_King_. Peace, Fury! Not ill boding Raven Shrieks, Nor midnight Cries of murder’d Ghosts, are more Ungrateful, than thy faint and dull Excuses. --Be gone! and trouble not the silent Griefs, Which will insensibly decay my Life, Till like a Marble Statue I am fixt, Dropping continual Tears upon her Tomb. [_Kneels and--weeps at_ Florella’s _Feet_. _Abd. [Within]_. Guard all the Chamber-Doors--Fire and Confusion Consume the _Spanish_ Dogs--was I for this Sent to fetch back a _Philip_, and a Cardinal, To have my Wife abus’d? _Enter_ Abdelazer. _Qu_. Patience, dear _Abdelazer_. _Abd_. Patience and I am Foes: where’s my _Florella_? The King! and in _Florella’s_ Bed-Chamber! _Florella_ dead too!-- Rise, thou eternal Author of my Shame; Gay thing--to you I speak, [King _rises_. And thus throw off Allegiance. _Qu_. Oh, stay your Fury, generous _Abdelazer_. _Abd_. Away, fond Woman. [_Throws her from him_. _King_. Villain, to me this Language? _Abd_. To thee, young amorous King. How at this dead and silent time of Night, Durst you approach the Lodgings of my Wife? _King_. I scorn to answer thee. _Abd_. I’ll search it in thy Heart then. [_They fight_, Queen _and_ Elv. _run out crying Treason_. _King_. The Devil’s not yet ready for his Soul, And will not claim his due.--Oh, I am wounded. [_Falls_. _Abd_. No doubt on’t, Sir, these are no Wounds of Love. _King_. Whate’er they be, you might have spar’d ‘em now, Since those _Florella_ give me were sufficient: --And yet a little longer, fixing thus Thou’dst seen me turn to Earth, without thy aid. _Florella!--Florella!_--is thy Soul fled so far It cannot answer me, and call me on? And yet like dying Ecchoes in my Ears, I hear thee cry, my Love--I come--I come, fair Soul. --Thus at thy Feet--my Heart shall bleeding--lie. Who since it liv’d for thee--for thee--will die. [_Dies_. _Abd_. So--thou art gone--there was a King but now, And now a senseless, dull, and breathless nothing. [_A noise of fighting without_. _Enter_ Queen _running_. _Qu_. Oh Heavens! my Son--the King, the King is kill’d!-- Yet I must save his Murderer:--Fly, my Moor; _Alonzo_, Sir, assisted by some Friends, Has set upon your Guards, And with resistless Fury is making hither. _Abd_. Let him come on. _Enter Alonzo and others, led in by Osmin, Zarrack, and Moors_. Oh, are you fast? [_Takes away their Swords_. _Alon_. What mean’st thou, Villain? _Abd_. To put your Swords to better uses, Sir, Than to defend the cause of Ravishers. _Alon_. Oh Heavens, the King is murder’d! _Abd_. Look on that Object, Thy Sister and my Wife, who’s doubly murder’d, First in her spotless Honour, then her Life. _Alon_. Heaven is more guilty than the King in this. _Qu_. My Lords, be calm; and since your King is murder’d. Think of your own dear Safeties; chuse a new King, That may defend you from the Tyrant’s Rage.