 | The Noble Ingratitude |  |
SCENE IV.
ALABEZ, CHARIFA, FATIMA, Zegry, Ormin.Alabez.
Sweet Beauties welcome, from what quarters come you?
CHARIFA.
What means this insolent? Go on your way
Alabez.
How's this? instead of kisses and embraces,
As I expected, I am quarrel d with:
Charifa, whence this change?
CHARIFA.
Begone, and leave us.
13
Thou actest well the scornfull.
FATIMA.
What's that fellow
Which followes us?
CHARIFA.
Tis an impertinent,
Whom I know not.
ALABEZ.
I am much changed then
Since this last voyage; but thy soul is chāg'd
And not my visage, without doubt thy Mistresse
Hath better eyes, and more wit; she will know
An old, and a familiar acquaintance.
FATIMA.
Who are you then?
ALABEZ.
My Masters Slave.
FATIMA.
What Master?
ALABEZ.
Should you not know him neither?
Is his name raz'd out of your memory?
Fatima.
Assuredly, Charifa, this man's mad.
Alabez.
How, Madam, is it possible you can
Forget the valiant Zegry?
Fatima.
Zegry?
14
Heaven?
What strange inconstancy is this? who ever
Could have imagin'd it?—
aside.
Alabez.
That noble and illustrious successour
Of those brave warriers who even in Spain
Have gathered Lawrells, and brought home faire spoils,
Madam, your faithfull Lover, Zaida's brother.
Fatima.
Oh! I remember him.
Zegry.
False, and Ingratefull!
Alabez.
You ask not how he doth.
Fatima.
What interest
Have I in his sweet person? happily
He's dead.
Alabez.
He is indeed.
Fatima.
We are all mortall;
The Prophet hath his soul.
Charifa.
A faithfull servant
Would have accompanied his Master; why
Art thou not dead too?
Alabez.
Only to enrage thee.
15
Zegry.
The Prophet hath his soul, o false Fatima!
Is't thus you do expresse your goodness to me?
Deceitfull object, my return, I see,
Displeaseth you, who would despise me dead,
Must hate me living, I disturb with pleasure
That faithless joy which the delightfull news
Of my feign'd death procur'd you: I live still
Ingratefull, but I live no more for you:
My passion is transform d all into fury:
As much as I lov'd you, I now despise you:
My heart shakes of so rigourous a yoak:
Love raiseth no more sighs, nor fires within me,
Only I sigh that I us'd so much care
To please you, and if I burn yet, it is
With anger, not with love.
Ormin.
Oh this successe
Answereth my wishes fully?—
aside.
Fatima.
This confession
Surpriseth, but no way afflicteth me;
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That I'm not very tender hearted to you,
And, me thinks, after such a cleer contempt
As was expressed there you might believe
Nothing should trouble me that comes from you,
Vnless your amourous addresse: I have
A thousand other Lovers braver far
Then you, and therefore I daign not to put you
In the rank of my conquests.
ZEGRY.
Sure, your pride
Is greater then your beauty, the charm is
Dissolv'd wherein I formerly was held;
Tis true, I sometime thought you beautifull;
But I was amourous, and therefore not
To be believed, having now my spirit
No more disordered, you cease to be fair
And I to be abused, whereas you
Pleased me formerly, it was because
It is impossible for me, when I
Am lov'd, to be insensible.
FATIMA.
I love you?
Heaven! what a strange opinion is this?
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All your indeavours serv'd but to displease me;
But though I hated you, I lov'd your Sister,
And twas for her sake that I feign'd to have
Some pitty for your passions; her prayer
A hundred times restain d my hate, you sware
That your daies did depend upon my sight,
And yeelding unto her desites I did
Enforce mine eyes to smile, when my heart frown d,
To the end not to be cause of your death.
Zegry.
Your eyes have never made a mortall wound.
Fatima.
Take heed that your do not revive again,
One Only of my looks darted more gently,
Can change this violent anger into love;
But I am verie nice of such a look,
It is too rich a price, Sir, for your conquest
I limit my desires to see you never,
Adieu, become wise, and leave me in peace.
—Exit Fatima.
| The Noble Ingratitude | |