Zapel.

There’s none of good to tell. She hath neither ate nor slept.

Sa. Will she not eat?

Za. Nothing.

Sa. ’Tis the third day.

Za. Nor will she sleep. She fights ’gainst sleep, as if ’twere death. Like one That must keep watch against its soft approaches, Sitting upon her couch with head inclined She mourneth to herself, and ’twixt her sighs What words may be distinguished overlook Her own distress, and squander their laments Upon an unknown sorrow, which she says Enwraps the world. Or sometimes she will sing The melancholy strains which she hath heard The Christian captives use.

Sa. ’Tis a brain-sickness: Miserable.

Za. And ever, when I have tried to cheer her, Hath she rebuked me, as she is wont; but gently, And bid me leave her: Then to meet her humour I have gone, but made occasion to return, Bringing such simple food as best she likes, Freshly prepared to tempt her; and with tears I pray her but to taste: yet she endures, And saith, 'I thank thee, Zapel: tho’I eat not, Thy skill is not misspent stretching the rack That proves my constancy. I prithee, girl, Set fresh and fresh before me.’Hearing this I weep for pity: but she saith, 'Be sure I shall not taste thy dishes, till one eat Who is now denied.’

Sa. Doth she not speak his name?

Za. Rarely and reverently, as a name of God. Then I am sent to learn the last; if yet He lives, and whether he hath spoke of her. This morn, As I returned from such unhappy quest, She gave me this: See, ’tis a letter for him....

[Shewing letter.

Sa. Thou darest!

Za. O sir, the piteous prayer she made, Kneeling and clasping me about the knees, Went to my heart. But now I have it I fear To have broke the king’s command. I prithee take it.

Sa. Give’t me. [Takes.

Za. To see her thus, Allah forgive me, I wish well to the infidel. What word Shall I take back?

Sa. Say truth. I will deliver it. And tell her prince Enrique is returned: He is camped a league away, and in such force As makes me hope I may persuade the king To yield to his demand. Since there’s this hope, Bid her preserve her strength bravely, nor thus Prejudge God’s will. His blessing aid thy words.

[Exit Zapel.

I said there’s hope. ’Twas hope that bade me lie, For none I see. And this is misery, To cherish consolations, and be happy Doing the loathèd thing. Am I content To bear a letter of Almeh’s to her lover? Allah is great. My best desire is only To save her,—my one hope that the prince should yield: And no persuasion but her love will move him. This letter will entreat him; I must carry it.

Enter King.