_Emp._ [_To the Mufti._] Go, Mufti, call him to receive his orders.-- [_Exit Mufti._ I taste thy counsel; her desires new roused, And yet unslaked, will kindle in her fancy, And make her eager to renew the feast.
_Bend._ [_Aside._] Dorax, I know before, will disobey: There's a foe's head well cropped.-- But this hot love precipitates my plot, And brings it to projection ere its time.
_Enter_ SEBASTIAN _and_ ALMEYDA, _hand in hand; upon sight of the Emperor, they separate, and seem disturbed._
_Alm._ He breaks at unawares upon our walks, And, like a midnight wolf, invades the fold. Make speedy preparation of your soul, And bid it arm apace: He comes for answer, And brutal mischief sits upon his brow.
_Seb._ Not the last sounding could surprise me more, That summons drowsy mortals to their doom, When called in haste to fumble for their limbs, And tremble, unprovided for their charge: My sense has been so deeply plunged in joys, The soul out-slept her hour; and, scarce awake, Would think too late, but cannot: But brave minds, At worst, can dare their fate. [_Aside._
_Emp._ [_Coming up to them._] Have you performed Your embassy, and treated with success?
_Emp._ No, not for my affairs; But, for your own, too much.
_Seb._ You talk in clouds; explain your meaning, sir.
_Emp._ Explain yours first.--What meant you, hand in hand? And, when you saw me, with a guilty start, You loosed your hold, affrighted at my presence.
_Seb._ What mak'st thou of thyself, and what of me? Art thou some ghost, some demon, or some god, That I should stand astonished at thy sight? If thou could'st deem so meanly of my courage, Why didst thou not engage me man for man, And try the virtue of that Gorgon face, To stare me into statue?
_Emp._ Oh, thou art now recovered; but, by heaven, Thou wert amazed at first, as if surprised At unexpected baseness brought to light. For know, ungrateful man, that kings, like gods, Are every where; walk in the abyss of minds, And view the dark recesses of the soul.
_Seb._ Base and ungrateful never was I thought; Nor, till this turn of fate, durst thou have called me: But, since thou boast'st the omniscience of a god, Say in what cranny of Sebastian's soul, Unknown to me, so loathed a crime is lodged?