Lyndar. That smile’s a part of love, and all’s your due:  I take it from the prince, and give it you.

Abdelm. Just heaven, must my poor heart your May-game prove,
To bandy, and make children’s play in love? [Half crying.
Ah! how have I this cruelty deserved? 
I, who so truly and so long have served! 
And left so easily! oh cruel maid! 
So easily! it was too unkindly said. 
That heart, which could so easily remove,
Was never fixed, nor rooted deep in love.

Lyndar. You lodged it so uneasy in your breast,
I thought you had been weary of the guest. 
First, I was treated like a stranger there;
But, when a household friend I did appear,
You thought, it seems, I could not live elsewhere. 
Then, by degrees, your feigned respect withdrew;
You marked my actions, and my guardian grew. 
But I am not concerned your acts to blame: 
My heart to yours but upon liking came;
And, like a bird, whom prying boys molest,
Stays not to breed, where she had built her nest.

Abdelm. I have done ill, And dare not ask you to be less displeased; Be but more angry, and my pain is eased.

Lyndar. If I should be so kind a fool, to take
This little satisfaction which you make,
I know you would presume some other time
Upon my goodness, and repeat your crime.

Abdelm. Oh never, never, upon no pretence; My life’s too short to expiate this offence.

Lyndar. No, now I think on’t, ’tis in vain to try;
’Tis in your nature, and past remedy. 
You’ll still disquiet my too loving heart: 
Now we are friends ’tis best for both to part. [He takes her hand.

Abdelm. By this—­Will you not give me leave to swear?

Lyndar. You would be perjured if you should, I fear:  And, when I talk with Prince Abdalla next, I with your fond suspicions shall be vext.

Abdelm. I cannot say I’ll conquer jealousy, But, if you’ll freely pardon me, I’ll try.

Lyndar. And, till you that submissive servant prove, I never can conclude you truly love.

To them, the KING, ALMAHIDE, ABENAMAR, ESPERANZA, Guards,
Attendants.

Boab. Approach, my Almahide, my charming fair, Blessing of peace, and recompence of war.  This night is yours; and may your life still be The same in joy, though not solemnity.

THE ZAMBRA DANCE.

SONG.

I.

  Beneath a myrtle shade,

Which love for none, but happy lovers made,
I slept; and straight my love before me brought
Phyllis, the object of my waking thought. 
Undressed she came my flames to meet,
While love strewed flowers beneath her feet;
Flowers which, so pressed by her, became more sweet.

        II.