_K._ Ay. Give it him; take it. Stay. (_Aside._) I never know What it may say. Better to try him first Without its knowledge. Should I fail ’twere time To use it then. (_To Sala._) Give it me. I’ll keep it back. What is this other paper? [_Seeing A.'s letter._ _Sa._ I pray, my liege, 1721 Ask not. _K._ I’ll know. _Sa._ I pray you trust me, sire. _K._ Trust thee! what means this? _Sa._ ’Tis a forbidden paper. ’Twould anger you to see it. _K._ By heaven, I am angered Before I see it. What is it thou wouldst hide? _Sa._ It is a letter which I have intercepted From Almeh to the prince. If you have pity On your own flesh, beseech you, let me use it As I judge fit. _K._ And well discovered now. 1729 By God, wouldst thou play carrier? Give it to me. _Sa._ It hath not been five minutes in my hands. _K._ And shall not be. (_Takes._) Go fetch the prince. _Sa._ If you should read it, sire, and find therein Messages of such softness as might melt The stubbornness of Ferdinand, I pray you, For her sweet sake that writ it, let it go And do its errand. _K._ Go thou and do thine. [_Exit Sala._ Will he too plot against me! Let us see What style she dares. _Thy death, O my beloved, Already is avenged._—O very tenderly, 1740 And most determined.—_Willingly I suffer What pains of thine I may. ’Tis all my joy To have taken neither food nor rest Since first thou wert deprived; nor will I take Till thou be respited._—Why this might move him. _Oh, if thou diest!_—Ah, great heavens, What read I here? Now I see all. Baptized! _Baptized in secret by thy countrymen._ Baptized! Then let her perish. She is dead. I cast her off. _Till now I hid this from thee,_ 1750 _Doubting my worthiness._—He doth not know it. He shall not know. None shall know. We will die. I will slay all. I will go down to the grave, And plead my cause before the holy angels, Whether it may be permitted for a princess, Against her father and faith....—Nay, is’t not writ There is there no vain discourse nor charge of sin, But pleasure to the faithful? And I to die With house and kingdom shamed! How would my crown Shine ’mong the blessed caliphs, and the martyrs Who fell in fight upon the road of God? 1761 How would they look upon me, If ’mong their moonbright scimitars I came, My child’s blood on my head? and she not there, The fair flower of my life, the bud of grace, Which my long-withering and widowed tree Held to the face of heaven, Now from my own trunk by my own hands torn. Better the bole be split: heaven’s lightning rend me: All curses seize me. Almeh, thou must not die. 1770 _Re-enter Sala._ _Sa._ Prince Ferdinand will come. _K._ Is he not here? _Sa._ He comes.