon_. The Queen my Mother dead!

How many Sorrows will my Heart let in, E'er it will break in pieces.

[_Weeps over her_.

_Alon_. I know the Source of all this Villany, And need not ask you how the Queen came murder'd.

_Elv_. My Lord, that Fryer, from the Cardinal, did it.

_Alon_. The Cardinal!

'Tis possible,--for the Injuries she did him Cou'd be repaid with nothing less than Death. [Aside.

My Fair, your Griefs have been so just of late, I dare not beg that you would weep no more; Though every Tear those lovely Eyes let fall, Give me a killing Wound--Remove the Body.

[_Guards remove the Body. Ex. all but_ Alon. _and_ Leon.

Such Objects suit not Souls so soft as thine.

_Leon_. With Horrors I am grown of late familiar; I saw my Father die, and liv'd the while; I saw my beauteous Friend, and thy lov'd Sister, _Florella_, whilst her Breast was bleeding fresh; Nay, and my Brother's too, all full of Wounds, The best and kindest Brother that ever Maid was blest with; Poor _Philip_ bound, and led like Victims for a Sacrifice; All this I saw and liv'd-- And canst thou hope for Pity from that Heart, Whose harden'd Sense is Proof 'gainst all these Miseries?

This Moor, _Alonzo_, is a subtle Villain, Yet of such Power we scarce dare think him such.

_Alon_. 'Tis true, my charming Fair, he is that Villain, As ill and powerful too; yet he has a Heart That may be reach'd with this--but 'tis not time, [_Points to his Sword_.

We must dissemble yet, which is an Art Too foul for Souls so innocent as thine.

_Enter_ Abdelazer.

The Moor!

h.e.l.l! will he not allow us sorrowing time?

_Abd_. Madam, I come to pay my humblest Duty, And know what Service you command your Slave.

_Leon_. Alas, I've no Commands; or if I had, I am too wretched now to be obey'd.

_Abd_. Can one so fair, and great, ask any thing Of Men, or Heaven, they wou'd not grant with Joy?

_Leon_. Hea'vns Will I'm not permitted to dispute, And may implore in vain; but 'tis in you To grant me what may yet preserve my Life.

_Abd_. In me! in me! the humblest of your Creatures!

By yon bright Sun, or your more splendid Eyes, I wou'd divest my self of every Hope, To gratify one single Wish of yours.

--Name but the way.

_Leon_. I am so unhappy, that the only thing I have to ask, is what you must deny; --The Liberty of _Philip_--

_Abd_. How! _Philip's_ Liberty--and must I grant it?

I (in whose Hands Fortune had put the Crown) Had I not lov'd the Good and Peace of _Spain_, Might have dispos'd it to my own Advantage; And shall that Peace, Which I've preferr'd above my proper Glories, Be lost again in him, in him a b.a.s.t.a.r.d?

_Alon_. That he's a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, is not, Sir, believ'd; And she that cou'd love you, might after that Do any other Sin, and 'twas the least Of all the Number to declare him b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

_Abd_. How, Sir! that you'd love me! what is there here, Or in my Soul, or Person, may not be belov'd?

_Alon_. I spoke without Reflection on your Person, But of dishonest Love, which was too plain, From whence came all the Ills we have endur'd; And now being warm in Mischiefs, Thou dost pursue the Game, till all be thine.

_Abd_. Mine!

_Alon_. Yes, thine-- The little humble Mask which you put on Upon the Face of Falshood, and Ambition, Is easily seen thro; you gave a Crown, But you'll command the Kingly Power still, Arm and disband, destroy or save at Pleasure.

_Abd_. Vain Boy, (whose highest Fame, Is that thou art the great _Alvaro's_ Son) Where learnt you so much daring, to upbraid My generous Power thus falsly--do you know me?

_Alon_. Yes, Prince, and 'tis that Knowledge makes me dare; I know thy Fame in Arms; I know in Battels Thou hast perform'd Deeds much above thy Years: My Infant Courage too (By the same Master taught) grew up to thine, When thou in Rage out-didst me, not in Bravery.