The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume 2 | Page 5

She from the fierce side Of a
young amorous Lion, and 'twere safer.-- Again, more knocking!--
[Knocking.
Zar. My gracious Lord, it is your Brother, Don Alonzo.
Abd. I will not have him enter--I am disorder'd.
Zar. My Lord, 'tis now too late. Enter Alonzo.
Alon. Saw you not the Queen, my Lord?
Abd. My Lord!
Alon. Was not the Queen here with you?
Abd. The Queen with me! Because, Sir, I am married to your Sister,
You, like your Sister, must be jealous too: The Queen with me! with me!
a Moor! a Devil! A Slave of Barbary! for so Your gay young Courtiers

christen me--But, Don, Altho my Skin be black, within my Veins Runs
Blood as red, and royal as the best.-- My Father, Great Abdela, with
his Life Lost too his Crown; both most unjustly ravish'd By Tyrant
Philip, your old King I mean. How many Wounds his valiant Breast
receiv'd E'er he would yield to part with Life and Empire: Methinks I
see him cover'd o'er with Blood, Fainting amidst those numbers he had
conquer'd. I was but young, yet old enough to grieve, Tho not revenge,
or to defy my Fetters: For then began my Slavery; and e'er since Have
seen that Diadem by this Tyrant worn, Which crown'd the sacred
Temples of my Father, And shou'd adorn mine now--shou'd! nay, and
must-- Go tell him what I say--'twill be but Death-- Go, Sir,--the
Queen's not here.
Alon. Do not mistake me, Sir,--or if I wou'd, I've no old King to
tell--the King is dead-- And I am answer'd, Sir, to what I came for, And
so good night. [Exit.
Abd. Now all that's brave and villain seize my Soul, Reform each
Faculty that is not ill, And make it fit for Vengeance, noble Vengeance.
Oh glorious Word! fit only for the Gods, For which they form'd their
Thunder, Till Man usurp'd their Power, and by Revenge Sway'd
Destiny as well as they, and took their trade of killing. And thou,
almighty Love, Dance in a thousand forms about my Person, That this
same Queen, this easy Spanish Dame, May be bewitch'd, and dote upon
me still; Whilst I make use of the insatiate Flame To set all Spain on
fire.-- Mischief, erect thy Throne, And sit on high; here, here upon my
Head. Let Fools fear Fate, thus I my Stars defy: The influence of
this--must raise my Glory high. [Pointing to his Sword.
[Exit.
SCENE II. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Ferdinand weeping, Ordonio bearing the Crown, followed by
Alonzo, leading Leonora weeping; Florella, Roderigo, Mendozo, met
by the Queen weeping; Elvira and Women.
Qu. What doleful Cry was that, which like the Voice Of angry Heav'n

struck thro my trembling Soul? Nothing but horrid Shrieks, nothing but
Death; Whilst I, bowing my Knees to the cold Earth, Drowning my
Cheeks in Rivulets of Tears, Sending up Prayers in Sighs, t' implore
from Heaven Health for the Royal Majesty of Spain-- All cry'd, the
Majesty of Spain is dead. Whilst the sad Sound flew through the
ecchoing Air, And reach'd my frighted Soul--Inform my Fears, Oh my
Fernando, oh my gentle Son-- [Weeps.
King. Madam, read here the truth, if looks can shew That which I
cannot speak, and you wou'd know: The common Fare in ev'ry face
appears; A King's great loss the publick Grief declares, But 'tis a
Father's Death that claims my Tears. [Card. leads in the Queen
attended.
Leon. Ah, Sir! If you thus grieve, who ascend by what y'ave lost, To all
the Greatness that a King can boast; What Tributes from my Eyes and
Heart are due, Who've lost at once a King and Father too?
King. My Leonora cannot think my Grief Can from those empty Glories
find relief; Nature within my Soul has equal share, And that and Love
surmount my Glory there. Had Heav'n continu'd Royal Philip's Life,
And giv'n me bright Florella for a Wife, [Bows to Florella. To Crown
and Scepters I had made no claim, But ow'd my Blessings only to my
Flame. But Heav'n well knew in giving thee away, [To Flor. I had no
bus'ness for another Joy. [Weeps. The King, Alanzo, with his dying
Breath, [Turns to Alon. and Leon. To you my beauteous Sister did
bequeath; And I his Generosity approve, And think you worthy
Leonora's Love.
Enter Card. and Queen weeping.
Alon. Too gloriously my Services are paid, In the possession of this
Royal Maid, To whom my guilty Heart durst ne'er aspire, But rather
chose to languish in its Fire.
Enter Philip in a Rage, Antonio and Sebastian.
Phil. I know he is not dead; what envious Powers Durst snatch him

hence? he was all great and good, As fit to be ador'd as they above.