_Almah._ What sadness sits upon your royal heart?
Have you a grief, and must not I have part?
All creatures else a time of love possess;
Man only clogs with cares his happiness:
And, while he should enjoy his part of bliss,
With thoughts of what may be, destroys what is.

_Boab._ You guess aright; I am oppressed with grief,
And 'tis from you that I must seek relief. [_To the company._
Leave us; to sorrow there's a reverence due:
Sad kings, like suns eclipsed, withdraw from view.
[_The Attendants go off, and chairs are set for
the King and Queen._

_Almah._ So, two kind turtles, when a storm is nigh,
Look up, and see it gathering in the sky:
Each calls his mate, to shelter in the groves,
Leaving, in murmur, their unfinished loves:
Perched on some drooping branch, they sit alone,
And coo, and hearken to each other's moan.

_Boab._ Since, Almahide, you seem so kind a wife,
[_Taking her by the hand._
What would you do to save a husband's life?

_Almah._ When fate calls on that hard necessity,
I'll suffer death, rather than you shall die.

_Boab._ Suppose your country should in danger be;