[_Stops_ ABDALLA'S _hand._
I were that parricide, of whom he spoke,
Did not my piety prevent your stroke.

_D. Arcos._ to _Aben._
Depart, then, and thank heaven you had a son.

_Aben._ I am not with these shows of duty won.

_Ozm._ to his _Father._
Heaven knows, I would that life, you seek, resign;
But, while Benzayda lives, it is not mine.
Will you yet pardon my unwilling crime?

_Aben._ By no entreaties, by no length of time,
Will I be won; but, with my latest breath,
I'll curse thee here, and haunt thee after death.
[_Exit_ ABEN. _with his party._

_Ozm._ Can you be merciful to that degree, [_Kneeling to_ SELIN.
As to forgive my father's faults in me?
Can you forgive
The death of him I slew in my defence,
And from the malice separate the offence?
I can no longer be your enemy:
In short, now kill me, sir, or pardon me. [_Offers him his sword._
In this your silence my hard fate appears.

_Selin._ I'll answer you, when I can speak for tears.
But, till I can,
Imagine what must needs be brought to pass; [_Embraces him._
My heart's not made of marble, nor of brass.
Did I for you a cruel death prepare,
And have you, have you made my life your care!
There is a shame contracted by my faults,
Which hinders me to speak my secret thoughts.
And I will tell you--when the shame's removed--
You are not better by my daughter loved.--
Benzayda be yours.--I can no more.

_Ozm._ Blessed be that breath which does my life restore!
[_Embracing his knees._

_Benz._ I hear my father now; these words confess
That name, and that indulgent tenderness.

_Selin._ Benzayda, I have been too much to blame;
But let your goodness expiate my shame:
You Ozmyn's virtue did in chains adore,
And part of me was just to him before.--
My son!--

_Ozm._ My father!--

_Selin._ Since by you I live,
I, for your sake, your family forgive.
Let your hard father still my life pursue,
I hate not him, but for his hate to you;
Even that hard father yet may one day be
By kindness vanquished, as you vanquished me;
Or, if my death can quench to you his rage,
Heaven makes good use of my remaining age.

_Abdal._ I grieve your joys are mingled with my cares;
But all take interest in their own affairs;
And, therefore, I must ask how mine proceed.

_Selin._ They now are ripe, and but your presence need:
For Lyndaraxa, fait