University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Enter the Queen in an undress alone, with a Light.
Qu.
Thou grateful Night, to whom all happy Lovers
Make their devout and humble Invocations;
Thou Court of Silence, where the God of Love,
Lays by the awfull terrour of a Deity,
And every harmfull Dart, and deals around
His kind desires; whilst thou, blest Friend to joys,
Draw'st all thy Curtains made of gloomy shades,
To veil the blushes of soft yielding Maids;
Beneath thy covert grant the Love-sick King,
May find admittance to Florella's arms;
And being there, keep back the busie day;
Maintain thy Empire till my Moor returns,
Where in her Lodgings he shall find his Wife,
Amidst her Amorous dalliance with my Son.—
My watchful Spyes are waiting for the knowledge;
Which when to me imparted, I'le improve,
Till my Revenge be equal to my Love.
Enter Elvira.
—Elvira, in thy looks I read success;—
What hast thou learnt?

Elv.
Madam, the King is gone as you imagin'd,
To fair Florella's Lodgings.

Qu.
But art thou sure he gain'd Admittance?

Elv.
Yes, Madam;
But what welcome he has found, to me's unknown,
But I believe it must be great, and kind.

Qu.
I am of thy opinion.—
But now, Elvira, for a well-laid Plot,
To ruine this Florella;—though she be innocent,
Yet she must dye; so hard a Destiny
My passion for her Husband does decree:
But 'tis the way, I stop at.—
His Jealousie already I have rais'd;
That's not enough, his Honour must be toucht:
This meeting 'twixt the King, and fair Florella,
Must then be render'd Publick;
'Tis the disgrace, not Action, must incense him:—
Go you to Don Alonzo's Lodging strait,
Exit Elvira.
Whilst I prepare my story for his Ear.—
Assist me all that's ill in Woman-kind,
And furnish me with sighs, and feigned tears,
That may express a grief, for this discovery.—
My Son, be like thy Mother, hot and bold;
And like the Noble Ravisher of Rome,
Court her with Daggers, when thy Tongue grows faint,
Till thou hast made a Conquest o're her Virtue.
Enter Alonzo, Elvira.
—Oh Alonzo, I have strange News to tell thee!

Alon.
It must be strange indeed, that makes my Queen
Dress her fair eyes in sorrow.

Qu.
It is a Dress that thou wilt be in love with,
When thou shalt hear my story.—
You had a Sister once.

Alon.
Had!

Qu.
Yes, had—whilst she was like thy self, all Virtue;
Till her bewitching Eyes kindled such flames,
As will undoe us all.

Alon.
My Sister, Madam! sure it cannot be:—
What eyes? what flames?—inform me strait.

Qu.
Alonzo, thou art honest, just, and brave,
And should I tell thee more—
(Knowing thy Loyalty's above all Nature)
It would oblige thee to commit an outrage,
Which baser Spirits will call cruelty.

Alon.
Gods, Madam! do not praise my Virtue thus,
Which is so poor, it scarce affords me patience
To attend the end of what you wou'd deliver.—
Come Madam, say my Sister—is a Whore;
I know 'tis so you mean: and being so,
Where shall I kneel for Justice?
Since he that shou'd afford it me,
Has made her Criminal.—
Pardon me, Madam, 'tis the King I mean.

Qu.
I grieve to own, all thy Prophetick fears
Are true, Alonzo, 'tis indeed the King.

Alon.
Then I'm disarm'd,
For Heaven can only punish him.

Qu.
But Alonzo,
Whilst that Religious patience dwels about thee,
All Spain must suffer; nay Ages that shall ensue,
Shall curse thy Name, and Family;
From whom a Race of Bastards shall proceed,
To wear that Crown.

Alon.
No, Madam, not from mine,
My Sister's in my power, her Honour's mine;
I can command her life, though not my Kings.
Her Mother is a Saint, and shou'd she now
Look down from Heaven upon a deed so foul,
I think even there, she wou'd invent a Curse,
To thunder on her head.—
But Madam, whence was this intelligence?

Qu.
Elvira saw the King enter her Lodgings,
With Lovers haste, and joy.

Alon.
Her Lodgings!—when?

Qu.
Now, not an hour ago,—
Now, since the Moor departed.

Alon.
Damnation on her! can she be thus false?—
Come, lead me to the Lodgings of this Strumpet, to Elvira.

And make me see this truth,
Or I will leave thee dead, for thus abusing me.

Qu.
Nay dear Alonzo, do not go inrag'd,
Stay till your temper wears a calmer look;
That if, by chance, you shou'd behold the Wantons,
In little harmless Dalliance, such as Lover
(Aided with silence, and the shades of Night)
May possibly commit,
You may not do, that which you may repent of.

Alon.
Gods! should I play the Pander!
And with my patience, aid the Am'rous sin?—
No, I shall scarce have so much tameness left,
To mind me of my Duty to my King.
Ye Gods! behold the Sacrifice I make
To my lost Honour: behold, and aid my justice.

Exit Alonzo.
Qu.
It will concern me too, to see this wonder,
For yet I scarce can credit it.

Exeunt.