_Men_. I will conduct you to ‘em. _Phil_. Mother--and Moor, farewel, I’ll visit you again; and if I do, My black Infernal, I will conjure you. [_Exeunt_. ACT III. SCENE I. _A Gallery in the Palace_. _Enter_ Abdelazer _and_ Zarrack. _Zar. Osmin_ (my Lord) by this has done his Task, And _Philip_ is no more among the living: Will you not rest to night? _Abd_. Is this a time for Sleep and Idleness--dull Slaves? _Zar_. The Bus’ness we have Order, Sir, to do, We can without your Aid. _Enter_ Osmin. _Abd. Osmin_! Thy ominous Looks presage an ill Success; Thy Eyes no joyful News of Murders tell: I thought I shou’d have seen thee drest in Blood-- Speak! Speak thy News-- Say that he lives, and let it be thy last. _Osm_. Yes, Sir, he lives. _Abd_. Lives! thou ly’st, base Coward--lives!--renounce thy Gods! It were a Sin less dangerous--speak again. _Osm_. Sir, _Philip_ lives. _Abd_. Oh treacherous Slave! _Osm_. Not by my Fault, by Heav’n! _Abd_. By what curst Chance, If not from thee, could he evade his Fate? _Osm_. By some Intelligence from his good Angel. _Abd_. From his good Devil! Gods! must the Earth another Day at once Bear him and me alive? _Osm_. Another Day!--an Age for ought I know; For, Sir, the Prince is fled, the Cardinal too. _Abd_. Fled! fled--say’st thou? Oh, I cou’d curse the Stars, that rule this Night: ’.is to the Camp they’re fled; the only Refuge That Gods, or Men cou’d give ‘em-- Where got you this Intelligence? _Osm_. My Lord, inquiring for the Prince At the Apartment of the Cardinal, (whither he went) His Pages answer’d me, he was at his Devotions: A lucky time (I thought) to do the Deed; And breaking in, found only their empty Habits, And a poor sleepy Groom, who with much threatning, Confess’d that they were fled, in holy Robes. _Abd_. That Case of Sanctity was first ordain’d, To cheat the honest World: Twas an unlucky Chance--but we are idle-- Let’s see, how from this ill, we may advance a good-- [_Pauses_. ’.is now dead time of Night, when Rapes, and Murders Are hid beneath the horrid Veil of Darkness-- I’ll ring thro all the Court, with doleful Sound The sad Alarms of Murder--Murder--_Zarrack_, Take up thy standing yonder--_Osmin_, thou At the Queen’s Apartment--cry out, Murder: Whilst I, like his ill Genius, do awake the King; Perhaps in this Disorder I may kill him. [_Aside_. --Treason--Murder--Murder--Treason. _Enter_ Alonzo, _and Courtiers_. _Alon_. What dismal Crys are these?-- _Abd_. Where is the King?--Treason--Murder! Where--is the sleeping Queen?--Arise, arise. _Osm_. The Devil taught him all his Arts of Falshood. [_Aside_. _Enter_ King _in a Night-Gown, with Lights_. _King_. Who frights our quiet Slumbers with this Noise? _Enter_ Queen _and Women, with Lights_. _Qu_. Was it a Dream, or did I hear the Sound Of Treason, call me from my silent Griefs?