Spurn _Abdelazer_!--
_Phil_. Death, shall we bear this Insolence?
_Alon_. Great Sir, I think his Sentence was unjust.
[_To the_ King.
_Men_. Sir, you're too partial to be judge in this, And shall not give your Voice.
_Abd_. Proud Cardinal--but he shall--and give it loud.
And shall not!--who shall hinder him?
_Phil_. This--and cut his Wind-pipe too.
[_Offers to draw_.
To spoil his whisp'ring.
[Abd. _offers to draw, his Attendants do the same_.
_King_. What means this Violence?
Forbear to draw your Swords--'tis we command.
_Abd_. Sir, do me Justice, I demand no more.
[_Kneels, and offers his Sword_.
And at your Feet we lay our Weapons down.
_Men_. Sir, _Abdelazer_ has had Justice done, And stands by me banish'd the Court of _Spain_.
_King_. How, Prince Cardinal!
From whence do you derive Authority To banish him the Court without our leave?
_Men_. Sir, from my Care unto your royal Person, As I'm your Governor--then for the Kingdom's Safety.
_King_. Because I was a Boy, must I be still so?
Time, Sir, has given me in that formal Ceremony, And I am of an age to rule alone; And from henceforth discharge you of your Care.
We know your near relation to this Crown, And wanting Heirs, that you must fill the Throne; Till when, Sir, I am absolute Monarch here, And you must learn Obedience.
_Men_. Pardon my zealous Duty, which I hope You will approve, and not recal his Banishment.
_King_. Sir, but I will; and who dares contradict It, is a Traitor.
_Phil_. I dare the first, yet do defy the last.
_King_. My hot-brain'd Sir, I'll talk to you anon.
_Men_. Sir, I am wrong'd, and will appeal to _Rome_.
_Phil_. By Heav'n, I'll to the Camp--Brother, farewel, When next I meet thee, it shall be in Arms, If thou can'st get loose from thy Mistress' Chains, Where thou ly'st drown'd in idle wanton Love.
_Abd_. Hah--his Mistress--who is't Prince _Philip_ means?
_Phil_. Thy Wife, thy Wife, proud Moor, whom thou'rt content To sell for Honour to eternal Infamy-- Does't make thee snarl?--Bite on, whilst thou shalt see, I go for Vengeance, and 'twill come with me.
[_Going out, turns and draws_.
_Abd_. Stay! for 'tis here already--turn, proud Boy.
[Abd. _draws_.
_King_. What mean you, _Philip_?--[_Talks to him aside_.
_Qu_. Cease, cease your most impolitick Rage. [_To_ Abd.
Is this a time to shew't?--Dear Son, you are a King, And may allay this Tempest.
_King_. How dare you disobey my Will and Pleasure? [_To_ Abd.
_Abd_. Shall I be calm, and hear my Wife call'd Whore?
Were he great _Jove_, and arm'd with all his Lightning, By Heav'n, I could not hold my just Resentment.
_Qu_. 'Twas in his Passion, noble _Abdelazer_-- [King _talking to_ Phil. _aside_.
Imprudently thou dost disarm thy Rage, And giv'st the Foe a warning, e'er thou strik'st; When with thy Smiles thou might'st securely kill.
You know the Passion that the Cardinal bears me; His Pow'r too o'er _Philip_, which well manag'd Will serve to ruin both: put up your Sword-- When next you draw it, teach it how to act.
_Abd_. You shame me, and command me.
_Qu_. Why all this Rage?--does it become you, Sir?
[_To_ Men. _aside_.
What is't you mean to do?
_Men_. You need not care, whilst _Abdelazer's_ safe.
_Qu_. Jealousy, upon my Life--how gay it looks!
_Men_. Madam, you want that pitying Regard To value what I do, or what I am; I'll therefore lay my Cardinal's Hat aside, And in bright Arms demand my Honour back.
_Qu_. Is't thus, my Lord, you give me Proofs of Love?
Have then my Eyes lost all their wonted Power?
And can you quit the hope of gaining me, To follow your Revenge?--go--go to fight, Bear Arms against your Country, and your King, All for a little worthless Honour lost.
_Men_. What is it, Madam, you would have me do?
_Qu_. Not side with _Philip_, as you hope my Grace-- Now, Sir, you know my Pleasure, think on't well.
_Men_. Madam, you know your Power o'er your Slave, And use it too tyrannically--but dispose The Fate of him, whose Honour, and whose Life, Lies at your Mercy-- I'll stay and die, since 'tis your gracious Pleasure.
_King. Philip_, upon your Life, Upon your strict Allegiance, I conjure you To remain at Court, till I have reconcil'd you.
_Phil_. Never, Sir; Nor can you bend my Temper to that Tameness.
_King_. 'Tis in my Power to charge you as a Prisoner; But you're my Brother--yet remember too I am your King--No more.
_Phil_. I will obey.
_King. Abdelazer_, I beg you will forget your Cause of Hate Against my Brother _Philip_, and the Cardinal; He's young, and rash, but will be better temper'd.