The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 5

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 Wh.o.r.e?

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 Pa.s.sion, n.o.ble _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 Pa.s.sion 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.