apine, banishment, and blood,
Are now no more; but speechless as that tongue,
That lies for ever still.
How is my grief divided with my joy,
When I must own I killed him! Bid me speak;
For not to bid me, is to disallow
What for your sakes is done.

_Must._ In the name of the people, we command you speak: but that
pretty lady shall speak first; for we have taken somewhat of a liking
to her person.--Be not afraid, lady, to speak to these rude
raggamuffians; there is nothing shall offend you, unless it be their
stink, an't please you. [_Making a leg._

_Alm._ Why should I fear to speak, who am your queen?
My peaceful father swayed the sceptre long,
And you enjoyed the blessings of his reign,
While you deserved the name of Africans.
Then, not commanded, but commanding you,
Fearless I speak: know me for what I am.

_Bend._ How she assumes! I like not this beginning. [_Aside._

_Alm._ I was not born so base to flatter crowds,
And move your pity by a whining tale.
Your tyrant would have forced me to his bed;
But in the attempt of that foul brutal act,
These loyal slaves secured me by his death. [_Pointing to_ BENDUCAR.

_Bend._ Makes she no more of me than of a slave?-- [_Aside._
Madam, I thought I had instructed you [_To_ ALMEYDA.
To frame a speech more suiting to the times:
The circumstances of that dire design,
Your own despair, my unexpected aid,
My life endangered by his bold defence,
And, after all, his death, and your deliverance,
Were themes that ought not to be slighted o'er.

_Must._ She might have passed over all your petty businesses, and no
great matter; but the raising of my rabble is an exploit of
consequence, and not to be mumbled up in silence, for all her
pertness.

_Alm._ When force invades the gift of nature, life,
The eldest law of nature bids defend;
And if in that defence a tyrant fall,
His death's his crime, not ours,
Suffice it, that he's dead; all wrongs die with him;
When he can wrong no more, I pardon him:
Thus I absolve myself, and him excuse,
Who saved my life and honour, but praise neither.

_Bend._ 'Tis cheap to pardon, whom you would not pay.
But what speak I of payment and reward!
Ungrateful woman, you are yet no queen,
Nor more than a proud haughty christian slave:
As such I seize my right. [_Going to lay hold of her._

_Alm._ [_Drawing a Dagger._] Dare not to approach me!--
Now, African