_King_. Who rais’d this Rumour, _Abdelazer_, you? _Abd_. I did, Great Sir. _King_. Your Reasons. _Abd_. Oh Sir, your Brother _Philip_, and the Cardinal, Both animated by a Sense of Wrongs, (And envying, Sir, the Fortune of your Slave) Had laid a Plot this Night, to murder you: And ‘cause they knew it was my waiting Night, They wou’d have laid the Treason, Sir, on me. _King_. The Cardinal, and my Brother! bring them forth, Their Lives shall answer it. _Abd_. Sir, ‘tis impossible: For when they found their Villany discover’d, They in two Friers Habits made escape. _King_. That Cardinal is subtle, and ambitious, And from him _Philip_ learnt his dangerous Principles. _Qu_. The Ambition of the one infects the other, And they are both too dangerous to live-- But might a Mother’s Counsel be obey’d, I wou’d advise you, send the valiant Moor To fetch ‘em back, e’er they can reach the Camp: For thither they are fled--where they will find A Welcome fatal to us all. _King_. Madam, you counsel well; and, _Abdelazer_, Make it your Care to fetch these Traitors back, Not only for my Safety, and the Kingdom’s, But as they are your Enemies; and th’ envious World Will say, you made this story to undo ‘em. _Abd_. Sir, I’ll obey; nor will I know repose, Till I have justify’d this fatal Truth. [Abd. _goes to the_ Queen, _and talks to her_. _King_. Mean time I will to my _Florella’s_ Lodging, Silence, and Night, are the best Advocates [_Aside_. To plead a Lover’s Cause--_Abdelazer_--haste. Madam, I’ll wait on you to your Chamber. _Abd_. Sir, that’s my Duty. _King_. Madam, good Night--_Alonzo_, to your rest. [_Ex. all but_ Qu. _and_ Abd. _Qu. Philip_ escap’d! Oh, that I were upon some Desart Shoar, Where I might only to the Waves and Winds Breathe out my Sense of Rage for this Defeat. _Abd_. Oh, ‘tis no time for Rage, but Action, Madam. _Qu_. Give me but any Hopes of blest Revenge, And I will be as calm as happy Lovers. _Abd_. There is a way, and is but that alone; But such a way, as never must be nam’d. _Qu_. How! not be nam’d! Oh, swear thou hat’st me rather, It were a Torment equal to thy Silence. _Abd_. I’ll shew my Passion rather in that Silence. _Qu_. Kind Torturer, what mean’st thou? _Abd_. To shew you, Madam, I had rather live Wrong’d and contemn’d by _Philip_, Than have your dearer Name made infamous. _Qu_. Heavens! dost thou mock my Rage? can any Sin I could commit, undo my Honour more Than his late Insolence? Oh, name me something may revenge that Shame: I wou’d encounter killing Plagues, or Fire, To meet it--Come, oh quickly give me ease. _Abd_. I dare no more reveal the guilty Secret, Than you dare execute it when ‘tis told. _Qu_. How little I am understood by thee-- Come, tell me instantly, for I grow impatient; You shall obey me--nay, I do command you. _Abd_. Durst you proclaim--_Philip_ a Bastard, Madam? _Qu_. Hah! proclaim my self--what he wou’d have me thought! What mean’st thou?--