_Seb._ Laugh then at fond presages. I had some;-- Famed Nostradamus, when he took my horoscope, Foretold my father, I should wed with incest. Ere this unhappy war my mother died, And sisters I had none;--vain augury! A long religious life, a holy age, My stars assigned me too;--impossible! For how can incest suit with holiness, Or priestly orders with a princely state? _Alm._ Old venerable Alvarez-- [_Sighing._ _Seb._ But why that sigh in naming that good man? _Alm._ Your father's counsellor and confident-- _Seb._ He was; and, if he lives, my second father. _Alm._ Marked our farewell, when, going to the fight, You gave Almeyda for the word of battle. 'Twas in that fatal moment, he discovered The love, that long we laboured to conceal. I know it; though my eyes stood full of tears, Yet through the mist I saw him stedfast gaze; Then knocked his aged breast, and inward groaned, Like some sad prophet, that foresaw the doom Of those whom best he loved, and could not save. _Seb._ It startles me! and brings to my remembrance, That, when the shock of battle was begun, He would have much complained (but had not time) Of our hid passion: then, with lifted hands, He begged me, by my father's sacred soul, Not to espouse you, if he died in fight; For, if he lived, and we were conquerors, He had such things to urge against our marriage, As, now declared, would blunt my sword in battle, And dastardize my courage. _Alm._ My blood curdles, And cakes about my heart. _Seb._ I'll breathe a sigh so warm into thy bosom, Shall make it flow again. My love, he knows not Thou art a Christian: that produced his fear, Lest thou shouldst sooth my soul with charms so strong, That heaven might prove too weak. _Alm._ There must be more: This could not blunt your sword. _Seb._ Yes, if I drew it, with a curst intent, To take a misbeliever to my bed: It must be so. _Alm._ Yet-- _Seb._ No, thou shalt not plead, With that fair mouth, against the cause of love. Within this castle is a captive priest, My holy confessor, whose free access Not even the barbarous victors have refused; This hour his hands shall make us one. _Alm._ I go, with love and fortune, two blind guides, To lead my way, half loth, and half consenting. If, as my soul forebodes, some dire event Pursue this union, or some crime unknown, Forgive me, heaven! and, all ye blest above, Excuse the frailty of unbounded love! [_Exeunt._ SCENE II.--_Supposed a Garden, with lodging rooms behind it, or on the sides._ _Enter_ MUFTI, ANTONIO _as a slave, and_ JOHAYMA _the_ MUFTI'S _wife._ _Muf._ And how do you like him? look upon him well; he is a personable fellow of a Christian dog. Now, I think you are fitted for a gardener. Ha, what sayest thou, Johayma? _Joh._ He may make a shift to sow lettuce, raise melons, and water a garden-plat; but otherwise, a very filthy fellow: how odiously he smells of his country garlick! fugh, how he stinks of Spain.