_Alon_. Great Sir, I did oppose it with what Violence My Duty would permit; and wou'd have dy'd In a just Quarrel of her dear Defence; And, Sir, though I submitted to my Father, The Moor and I stand on unequal Terms.
_Phil_. Come, who dares drink Confusion to this Moor?
_Ant_. That, Sir, will I.
_Sebast_. And I.
_Phil_. Page, fill my Glass, I will begin the Round, Ye all shall pledge it--_Alonzo_, first to thee.
[_Drinks_.
_Alon_. To me, Sir!
_Phil_. Why, yes, thou lovest him--therefore-- Nay, you shall drink it, tho 'twere o'th' _Stygian_ Lake.
Take it--by Heaven, thoud'st pimp for him to my Mother-- Nay, and after that, give him another Sister.
_Alon_. 'Tis well you are my Prince.
_Phil_. I'd rather be a Prince of Curs--come pledge me--
_Alon_. Well, Sir, I'll give you way.
[_Drinks_.
_Phil_. So wou'dst thou any--though they trod on thee.
So--nay, Prince Cardinal, tho it be not decent For one so sanctify'd to drink a Health; Yet 'tis your Office both to damn and bless-- Come, drink and damn the Moor.
_Men_. Sir, I'm for no carousing.
_Phil_. I'm in an Humour now to be obey'd, And must not be deny'd--But see, the Moor _Enter_ Abdelazer, _gazes on them_.
Just come to pledge at last--Page, fill again--
_Abd_. I'll do you Reason, Prince, what'er it be.
[_Gives him the Glass_.
_Phil_. 'Twas kindly said--Confusion to the Moor.
_Abd_. Confusion to the Moor--if this vain Boy, See the next rising Sun. [_Aside_.
_Phil_. Well done, my Lad.
_King_. _Abdelazer_, you have been missing long, The publick Good takes up your whole Concern, But we shall shortly ease you of that Load-- Come, let's have some Musick; _Ordonio_, did I not call for Musick?
_Ord_. You did, Sir.
_Abd_. _Roderigo!_
_Rod_. My gracious Lord-- [Roderigo _whispers to_ Abd.
_Abd_. No more--the Prince observes us.
_Phil_. There's no good towards when you are whisp'ring.
_Ord_. The Musick you commanded, Sir, is ready.
SONG.
Nymph.
_Make haste_, Amintas, _come away, The Sun is up and will not stay; And oh how very short's a Lover's_ Day!
_Make haste_, Amintas, _to this Grove, Beneath whose Shade so oft I've sat, And heard my dear lay'd Swain repeat, How much he_ Galatea _lov'd; Whilst all the listening Birds around, Sung to the Musick of the blessed Sound.
_Make haste_, Amintas, _come away, The Sun is up and will not stay; And oh how very short's a Lover's Day_!
Swain enters, with Shepherds and Shepherdesses, and Pipes.
_I hear thy charming Voice, my Fair, And see, bright Nymph, thy Swain is here; Who his Devotions had much earlier paid, But that a Lamb of thine was stray'd; And I the little Wanderer have brought, That with one angry Look from thy fair Eyes, Thou may'st the little Fugitive chastise, Too great a Punishment for any Fault.
Come_, Galatea, _haste away, The Sun is up and will not stay, And oh how very short's a Lover's Day_! [Dance.
_King_. How likes _Florella_ this?
_Flor_. Sir, all Delight's so banish'd from my Soul, I've lost the Taste of every single Joy.
_Abd_. God's! this is fine! Give me your Art of Flattery, Or something more of this, will ruin me-- Tho I've resolv'd her Death, yet whilst she's mine, I would not have her blown by Summer Flies.
_Phil_. Mark how he snarls upon the King!
The Cur will bite anon.
_Abd_. Come, my _Florella_, is't not Bed-time, Love?
_Flor_. I'll wait upon you, Sir.
[Going out.
_Phil_. The Moor has ta'en away, we may depart.
_Abd_. What has he ta'en away?
[_Turns about_.
_Phil_. The fine gay play-thing, that made us all so merry.
_Abd_. Was this your Sport? [To his Wife.
_King_. _Abdelazer_, keep your way--Good night, fair Creature!
_Abd_. I will obey for once.
[_Ex_. Abd. _and_ Flor.
_King_. Why this Resentment, Brother, and in publick?