_Flor_. My _Abdelazer_--why in that fierce posture,
As if thy Thoughts were always bent on Death?
Why is that Dagger out?--against whom drawn?

_Abd_. Or stay,--suppose I let him see _Florella_,
And when he's high with the expected Bliss,
Then take him thus--Oh, 'twere a fine surprize!

_Flor_. My Lord--dear _Abdelazer_.

_Abd_. Or say--I made her kill him--that were yet
An Action much more worthy of my Vengeance.

_Flor_. Will you not speak to me? what have I done?

_Abd_. By Heaven, it shall be so.

_Flor_. What shall be so?

_Abd_. Hah--

_Flor_. Why dost thou dress thy Eyes in such unusual wonder?
There's nothing here that is a stranger to thee,
Or what is not intirely thine own.

_Abd_. Mine!

_Flor_. Thou canst not doubt it.

_Abd_. No,--and for a proof that thou art so,--take this Dagger.