Almanz. For you to will, for me ’tis to obey: 
But I would give a crown in open day;
And, when the Spaniards their assault begin,
At once beat those without, and these within. [Exit ALMANZ.

  Enter ABDELMELECH.

Abdelm. Abdalla, hold!—­There’s somewhat I intend To speak, not as your rival, but your friend.

Abdal. If as a friend, I am obliged to hear; And what a rival says I cannot fear.

Abdelm. Think, brave Abdalla, what it is you do: 
Your quiet, honour, and our friendship too,
All for a fickle beauty you forego. 
Think, and turn back, before it be too late. 
Behold in me the example of your fate: 
I am your sea-mark; and, though wrecked and lost,
My ruins stand to warn you from the coast.

Abdal. Your counsels, noble Abdelmelech, move
My reason to accept them, not my love. 
Ah, why did heaven leave man so weak defence,
To trust frail reason with the rule of sense! 
’Tis over-poised and kicked up in the air,
While sense weighs down the scale, and keeps it there;
Or, like a captive king, ’tis borne away,
And forced to countenance its own rebels’ sway.

Abdelm. No, no; our reason was not vainly lent;
Nor is a slave, but by its own consent: 
If reason on his subject’s triumph wait,
An easy king deserves no better fate.

Abdal. You speak too late; my empire’s lost too far:  I cannot fight.

Abdelm. Then make a flying war; Dislodge betimes, before you are beset.

Abdal. Her tears, her smiles, her every look’s a net.  Her voice is like a Syren’s of the land; And bloody hearts lie panting in her hand.

Abdelm. This do you know, and tempt the danger still?

Abdal. Love, like a lethargy, has seized my will. 
I’m not myself, since from her sight I went;
I lean my trunk that way, and there stand bent. 
As one, who, in some frightful dream, would shun
His pressing foe, labours in vain to run;
And his own slowness, in his sleep, bemoans,
With thick short sighs, weak cries, and tender groans,
So I—­

Abdelm. Some friend, in charity, should shake,
And rouse, and call you loudly till you wake. 
Too well I know her blandishments to gain,
Usurper-like, till settled in her reign;
Then proudly she insults, and gives you cares,
And jealousies, short hopes, and long despairs. 
To this hard yoke you must hereafter bow,
Howe’er she shines all golden to you now.

Abdul. Like him, who on the ice
Slides swiftly on, and sees the water near,
Yet cannot stop himself in his career,
So am I carried.  This enchanted place,
Like Circe’s isle, is peopled with a race
Of dogs and swine; yet, though their fate I know,
I look with pleasure, and am turning too.
                                   [LYNDARAXA passes over the Stage.