_Qu_. Have I thrown by all Sense of Modesty, To render you the Master of my Bed, To be refus’d--was there any other way?-- _Card_. I cannot yield; this Cruelty transcends All you have ever done me--Heavens! what a Contest Of Love and Honour swells my rising Heart! _Qu_. By all my Love, if you refuse me now, Now when I have remov’d all Difficulties, I’ll be reveng’d a thousand killing ways. _Card_. Madam, I cannot own so false a thing, My Conscience and Religion will not suffer me. _Qu_. Away with all this Canting; Conscience, and Religion! No, take advice from nothing but from Love. _Card_. ‘Tis certain I’m bewitch’d--she has a Spell Hid in those charming Lips. _Alon_. Prince Cardinal, what say you to this? _Card_. I cannot bring it forth-- _Qu_. Do’t, or thou’rt lost for ever. _Card_. Death! What’s a Woman’s Power! And yet I can resist it. _Qu_. And dare you disobey me? _Card_. Is’t not enough I’ve given you up my Power, Nay, and resign’d my Life into your Hands, But you wou’d damn me too--I will not yield-- Oh, now I find a very Hell within me; How am I misguided by my Passion! _Alon_. Sir, we attend your Answer. _Qu_. ‘Tis now near twenty Years, when newly married, (And ‘tis the Custom here to marry young,) King _Philip_ made a War in _Barbary_, Won _Tunis_, conquer’d Fez, and hand to hand Slew great _Abdela_, King of _Fez_, and Father To this _Barbarian_ Prince. _Abd_. I was but young, and yet I well remember My Father’s Wound--poor _Barbary_--but no more. _Qu_. In absence of my King I liv’d retir’d, Shut up in my Apartment with my Women, Suffering no Visits, but the Cardinal’s, To whom the King had left me as his Charge; But he, unworthy of that Trust repos’d, Soon turned his Business into Love. _Card_. Heavens! how will this Story end? [_Aside_. _Qu_. A Tale, alas! unpleasant to my Ear, And for the which I banish’d him my Presence, But oh, the power of Gold! he bribes my Women, That they should tell me (as a Secret too) The King (whose Wars were finish’d) would return Without acquainting any with the time; He being as jealous, as I was fair and young, Meant to surprize me in the dead of Night: This pass’d upon my Youth, which ne’er knew Art. _Card_. Gods! is there any Hell but Woman’s Falshood! [Aside. _Qu_. The following Night I hasted to my Bed, To wait my expected Bliss--nor was it long Before his gentle Steps approach’d my Ears. Undress’d he came, and with a vigorous haste Flew to my yielding Arms: I call’d him King, My dear lov’d Lord; and in return he breath’d Into my Bosom, in soft gentle Whispers, My Queen! my Angel! my lov’d _Isabella_! And at that word--I need not tell the rest. _Alon_. What’s all this, Madam, to the Cardinal? _Qu_. Ah, Sir, the Night too short for his Caresses, Made room for Day, Day that betray’d my Shame; For in my guilty Arms I found the Cardinal. _Alon_. Madam, why did not you complain of this?