Classic Poem

[SCENE II.]

Enter A BDELMELEC , M ULY M AHAMET S ETH , Z AREO , and their train .

Abdelm . The Portugal, led with deceiving hope,
Hath raised his power, and received our foe
With honourable welcomes and regard,
And left his country-bounds, and hither bends
In hope to help Mahamet to a crown,
And chase us hence, and plant this Negro-Moor,
That clads himself in coat of hammer'd steel
To heave us from the honour we possess.
But, for I have myself a soldier been,
I have, in pity to the Portugal,
Sent secret messengers to counsel him.
As for the aid of Spain, whereof they hoped,
We have despatch'd our letters to their prince,
To crave that in a quarrel so unjust,
He that entitled is the Catholic king,
Would not assist a careless Christian prince.
And, as by letters we are let to know,
Our offer of the seven holds we made
He thankfully receives with all conditions,
Differing in mind [as] far from all his words
And promises to King Sebastian,
As we would wish, or you, my lords, desire.
Ar. Zareo . What resteth, then, but Abdelmelec may
Beat back this proud invading Portugal,
And chastise this ambitious Negro-Moor
With thousand deaths for thousand damned deeds?
Abdelm . Forward, Zareo, and ye manly Moors! —
Sebastian, see in time unto thyself:
If thou and thine misled do thrive amiss,
Guiltless is Abdelmelec of thy blood.