SCENE VIII.
As Morat is going to attack Carlos, enter Pizarro
with Sailors.
Pizar.
Seize on the boist'rous Moor;
Disarm his dang'rous Hand.
Mor.
Villainous Traytors!
Pizar.
Go, bind him to some distant Tree;
If he resists, or with a clam'rous Tongue
Presumes t'impede our Safety,
That Scimitar instructs you what to do.
Mor.
Curse on my adverse Stars!
[Morat dragg'd off.
Carl.
Still my Preserver! Oh, what Thanks!
Zorayda,—thy poor flutt'ring Heart
Pants like the captiv'd Dove with Fear.
All's well, my Love.
How returning Beauties break,
Like radiant Morn,
All proud t'adorn,
And with new Crimson paint thy Cheek!
Such Lustre young Aurora pours,
And wakes to Life the springing Flow'rs.
Pizar.
The Ev'ning's Gloom descends apace;
And from the Shore a fav'ring Breeze
Plays in the rustling Shrouds,
Inviting our Escape.
