e design;
Though not thy fort, thy person shall be mine.
[_He goes to take her: She runs and cries out help._

_Enter_ ABDALLA, _Duke of_ ARCOS, _and Spaniards._ ABDELMELECH
_retreats fighting, and is pursued by the adverse party off the
stage. The alarm within._

_Enter again_ ABDALLA _and the Duke of_ ARCOS, _with_ LYNDARAXA.

_D. Arcos._ Bold Abdelmelech twice our Spaniards faced,
Though much out-numbered; and retreated last.

_Abdal._ Your beauty, as it moves no common fire, [_To_ LYNDARAXA.
So it no common courage can inspire.
As he fought well, so had he prospered too,
If, madam, he, like me, had fought for you.

_Lyndar._ Fortune, at last, has chosen with my eyes;
And, where I would have given it, placed the prize.
You see, sir, with what hardship I have kept
This precious gage, which in my hands you left.
But 'twas the love of you which made me fight,
And gave me courage to maintain your right.
Now, by experience, you my faith may find,
And are to thank me that I seemed unkind.
When your malicious fortune doomed your fall,
My care restrained you then from losing all;
Against your destiny I shut the gate,
And gathered up the shipwrecks of your fate;
I, like a friend, did even yourself withstand,
From throwing all upon a losing hand.

_Abdal._ My love makes all your acts unquestioned go,
And sets a sovereign stamp on all you do.
Your love I will believe with hood-winked eyes;--
In faith, much merit in much blindness lies.
But now, to make you great as you are fair,
The Spaniards an imperial crown prepare.

_Lyndar._ That gift's more welcome, which with you I share.
Let us no time in fruitless courtship lose,
But sally out upon our frighted foes.
No ornaments of power so please my eyes,
As purple, which the blood of princes dies. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--_The Alhambra._

BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, ALMAHIDE, _and Guards, &c. The Queen wearing a
scarf._

_Aben._ My little journey has successful been,
The fierce Almanzor will obey the queen.
I found him, like Achilles on the shore,
Pensive, complaining much, but threatening more;
And, like that injured Greek, he heard our woes,
Which, while I told, a gloomy smile arose
From his bent brows: And still, the more he heard,
A more severe and sullen joy appeared.
But, when he knew we to despair were driven,
Betwixt his teeth he muttered thanks to heaven.

_Boab._ How I disdain this aid! which I must take