The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 14

_Alon_. Oh Devil!

_Qu_. We are betray'd, and round beset with Horrors; If we deny him this--the Power being his, We're all undone, and Slaves unto his Mercy.-- Besides--Oh, give me leave to blush when I declare, That _Philip_ is--as he has rendred him.-- But I in love to you, love to my _Spain_, Chose rather to proclaim my Infamy, Than an ambitious b.a.s.t.a.r.d should be crown'd.

_Alon_. Here's a fine Plot, What Devil reigns in Woman, when she doats? [_Aside_.

_Rod_. My Lords, I see no remedy but he must be Protector.

_Alon_. Oh, Treachery--have you so soon forgot The n.o.ble _Philip_, and his glorious Heir, The murder'd _Ferdinand?_-- And, Madam, you so soon forgot a Mother's Name, That you wou'd give him Power that kill'd your Son?

_Abd_. The Modesty wherewith I'll use that Power, Shall let you see, I have no other Interest But what's intirely _Spain's_.--Restore their Swords, And he amongst you all who is dissatisfy'd, I set him free this minute.

_Alon_. I take thee at thy word-- And instantly to _Philip's_ Camp will fly.

[_Exit_.

_Abd_. By all the G.o.ds my Ancestors ador'd, But that I scorn the envying World shou'd think I took delight in Blood--I wou'd not part so with you.

--But you, my Lords, who value _Spain's_ Repose, Must for it instantly with me take Arms.

Prince _Philip_, and the Cardinal, now ride Like _Jove_ in Thunder; we in Storms must meet them.

To Arms! to Arms! and then to Victory, Resolv'd to conquer, or resolv'd to die.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Abdelazer's _Tent_.

_Enter_ Abdelazer, Osmin _bearing his Helmet of Feathers_, Zarrack _with his Sword and Truncheon_.

_Abd_. Come, _Osmin_, arm me quickly; for the Day Comes on apace, and the fierce Enemy Will take advantages by our delay.

_Enter_ Queen _and_ Elvira.

_Qu_. Oh, my dear Moor!

The rude, exclaiming, ill-affected Mult.i.tude (Tempestuous as the Sea) run up and down, Some crying, kill the b.a.s.t.a.r.d--some the Moor; These for King _Philip_,--those for _Abdelazer_.

_Abd_. Your Fears are idle,--blow 'em into Air.

I rush'd amongst the thickest of their Crouds, And with the awful Splendor of my Eyes, Like the imperious Sun, dispers'd the Clouds.

But I must combat now a fiercer Foe, The hot-brain'd _Philip_, and a jealous Cardinal.

_Qu_. And must you go, before I make you mine?

_Abd_. That's my Misfortune--when I return with Victory, And lay my Wreaths of Laurel at your Feet, You shall exchange them for your glorious Fetters.

_Qu_. How canst thou hope for Victory, when their Numbers So far exceed thy Powers?

_Abd_. What's wanting there, we must supply with Conduct.

I know you will not stop at any thing That may advance our Interest, and Enjoyment.

_Qu_. Look back on what I have already done; And after that look forward with a.s.surance.

_Abd_. You then (with only Women in your Train) Must to the Camp, and to the Cardinal's Tent;-- Tell him, your Love to him hath drawn you thither: Then undermine his Soul--you know the way on't.

And sooth him into a Belief, that the best way To gain your Heart, is to leave _Philip's_ Interest; Urge 'tis the Kingdom's safety, and your own; And use your fiercest Threats, to draw him to a Peace with me; Not that you love me, but for the Kingdom's good: Then in a Tent which I will pitch on purpose, Get him to meet me: He being drawn off, Thousands of Bigots (who think to cheat the World Into an Opinion, that fighting for the Cardinal is A pious Work) will (when he leaves the Camp) Desert it too.

_Qu_. I understand you, and more than I have time to be Instructed in, I will perform; and possibly Before you can begin, I'll end my Conquests.

_Abd_. 'Twill be a Victory worthy of your Beauty.

--I must to Horse, farewel, my generous Mistress.

_Qu_. Farewel! and may thy Arms as happy prove, As shall my Art, when it dissembles Love.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE II. Philip's _Tent_.

_Enter_ Philip, Alonzo, _and Guards_.

_Phil_. 'Tis a sad Story thou hast told, _Alonzo_; Yet 'twill not make me shed one single Tear: They must be all of Blood that I will offer To my dear Brother's Ghost-- But, gallant Friend, this Good his Ills have done, To turn thee over to our juster Interest, For thou didst love him once.

_Alon_. Whilst I believ'd him honest, and for my Sister's sake; But since, his Crimes have made a Convert of me.

_Phil_. G.o.ds! is it possible the Queen should countenance His horrid Villanies?

_Alon_. Nay, worse than so,'tis thought she'll marry him.

_Phil_. Marry him! then here upon my Knees I vow, [_Kneels_.

To shake all Duty from my Soul; And all that Reverence Children owe a Parent, Shall henceforth be converted into Hate. [_Rises_.

--d.a.m.nation! marry him! Oh, I cou'd curse my Birth!

This will confirm the World in their Opinion, That she's the worst of Women; That I am basely born too, (as she gives it out) That Thought alone does a just Rage inspire, And kindles round my Heart an active Fire.

_Alan_. A Disobedience, Sir, to such a Parent, Heaven must forgive the Sin, if this be one: --Yet do not, Sir, in Words abate that Fire, Which will a.s.sist you a more effectual way.

_Phil_. Death! I could talk of it an Age; And, like a Woman, fret my Anger high: Till like my Rage, I have advanc'd my Courage, Able to fight the World against my Mother.

_Alan_. Our Wrongs without a Rage, will make us fight, Wrongs that wou'd make a Coward resolute.

_Phil_. Come, n.o.ble Youth, Let us join both our several Wrongs in one, And from them make a solemn Resolution, Never to part our Interest, till this Moor, This worse than Devil Moor be sent to h.e.l.l.

_Alon_. I do.

_Phil_. Hark--hark--the Charge is sounded, let's to Horse, St. _Jaques_ for the Right of _Spain_ and me.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _A Grave_.