Call this assault, your malice, or your hate;
Love owns no acts so disproportionate.
Love never taught this insolence you shew,
To treat your mistress like a conquered foe.
Is this the obedience which my heart should move!
This usage looks more like a rape than love.

_Abdelm._ What proof of duty would you I should give?

_Lyndar._ 'Tis grace enough to let my subjects live!
Let your rude soldiers keep possession still;
Spoil, rifle, pillage,--any thing but kill.
In short, sir, use your fortune as you please;
Secure my castle, and my person seize;
Let your true men my rebels hence remove;
I shall dream on, and think 'tis all your love!

_Abdelm._ You know too well my weakness and your power:
Why did heaven make a fool a conqueror!
She was my slave, 'till she by me was shewn
How weak my force was, and how strong her own.
Now she has beat my power from every part,
Made her way open to my naked heart: [_To a Soldier._
Go, strictly charge my soldiers to retreat:
Those countermand who are not entered yet.
On peril of your lives leave all things free. [_Exit Soldier._
Now, madam, love Abdalla more than me.
I only ask, in duty you would bring
The keys of our Albayzyn to the king:
I'll make your terms as gentle as you please.