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 Multitude
(Tempestuous as the Sea) run up and down,
Some crying, kill the Bastard — 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 Assurance.
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.