_Phil_. Because he gives me Cause, and that in Publick.
And, Sir, I was not born to bear with Insolence; I saw him dart Revenge from both his Eyes, And bite his angry Lip between his Teeth, To keep his Jealousy from breaking forth, Which, when it does--stand fast, my King.
_King_. But, _Philip_, we will find a way to check him; Till when we must dissemble--take my Counsel--Good night.
_Phil_. I cannot, nor I will not--yet good Night.
[_Exit_ King, _and all but_ Philip's _Party_.
Well, Friends, I see the King will sleep away his Anger, And tamely see us murder'd by this Moor; But I'll be active, Boys-- Therefore, _Antonio_, you command the Horse; Get what more Numbers to our Cause you can: 'Tis a good Cause, and will advance our Credit.
We will awake this King out of his Lethargy of Love, And make him absolute--Go to your Charge, And early in the Morning I'll be with you-- [_Ex. all but_ Phil.
If all fail, Portugal shall be my Refuge, Those whom so late I conquer'd, shall protect me-- But this Alanzo I shou'd make an Interest in; Cou'd I but flatter--'tis a Youth that's brave.
_Enter_ Cardinal _in haste_.
_Men_. Fly, fly, my Prince, we are betray'd and lost else.
_Phil_. Betray'd and lost! Dreams, idle Coward Dreams.
_Men_. Sir, by my Holy Order, I'm in earnest, And you must either quickly fly, or die; 'Tis so ordain'd--nor have I time to tell By what strange Miracle I learn'd our Fate.
_Phil_. Nor care I, I will stay, and brave it.
_Men_. That, Sir, you shall not, there's no safety here, And 'tis the Army only can secure us.
_Phil_. Where had you this Intelligence?
_Men_. I'll tell you as we go to my Apartment; Where we must put ourselves in Holy Dress; For so the Guards are set in every Place, (And those all Moors, the Slaves of _Abdelazer_) That 'tis impossible in any other Habit to escape.
Come, haste with me, and let us put 'em on.
_Phil_. I had rather stay and kill till I am weary-- Let's to the Queen's Apartment and seize this Moor; I'm sure there the Mongrel's kennel'd.
_Men_. Sir, we lose time in talking--Come with me.
_Phil_. Where be these lousy Gaberdines?
_Men_. I will conduct you to 'em.
_Phil_. Mother--and Moor, farewel, I'll visit you again; and if I do, My black Infernal, I will conjure you.
[_Exeunt_.
ACT III.
SCENE I. _A Gallery in the Palace_.
_Enter_ Abdelazer _and_ Zarrack.
_Zar. Osmin_ (my Lord) by this has done his Task, And _Philip_ is no more among the living: Will you not rest to night?
_Abd_. Is this a time for Sleep and Idleness--dull Slaves?
_Zar_. The Bus'ness we have Order, Sir, to do, We can without your Aid.
_Enter_ Osmin.
_Abd. Osmin_!
Thy ominous Looks presage an ill Success; Thy Eyes no joyful News of Murders tell: I thought I shou'd have seen thee drest in Blood-- Speak! Speak thy News-- Say that he lives, and let it be thy last.
_Osm_. Yes, Sir, he lives.
_Abd_. Lives! thou ly'st, base Coward--lives!--renounce thy Gods!
It were a Sin less dangerous--speak again.
_Osm_. Sir, _Philip_ lives.
_Abd_. Oh treacherous Slave!
_Osm_. Not by my Fault, by Heav'n!
_Abd_. By what curst Chance, If not from thee, could he evade his Fate?
_Osm_. By some Intelligence from his good Angel.
_Abd_. From his good Devil!
Gods! must the Earth another Day at once Bear him and me alive?
_Osm_. Another Day!--an Age for ought I know; For, Sir, the Prince is fled, the Cardinal too.
_Abd_. Fled! fled--say'st thou?
Oh, I cou'd curse the Stars, that rule this Night: 'Tis to the Camp they're fled; the only Refuge That Gods, or Men cou'd give 'em-- Where got you this Intelligence?
_Osm_. My Lord, inquiring for the Prince At the Apartment of the Cardinal, (whither he went) His Pages answer'd me, he was at his Devotions: A lucky time (I thought) to do the Deed; And breaking in, found only their empty Habits, And a poor sleepy Groom, who with much threatning, Confess'd that they were fled, in holy Robes.
_Abd_. That Case of Sanctity was first ordain'd, To cheat the honest World: Twas an unlucky Chance--but we are idle-- Let's see, how from this ill, we may advance a good-- [_Pauses_.
'Tis now dead time of Night, when Rapes, and Murders Are hid beneath the horrid Veil of Darkness-- I'll ring thro all the Court, with doleful Sound The sad Alarms of Murder--Murder--_Zarrack_, Take up thy standing yonder--_Osmin_, thou At the Queen's Apartment--cry out, Murder: Whilst I, like his ill Genius, do awake the King; Perhaps in this Disorder I may kill him. [_Aside_.
--Treason--Murder--Murder--Treason.
_Enter_ Alonzo, _and Courtiers_.
_Alon_. What dismal Crys are these?--
_Abd_. Where is the King?--Treason--Murder!
Where--is the sleeping Queen?--Arise, arise.
_Osm_. The Devil taught him all his Arts of Falshood. [_Aside_.
_Enter_ King _in a Night-Gown, with Lights_.