_Qu_, Alas, I was but young, and full of Fears; Bashful, and doubtful of a just Belief, Knowing King _Philip’s_ rash and jealous Temper; But from your Justice I expect Revenge. _Rod_. His Crime, my Lords, is Death, by all our Laws. _Card_. Have you betray’d me by my too much Faith? Oh shameless Creature, am I disarm’d for this? Had I but so much Ease to be inrag’d, Sure I shou’d kill thee for this Treachery: But I’m all Shame, and Grief--By all that’s holy, My Lords, I never did commit this Crime. _Abd_. ‘Tis but in vain, Prince Cardinal, to deny it. _Qu_. Do not believe him, Lords;-- Revenge--let Sentence pass upon the Traitor. _Card_. I own that Name with Horror, which you drew me to, When I betray’d the best of Men, and Princes; And ‘tis but just you fit me for Despairs, That may instruct me how to follow him in Death: Yet as I’m Prince o’th’ Blood, and Cardinal too, You cannot be my Judges. _Abd_. You shall be try’d, Sir, as becomes your Quality. _Osmin_, we commit the Cardinal to your Charge. _Card_. Heaven! should I live to that! No, I have within me a private Shame, That shall secure me from the publick one. _Alon_. A pretty turn of State!--we shall all follow, Sir. _Card_. The Powers above are just: Thus I my Prince a Sacrifice first made, And now my self am on the Altar laid. [_Ex_. Card, _guarded_. _Abd_. Madam, retire, you’ve acted so divinely, You’ve fill’d my Soul with new admiring Passion: I’ll wait on you in your Apartment instantly, And at your Feet pay all my Thanks, and Love. _Qu_. Make haste, my dearest Moor, whilst I retire, And fit my Soul to meet thy kind Desire. [_Ex_. Queen _and her Train_; Leon, _advancing to follow, is staid by_ Abd. _Abd_. Stay, beauteous Maid, stay, and receive that Crown, [_Leads her back_. Which as your due, Heav’n and all _Spain_ present you with. _Alon_. But granting _Philip_ is--that thing you call him, If we must grant him so, who then shall reign? Not that we do not know who ought to reign, But ask who ‘tis you will permit to do so. [_To_ Abd. _Abd_. Who but bright _Leonora_! the Royal Off-spring Of noble _Philip_, whose Innocence and Beauty, Without th’ advantage of her glorious Birth, Merits all Adoration. _All_. With Joy we do salute her Queen. _Abd_. Live _Leonora_! beauteous Queen of _Spain! [Shout_. _Alon_. From _Abdelazer_ this! it cannot be, At least not real. [_Aside_. _Abd_. My Lords, Be it now your Care magnificently to provide Both for the Coronation, and the Marriage Of the fair Queen; Let nothing be omitted that may shew, How we can pay, where we so vastly owe. [_Bows_. _Alon_. I am much bound to _Spain_, and you, my Lords, For this great Condescenion.