Almanz. Can you that last relief of sight remove,
And thrust me out the utmost line of love! 
Then, since my hopes of happiness are gone,
Denied all favours, I will seize this one.
                                   [Catches her hand, and kisses it.

Boab. My just revenge no longer I’ll forbear:  I’ve seen too much; I need not stay to hear. [Descends.

Almanz. As a small shower
To the parched earth does some refreshment give,
So, in the strength of this, one day I’ll live: 
A day,—­a year,—­an age,—­for ever, now;
                      [Betwixt each word he kisses her hand by force;
                       she struggling.
I feel from every touch a new soul flow.
                                        [She snatches her hand away.
My hoped eternity of joy is past! 
’Twas insupportable, and could not last. 
Were heaven not made of less, or duller joy,
’Twould break each minute, and itself destroy.

Enter King and Guards, below.

Boab. This, this, is he, for whom thou didst deny To share my bed:—­Let them together die.

Almah. Hear me, my lord.

Boab. Your flattering arts are vain:  Make haste, and execute what I ordain. [To the Guards.

Almanz. Cut piece-meal in this cause,
From every wound I should new vigour take,
And every limb should new Almanzors make.
                        [He puts himself before the Queen; the Guards
                         attack him, with the King.

Enter ABDELMELECH.

Abdelm. What angry god, to exercise his spite, [To the King.
Has arm’d your left hand, to cut off your right?
                                  [The King turns, the fight ceases.
The foes are entered at the Elvira gate: 
False Lyndaraxa has the town betrayed,
And all the Zegrys give the Spaniards aid.

Boab. O mischief, not suspected nor foreseen!

Abdelm. Already they have gained the Zacatin,
And thence the Vivarambla place possest,
While our faint soldiers scarce defend the rest. 
The duke of Arcos does one squadron head,
The next by Ferdinand himself is led.

Almah. Now, brave Almanzor, be a god again;
Above our crimes and your own passions reign. 
My lord has been by jealousy misled,
To think I was not faithful to his bed. 
I can forgive him, though my death he sought,
For too much love can never be a fault. 
Protect him, then; and what to his defence
You give not, give to clear my innocence.

Almanz. Listen, sweet heaven, and all ye blessed above,
Take rules of virtue from a mortal love! 
You’ve raised my soul; and if it mount more high,
’Tis as the wren did on the eagle fly. 
Yes, I once more will my revenge neglect,
And, whom you can forgive, I can protect.