Chapter 8

_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_.