University of Virginia Library

SCENE IX.

FATIMA, CHARIFA.
FATIMA.
What have I done?
Alas! my fiction hath only serv'd
To dispose Zaida to deprive me of
My Lover.

Charifa.
Madam.—

Fatima.
Leave me; in a fate
So sad as this, every thing hurts, destroyes,
And makes me desperate.

CHARIFA,
Will you not hear me?

Fatima.
No, I hear nothing but the fury which
Raigns in my confus'd spirits, grief seiseth me
And anger doth transport me.

CHARIFA.
Madam, comfort you.

Fatima.
Oh that I were dead! cease to comfort me
In such a just despair put me to bed,
Or in my grave there to lye buried.