Now, Abdelmelech, is my brother dead?

_Abdelm._ Th' usurper to the Christian camp is fled;
Whom as Granada's lawful king they own,
And vow, by force, to seat him on the throne.
Mean time the rebels in the Albayzyn rest;
Which is in Lyndaraxa's name possest.

_Boab._ Haste and reduce it instantly by force.

_Abdelm._ First give me leave to prove a milder course.
She will, perhaps, on summons yield the place.

_Boab._ We cannot to your suit refuse her grace.
[_One enters hastily, and whispers_ ABENAMAR.

_Aben._ How fortune persecutes this hoary head!
My Ozmyn is with Selin's daughter fled.
But he's no more my son:
My hate shall like a Zegry him pursue,
'Till I take back what blood from me he drew.

_Boab._ Let war and vengeance be to-morrow's care;
But let us to the temple now repair.
A thousand torches make the mosque more bright:
This must be mine and Almahide's night.
Hence, ye importunate affairs of state,
You should not tyrannize on love, but wait.
Had life no love, none would for business live;
Yet still from love the largest part we give;