Abdal. Now, madam, at your feet a king you see;
Or, rather, if you please, a sceptered slave: 
’Tis just you should possess the power you gave. 
Had love not made me yours, I yet had been
But the first subject to Boabdelin. 
Thus heaven declares the crown I bring your due;
And had forgot my title, but for you.

Lyndar. Heaven to your merits will, I hope, be kind;
But, sir, it has not yet declared its mind. 
’Tis true, it holds the crown above your head;
But does not fix it ’till your brother’s dead.

Abdal. All, but the Alhambra, is within my power; And that my forces go to take this hour.

Lyndar. When, with its keys, your brother’s head you bring, I shall believe you are indeed a king.

Abdal. But since the events of all things doubtful are,
And, of events, most doubtful those of war;
I beg to know before, if fortune frown,
Must I then lose your favour with my crown?

Lyndar. You’ll soon return a conqueror again; And, therefore, sir, your question is in vain.

Abdul. I think to certain victory I move; But you may more assure it, by your love.  That grant will make my arms invincible.

Lyndar. My prayers and wishes your success foretell.—­ Go then, and fight, and think you fight for me; I wait but to reward your victory.

Abdal. But if I lose it, must I lose you too?

Lyndar. You are too curious, if you more would know. 
I know not what my future thoughts will be: 
Poor women’s thoughts are all extempore. 
Wise men, indeed,
Beforehand a long chain of thoughts produce;
But ours are only for our present use.

Abdal. Those thoughts, you will not know, too well declare.  You mean to wait the final doom of war.

Lyndar. I find you come to quarrel with me now;
Would you know more of me than I allow? 
Whence are you grown that great divinity,
That with such ease into my thoughts can pry? 
Indulgence does not with some tempers suit;
I see I must become more absolute.

Abdal. I must submit, On what hard terms soe’er my peace be bought.

Lyndar. Submit!—­you speak as you were not in fault.—­
’Tis evident the injury is mine;
For why should you my secret thoughts divine?

Abdal. Yet if we might be judged by reason’s laws—­

Lyndar. Then you would have your reason judge my cause!—­ Either confess your fault, or hold your tongue; For I am sure I’m never in the wrong.

Abdal. Then I acknowledge it.

Lyndar. Then I forgive.

Abdal. Under how hard a law poor lovers live! 
Who, like the vanquished, must their right release,
And with the loss of reason buy their peace.—­ [Aside.
Madam, to show that you my power command,
I put my life and safety in your hand:—­
Dispose of the Albayzyn as you please,
To your fair hands I here resign the keys.