Imprudently thou dost disarm thy Rage,
And giv'st the Foe a warning, e'er thou strik'st;
When with thy Smiles thou might'st securely kill.
You know the Passion that the Cardinal bears me;
His Pow'r too o'er _Philip_, which well manag'd
Will serve to ruin both: put up your Sword--
When next you draw it, teach it how to act.

_Abd_. You shame me, and command me.

_Qu_. Why all this Rage?--does it become you, Sir?
[_To_ Men. _aside_.
What is't you mean to do?

_Men_. You need not care, whilst _Abdelazer's_ safe.

_Qu_. Jealousy, upon my Life--how gay it looks!

_Men_. Madam, you want that pitying Regard
To value what I do, or what I am;
I'll therefore lay my Cardinal's Hat aside,
And in bright Arms demand my Honour back.

_Qu_. Is't thus, my Lord, you give me Proofs of Love?
Have then my Eyes lost all their wonted Power?
And can you quit the hope of gaining me,
To follow your Revenge?--go--go to fight,
Bear Arms against your Country, and your King,
All for a little worthless Honour lost.