K.  Ferd. I’m now secure, this sceptre, which I gain,
Shall be continued in the power of Spain;
Since he, who could alone my foes defend,
By birth and honour is become my friend;
Yet I can own no joy, nor conquest boast, [To ALMANZ. 
While in this blood I see how dear it cost.

Almanz. This honour to my veins new blood will bring;
Streams cannot fail, fed by so high a spring. 
But all court-customs I so little know,
That I may fail in those respects I owe. 
I bring a heart which homage never knew;
Yet it finds something of itself in you: 
Something so kingly, that my haughty mind
Is drawn to yours, because ’tis of a kind.

Q.  Isabel. And yet that soul, which bears itself so high,
If fame be true, admits a sovereignty. 
This queen, in her fair eyes, such fetters brings,
As chain that heart, which scorns the power of kings.

Almah. Little of charm in these sad eyes appears;
If they had any, now ’tis lost in tears. 
A crown, and husband, ravished in one day!—­
Excuse a grief, I cannot choose but pay.

Q.  Isabel. Have courage, madam; heaven has joys in store, To recompence those losses you deplore.

Almah. I know your God can all my woes redress;
To him I made my vows in my distress: 
And, what a misbeliever vowed this day,
Though not a queen, a Christian yet shall pay.

Q.  Isabel. (Embracing her.) That Christian name you shall receive from me, And Isabella of Granada be.

Benz. This blessed change we all with joy receive; And beg to learn that faith which you believe.

Q.  Isabel. With reverence for those holy rites prepare; And all commit your fortunes to my care.

K.  Ferd. to Almah.
You, madam, by that crown you lose, may gain,
If you accept, a coronet of Spain,
Of which Almanzor’s father stands possest.

Q.  Isabel. to Almah. May you in him, and he in you, be blest!

Almah. I owe my life and honour to his sword; But owe my love to my departed lord.

Almanz. Thus, when I have no living force to dread,
Fate finds me enemies amongst the dead. 
I’m now to conquer ghosts, and to destroy
The strong impressions of a bridal joy.

Almah. You’ve yet a greater foe than these can be,—­ Virtue opposes you, and modesty.

Almanz. From a false fear that modesty does grow,
And thinks true love, because ’tis fierce, its foe. 
’Tis but the wax whose seals on virgins stay: 
Let it approach love’s fire, ’twill melt away:—­
But I have lived too long; I never knew,
When fate was conquered, I must combat you. 
I thought to climb the steep ascent of love;
But did not think to find a foe above. 
’Tis time to die, when you my bar must be,
Whose aid alone could give me victory;
Without,
I’ll pull up all the sluices of the flood,
And love, within, shall boil out all my blood.