The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 22

--I know thou'st greater Power too--thank thy Treachery!

_Abd_. Dost thou not fear that Power?

_Alon_. By Heaven, not I, Whilst I can this--command.

[_Lays his Hand on his Sword_.

_Abd_. I too command a Sword.

[Abd. _lays his Hand on his, and comes close up to him_.

But not to draw on thee, _Alonzo_; Since I can prove thy Accusation false By ways more grateful--take this Ring, _Alonzo_; The sight of it will break down Prison-Gates, And set all free, as was the first-born Man.

_Alon_. What means this turn?

_Abd_. To enlarge _Philip_; but on such Conditions, As you think fit to make for my Security: And as thou'rt brave, deal with me as I merit.

_Alon_. Art thou in earnest?

_Abd_. I am, by all that's sacred.

_Leon_. Oh, let me fall before you, and ne'er rise, Till I have made you know what Grat.i.tude Is fit for such a Bounty!-- Haste, my _Alonzo_--haste--and treat with _Philip_; Nor do I wish his Freedom, but on such Terms As may be advantageous to the Moor.

_Alon_. Nor I, by Heaven! I know the Prince's Soul, Though it be fierce, has Grat.i.tude and Honour; And for a Deed like this, will make returns, Such as are worthy of the brave Obliger.

[_Exit_ Alon.

_Abd_. Yes, if he be not gone to Heaven before you come. [_Aside_.

--What will become of _Abdelazer_ now, Who with his Power has thrown away his Liberty?

_Leon_. Your Liberty! Oh, Heaven forbid that you, Who can so generously give Liberty, Should be depriv'd of it!

It must not be whilst _Leonora_ lives.

_Abd_. 'Tis she that takes it from me.

_Leon_. I! Alas, I wou'd not for the World Give you one minute's Pain.

_Abd_. You cannot help it, 'tis against your Will; Your Eyes insensibly do wound and kill.

_Leon_. What can you mean? and yet I fear to know.

_Abd_. Most charming of your s.e.x! had Nature made This clouded Face, like to my Heart, all Love, It might have spar'd that Language which you dread; Whose rough harsh sound, unfit for tender Ears, Will ill express the Business of my Life.

_Leon_. Forbear it, if that Business, Sir, be Love.

_Abd_. G.o.ds!

Because I want the art to tell my Story In that soft way, which those can do whose Business Is to be still so idly employ'd, I must be silent and endure my Pain, Which Heaven ne'er gave me so much lameness for.

Love in my Soul is not that gentle thing It is in other b.r.e.a.s.t.s; instead of Calms, It ruffles mine into uneasy Storms.

--I wou'd not love, if I cou'd help it, Madam; But since 'tis not to be resisted here-- You must permit it to approach your Ear.

_Leon_. Not when I cannot hear it, Sir, with Honour.

_Abd_. With Honour!

Nay, I can talk in the Defence of that: By all that's sacred, 'tis a Flame as virtuous, As every Thought inhabits your fair Soul, And it shall learn to be as gentle too; --For I must merit you--

_Leon_. I will not hear this Language; merit me!

_Abd_. Yes--why not?

You're but the Daughter of the King of _Spain_, And I am Heir to great Abdela, Madam; I can command this Kingdom you possess, (Of which my Pa.s.sion only made you Queen) And re-a.s.sume that which your Father took From mine--a Crown as bright as that of _Spain_.

_Leon_. You said you wou'd be gentle--

_Abd_. I will; this sullen Heart shall learn to bow, And keep it self within the Bounds of Love; Its Language I'll deliver out in Sighs, Soft as the Whispers of a yielding Virgin.

I cou'd transform my Soul to any Shape; Nay, I could even teach my Eyes the Art To change their natural Fierceness into Smiles; --What is't I wou'd not do to gain that Heart!

_Leon_. Which never can be yours! that and my Vows, Are to _Alonzo_ given; which he lays claim to By the most sacred Ties, Love and Obedience; All _Spain_ esteems him worthy of that Love.

_Abd_. More worthy it than I! it was a Woman, A nice, vain, peevish Creature that p.r.o.nounc'd it; Had it been Man, 't had been his last Transgression.

--His Birth! his glorious Actions! are they like mine?

_Leon_. Perhaps his Birth wants those Advantages, Which Nature has laid out in Beauty on his Person.

_Abd_. Ay! there's your Cause of Hate! Curst be my Birth, And curst be Nature that has dy'd my Skin With this ungrateful Colour! cou'd not the G.o.ds Have given me equal Beauty with _Alonzo_!

--Yet as I am, I've been in vain ador'd, And Beauties great as thine have languish'd for me.

The Lights put out, thou in thy naked Arms Will find me soft and smooth as polish'd Ebony; And all my Kisses on thy balmy Lips as sweet, As are the Breezes, breath'd amidst the Groves Of ripening Spices in the height of Day: As vigorous too, As if each Night were the first happy Moment I laid thy panting Body to my Bosom.

Oh, that transporting Thought-- See--I can bend as low, and sigh as often, [Kneels.

And sue for Blessings only you can grant; As any fair and soft _Alonzo_ can-- If you could pity me as well-- But you are deaf, and in your Eyes I read [_Rises with Anger_.

A Scorn which animates my Love and Anger; Nor know I which I should dismiss or cherish.

_Leon_. The last is much more welcome than the first; Your Anger can but kill; but, Sir, your Love-- Will make me ever wretched, since 'tis impossible I ever can return it.

_Abd_. Why, kill me then! you must do one or t'other.

[_Kneels_.

For thus--I cannot live--why dost thou weep?

Thy every Tear's enough to drown my Soul!

How tame Love renders every feeble Sense!

[_Rises_.

--G.o.ds! I shall turn Woman, and my Eyes inform me The Transformation's near--Death! I'll not endure it, I'll fly before sh'as quite undone my Soul-- [_Offers to go_.

But 'tis not in my Power--she holds it fast-- And I can now command no single part-- [Returns.

Tell me, bright Maid, if I were amiable, And you were uningag'd, could you then love me?

_Leon_. No! I could die first.

_Abd_. Hah!--awake, my Soul, from out this drousy Fit, And with thy wonted Bravery scorn thy Fetters.

By Heaven, 'tis gone! and I am now my self.

Be gone, my dull Submission! my lazy Flame Grows sensible, and knows for what 'twas kindled.

Coy Mistress, you must yield, and quickly too: Were you devout as Vestals, pure as their Fire, Yet I wou'd wanton in the rifled Spoils Of all that sacred Innocence and Beauty.

--Oh, my Desire's grown high!

Raging as midnight Flames let loose in Cities, And, like that too, will ruin where it lights.

Come, this Apartment was design'd for Pleasure, And made thus silent, and thus gay for me; There I'll convince that Error, that vainly made thee think I was not meant for Love.

_Leon_. Am I betray'd? are all my Women gone?

And have I nought but Heaven for my Defence?