his passage yet detain;
I heard, last night, his equipage did stay
At a small village, short of Malaga.

_Boab._ Abenamar, this evening thither haste;
Desire him to forget his usage past:
Use all your rhetoric, promise, flatter, pray.

_To them_ ALMAHIDE, _attended._

_Aben._ Good fortune shows you yet a surer way:
Nor prayers nor promises his mind will move;
'Tis inaccessible to all, but love.

_Boab._ Oh, thou hast roused a thought within my breast,
That will for ever rob me of my rest.
Ah jealousy, how cruel is thy sting!
I, in Almanzor, a loved rival bring!
And now, I think, it is an equal strife,
If I my crown should hazard, or my wife.
Where, marriage, is thy cure, which husbands boast,
That in possession their desire is lost?
Or why have I alone that wretched taste,
Which, gorged and glutted, does with hunger last?
Custom and duty cannot set me free,
Even sin itself has not a charm for me.
Of married lovers I am sure the first,
And nothing but a king could be so curst.

_Almah._ What sadness sits upon your royal heart?
Have you a grief, and must not I have part?
All creatures else a time of love possess;
Man only clogs with cares his happiness:
And, while he should enjoy his part of bliss,
With thoughts of what may be, destroys what is.

_Boab._ You guess aright; I am oppressed with grief,
And 'tis from you that I must seek relief. [_To the company._
Leave us; to sorrow there's a reverence due:
Sad kings, like suns eclipsed, withdraw from view.
[_The Attendants go off, and chairs are set for
the King and Queen._

_Almah._ So, two kind turtles, when a storm is nigh,
Look up, and see it gathering in the sky:
Each calls his mate, to shelter in the groves,
Leaving, in murmur, their unfinished loves:
Perched on some drooping branch, they sit alone,
And coo, and hearken to each other's moan.

_Boab._ Since, Almahide, you seem so kind a wife,
[_Taking her by the hand._
What would you do to save a husband's life?

_Almah._ When fate calls on that hard necessity,
I'll suffer death, rather than you shall die.

_Boab._ Suppose your country should in danger be;
What would you undertake to set it free?

_Almah._ It were too little to resign my breath:
My own free hand should give me nobler death.

_Boab._ That hand, which would so much for glory do,
Must yet do more; for it must kill me too.
You mu