It were a Sin less dangerous--speak again.

_Osm_. Sir, _Philip_ lives.

_Abd_. Oh treacherous Slave!

_Osm_. Not by my Fault, by Heav'n!

_Abd_. By what curst Chance,
If not from thee, could he evade his Fate?

_Osm_. By some Intelligence from his good Angel.

_Abd_. From his good Devil!
Gods! must the Earth another Day at once
Bear him and me alive?

_Osm_. Another Day!--an Age for ought I know;
For, Sir, the Prince is fled, the Cardinal too.

_Abd_. Fled! fled--say'st thou?
Oh, I cou'd curse the Stars, that rule this Night:
'Tis to the Camp they're fled; the only Refuge
That Gods, or Men cou'd give 'em--
Where got you this Intelligence?

_Osm_. My Lord, inquiring for the Prince
At the Apartment of the Cardinal, (whither he went)
His Pages answer'd me, he was at his Devotions:
A lucky time (I thought) to do the Deed;