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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15349-8.txt b/15349-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..792733f --- /dev/null +++ b/15349-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17235 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works Of John Dryden, Volume 4 (of 18) +by John Dryden + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Works Of John Dryden, Volume 4 (of 18) + Almanzor And Almahide, Marriage-a-la-Mode, The Assignation + +Author: John Dryden + +Commentator: Walter Scott + + +Release Date: March 13, 2005 [EBook #15349] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + THE + + WORKS + + OF + + JOHN DRYDEN, + + NOW FIRST COLLECTED + + _IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES._ + + + + ILLUSTRATED + + WITH NOTES, + + HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY, + + AND + + A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR, + + BY + + WALTER SCOTT, ESQ. + + + + VOL. IV. + + LONDON: + + PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET, + + BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH. + + + 1808. + + + * * * * * + + + CONTENTS + + OF + + VOLUME FOURTH. + +Almanzor and Almahide, or the Conquest of Granada by the Spaniards, a + Tragedy, Part First + Epistle Dedicatory to the Duke of York + Of Heroic Plays, an Essay + Part II + Defence of the Epilogue; or an Essay on the Dramatic Poetry of + the last Age + + +Marriage-a-la-Mode, a Comedy + Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Rochester + + +The Assignation, or Love in a Nunnery, a Comedy + Epistle Dedicatory to Sir Charles Sedley, Bart. + + + * * * * * + + + ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE: + + OR, THE + + CONQUEST OF GRANADA + + BY THE + + _SPANIARDS._ + + A TRAGEDY. + + + _--Major rerum mihi nascitur ordo; + Majus opus moveo._ + VIRG. ÆNEID. + + + + + THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. + + +This play,--for the two parts only constitute an entire drama betwixt +them,--seems to have been a favourite with Dryden, as well as with the +public. In the Essay upon Heroic Plays, as well as in the dedication, +the character of Almanzor is dwelt upon with that degree of +complacency which an author experiences in analyzing a successful +effort of his genius. Unquestionably the gross improbability of a +hero, by his single arm, turning the tide of battle as he lists, did +not appear so shocking in the age of Dryden, as in ours. There is no +doubt, that, while personal strength and prowess were of more +consequence than military skill and conduct, the feats of a single man +were sometimes sufficient to determine the fate of an engagement, more +especially when exerted by a knight, sheathed in complete mail, +against the heartless and half-armed mass, which constituted the +feudal infantry. Those, who have perused Barbour's History of Robert +Bruce, Geoffrey de Vinsauf's account of the wars of Richard Coeur de +Lion, or even the battles detailed by Froissart and Joinville, are +familiar with instances of breaches defended, and battles decided, by +the prowess of a single arm. The leader of a feudal army was expected +by his followers not only to point out the path to victory but to lead +the way in person. It is true, that the military art had been changed +in this particular long before the days of Dryden. Complete armour was +generally laid aside; fire-arms had superseded the use of the lance +and battle-axe; and, above all, the universal institution of standing +armies had given discipline and military skill their natural and +decisive superiority over untaught strength, and enthusiastic valour. +But the memory of what had been, was still familiar to the popular +mind, and preserved not only by numerous legends and traditions, but +also by the cast of the fashionable works of fiction. It is, indeed, +curious to remark, how many minute remnants of a system of ancient +manners can be traced long after it has become totally obsolete. Even +down to the eighteenth century, the portrait of every soldier of rank +was attired in complete armour, though, perhaps, he never saw a suit +of mail excepting in the Tower of London; and on the same principle of +prescriptive custom, Addison was the first poet who ventured to +celebrate a victorious general for skill and conduct, instead of such +feats as are appropriated to Guy of Warwick, or Bevis of Hampton. The +fashion of attributing mighty effects to individual valour being thus +prevalent, even in circumstances when every one knew the supposition +to be entirely gratuitous, the same principle, with much greater +propriety, continued to be applied in works of fiction, where the +scene was usually carried back to times in which the personal strength +of a champion really had some efficacy. It must be owned, however, +that the authors of the French romances carried the influence of +individual strength and courage beyond all bounds of modesty and +reason. In the Grand Cyrus, Artamenes, upon a moderate computation, +exterminates with his own hand, in the course of the work, at least a +hundred thousand fighting men. These monstrous fictions, however, +constituted the amusement of the young and the gay[1], in the age of +Charles II., and from one of these very books Dryden admits his having +drawn, at least in part, the character of his Moorish warrior. The +public was, therefore, every way familiarised with such chivalrous +exploits as those of Almanzor; and if they did not altogether command +the belief, at least they did not revolt the imagination, of an +audience: And this must certainly be admitted as a fair apology for +the extravagance of his heroic achievements. + +But, it is not only the actual effects of Almanzor's valour, which +appear to us unnatural, but also the extraordinary principles and +motives by which those exertions are guided. Here also, we must look +back to the Gothic romances, and to those of Scudery and Calprenede. +In fact, the extravagance of sentiment is no less necessary than the +extravagance of achievement to constitute a true knight errant; and +such is Almanzor. Honour and love were the sole deities worshipped by +this extraordinary race, who, though their memory and manners are +preserved chiefly in works of fiction, did once exist in real life, +and actually conducted armies, and governed kingdoms, upon principles +as strained and hyperbolical as those of the Moorish champion. If +Almanzor, at the command of his mistress, aids his hated rival to the +destruction of his own hopes, he only discharges the duty of a good +knight, who was bound to sacrifice himself, and all his hopes and +wishes, at the slightest command of her, to whom he had vowed his +service, and who, in the language of chivalry, was to him as the soul +is to the body. The reader may recollect the memorable invasion of +England by James IV. of Scotland, in which he hazarded and actually +lost his own life, and the flower of his nobility, because the queen +of France, who called him her knight, had commanded him to march three +miles on English ground for her sake. + +Less can be said to justify the extravagant language in which Almanzor +threatens his enemies, and vaunts his own importance. This is not +common in the heroes of romance, who are usually as remarkable for +their modesty of language as for their prowess; and still more seldom +does, in real life, a vain-glorious boaster vindicate by his actions +the threats of his tongue. It is true, that men of a fervent and +glowing character are apt to strain their speech beyond the modesty of +ordinary conversation, and display, in their language, the fire which +glows in their bosoms; but the subject of their effusions is usually +connected not with their own personal qualities, or feats, but with +some extraneous object of their pursuit, or admiration. Thus, the +burst of Hotspur concerning the pursuit of honour paints his +enthusiastic character; but it would be hard to point out a passage +indicating that exuberant confidence in his own prowess, and contempt +of every one else, so liberally exhibited by Almanzor. Instances of +this defect are but too thickly sown through the piece; for example +the following rant. + + If from thy hands alone my death can be, + I am immortal, and a God to thee. + If I would kill thee now, thy fate's so low, + That I must stoop ere I can give the blow. + But mine is fixed so far above thy crown, + That all thy men, + Piled on thy back, can never pull it down. + But, at my ease, thy destiny I send, + By ceasing from this hour to be thy friend. + Like heaven, I need but only to stand still; + And, not concurring to thy life, I kill. + Thou canst no title to my duty bring; + I am not thy subject, and my soul's thy king. + Farewell! When I am gone, + There's not a star of thine dare stay with thee: + I'll whistle thy tame fortune after me; + And whirl fate with me wheresoe'er I fly, + As winds drive storms before them in the sky. + +This curious passage did not escape the malicious criticism of Settle, +who, besides noticing the extravagant egotism of the hero, questions, +with some probability, whether Abdalla would have chosen to scale +Almanzor's fate, at the risque of the personal consequences of having +all his men piled on his own back. In the same scene, Almanzor is so +unreasonable as to tell his rival, + + --Thou shalt not dare + To be so impudent as to despair. + +And again, + + What are ten thousand subjects, such as they? + If I am scorned, I'll take myself away. + +Dryden's apology for these extravagancies seems to be, that Almanzor +is in a passion. But, although talking nonsense is a common effect of +passion, it seems hardly one of those consequences adapted to shew +forth the character of a hero in theatrical representation. + +It must be owned, however, that although the part of Almanzor contains +these and other bombastic passages, there are many also which convey +what the poet desired to represent--the aspirations of a mind so +heroic as almost to surmount the bonds of society and even the very +laws of the universe, leaving us often in doubt whether the vehemence +of the wish does not even disguise the impossibility of its +accomplishment. + + Good heaven! thy book of fate before me lay, + But to tear out the journal of this day. + Or, if the order of the world below + Will not the gap of one whole day allow, + Give me that minute when she made her vow. + That minute, even the happy from their bliss might give, + And those, who live in grief, a shorter time would live. + So small a link, if broke, the eternal chain + Would, like divided waters, join again. + It wonnot be; the fugitive is gone, + Pressed by the crowd of following minutes on: + That precious moment's out of nature fled, + And in the heap of common rubbish laid, + Of things that once have been, and now decayed. + +In the less inflated parts, the ideas are usually as just, as +ingenious and beautiful; for example. + + No; there is a necessity in fate. + Why still the brave bold man is fortunate; + He keeps his object ever full in sight, + And that assurance holds him firm and right. + True, 'tis a narrow path that leads to bliss, } + But right before there is no precipice; } + Fear makes men look aside, and then their footing miss. } + +The character of Almanzor is well known as the original of Drawcansir, +in "The Rehearsal," into whose mouth parodies of some of Dryden's most +extravagant flights have been put by the duke of Buckingham. +Shaftesbury also, whose family had smarted under Dryden's satire, +attempts to trace the applause bestowed on the "Conquest of Granada" +to what he calls "the correspondence and relation between our _Royal +Theatre_ and popular _Circus_, or _Bear-Garden_. For, in the former of +these assemblys, 'tis undeniable that, at least, the two upper +regions, or galleries, contain such spectators as indifferently +frequent each place of sport. So that 'tis no wonder we hear such +applause resounded on the victories of an _Almanzor_, when the same +parties had possibly no later than the day before bestowed their +applause as freely on the victorious _Butcher_, the hero of another +stage." _Miscellaneous Reflections. Miscell. 5._ + +The other personages of the drama sink into Lilliputians, beside +the gigantic Almanzor, although the under plot of the loves of +Ozmyn and Benzayda is beautiful in itself, and ingeniously managed. +The virtuous Almahide is a fit object for the adoration of +Almanzor; but her husband is a poor pageant of royalty. As +for Lyndaraxa, her repeated and unparalleled treachery can only be +justified by the extreme imbecility of her lovers. + +The plot of the play is, in part, taken from history. During +the last years of its existence, Granada, the poor remnant of the +Moorish empire in Spain, was torn to pieces with intestine discord, +and assailed without by the sword of the Christians. The history +of the civil wars of Granada, affirmed to be translated into Spanish +from the Arabian, gives a romantic, but not altogether fabulous +account of their discord. But a romance in the French taste, +called Almahide, seems to have been the chief source from which +our author drew his plot. + +In the conduct of the story there is much brilliancy of event. The +reader, or spectator, is never allowed to repose on the scene before +him; and although the changes of fortune are too rapid to be either +probable, or altogether pleasing, yet they arrest the attention by +their splendour and importance, and interest us in spite of our more +sober judgment. The introduction of the ghost of Almanzor's mother +seems to have been intended to shew how the hero could support even an +interview with an inhabitant of the other world. At least, the +professed purpose of her coming might have been safely trusted to the +virtue of Almahide, and her power over her lover. It afforded an +opportunity, however, to throw in some fine poetry, of which Dryden +has not failed to avail himself. Were it not a peculiar attribute of +the heroic drama, it might be mentioned as a defect, that during the +siege of the last possession of the Spanish Moors, by an enemy hated +for his religion, and for his success, the principle of patriotism is +hardly once alluded to through the whole piece. The fate, or the +wishes, of Almahide, Lyndaraxa, and Benzayda, are all that interest +the Moorish warriors around them, as if the Christian was not +thundering at their gates, to exterminate at once their nation and +religion. Indeed, so essentially necessary are the encouragements of +beauty to military achievement, that we find queen Isabella ordering +to the field of battle a _corps de reserve_ of her maids of honour to +animate the fighting warriors with their smiles, and counteract the +powerful charms of the Moorish damsels. Nor is it an inferior fault, +that, although the characters are called Moors, there is scarce any +expression, or allusion, which can fix the reader's attention upon +their locality, except an occasional interjection to Alha, or Mahomet. + +If, however, the reader can abstract his mind from the qualities now +deemed essential to a play, and consider the Conquest of Granada as a +piece of romantic poetry, there are few compositions in the English +language, which convey a more lively and favourable display of the +magnificence of fable, of language, and of action, proper to that +style of composition. Amid the splendid ornaments of the structure we +lose sight of occasional disproportion and incongruity; and, at an +early age particularly, there are few poems which make a more deep +impression upon the imagination, than the Conquest of Granada. + +The two parts of this drama were brought out in the same season, +probably in winter, 1669, or spring, 1670. They were received with +such applause, that Langbaine conceives their success to have been the +occasion of Dryden's undervaluing his predecessors in dramatic +writing. The Conquest of Granada was not printed till 1672. + + +Footnote: +1. There is something ludicrous in the idea of a beauty, or a + gallant, of that gay and licentious court poring over a work of + five or six folio volumes by way of amusement; but such was the + taste of the age, that Fynes Morison, in his precepts to + travellers, can "think no book better for his pupils' discourse + than Amadis of Gaule; for the knights errant and the ladies of + court do therein exchange courtly speeches." + + + + + TO + + HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS + + THE + + DUKE[1]. + + +SIR, + +Heroic poesy has always been sacred to princes, and to heroes. Thus +Virgil inscribed his Æneids to Augustus Cæsar; and of latter ages, +Tasso and Ariosto dedicated their poems to the house of Este. It is +indeed but justice, that the most excellent and most profitable kind +of writing should be addressed by poets to such persons, whose +characters have, for the most part, been the guides and patterns of +their imitation; and poets, while they imitate, instruct. The feigned +hero inflames the true; and the dead virtue animates the living. +Since, therefore, the world is governed by precept and example, and +both these can only have influence from those persons who are above +us; that kind of poesy, which excites to virtue the greatest men, is +of the greatest use to human kind. + +It is from this consideration, that I have presumed to dedicate to +your royal highness these faint representations of your own worth and +valour in heroick poetry: Or, to speak more properly, not to dedicate, +but to restore to you those ideas, which in the more perfect part of +my characters I have taken from you. Heroes may lawfully be delighted +with their own praises, both as they are farther incitements to their +virtue, and as they are the highest returns which mankind can make +them for it. + +And certainly, if ever nation were obliged, either by the conduct, the +personal[2] valour, or the good fortune of a leader, the English are +acknowledging, in all of them, to your royal highness. Your whole life +has been a continued series of heroick actions; which you began so +early, that you were no sooner named in the world, but it was with +praise and admiration. Even the first blossoms of your youth paid us +all that could be expected from a ripening manhood. While you +practised but the rudiments of war, you out-went all other captains; +and have since found none to surpass, but yourself alone. The opening +of your glory was like that of light: You shone to us from afar; and +disclosed your first beams on distant nations: Yet so, that the lustre +of them was spread abroad, and reflected brightly on your native +country. You were then an honour to it, when it was a reproach to +itself. When the fortunate usurper sent his arms to Flanders, many of +the adverse party were vanquished by your fame, ere they tried your +valour.[3] The report of it drew over to your ensigns whole troops and +companies of converted rebels, and made them forsake successful +wickedness, to follow an oppressed and exiled virtue. Your reputation +waged war with the enemies of your royal family, even within their +trenches; and the more obstinate, or more guilty of them, were forced +to be spies over those whom they commanded, lest the name of York +should disband that army, in whose fate it was to defeat the +Spaniards, and force Dunkirk to surrender. Yet, those victorious +forces of the rebels were not able to sustain your arms. Where you +charged in person you were a conqueror. It is true, they afterwards +recovered courage; and wrested that victory from others which they had +lost to you; and it was a greater action for them to rally, than it +was to overcome. Thus, by the presence of your royal highness, the +English on both sides remained victorious and that army, which was +broken by your valour, became a terror to those for whom they +conquered. Then it was, that at the cost of other nations you informed +and cultivated that valour, which was to defend your native country, +and to vindicate its honour from the insolence of our encroaching +neighbours. When the Hollanders, not contented to withdraw themselves +from the obedience which they owed their lawful sovereign, affronted +those by whose charity they were first protected; and, being swelled +up to a pre-eminence of trade, by a supine negligence on our side, and +a sordid parsimony on their own, dared to dispute the sovereignty of +the seas, the eyes of three nations were then cast upon you; and by +the joint suffrage of king and people, you were chosen to revenge +their common injuries; to which, though you had an undoubted title by +your birth, you had a greater by your courage. Neither did the success +deceive our hopes and expectations: The most glorious victory which +was gained by our navy in that war, was in the first engagement; +wherein, even by the confession of our enemies, who ever palliate +their own losses, and diminish our advantages, your absolute triumph +was acknowledged: You conquered at the Hague, as entirely as at +London; and the return of a shattered fleet, without an admiral, left +not the most impudent among them the least pretence for a false +bonfire, or a dissembled day of public thanksgiving. All our +achievements against them afterwards, though we sometimes conquered, +and were never overcome, were but a copy of that victory, and they +still fell short of their original: somewhat of fortune was ever +wanting, to fill up the title of so absolute a defeat; or perhaps the +guardian angel of our nation was not enough concerned when you were +absent, and would not employ his utmost vigour for a less important +stake, than the life and honour of a royal admiral. + +And if, since that memorable day,[4] you have had leisure to enjoy in +peace the fruits of so glorious a reputation; it was occasion only has +been wanting to your courage, for that can never be wanting to +occasion. The same ardour still incites you to heroick actions, and +the same concernment for all the interests of your king and brother +continues to give you restless nights, and a generous emulation for +your own glory. You are still meditating on new labours for yourself, +and new triumphs for the nation; and when our former enemies again +provoke us, you will again solicit fate to provide you another navy to +overcome, and another admiral to be slain. You will then lead forth a +nation eager to revenge their past injuries; and, like the Romans, +inexorable to peace, till they have fully vanquished. Let our enemies +make their boast of a surprise,[5] as the Samnities did of a +successful stratagem; but the _Furcæ Caudinæ_ will never be forgiven +till they are revenged. I have always observed in your royal highness +an extreme concernment for the honour of your country; it is a passion +common to you with a brother, the most excellent of kings; and in your +two persons are eminent the characters which Homer has given us of +heroick virtue; the commanding part in Agamemnon, and the executive in +Achilles. And I doubt not from both your actions, but to have abundant +matter to fill the annals of a glorious reign, and to perform the part +of a just historian to my royal master, without intermixing with it +any thing of the poet. + +In the mean time, while your royal highness is preparing fresh +employments for our pens, I have been examining my own forces, and +making trial of myself, how I shall be able to transmit you to +posterity. I have formed a hero, I confess, not absolutely perfect, +but of an excessive and over-boiling courage; but Homer and Tasso are +my precedents. Both the Greek and the Italian poet had well +considered, that a tame hero, who never transgresses the bounds of +moral virtue, would shine but dimly in an epic poem; the strictness of +those rules might well give precepts to the reader, but would +administer little of occasion to the writer. But a character of an +eccentrick virtue is the more exact image of human life, because he is +not wholly exempted from its frailties; such a person is Almanzor, +whom I present, with all humility, to the patronage of your royal +highness. I designed in him a roughness of character, impatient of +injuries, and a confidence of himself, almost approaching to an +arrogance. But these errors are incident only to great spirits; they +are moles and dimples, which hinder not a face from being beautiful, +though that beauty be not regular; they are of the number of those +amiable imperfections which we see in mistresses, and which we pass +over without a strict examination, when they are accompanied with +greater graces. And such in Almanzor are a frank and noble openness of +nature, an easiness to forgive his conquered enemies, and to protect +them in distress; and, above all, an inviolable faith in his +affection. + +This, sir, I have briefly shadowed to your royal highness, that you +may not be ashamed of that hero, whose protection you undertake. +Neither would I dedicate him to so illustrious a name, if I were +conscious to myself that he did or said any thing which was wholly +unworthy of it. However, since it is not just that your royal highness +should defend or own what possibly may be my error, I bring before you +this accused Almanzor in the nature of a suspected criminal. By the +suffrage of the most and best he already is acquitted; and by the +sentence of some, condemned. But as I have no reason to stand to the +award of my enemies, so neither dare I trust the partiality of my +friends: I make my last appeal to your royal highness, as to a +sovereign tribunal. Heroes should only be judged by heroes; because +they only are capable of measuring great and heroick actions by the +rule and standard of their own. If Almanzor has failed in any point of +honour, I must therein acknowledge that he deviates from your royal +highness, who are the pattern of it. But if at any time he fulfils the +parts of personal valour, and of conduct, of a soldier, and of a +general; or, if I could yet give him a character more advantageous +than what he has, of the most unshaken friend, the greatest of +subjects, and the best of masters, I should then draw to all the world +a true resemblance of your worth and virtues; at least, as far as they +are capable of being copied by the mean abilities of, + + SIR, + + Your royal highness's + Most humble, and + Most obedient servant, + JOHN DRYDEN. + + +Footnotes: +1. James Duke of York, afterwards James II. + +2. Although the valour of the unfortunate James II. seems to have sunk + with his good fortune, there is no reason to question his having + merited the compliment in the text. The Duke of Buckingham, in his + memoirs, has borne witness to the intrepidity with which he + encountered the dangers of his desperate naval actions with the + Dutch. Captain Carlton, who was also an eye-witness of his + deportment on that occasion, says, that while the balls were flying + thickly around, the Duke of York was wont to rub his hands, and + exclaim chearfully to his captain, "Spragge, Spragge, they follow + us fast." + +3. When General Lockhart commanded the troops of the Protector in + Flanders, the Duke of York was a volunteer in the Spanish army, and + was present at the defeat, which the latter received before + Dunkirk, 17th of June, 1658. + +4. The defeat of the Dutch off Harwich, 3d June, 1665, in which their + Admiral, Obdam, was blown up, eighteen of their ships taken, and + fourteen destroyed. + +5. The author seems to refer to the burning of the English ships at + Chatham, by the Dutch Admiral De Ruyter. + + + + + OF + + HEROIC PLAYS. + + AN ESSAY. + + +Whether heroic verse ought to be admitted into serious plays, is not +now to be disputed: it is already in possession of the stage, and I +dare confidently affirm, that very few tragedies, in this age, shall +be received without it. All the arguments which are formed against it, +can amount to no more than this, that it is not so near conversation +as prose, and therefore not so natural. But it is very clear to all +who understand poetry, that serious plays ought not to imitate +conversation too nearly. If nothing were to be raised above that +level, the foundation of poetry would be destroyed. And if you once +admit of a latitude, that thoughts may be exalted, and that images and +actions may be raised above the life, and described in measure without +rhyme, that leads you insensibly from your own principles to mine: you +are already so far onward of your way, that you have forsaken the +imitation of ordinary converse. You are gone beyond it; and to +continue where you are, is to lodge in the open fields, betwixt two +inns. You have lost that which you call natural, and have not acquired +the last perfection of art. But it was only custom which cozened us so +long; we thought, because Shakespeare and Fletcher went no farther, +that there the pillars of poetry were to be erected; that, because +they excellently described passion without rhime, therefore rhime was +not capable of describing it. But time has now convinced most men of +that error. It is indeed so difficult to write verse, that the +adversaries of it have a good plea against many, who undertook that +task, without being formed by art or nature for it. Yet, even they who +have written worst in it, would have written worse without it: They +have cozened many with their sound, who never took the pains to +examine their sense. In fine, they have succeeded; though, it is true, +they have more dishonoured rhime by their good success, than they have +done by their ill. But I am willing to let fall this argument: It is +free for every man to write, or not to write, in verse, as he judges +it to be, or not to be, his talent; or as he imagines the audience +will receive it. + +For heroic plays, in which only I have used it without the mixture of +prose, the first light we had of them, on the English theatre, was +from the late Sir William D'Avenant. It being forbidden him in the +rebellious times to act tragedies and comedies, because they contained +some matter of scandal to those good people, who could more easily +dispossess their lawful sovereign, than endure a wanton jest, he was +forced to turn his thoughts another way, and to introduce the examples +of moral virtue, writ in verse, and performed in recitative music. The +original of this music, and of the scenes which adorned his work, he +had from the Italian operas; but he heightened his characters, as I +may probably imagine, from the example of Corneille and some French +poets. In this condition did this part of poetry remain at his +majesty's return; when, growing bolder, as being now owned by a public +authority, he reviewed his "Siege of Rhodes," and caused it be acted +as a just drama. But as few men have the happiness to begin and finish +any new project, so neither did he live to make his design perfect: +There wanted the fulness of a plot, and the variety of characters to +form it as it ought; and, perhaps, something might have been added to +the beauty of the style. All which he would have performed with more +exactness, had he pleased to have given us another work of the same +nature. For myself and others, who come after him, we are bound, with +all veneration to his memory, to acknowledge what advantage we +received from that excellent groundwork which he laid: And, since it +is an easy thing to add to what already is invented, we ought all of +us, without envy to him, or partiality to ourselves, to yield him the +precedence in it. + +Having done him this justice, as my guide, I may do myself so much, as +to give an account of what I have performed after him. I observed +then, as I said, what was wanting to the perfection of his "Siege of +Rhodes;" which was design, and variety of characters. And in the midst +of this consideration by mere accident, I opened the next book that +lay by me, which was "Ariosto," in Italian; and the very first two +lines of that poem gave me light to all I could desire; + + _Le donne, i cavalier, l'arme, gli amori, + Le cortesie, l'audaci imprese io canto,_ &c. + +For the very next reflection which I made was this, that an heroic +play ought to be an imitation, in little, of an heroic poem; and, +consequently, that love and valour ought to be the subject of it. Both +these Sir William D'Avenant had begun to shadow; but it was so, as +first discoverers draw their maps, with headlands, and promontories, +and some few outlines of somewhat taken at a distance, and which the +designer saw not clearly. The common drama obliged him to a plot well +formed and pleasant, or, as the ancients call it, one entire and great +action. But this he afforded not himself in a story, which he neither +filled with persons, nor beautified with characters, nor varied with +accidents. The laws of an heroic poem did not dispense with those of +the other, but raised them to a greater height, and indulged him a +farther liberty of fancy, and of drawing all things as far above the +ordinary proportion of the stage, as that is beyond the common words +and actions of human life; and, therefore, in the scanting of his +images and design, he complied not enough with the greatness and +majesty of an heroic poem. + +I am sorry I cannot discover my opinion of this kind of writing, +without dissenting much from his, whose memory I love and honour. But +I will do it with the same respect to him, as if he were now alive, +and overlooking my paper while I write. His judgment of an heroic poem +was this: "That it ought to be dressed in a more familiar and easy +shape; more fitted to the common actions and passions of human life; +and, in short, more like a glass of nature, shewing us ourselves in +our ordinary habits and figuring a more practicable virtue to us, than +was done by the ancients or moderns." Thus he takes the image of an +heroic poem from the drama, or stage poetry; and accordingly intended +to divide it into five books, representing the same number of acts; +and every book into several cantos, imitating the scenes which compose +our acts. + +But this, I think, is rather a play in narration, as I may call it, +than an heroic poem. If at least you will not prefer the opinion of a +single man to the practice of the most excellent authors, both of +ancient and latter ages. I am no admirer of quotations; but you shall +hear, if you please, one of the ancients delivering his judgment on +this question; it is Petronius Arbiter, the most elegant, and one of +the most judicious authors of the Latin tongue; who, after he had +given many admirable rules for the structure and beauties of an epic +poem, concludes all in these following words:-- + +_"Non enim res gestæ versibus comprehendendæ sunt, quod longe melius +historici faciunt: sed, per ambages deorumque ministeria, +præcipitanaus est liber spiritus, ut potius furentis animi vaticinatio +appareat, quam religiosæ orationis, sub testibus, fides."_ + +In which sentence, and his own essay of a poem, which immediately he +gives you, it is thought he taxes Lucan, who followed too much the +truth of history, crowded sentences together, was too full of points, +and too often offered at somewhat which had more of the sting of an +epigram, than of the dignity and state of an heroic poem. Lucan used +not much the help of his heathen deities: There was neither the +ministry of the gods, nor the precipitation of the soul, nor the fury +of a prophet (of which my author speaks), in his _Pharsalia_; he +treats you more like a philosopher than a poet, and instructs you in +verse, with what he had been taught by his uncle Seneca in prose. In +one word, he walks soberly afoot, when he might fly. Yet Lucan is not +always this religious historian. The oracle of Appius and the +witchcraft of Erictho, will somewhat atone for him, who was, indeed, +bound up by an ill-chosen and known argument, to follow truth with +great exactness. For my part, I am of opinion, that neither Homer, +Virgil, Statius, Ariosto, Tasso, nor our English Spencer, could have +formed their poems half so beautiful, without those gods and spirits, +and those enthusiastic parts of poetry, which compose the most noble +parts of all their writings. And I will ask any man who loves heroic +poetry (for I will not dispute their tastes who do not), if the ghost +of Polydorus in Virgil, the Enchanted Wood in Tasso, and the Bower of +Bliss in Spencer (which he borrows from that admirable Italian) could +have been omitted, without taking from their works some of the +greatest beauties in them. And if any man object the improbabilities +of a spirit appearing, or of a palace raised by magic; I boldly answer +him, that an heroic poet is not tied to a bare representation of what +is true, or exceeding probable; but that he may let himself loose to +visionary objects and to the representation of such things, as, +depending not on sense, and therefore not to be comprehended by +knowledge, may give him a freer scope for imagination. It is enough +that, in all ages and religions, the greatest part of mankind have +believed the power of magic, and that there are spirits or spectres +which have appeared. This, I say, is foundation enough for poetry; and +I dare farther affirm, that the whole doctrine of separated beings, +whether those spirits are incorporeal substances, (which Mr Hobbes, +with some reason, thinks to imply a contradiction) or that they are a +thinner and more aërial sort of bodies, (as some of the fathers have +conjectured) may better be explicated by poets than by philosophers or +divines. For their speculations on this subject are wholly poetical; +they have only their fancy for their guide; and that, being sharper in +an excellent poet, than it is likely it should in a phlegmatic, heavy +gownman, will see farther in its own empire, and produce more +satisfactory notions on those dark and doubtful problems. + +Some men think they have raised a great argument against the use of +spectres and magic in heroic poetry, by saying they are unnatural; but +whether they or I believe there are such things, is not material; it +is enough that, for aught we know, they may be in nature; and whatever +is, or may be, is not properly unnatural. Neither am I much concerned +at Mr Cowley's verses before "Gondibert," though his authority is +almost sacred to me: It is true, he has resembled the old epic poetry +to a fantastic fairy-land; but he has contradicted himself by his own +example: For he has himself made use of angels and visions in his +"Davideis," as well as Tasso in his "Godfrey." + +What I have written on this subject will not be thought a digression +by the reader, if he please to remember what I said in the beginning +of this essay, that I have modelled my heroic plays by the rules of an +heroic poem. And if that be the most noble, the most pleasant, and the +most instructive way of writing in verse, and withal the highest +pattern of human life, as all poets have agreed, I shall need no other +argument to justify my choice in this imitation. One advantage the +drama has above the other, namely, that it represents to view what the +poem only does relate; and, _Segnius irritant animum demissa per +aures, quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus_, as Horace tells us. + +To those who object my frequent use of drums and trumpets, and my +representations of battles, I answer, I introduced them not on the +English stage: Shakespeare used them frequently; and though Jonson +shews no battle in his "Catiline," yet you hear from behind the scenes +the sounding of trumpets, and the shouts of fighting armies. But, I +add farther, that these warlike instruments, and even their +presentations of fighting on the stage, are no more than necessary to +produce the effects of an heroic play; that is, to raise the +imagination of the audience and to persuade them, for the time, that +what they behold on the theatre is really performed. The poet is then +to endeavour an absolute dominion over the minds of the spectators; +for, though our fancy will contribute to its own deceit, yet a writer +ought to help its operation: And that the Red Bull has formerly done +the same, is no more an argument against our practice, than it would +be for a physician to forbear an approved medicine, because a +mountebank has used it with success. + +Thus I have given a short account of heroic plays. I might now, with +the usual eagerness of an author, make a particular defence of this. +But the common opinion (how unjust soever) has been so much to my +advantage, that I have reason to be satisfied, and to suffer with +patience all that can be urged against it. + +For, otherwise, what can be more easy for me, than to defend the +character of Almanzor, which is one great exception that is made +against the play? 'Tis said, that Almanzor is no perfect pattern of +heroic virtue, that he is a contemner of kings, and that he is made to +perform impossibilities. + +I must therefore avow, in the first place, from whence I took the +character. The first image I had of him, was from the Achilles of +Homer; the next from Tasso's Rinaldo, (who was a copy of the former) +and the third from the Artaban of Monsieur Calpranede, who has +imitated both. The original of these, Achilles, is taken by Homer for +his hero; and is described by him as one, who in strength and courage +surpassed the rest of the Grecian army; but, withal, of so fiery a +temper, so impatient of an injury, even from his king and general, +that when his mistress was to be forced from him by the command of +Agamemnon, he not only disobeyed it, but returned him an answer full +of contumely, and in the most opprobrious terms he could imagine; they +are Homer's words which follow, and I have cited but some few amongst +a multitude. + + [Greek: Oinobares, kynos ommat' echôn, kradiên d' elaphoio.] + --Il. a. v. 225. + + [Greek: Dêmoboros basileus,] &c. --Il. a. v. 231. + +Nay, he proceeded so far in his insolence, as to draw out his sword, +with intention to kill him; + + [Greek: Elketo d' ek koleoio mega xiphos.] + --Il. a. v. 194. + +and, if Minerva had not appeared, and held his hand, he had executed +his design; and it was all she could do to dissuade him from it. The +event was, that he left the army, and would fight no more. Agamemnon +gives his character thus to Nestor; + + [Greek: All' hod' anêr ethelei peri pantôn emmenai allôn, + Pantôn men krateein ethelei, pantessi d' anassein.] + --Il. a. v. 287, 288 + +and Horace gives the same description of him in his Art of Poetry. + + _--Honoratum si fortè reponis Achillem, + Inpiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer, + Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis._ + +Tasso's chief character, Rinaldo, was a man of the same temper; for, +when he had slain Gernando in his heat of passion, he not only refused +to be judged by Godfrey, his general, but threatened that if he came +to seize him, he would right himself by arms upon him; witness these +following lines of Tasso: + + _Venga egli, o mundi, io terrò fermo il piede: + Giudici fian tra noi la sorte, e l'arme; + Fera tragedia vuol che s'appresenti, + Per lor diporto, alle nemiche genti._ + +You see how little these great authors did esteem the point of honour, +so much magnified by the French, and so ridiculously aped by us. They +made their heroes men of honour; but so, as not to divest them quite +of human passions and frailties: they content themselves to shew you, +what men of great spirits would certainly do when they were provoked, +not what they were obliged to do by the strict rules of moral virtue. +For my own part, I declare myself for Homer and Tasso, and am more in +love with Achilles and Rinaldo, than with Cyrus and Oroondates. I +shall never subject my characters to the French standard, where love +and honour are to be weighed by drams and scruples: Yet, where I have +designed the patterns of exact virtues, such as in this play are the +parts of Almahide, of Ozmyn, and Benzayda, I may safely challenge the +best of theirs. + +But Almanzor is taxed with changing sides: and what tie has he on him +to the contrary? He is not born their subject whom he serves, and he +is injured by them to a very high degree. He threatens them, and +speaks insolently of sovereign power; but so do Achilles and Rinaldo, +who were subjects and soldiers to Agamemnon and Godfrey of Bulloigne. +He talks extravagantly in his passion; but, if I would take the pains +to quote an hundred passages of Ben Jonson's Cethegus, I could easily +shew you, that the rhodomontades of Almanzor are neither so irrational +as his, nor so impossible to be put in execution; for Cethegus +threatens to destroy nature, and to raise a new one out of it; to kill +all the senate for his part of the action; to look Cato dead; and a +thousand other things as extravagant he says, but performs not one +action in the play. + +But none of the former calumnies will stick; and, therefore, it is at +last charged upon me, that Almanzor does all things; or if you will +have an absurd accusation, in their nonsense who make it, that he +performs impossibilities: they say, that being a stranger, he appeases +two fighting factions, when the authority of their lawful sovereign +could not. This is indeed the most improbable of all his actions, but +it is far from being impossible. Their king had made himself +contemptible to his people, as the history of Granada tells us; and +Almanzor, though a stranger, yet was already known to them by his +gallantry in the Juego de torros, his engagement on the weaker side, +and more especially by the character of his person and brave actions, +given by Abdalla just before; and, after all, the greatness of the +enterprise consisted only in the daring, for he had the king's guards +to second him: But we have read both of Cæsar, and many other +generals, who have not only calmed a mutiny with a word, but have +presented themselves single before an army of their enemies; which +upon sight of them has revolted from their own leaders, and come over +to their trenches. In the rest of Almanzor's actions you see him for +the most part victorious; but the same fortune has constantly attended +many heroes, who were not imaginary. Yet, you see it no inheritance to +him; for, in the first place, he is made a prisoner; and, in the last, +defeated, and not able to preserve the city from being taken. If the +history of the late Duke of Guise be true, he hazarded more, and +performed not less in Naples, than Almanzor is feigned to have done in +Granada. + +I have been too tedious in this apology; but to make some +satisfaction, I will leave the rest of my play exposed to the +criticks, without defence. + +The concernment of it is wholly passed from me, and ought to be in +them who have been favourable to it, and are somewhat obliged to +defend their opinions That there are errors in it, I deny not; + + _Ast opere in tanto fas est obrepere somnum._ + +But I have already swept the stakes: and, with the common good fortune +of prosperous gamesters, can be content to sit quietly; to hear my +fortune cursed by some, and my faults arraigned by others; and to +suffer both without reply. + + + + + ON + + MR DRYDEN'S PLAY, + + THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. + + + The applause I gave among the foolish crowd + Was not distinguished, though I clapped aloud: + Or, if it had, my judgment had been hid: + I clapped for company, as others did. + Thence may be told the fortune of your play; + Its goodness must be tried another way. + Let's judge it then, and, if we've any skill, + Commend what's good, though we commend it ill. + There will be praise enough; yet not so much, + As if the world had never any such: + Ben Johnson, Beaumont, Fletcher, Shakespeare, are, + As well as you, to have a poet's share. + You, who write after, have, besides, this curse, + You must write better, or you else write worse. + To equal only what was writ before, + Seems stolen, or borrowed from the former store. + Though blind as Homer all the ancients be, + 'Tis on their shoulders, like the lame, we see. + Then not to flatter th' age, nor flatter you, + (Praises, though less, are greater when they're true,) + You're equal to the best, out-done by you; + Who had out-done themselves, had they lived now. + + VAUGHAN[1]. + + +Footnote: +1. John, Lord Vaughan, eldest surviving son of Richard, Earl of + Carbery. + + + + + PROLOGUE + + TO THE FIRST PART, + + SPOKEN BY + + MRS ELLEN GWYN, + + IN A BROAD-BRIMMED HAT, AND WAIST-BELT.[1] + + + This jest was first of the other house's making, + And, five times tried, has never failed of taking; + For 'twere a shame a poet should be killed + Under the shelter of so broad a shield. + This is that hat, whose very sight did win ye + To laugh and clap as though the devil were in ye. + As then, for Nokes, so now I hope you'll be + So dull, to laugh once more for love of me. + I'll write a play, says one, for I have got + A broad-brimmed hat, and waist-belt, towards a plot. + Says the other, I have one more large than that. + Thus they out-write each other--with a hat! + The brims still grew with every play they writ; + And grew so large, they covered all the wit. + Hat was the play; 'twas language, wit, and tale: + Like them that find meat, drink, and cloth in ale. + What dulness do these mongrel wits confess, + When all their hope is acting of a dress! + Thus, two the best comedians of the age + Must be worn out, with being blocks o' the stage; + Like a young girl, who better things has known, + Beneath their poet's impotence they groan. + See now what charity it was to save! + They thought you liked, what only you forgave; + And brought you more dull sense, dull sense much worse + Than brisk gay nonsense, and the heavier curse. + They bring old iron, and glass upon the stage, + To barter with the Indians of our age. + Still they write on, and like great authors show; } + But 'tis as rollers in wet gardens grow } + Heavy with dirt, and gathering as they go. } + May none, who have so little understood, + To like such trash, presume to praise what's good! + And may those drudges of the stage, whose fate + Is damned dull farce more dully to translate, + Fall under that excise the state thinks fit + To set on all French wares, whose worst is wit. + French farce, worn out at home, is sent abroad; + And, patched up here, is made our English mode. + Henceforth, let poets, ere allowed to write, + Be searched, like duelists before they fight, + For wheel-broad hats, dull honour, all that chaff, + Which makes you mourn, and makes the vulgar laugh: + For these, in plays, are as unlawful arms, + As, in a combat, coats of mail, and charms. + + +Footnote: +1. There is a vague tradition, that, in this grotesque dress, (for the + brims of the hat were as broad as a cart-wheel,) Nell Gwyn had the + good fortune first to attract the attention of her royal lover. + Where the jest lay, is difficult to discover: it seems to have + originated with the duke of York's players. + + + + + DRAMATIS PERSONÆ + + + MAHOMET BOABDELIN, _the last king of Granada._ + _Prince_ ABDALLA, _his brother._ + ABDELMELECH, _chief of the Abencerrages._ + ZULEMA, _chief of the Zegrys._ + ABENAMAR, _an old Abencerrago._ + SELIN, _an old Zegry._ + OZMYN, _a brave young Abencerrago, son to Abenamar._ + HAMET, _brother to Zulema, a Zegry._ + GOMEL, _a Zegry._ + ALMANZOR. + FERDINAND, _king of Spain._ + _Duke of_ ARCOS, _his General._ + _Don_ ALONZO D'AGUILAR, _a Spanish Captain._ + + ALMAHIDE, _Queen of Granada._ + LYNDARAXA, _Sister of_ ZULEMA, _a Zegry Lady._ + BENZAYDA, _Daughter to_ SELIN. + ESPERANZA, _Slave to the Queen._ + HALYMA, _Slave to_ LYNDARAXA. + ISABELLA, _Queen of Spain._ + + _Messengers, Guards, Attendants, Men, and Women._ + +SCENE.--_Granada, and the Christian Camp besieging it._ + + + + + ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE, + + OR, THE + + CONQUEST OF GRANADA. + + THE FIRST PART. + + +ACT I. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, ABDELMELECH, _and Guards._ + +_Boab._ Thus, in the triumphs of soft peace, I reign; +And, from my walls, defy the powers of Spain; +With pomp and sports my love I celebrate, +While they keep distance, and attend my state.-- +Parent to her, whose eyes my soul enthral, [_To_ ABEN. +Whom I, in hope, already father call, +Abenamar, thy youth these sports has known, +Of which thy age is now spectator grown; +Judge-like thou sit'st, to praise, or to arraign +The flying skirmish of the darted cane: +But, when fierce bulls run loose upon the place, +And our bold Moors their loves with danger grace, +Then heat new-bends thy slacken'd nerves again, +And a short youth runs warm through every vein. + +_Aben._ I must confess the encounters of this day +Warmed me indeed, but quite another way,-- +Not with the fire of youth; but generous rage, +To see the glories of my youthful age +So far out-done. + +_Abdelm._ Castile could never boast, in all its pride; +A pomp so splendid, when the lists, set wide, +Gave room to the fierce bulls, which wildly ran +In Sierra Ronda, ere the war began; +Who, with high nostrils snuffing up the wind, +Now stood the champion of the savage kind. +Just opposite, within the circled place, +Ten of our bold Abencerrages race +(Each brandishing his bull-spear in his hand,) +Did their proud jennets gracefully command. +On their steel'd heads their demi-lances wore +Small pennons, which their ladies' colours bore. +Before this troop did warlike Ozmyn go; +Each lady, as he rode, saluting low; +At the chief stands, with reverence more profound, +His well-taught courser, kneeling, touched the ground; +Thence raised, he sidelong bore his rider on, +Still facing, till he out of sight was gone. + +_Boab._ You praise him like a friend; and I confess, +His brave deportment merited no less. + +_Abdelm._ Nine bulls were launched by his victorious arm, +Whose wary jennet, shunning still the harm, +Seemed to attend the shock, and then leaped wide: +Mean while, his dext'rous rider, when he spied +The beast just stooping, 'twixt the neck and head +His lance, with never-erring fury, sped. + +_Aben._ My son did well, and so did Hamet too; +Yet did no more than we were wont to do; +But what the stranger did was more than man. + +_Abdelm._ He finished all those triumphs we began. +One bull, with curled black head, beyond the rest, +And dew-laps hanging from his brawny chest, +With nodding front a while did daring stand, +And with his jetty hoof spurned back the sand; +Then, leaping forth, he bellowed out aloud: +The amazed assistants back each other crowd, +While monarch-like he ranged the listed field; +Some tossed, some gored, some trampling down he killed. +The ignobler Moors from far his rage provoke +With woods of darts, which from his sides he shook. +Mean time your valiant son, who had before +Gained fame, rode round to every Mirador; +Beneath each lady's stand a stop he made, +And, bowing, took the applauses which they paid. +Just in that point of time, the brave unknown +Approached the lists. + +_Boab._ I marked him, when alone +(Observed by all, himself observing none) +He entered first, and with a graceful pride +His fiery Arab dextrously did guide, +Who, while his rider every stand surveyed, +Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade; +Not moving forward, yet, with every bound, +Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground. +What after passed +Was far from the Ventanna where I sate, +But you were near, and can the truth relate. [_To_ ABDELM. + +_Abdelm._ Thus while he stood, the bull, who saw his foe, +His easier conquests proudly did forego; +And, making at him with a furious bound, +From his bent forehead aimed a double wound. +A rising murmur ran through all the field, +And every lady's blood with fear was chilled: +Some shrieked, while others, with more helpful care, +Cried out aloud,--Beware, brave youth, beware! +At this he turned, and, as the bull drew near, +Shunned, and received him on his pointed spear: +The lance broke short, the beast then bellowed loud, +And his strong neck to a new onset bowed. +The undaunted youth +Then drew; and, from his saddle bending low, +Just where the neck did to the shoulders grow, +With his full force discharged a deadly blow. +Not heads of poppies (when they reap the grain) +Fall with more ease before the labouring swain, +Than fell this head: +It fell so quick, it did even death prevent, +And made imperfect bellowings as it went. +Then all the trumpets victory did sound, +And yet their clangors in our shouts were drown'd. + [_A confused noise within. + +Boab._ The alarm-bell rings from our Alhambra walls, +And from the streets sound drums and ataballes. + [_Within, a bell, drums, and trumpets._ + + _Enter a Messenger._ + +How now? from whence proceed these new alarms? + +_Mess._ The two fierce factions are again in arms; +And, changing into blood the day's delight, +The Zegrys with the Abencerrages fight; +On each side their allies and friends appear; +The Macas here, the Alabezes there: +The Gazuls with the Bencerrages join, +And, with the Zegrys, all great Gomel's line. + +_Boab._ Draw up behind the Vivarambla place; +Double my guards,--these factions I will face; +And try if all the fury they can bring, +Be proof against the presence of their king. [_Exit_ BOAB. + + _The Factions appear: At the head of the Abencerrages,_ OZMYN; _at + the head of the Zegrys,_ ZULEMA, HAMET, GOMEL, _and_ SELIN: ABENAMAR + _and_ ABDELMELECH, _joined with the Abencerrages._ + +_Zul._ The faint Abencerrages quit their ground: +Press them; put home your thrusts to every wound. + +_Abdelm._ Zegry, on manly force our line relies; +Thine poorly takes the advantage of surprise: +Unarmed and much out-numbered we retreat; +You gain no fame, when basely you defeat. +If thou art brave, seek nobler victory; +Save Moorish blood; and, while our bands stand by, +Let two and two an equal combat try. + +_Ham._ 'Tis not for fear the combat we refuse, +But we our gained advantage will not lose. + +_Zul._ In combating, but two of you will fall; +And we resolve we will dispatch you all. + +_Ozm._ We'll double yet the exchange before we die, +And each of ours two lives of yours shall buy. + + ALMANZOR _enters betwixt them, as they stand ready to engage._ + +_Alm._ I cannot stay to ask which cause is best; +But this is so to me, because opprest. [_Goes to the Aben._ + + _To them_ BOABDELIN _and his guards, going betwixt them._ + +_Boab._ On your allegiance, I command you stay; +Who passes here, through me must make his way; +My life's the Isthmus; through this narrow line +You first must cut, before those seas can join. +What fury, Zegrys, has possessed your minds? +What rage the brave Abencerrages blinds? +If of your courage you new proofs would show, +Without much travel you may find a foe. +Those foes are neither so remote nor few, +That you should need each other to pursue. +Lean times and foreign wars should minds unite; +When poor, men mutter, but they seldom fight. +O holy Alha! that I live to see +Thy Granadines assist their enemy! +You fight the christians' battles; every life +You lavish thus, in this intestine strife, +Does from our weak foundations take one prop, +Which helped to hold our sinking country up. + +_Ozm._ 'Tis fit our private enmity should cease; +Though injured first, yet I will first seek peace. + +_Zul._ No, murderer, no; I never will be won +To peace with him, whose hand has slain my son. + +_Ozm._ Our prophet's curse +On me, and all the Abencerrages light, +If, unprovoked, I with your son did fight. + +_Abdelm._ A band of Zegrys ran within the place, +Matched with a troop of thirty of our race. +Your son and Ozmyn the first squadrons led, +Which, ten by ten, like Parthians, charged and fled. +The ground was strowed with canes where we did meet, +Which crackled underneath our coursers' feet: +When Tarifa (I saw him ride a part) +Changed his blunt cane for a steel-pointed dart, +And, meeting Ozmyn next,-- +Who wanted time for treason to provide,-- +He basely threw it at him, undefied. + +_Ozm._ [_Shewing his arms._] +Witness this blood--which when by treason sought, +That followed, sir, which to myself I ought. + +_Zul._ His hate to thee was grounded on a grudge, +Which all our generous Zegrys just did judge: +Thy villain-blood thou openly didst place +Above the purple of our kingly race. + +_Boab._ From equal stems their blood both houses draw, +They from Morocco, you from Cordova. + +_Ham._ Their mongrel race is mixed with Christian breed; +Hence 'tis that they those dogs in prisons feed. + +_Abdelm._ Our holy prophet wills, that charity +Should even to birds and beasts extended be: +None knows what fate is for himself designed; +The thought of human chance should make us kind. + +_Gom._ We waste that time we to revenge should give: +Fall on: let no Abencerrago live. + [_Advancing before the rest of his party._ ALMANZOR + _advancing on the other side, and describing a + line with his sword._ + +_Almanz._ Upon thy life pass not this middle space; +Sure death stands guarding the forbidden place. + +_Gom._ To dare that death, I will approach yet nigher; +Thus,--wert thou compassed in with circling fire. [_They fight._ + +_Boab._ Disarm them both; if they resist you, kill. + [ALMANZOR, _in the midst of the guards, kills_ + GOMEL, _and then is disarmed._ + +_Almanz._ Now you have but the leavings of my will. + +_Boab._ Kill him! this insolent unknown shall fall, +And be the victim to atone you all. + +_Ozm._ If he must die, not one of us will live: +That life he gave for us, for him we give. + +_Boab._ It was a traitor's voice that spoke those words; +So are you all, who do not sheath your swords. + +_Zul._ Outrage unpunished, when a prince is by, +Forfeits to scorn the rights of majesty: +No subject his protection can expect, +Who what he owes himself does first neglect. + +_Aben._ This stranger, sir, is he, +Who lately in the Vivarambla place +Did, with so loud applause, your triumphs grace. + +_Boab._ The word which I have given, I'll not revoke; +If he be brave, he's ready for the stroke. + +_Almanz._ No man has more contempt than I of breath, +But whence hast thou the right to give me death? +Obeyed as sovereign by thy subjects be, +But know, that I alone am king of me. +I am as free as nature first made man, +Ere the base laws of servitude began, +When wild in woods the noble savage ran. + +_Boab._ Since, then, no power above your own you know, +Mankind should use you like a common foe; +You should be hunted like a beast of prey: +By your own law I take your life away. + +_Almanz._ My laws are made but only for my sake; +No king against himself a law can make. +If thou pretend'st to be a prince like me, +Blame not an act, which should thy pattern be. +I saw the oppressed, and thought it did belong +To a king's office to redress the wrong: +I brought that succour, which thou ought'st to bring, +And so, in nature, am thy subjects' king. + +_Boab._ I do not want your counsel to direct +Or aid to help me punish or protect. + +_Almanz._ Thou want'st them both, or better thou would'st know, +Than to let factions in thy kingdom grow. +Divided interests, while thou think'st to sway, +Draw, like two brooks, thy middle stream away: +For though they band and jar, yet both combine +To make their greatness by the fall of thine. +Thus, like a buckler, thou art held in sight, +While they behind thee with each other fight. + +_Boab._ Away, and execute him instantly! [_To his Guards._ + +_Almanz._ Stand off; I have not leisure yet to die. + + _To them, enter_ ABDALLA _hastily._ + +_Abdal._ Hold, sir! for heaven's sake hold! +Defer this noble stranger's punishment, +Or your rash orders you will soon repent. + +_Boab._ Brother, you know not yet his insolence. + +_Abdal._ Upon yourself you punish his offence: +If we treat gallant strangers in this sort, +Mankind will shun the inhospitable court; +And who, henceforth, to our defence will come, +If death must be the brave Almanzor's doom? +From Africa I drew him to your aid, +And for his succour have his life betrayed. + +_Boab._ Is this the Almanzor whom at Fez you knew, +When first their swords the Xeriff brothers drew? + +_Abdal._ This, sir, is he, who for the elder fought, +And to the juster cause the conquest brought; +Till the proud Santo, seated on the throne, +Disdained the service he had done to own: +Then to the vanquished part his fate he led; +The vanquished triumphed, and the victor fled. +Vast is his courage, boundless is his mind, +Rough as a storm, and humorous as wind: +Honour's the only idol of his eyes; +The charms of beauty like a pest he flies; +And, raised by valour from a birth unknown, +Acknowledges no power above his own. [BOABDELIN _coming to_ ALMANZOR. + +_Boab._ Impute your danger to our ignorance; +The bravest men are subject most to chance: +Granada much does to your kindness owe; +But towns, expecting sieges, cannot show +More honour, than to invite you to a foe. + +_Almanz._ I do not doubt but I have been to blame: +But, to pursue the end for which I came, +Unite your subjects first; then let us go, +And pour their common rage upon the foe. + +_Boab._ [_to the Factions._] +Lay down your arms, and let me beg you cease +Your enmities. + +_Zul._ We will not hear of peace, +Till we by force have first revenged our slain. + +_Abdelm._ The action we have done we will maintain. + +_Selin._ Then let the king depart, and we will try +Our cause by arms. + +_Zul._ For us and victory. + +_Boab._ A king entreats you. + +_Almanz._ What subjects will precarious kings regard? +A beggar speaks too softly to be heard: +Lay down your arms! 'tis I command you now. +Do it--or, by our prophet's soul I vow, +My hands shall right your king on him I seize. +Now let me see whose look but disobeys. + +_All._ Long live king Mahomet Boabdelin! + +_Almanz._ No more; but hushed as midnight silence go: +He will not have your acclamations now. +Hence, you unthinking crowd!-- + [_The Common People go off on both parties._ +Empire, thou poor and despicable thing, +When such as these make or unmake a king! + +_Abdal._ How much of virtue lies in one great soul, [_Embracing him._ +Whose single force can multitudes controul! [_A trumpet within._ + + _Enter a Messenger._ + +_Messen._ The Duke of Arcos, sir, +Does with a trumpet from the foe appear. + +_Boab._ Attend him; he shall have his audience here. + + _Enter the Duke of_ ARCOS. + +_D. Arcos._ The monarchs of Castile and Arragon +Have sent me to you, to demand this town. +To which their just and rightful claim is known. + +_Boab._ Tell Ferdinand, my right to it appears +By long possession of eight hundred years: +When first my ancestors from Afric sailed, +In Rodrique's death your Gothic title failed. + +_D. Arcos._ The successors of Rodrique still remain, +And ever since have held some part of Spain: +Even in the midst of your victorious powers, +The Asturias, and all Portugal, were ours. +You have no right, except you force allow; +And if yours then was just, so ours is now. + +_Boab._ 'Tis true from force the noblest title springs; +I therefore hold from that, which first made kings. + +_D. Arcos._ Since then by force you prove your title true, +Ours must be just, because we claim from you. +When with your father you did jointly reign, +Invading with your Moors the south of Spain, +I, who that day the Christians did command, +Then took, and brought you bound to Ferdinand. + +_Boab._ I'll hear no more; defer what you would say; +In private we'll discourse some other day. + +_D. Arcos._ Sir, you shall hear, however you are loth, +That, like a perjured prince, you broke your oath: +To gain your freedom you a contract signed, +By which your crown you to my king resigned, +From thenceforth as his vassal holding it, +And paying tribute such as he thought fit; +Contracting, when your father came to die, +To lay aside all marks of royalty, +And at Purchena privately to live, +Which, in exchange, king Ferdinand did give. + +_Boab._ The force used on me made that contract void. + +_D. Arcos._ Why have you then its benefits enjoyed? +By it you had not only freedom then, +But, since, had aid of money and of men; +And, when Granada for your uncle held, +You were by us restored, and he expelled. +Since that, in peace we let you reap your grain, +Recalled our troops, that used to beat your plain; +And more-- + +_Almanz._ Yes, yes, you did, with wonderous care, +Against his rebels prosecute the war, +While he secure in your protection slept; +For him you took, but for yourself you kept. +Thus, as some fawning usurer does feed, +With present sums, the unwary spendthrift's need, +You sold your kindness at a boundless rate, +And then o'erpaid the debt from his estate; +Which, mouldering piecemeal, in your hands did fall, +Till now at last you come to swoop it all. + +_D. Arcos._ The wrong you do my king, I cannot bear; +Whose kindness you would odiously compare.-- +The estate was his; which yet, since you deny, +He's now content, in his own wrong, to buy. + +_Almanz._ And he shall buy it dear! What his he calls, +We will not give one stone from out these walls. + +_Boab._ Take this for answer, then,-- +Whate'er your arms have conquered of my land, +I will, for peace, resign to Ferdinand.-- +To harder terms my mind I cannot bring; +But, as I still have lived, will die a king. + +_D. Arcos._ Since thus you have resolved, henceforth prepare +For all the last extremities of war: +My king his hope from heaven's assistance draws. + +_Almanz._ The Moors have heaven, and me, to assist their cause. + [_Exit_ ARCOS. + + _Enter_ ESPERANZA. + +_Esper._ Fair Almahide, +(Who did with weeping eyes these discords see, +And fears the omen may unlucky be,) +Prepares a zambra to be danced this night. +In hope soft pleasures may your minds unite. + +_Boab._ My mistress gently chides the fault I made: +But tedious business has my love delayed,-- +Business which dares the joys of kings invade. + +_Almanz._ First let us sally out, and meet the foe. + +_Abdal._ Led on by you, we on to triumph go. + +_Boab._ Then with the day let war and tumult cease; +The night be sacred to our love and peace: +'Tis just some joys on weary kings should wait; +'Tis all we gain by being slaves to state. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT II. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ ABDALLA, ABDELMELECH, OZMYN, ZULEMA, _and_ HAMET, _as + returning from the sally._ + +_Abdal._ This happy day does to Granada bring +A lasting peace, and triumphs to the king!-- +The two fierce factions will no longer jar, +Since they have now been brothers in the war. +Those who, apart, in emulation fought, +The common danger to one body brought; +And, to his cost, the proud Castilian finds +Our Moorish courage in united minds. + +_Abdelm._ Since to each others aid our lives we owe, +Lose we the name of faction, and of foe; +Which I to Zulema can bear no more, +Since Lyndaraxa's beauty I adore. + +_Zul._ I am obliged to Lyndaraxa's charms, +Which gain the conquest I should lose by arms; +And wish my sister may continue fair, +That I may keep a good, +Of whose possession I should else despair. + +_Ozm._ While we indulge our common happiness, +He is forgot, by whom we all possess; +The brave Almanzor, to whose arms we owe +All that we did, and all that we shall do; +Who, like a tempest, that out-rides the wind, +Made a just battle ere the bodies joined. + +_Abdelm._ His victories we scarce could keep in view, +Or polish them so fast as he rough-drew. + +_Abdal._ Fate, after him, below with pain did move, +And victory could scarce keep pace above: +Death did at length so many slain forget, +And lost the tale, and took them by the great. + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR, _with the Duke of_ ARCOS, _prisoner._ + +_Hamet._ See, here he comes, +And leads in triumph him, who did command +The vanquished army of king Ferdinand. + +_Almanz._ [_To the Duke._] +Thus far your master's arms a fortune find +Below the swelled ambition of his mind; +And Alha shuts a misbeliever's reign +From out the best and goodliest part of Spain. +Let Ferdinand Calabrian conquests make, +And from the French contested Milan take; +Let him new worlds discover to the old, +And break up shining mountains, big with gold; +Yet he shall find this small domestic foe, +Still sharp and pointed, to his bosom grow. + +_D. Arcos._ Of small advantages too much you boast; +You beat the out-guards of my master's host: +This little loss, in our vast body, shows +So small, that half have never heard the news. +Fame's out of breath, ere she can fly so far, +To tell them all, that you have e'er made war. + +_Almanz._ It pleases me your army is so great; +For now I know there's more to conquer yet. +By heaven! I'll see what troops you have behind: +I'll face this storm, that thickens in the wind; +And, with bent forehead, full against it go, +'Till I have found the last and utmost foe. + +_D. Arcos._ Believe, you shall not long attend in vain: +To-morrow's dawn shall cover all the plain; +Bright arms shall flash upon you from afar, +A wood of lances, and a moving war. +But I, unhappy, in my bonds, must yet +Be only pleased to hear of your defeat, +And with a slave's inglorious ease remain, +'Till conquering Ferdinand has broke my chain. + +_Almanz._ Vain man, thy hopes of Ferdinand are weak! +I hold thy chain too fast for him to break. +But, since thou threaten'st us, I'll set thee free, +That I again may fight, and conquer thee. + +_D. Arcos._ Old as I am, I take thee at thy word, +And will to-morrow thank thee with my sword. + +_Almanz._ I'll go, and instantly acquaint the king, +And sudden orders for thy freedom bring. +Thou canst not be so pleased at liberty, +As I shall be to find thou darest be free. + [_Exeunt_ ALMANZOR, ARCOS, _and the rest, excepting + only_ ABDALLA _and_ ZULEMA. + +_Abdal._ Of all those Christians who infest this town, +This duke of Arcos is of most renown. + +_Zul._ Oft have I heard, that, in your father's reign, +His bold adventurers beat the neighbouring plain; +Then under Ponce Leon's name he fought, +And from our triumphs many prizes brought; +Till in disgrace from Spain at length he went, +And since continued long in banishment. + +_Abdal._ But, see, your beauteous sister does appear. + + _Enter_ LYNDARAXA. + +_Zul._ By my desire she came to find me here. + [ZULEMA _and_ LYNDARAXA _whisper; then_ ZUL. + _goes out, and_ LYNDAR. _is going after._ + +_Abdal._ Why, fairest Lyndaraxa, do you fly [_Staying her._ +A prince, who at your feet is proud to die? + +_Lyndar._ Sir, I should blush to own so rude a thing, [_Staying._ +As 'tis to shun the brother of my king. + +_Abdal._ In my hard fortune, I some ease should find, +Did your disdain extend to all mankind. +But give me leave to grieve, and to complain, +That you give others what I beg in vain. + +_Lyndar._ Take my esteem, if you on that can live; +For, frankly, sir, 'tis all I have to give: +If from my heart you ask or hope for more, +I grieve the place is taken up before. + +_Abdal._ My rival merits you.-- +To Abdelmelech I will justice do; +For he wants worth, who dares not praise a foe. + +_Lyndar._ That for his virtue, sir, you make defence, +Shows in your own a noble confidence. +But him defending, and excusing me, +I know not what can your advantage be. + +_Abdal._ I fain would ask, ere I proceed in this, +If, as by choice, you are by promise his? + +_Lyndar._ The engagement only in my love does lie, +But that's a knot which you can ne'er untie. + +_Abdal._ When cities are besieged, and treat to yield, +If there appear relievers from the field, +The flag of parley may be taken down, +Till the success of those without is known; + +_Lyndar._ Though Abdelmelech has not yet possest, +Yet I have sealed the treaty in my breast. + +_Abdal._ Your treaty has not tied you to a day; +Some chance might break it, would you but delay. +If I can judge the secrets of your heart, +Ambition in it has the greatest part; +And wisdom, then, will shew some difference, +Betwixt a private person, and a prince. + +_Lyndar._ Princes are subjects still.-- +Subject and subject can small difference bring: +The difference is 'twixt subjects and a king. +And since, sir, you are none, your hopes remove; +For less than empire I'll not change my love. + +_Abdal._ Had I a crown, all I should prize in it, +Should be the power to lay it at your feet. + +_Lyndar._ Had you that crown, which you but wish, not hope, +Then I, perhaps, might stoop, and take it up. +But till your wishes and your hopes agree, +You shall be still a private man with me. + +_Abdal._ If I am king, and if my brother die,-- + +_Lyndar._ Two if's scarce make one possibility. + +_Abdal._ The rule of happiness by reason scan; +You may be happy with a private man. + +_Lyndar._ That happiness I may enjoy, 'tis true; +But then that private man must not be you. +Where'er I love, I'm happy in my choice; +If I make you so, you shall pay my price. + +_Abdal._ Why would you be so great? + +_Lyndar._ Because I've seen, +This day, what 'tis to hope to be a queen.-- +Heaven, how you all watched each motion of her eye! +None could be seen while Almahide was by, +Because she is to be--her majesty!-- +Why would I be a queen? Because my face +Would wear the title with a better grace. +If I became it not, yet it would be +Part of your duty, then, to flatter me. +These are but half the charms of being great; +I would be somewhat, that I know not yet:-- +Yes! I avow the ambition of my soul, +To be that one to live without controul! +And that's another happiness to me, +To be so happy as but one can be. + +_Abdal._ Madam,--because I would all doubts remove,-- +Would you, were I a king, accept my love? + +_Lyndar._ I would accept it; and, to shew 'tis true, +From any other man as soon as you. + +_Abdal._ Your sharp replies make me not love you less; +But make me seek new paths to happiness.-- +What I design, by time will best be seen: +You may be mine, and yet may be a queen. +When you are so, your word your love assures. + +_Lyndar._ Perhaps not love you,--but I will be yours.-- + [_He offers to take her hand, and kiss it._ +Stay, sir, that grace I cannot yet allow; +Before you set the crown upon my brow.-- +That favour which you seek, +Or Abdelmelech, or a king, must have; +When you are so, then you may be my slave. + [_Exit; but looks smiling back on him._ + +_Abdal._ Howe'er imperious in her words she were, +Her parting looks had nothing of severe; +A glancing smile allured me to command, +And her soft fingers gently pressed my hand: +I felt the pleasure glide through every part; +Her hand went through me to my very heart. +For such another pleasure, did he live, +I could my father of a crown deprive.-- +What did I say?-- +Father!--That impious thought has shocked my mind: +How bold our passions are, and yet how blind!-- +She's gone; and now, +Methinks, there is less glory in a crown: +My boiling passions settle, and go down. +Like amber chafed, when she is near, she acts; +When farther oft, inclines, but not attracts. + + _Enter_ ZULEMA. + +Assist me, Zulema, if thou wouldst be +That friend thou seem'st, assist me against me. +Betwixt my love and virtue I am tossed; +This must be forfeited, or that be lost. +I could do much to merit thy applause,-- +Help me to fortify the better cause; +My honour is not wholly put to flight, +But would, if seconded, renew the fight. + +_Zul._ I met my sister, but I do not see +What difficulty in your choice can be: +She told me all; and 'tis so plain a case, +You need not ask what counsel to embrace. + +_Abdal._ I stand reproved, that I did doubt at all; +My waiting virtue staid but for thy call: +'Tis plain that she, who, for a kingdom, now +Would sacrifice her love, and break her vow, +Not out of love, but interest, acts alone, +And would, even in my arms, lie thinking of a throne. + +_Zul._ Add to the rest, this one reflection more: +When she is married, and you still adore, +Think then,--and think what comfort it will bring,-- +She had been mine, +Had I but only dared to be a king! + +_Abdal._ I hope you only would my honour try; +I'm loth to think you virtue's enemy. + +_Zul._ If, when a crown and mistress are in place, +Virtue intrudes, with her lean holy face, +Virtue's then mine, and not I virtue's foe. +Why does she come where she has nought to do? +Let her with anchorites, not with lovers, lie; +Statesmen and they keep better company. + +_Abdal._ Reason was given to curb our head-strong will. + +_Zul._ Reason but shews a weak physician's skill; +Gives nothing, while the raging fit does last, +But stays to cure it, when the worst is past. +Reason's a staff for age, when nature's gone; +But youth is strong enough to walk alone, + +_Abdal._ In cursed ambition I no rest should find, +But must for ever lose my peace of mind. + +_Zul._ Methinks that peace of mind were bravely lost; +A crown, whate'er we give, is worth the cost. + +_Abdal._ Justice distributes to each man his right; +But what she gives not, should I take by might? + +_Zul._ If justice will take all, and nothing give, +Justice, methinks, is not distributive. + +_Abdal._ Had fate so pleased, I had been eldest born, +And then, without a crime, the crown had worn!-- + +_Zul._ Would you so please, fate yet a way would find; +Man makes his fate according to his mind. +The weak low spirit, fortune makes her slave; +But she's a drudge, when hectored by the brave: +If fate weaves common thread, he'll change the doom, +And with new purple spread a nobler loom. + +_Abdal._ No more!--I will usurp the royal seat; +Thou, who hast made me wicked, make me great. + +_Zul._ Your way is plain: the death of Tarifa +Does on the king our Zegrys' hatred draw; +Though with our enemies in show we close, +'Tis but while we to purpose can be foes. +Selin, who heads us, would revenge his son; +But favour hinders justice to be done. +Proud Ozmyn with the king his power maintains, +And, in him, each Abencerrago reigns. + +_Abdal._ What face of any title can I bring? + +_Zul._ The right an eldest son has to be king. +Your father was at first a private man, +And got your brother ere his reign began; +When, by his valour, he the crown had won, +Then you were born a monarch's eldest son. + +_Abdal._ To sharp-eyed reason this would seem untrue; +But reason I through love's false optics view. + +_Zul._ Love's mighty power has led me captive too; +I am in it unfortunate as you. + +_Abdal._ Our loves and fortunes shall together go; +Thou shalt be happy, when I first am so. + +_Zul._ The Zegrys at old Selin's house are met, +Where, in close council, for revenge they sit: +There we our common interest will unite; +You their revenge shall own, and they your right. +One thing I had forgot, which may import: +I met Almanzor coming back from court, +But with a discomposed and speedy pace, +A fiery colour kindling all his face: +The king his prisoner's freedom has denied, +And that refusal has provoked his pride. + +_Abdal._ 'Would he were ours!-- +I'll try to gild the injustice of his cause, +And court his valour with a vast applause. + +_Zul._ The bold are but the instruments o'the wise; +They undertake the dangers we advise: +And, while our fabric with their pains we raise, +We take the profit, and pay them with praise. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT III. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ ABDALLA. + +_Almanz._ That he should dare to do me this disgrace!-- +Is fool, or coward, writ upon my face? +Refuse my prisoner!--I such means will use, +He shall not have a prisoner to refuse. + +_Abdal._ He said, you were not by your promise tied; +That he absolved your word, when he denied. + +_Almanz._ He break my promise, and absolve my vow! +'Tis more than Mahomet himself can do!-- +The word, which I have given, shall stand like fate; +Not like the king's, that weather-cock of state. +He stands so high, with so unfixed a mind, +Two factions turn him with each blast of wind: +But now, he shall not veer! my word is past; +I'll take his heart by the roots, and hold it fast. + +_Abdal._ You have your vengeance in your hand this hour; +Make me the humble creature of your power: +The Granadines will gladly me obey; +(Tired with so base and impotent a sway) +And, when I shew my title, you shall see, +I have a better right to reign than he. + +_Almanz._ It is sufficient that you make the claim; +You wrong our friendship when your right you name. +When for myself I fight, I weigh the cause; +But friendship will admit of no such laws: +That weighs by the lump; and, when the cause is light, +Puts kindness in to set the balance right. +True, I would wish my friend the juster side; +But, in the unjust, my kindness more is tried: +And all the opposition I can bring, +Is, that I fear to make you such a king. + +_Abdal._ The majesty of kings we should not blame, +When royal minds adorn the royal name; +The vulgar, greatness too much idolize, +But haughty subjects it too much despise. + +_Almanz._ I only speak of him, +Whom pomp and greatness sit so loose about, +That he wants majesty to fill them out. + +_Abdal._ Haste, then, and lose no time!-- +The business must be enterprised this night: +We must surprise the court in its delight. + +_Almanz._ For you to will, for me 'tis to obey: +But I would give a crown in open day; +And, when the Spaniards their assault begin, +At once beat those without, and these within. [_Exit_ ALMANZ. + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH. + +_Abdelm._ Abdalla, hold!--There's somewhat I intend +To speak, not as your rival, but your friend. + +_Abdal._ If as a friend, I am obliged to hear; +And what a rival says I cannot fear. + +_Abdelm._ Think, brave Abdalla, what it is you do: +Your quiet, honour, and our friendship too, +All for a fickle beauty you forego. +Think, and turn back, before it be too late. +Behold in me the example of your fate: +I am your sea-mark; and, though wrecked and lost, +My ruins stand to warn you from the coast. + +_Abdal._ Your counsels, noble Abdelmelech, move +My reason to accept them, not my love. +Ah, why did heaven leave man so weak defence, +To trust frail reason with the rule of sense! +'Tis over-poised and kicked up in the air, +While sense weighs down the scale, and keeps it there; +Or, like a captive king, 'tis borne away, +And forced to countenance its own rebels' sway. + +_Abdelm._ No, no; our reason was not vainly lent; +Nor is a slave, but by its own consent: +If reason on his subject's triumph wait, +An easy king deserves no better fate. + +_Abdal._ You speak too late; my empire's lost too far: +I cannot fight. + +_Abdelm._ Then make a flying war; +Dislodge betimes, before you are beset. + +_Abdal._ Her tears, her smiles, her every look's a net. +Her voice is like a Syren's of the land; +And bloody hearts lie panting in her hand. + +_Abdelm._ This do you know, and tempt the danger still? + +_Abdal._ Love, like a lethargy, has seized my will. +I'm not myself, since from her sight I went; +I lean my trunk that way, and there stand bent. +As one, who, in some frightful dream, would shun +His pressing foe, labours in vain to run; +And his own slowness, in his sleep, bemoans, +With thick short sighs, weak cries, and tender groans, +So I-- + +_Abdelm._ Some friend, in charity, should shake, +And rouse, and call you loudly till you wake. +Too well I know her blandishments to gain, +Usurper-like, till settled in her reign; +Then proudly she insults, and gives you cares, +And jealousies, short hopes, and long despairs. +To this hard yoke you must hereafter bow, +Howe'er she shines all golden to you now. + +_Abdul._ Like him, who on the ice +Slides swiftly on, and sees the water near, +Yet cannot stop himself in his career, +So am I carried. This enchanted place, +Like Circe's isle, is peopled with a race +Of dogs and swine; yet, though their fate I know, +I look with pleasure, and am turning too. + [LYNDARAXA _passes over the Stage._ + +_Abdelm._ Fly, fly, before the allurements of her face, +Ere she return with some resistless grace, +And with new magic cover all the place. + +_Abdal._ I cannot, will not,--nay, I would not fly: +I'll love, be blind, be cozened till I die; +And you, who bid me wiser counsel take, +I'll hate, and, if I can, I'll kill you for her sake. + +_Abdelm._ Even I, that counselled you, that choice approve: +I'll hate you blindly, and her blindly love. +Prudence, that stemmed the stream, is out of breath: +And to go down it is the easier death. + + LYNDARAXA _re-enters, and smiles on_ ABDALLA. [_Exit_ ABDALLA. + +_Abdelm._ That smile on Prince Abdalla seems to say, +You are not in your killing mood to day: +Men brand, indeed, your sex with cruelty, +But you are too good to see poor lovers die. +This god-like pity in you I extol; +And more, because, like heaven's, 'tis general. + +_Lyndar._ My smile implies not that I grant his suit: +'Twas but a bare return of his salute. + +_Abdelm._ It said, you were engaged, and I in place; +But, to please both, you would divide the grace. + +_Lyndar._ You've cause to be contented with your part, +When he has but the look, and you the heart. + +_Abdelm._ In giving but that look, you give what's mine: +I'll not one corner of a glance resign. +All's mine; and I am covetous of my store: +I have not love enough, I'll tax you more. + +_Lyndar._ I gave not love; 'twas but civility: +He is a prince; that's due to his degree. + +_Abdelm._ That prince you smiled on is my rival still, +And should, if me you loved, be treated ill. + +_Lyndar._ I know not how to show so rude a spite. + +_Abdelm._ That is, you know not how to love aright; +Or, if you did, you would more difference see +Betwixt our souls, than 'twixt our quality. +Mark, if his birth makes any difference, +If to his words it adds one grain of sense. +That duty, which his birth can make his due, +I'll pay, but it shall not be paid by you: +For, if a prince courts her whom I adore, +He is my rival, and a prince no more. + +_Lyndar._ And when did I my power so far resign. +That you should regulate each look of mine? + +_Abdelm._ Then, when you gave your love, you gave that power. + +_Lyndar._ 'Twas during pleasure, 'tis revoked this hour. +Now, call me false, and rail on womankind,-- +'Tis all the remedy you're like to find. + +_Abdelm._ Yes, there's one more; +I'll hate you, and this visit is my last. + +_Lyndar._ Do't, if you can; you know I hold you fast: +Yet, for your quiet, would you could resign +Your love, as easily as I do mine. + +_Abdelm._ Furies and hell, how unconcerned she speaks! +With what indifference all her vows she breaks! +Curse on me, but she smiles! + +_Lyndar._ That smile's a part of love, and all's your due: +I take it from the prince, and give it you. + +_Abdelm._ Just heaven, must my poor heart your May-game prove, +To bandy, and make children's play in love? [_Half crying._ +Ah! how have I this cruelty deserved? +I, who so truly and so long have served! +And left so easily! oh cruel maid! +So easily! it was too unkindly said. +That heart, which could so easily remove, +Was never fixed, nor rooted deep in love. + +_Lyndar._ You lodged it so uneasy in your breast, +I thought you had been weary of the guest. +First, I was treated like a stranger there; +But, when a household friend I did appear, +You thought, it seems, I could not live elsewhere. +Then, by degrees, your feigned respect withdrew; +You marked my actions, and my guardian grew. +But I am not concerned your acts to blame: +My heart to yours but upon liking came; +And, like a bird, whom prying boys molest, +Stays not to breed, where she had built her nest. + +_Abdelm._ I have done ill, +And dare not ask you to be less displeased; +Be but more angry, and my pain is eased. + +_Lyndar._ If I should be so kind a fool, to take +This little satisfaction which you make, +I know you would presume some other time +Upon my goodness, and repeat your crime. + +_Abdelm._ Oh never, never, upon no pretence; +My life's too short to expiate this offence. + +_Lyndar._ No, now I think on't, 'tis in vain to try; +'Tis in your nature, and past remedy. +You'll still disquiet my too loving heart: +Now we are friends 'tis best for both to part. [_He takes her hand._ + +_Abdelm._ By this--Will you not give me leave to swear? + +_Lyndar._ You would be perjured if you should, I fear: +And, when I talk with Prince Abdalla next, +I with your fond suspicions shall be vext. + +_Abdelm._ I cannot say I'll conquer jealousy, +But, if you'll freely pardon me, I'll try. + +_Lyndar._ And, till you that submissive servant prove, +I never can conclude you truly love. + + _To them, the_ KING, ALMAHIDE, ABENAMAR, ESPERANZA, _Guards, + Attendants._ + +_Boab._ Approach, my Almahide, my charming fair, +Blessing of peace, and recompence of war. +This night is yours; and may your life still be +The same in joy, though not solemnity. + + THE ZAMBRA DANCE. + + SONG. + + I. + + _Beneath a myrtle shade, + Which love for none, but happy lovers made, + I slept; and straight my love before me brought + Phyllis, the object of my waking thought. + Undressed she came my flames to meet, + While love strewed flowers beneath her feet; + Flowers which, so pressed by her, became more sweet._ + + II. + + _From the bright vision's head + A careless veil of lawn was loosely spread:_ + _From her white temples fell her shaded hair + Like cloudy sunshine, not too brown nor fair; + Her hands, her lips, did love inspire; + Her every grace my heart did fire: + But most her eyes, which languished with desire._ + + III. + + _Ah, charming fair, said I, + How long can you my bliss and yours deny? + By nature and by love, this lonely shade + Was for revenge of suffering lovers made. + Silence and shades with love agree; + Both shelter you and favour me: + You cannot blush, because I cannot see._ + + IV. + + _No, let me die, she said, + Rather than lose the spotless name of maid!-- + Faintly, methought, she spoke; for all the while + She bid me not believe her, with a smile. + Then die, said I: She still denied; + And is it thus, thus, thus, she cried, + You use a harmless maid?--and so she died!_ + + V. + + _I waked, and straight I knew, + I loved so well, it made my dream prove true: + Fancy, the kinder mistress of the two, + Fancy had done what Phyllis would not do! + Ah, cruel nymph, cease your disdain, + While, I can dream you scorn in vain,-- + Asleep or waking you must ease my pain._ + [After the dance, a tumultuous noise of drums + and trumpets. + + _To them_ OZMYN; _his sword drawn._ + +_Ozm._ Arm, quickly arm; yet all, I fear, too late; +The enemy's already at the gate. + +_Boab._ The Christians are dislodged; what foe is near? + +_Ozm._ The Zegrys are in arms, and almost here: +The streets with torches shine, with shoutings ring, +And Prince Abdalla is proclaimed the king. +What man could do, I have already done, +But bold Almanzor fiercely leads them on. + +_Aben._ The Alhambra yet is safe in my command; [_To the King._ +Retreat you thither, while their shock we stand. + +_Boab._ I cannot meanly for my life provide; +I'll either perish in't, or stem this tide. +To guard the palace, Ozmyn, be your care: +If they o'ercome, no sword will hurt the fair. + +_Ozm._ I'll either die; or I'll make good the place. + +_Abdelm._ And I with these will bold Almanzor face. + [_Exeunt all but the Ladies. An alarum within._ + +_Almah._ What dismal planet did my triumphs light! +Discord the day, and death does rule the night: +The noise my soul does through my senses wound. + +_Lyndar._ Methinks it is a noble, sprightly sound, +The trumpet's clangor, and the clash of arms! +This noise may chill your blood, but mine it warms. + [_Shouting and clashing of swords within._ +We have already passed the Rubicon; +The dice are mine; now, fortune, for a throne! + [_A shout within, and clashing of swords afar off._ +The sound goes farther off, and faintly dies; +Curse of this going back, these ebbing cries! +Ye winds, waft hither sounds more strong and quick; +Beat faster, drums, and mingle deaths more thick. +I'll to the turrets of the palace go, +And add new fire to those that fight below: +Thence, hero-like, with torches by my side, +(Far be the omen, though) my love will guide. +No; like his better fortune I'll appear, +With open arms, loose veil, and flowing hair, +Just flying forward from my rolling sphere: +My smiles shall make Abdalla more than man; +Let him look up, and perish if he can. [_Exit._ + + _An alarum nearer: Then Enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ SELIN, _at the head of + the Zegrys_; OZMYN _Prisoner._ + +_Almanz._ We have not fought enough; they fly too soon; +And I am grieved the noble sport is done. +This only man, of all whom chance did bring [_Pointing to_ OZMYN. +To meet my arms, was worth the conquering. +His brave resistance did my fortune grace; +So slow, so threatning forward he gave place. +His chains be easy, and his usage fair. + +_Selin._ I beg you would commit him to my care. + +_Almanz._ Next, the brave Spaniard free without delay; +And with a convoy send him safe away. [_Exit a Guard._ + + _To them_ HAMET _and others._ + +_Hamet._ The king by me salutes you; and, to show +That to your valour he his crown does owe, +Would from your mouth I should the word receive, +And that to these you would your orders give. + +_Almanz._ He much o'er-rates the little I have done. + [ALMANZOR _goes to the door, and there seems to give out + orders, by sending people several ways._ + +_Selin_ to _Ozmyn._ Now, to revenge the murder of my son, +To morrow for thy certain death prepare; +This night I only leave thee to despair. + +_Ozmyn._ Thy idle menaces I do not fear: +My business was to die or conquer here. +Sister, for you I grieve I could no more: +My present state betrays my want of power; +But, when true courage is of force bereft, +Patience, the only fortitude, is left. [_Exit with_ SELIN. + +_Almah._ Ah, Esperanza, what for me remains +But death, or, worse than death, inglorious chains! + +_Esper._ Madam, you must not to despair give place; +Heaven never meant misfortune to that face. +Suppose there were no justice in your cause, +Beauty's a bribe that gives her judges laws. +That you are brought to this deplored estate, +Is but the ingenious flattery of your fate; +Fate fears her succour, like an alms, to give; +And would you, God-like, from yourself should live. + +_Almah._ Mark but how terribly his eyes appear! +And yet there's something roughly noble there, +Which, in unfashioned nature, looks divine, +And, like a gem, does in the quarry shine. + [ALMANZOR _returns; she falls at his feet, being + veiled._ + +_Almah._ Turn, mighty conqueror, turn your face this way, +Do not refuse to hear the wretched pray! + +_Almanz._ What business can this woman have with me? + +_Almah._ That of the afflicted to the Deity. +So may your arms success in battle find; +So may the mistress of your vows be kind, +If you have any; or, if you have none, +So may your liberty be still your own! + +_Almanz._ Yes, I will turn my face, but not my mind: +You bane and soft destruction of mankind, +What would you have with me? + +_Almah._ I beg the grace [_Unveiling._ +You would lay by those terrors of your face. +Till calmness to your eyes you first restore, +I am afraid, and I can beg no more. + +_Almanz._ [_Looking fixedly on her._] +Well; my fierce visage shall not murder you. +Speak quickly, woman; I have much to do. + +_Almah._ Where should I find the heart to speak one word? +Your voice, sir, is as killing as your sword. +As you have left the lightning of your eye, +So would you please to lay your thunder by. + +_Almanz._ I'm pleased and pained, since first her eyes I saw, +As I were stung with some tarantula. +Arms, and the dusty field, I less admire, +And soften strangely in some new desire; +Honour burns in me not so fiercely bright, +But pale as fires when mastered by the light: +Even while I speak and look, I change yet more, +And now am nothing that I was before. +I'm numbed, and fixed, and scarce my eye-balls move: +I fear it is the lethargy of love! +'Tis he; I feel him now in every part: +Like a new lord he vaunts about my heart; +Surveys, in state, each corner of my breast, +While poor fierce I, that was, am dispossessed. +I'm bound; but I will rouse my rage again; +And, though no hope of liberty remain, +I'll fright my keeper when I shake my chain. +You are-- [_Angrily._ + +_Almah._ I know I am your captive, sir. + +_Almanz._ You are--You shall--And I can scarce forbear-- + +_Almah._ Alas! + +_Almanz._ 'Tis all in vain; it will not do: [_Aside._ +I cannot now a seeming anger show: +My tongue against my heart no aid affords; +For love still rises up, and choaks my words. + +_Almah._ In half this time a tempest would be still. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis you have raised that tempest in my will. +I wonnot love you; give me back my heart; +But give it, as you had it, fierce and brave. +It was not made to be a woman's slave, +But, lion-like, has been in desarts bred, +And, used to range, will ne'er be tamely led. +Restore its freedom to my fettered will, +And then I shall have power to use you ill. + +_Almah._ My sad condition may your pity move; +But look not on me with the eyes of love:-- +I must be brief, though I have much to say. + +_Almanz._ No, speak; for I can hear you now all day. +Her sueing sooths me with a secret pride: [_Softly._ +A suppliant beauty cannot be denied: [_Aside._ +Even while I frown, her charms the furrows seize; +And I'm corrupted with the power to please. + +_Almah._ Though in your worth no cause of fear I see, +I fear the insolence of victory; +As you are noble, sir, protect me then +From the rude outrage of insulting men. + +_Almanz._ Who dares touch her I love? I'm all o'er love: +Nay, I am love; love shot, and shot so fast, +He shot himself into my breast at last. + +_Almah._ You see before you her, who should be queen, +Since she is promised to Boabdelin. + +_Almanz._ Are you beloved by him? O wretched fate, +First that I love at all; then, loved too late! +Yet, I must love! + +_Almah._ Alas, it is in vain; +Fate for each other did not us ordain. +The chances of this day too clearly show +That heaven took care that it should not be so. + +_Almanz._ Would heaven had quite forgot me this one day! +But fate's yet hot-- +I'll make it take a bent another way. + [_He walks swiftly and discomposedly, studying._ +I bring a claim which does his right remove; +You're his by promise, but you're mine by love. +'Tis all but ceremony which is past; +The knot's to tie which is to make you fast. +Fate gave not to Boabdelin that power; +He wooed you but as my ambassador. + +_Almah._ Our souls are tied by holy vows above. + +_Almanz._ He signed but his: but I will seal my love. +I love you better, with more zeal than he. + +_Almah._ This day +I gave my faith to him, he his to me. + +_Almanz._ Good heaven, thy book of fate before me lay, +But to tear out the journal of this day: +Or, if the order of the world below +Will not the gap of one whole day allow, +Give me that minute when she made her vow! +That minute, ev'n the happy from their bliss might give; +And those, who live in grief, a shorter time would live. +So small a link, if broke, the eternal chain +Would, like divided waters, join again.-- +It wonnot be; the fugitive is gone, +Prest by the crowd of following minutes on: +That precious moment's out of nature fled, +And in the heap of common rubbish laid, +Of things that once have been, and are decayed. + +_Almah._ Your passion, like a fright, suspends my pain; +It meets, o'erpowers, and beats mine back again: +But as, when tides against the current flow, +The native stream runs its own course below, +So, though your griefs possess the upper part, +My own have deeper channels in my heart. + +_Almanz._ Forgive that fury which my soul does move; +'Tis the essay of an untaught first love: +Yet rude, unfashioned truth it does express; +'Tis love just peeping in a hasty dress. +Retire, fair creature, to your needful rest; +There's something noble labouring in my breast: +This raging fire, which through the mass does move, +Shall purge my dross, and shall refine my love. + [_Exeunt_ ALMAHIDE _and_ ESPERANZA. +She goes, and I like my own ghost appear; +It is not living when she is not here. + + _To him_ ABDALLA _as King, attended._ + +_Abdal._ My first acknowledgments to heaven are due; +My next, Almanzor, let me pay to you. + +_Almanz._ A poor surprise, and on a naked foe, +Whatever you confess, is all you owe; +And I no merit own, or understand +That fortune did you justice by my hand: +Yet, if you will that little service pay +With a great favour, I can shew the way. + +_Abdal._ I have a favour to demand of you; +That is, to take the thing for which you sue. + +_Almanz._ Then, briefly, thus: when I the Albayzyn won, +I found the beauteous Almahide alone, +Whose sad condition did my pity move; +And that compassion did produce my love. + +_Abdal._ This needs no suit; in justice, I declare. +She is your captive by the right of war. + +_Almanz._ She is no captive then; I set her free; +And, rather than I will her jailor be, +I'll nobly lose her in her liberty. + +_Abdal._ Your generosity I much approve; +But your excess of that shows want of love. + +_Almanz._ No, 'tis the excess of love which mounts so high, +That, seen far off, it lessens to the eye. +Had I not loved her, and had set her free, +That, sir, had been my generosity; +But 'tis exalted passion, when I show +I dare be wretched, not to make her so: +And, while another passion fills her breast, +I'll be all wretched rather than half blest. + +_Abdal._ May your heroic act so prosperous be, +That Almahide may sigh you set her free. + + _Enter_ ZULEMA. + +_Zul._ Of five tall towers which fortify this town, +All but the Alhambra your dominion own: +Now, therefore, boldly I confess a flame, +Which is excused in Almahide's name. +If you the merit of this night regard, +In her possession I have my reward. + +_Almanz._ She your reward! why, she's a gift so great, +That I myself have not deserved her yet; +And therefore, though I won her with my sword, +I have, with awe, my sacrilege restored. + +_Zul._ What you deserve +I'll not dispute, because I do not know; +This only I will say, she shall not go. + +_Almanz._ Thou, single, art not worth my answering: +But take what friends, what armies thou canst bring; +What worlds; and, when you are united all, +Then will I thunder in your ears,--She shall. + +_Zul._ I'll not one tittle of my right resign.-- +Sir, your implicit promise made her mine; +When I, in general terms, my love did show, +You swore our fortunes should together go. + +_Abdal._ The merits of the cause I'll not decide, +But, like my love, I would my gift divide. +Your equal titles then no longer plead; +But one of you, for love of me, recede. + +_Almanz._ I have receded to the utmost line, +When, by my free consent, she is not mine: +Then let him equally recede with me, +And both of us will join to set her free. + +_Zul._ If you will free your part of her, you may; +But, sir, I love not your romantic way. +Dream on, enjoy her soul, and set that free; +I'm pleased her person should be left for me. + +_Almanz._ Thou shalt not wish her thine; thou shalt not dare +To be so impudent, as to despair. + +_Zul._ The Zegrys, sir, are all concerned to see +How much their merit you neglect in me. + +_Hamet._ Your slighting Zulema, this very hour +Will take ten thousand subjects from your power. + +_Almanz._ What are ten thousand subjects such as they? +If I am scorned--I'll take myself away. + +_Abdal._ Since both cannot possess what both pursue, +I grieve, my friend, the chance should fall on you; +But when you hear what reason I can urge-- + +_Almanz._ None, none that your ingratitude can purge. +Reason's a trick, when it no grant affords; +It stamps the face of majesty on words. + +_Abdal._ Your boldness to your services I give: +Now take it, as your full reward,--to live. + +_Almanz._ To live! +If from thy hands alone my death can be, +I am immortal, and a god to thee. +If I would kill thee now, thy fate's so low, +That I must stoop ere I can give the blow: +But mine is fixed so far above thy crown, +That all thy men, +Piled on thy back, can never pull it down: +But, at my ease, thy destiny I send, +By ceasing from this hour to be thy friend. +Like heaven, I need but only to stand still. +And, not concurring to thy life, I kill. +Thou canst no title to my duty bring; +I'm not thy subject, and my soul's thy king. +Farewell. When I am gone, +There's not a star of thine dare stay with thee: +I'll whistle thy tame fortune after me; +And whirl fate with me wheresoe'er I fly, +As winds drive storms before them in the sky. [_Exit._ + +_Zul._ Let not this insolent unpunished go; +Give your commands; your justice is too slow. + [ZULEMA, HAMET, _and others are going after him._ + +_Abdal._ Stay, and what part he pleases let him take: +I know my throne's too strong for him to shake. +But my fair mistress I too long forget; +The crown I promised is not offered yet. +Without her presence all my joys are vain, +Empire a curse, and life itself a pain. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, _and Guards._ + +_Boab._ Advise, or aid, but do not pity me: +No monarch born can fall to that degree. +Pity descends from kings to all below; +But can, no more than fountains, upward flow. +Witness, just heaven, my greatest grief has been, +I could not make your Almahide a queen. + +_Aben._ I have too long the effects of fortune known, +Either to trust her smiles, or fear her frown. +Since in their first attempt you were not slain, +Your safety bodes you yet a second reign. +The people like a headlong torrent go, +And ev'ry dam they break, or overflow; +But, unopposed, they either lose their force, +Or wind, in volumes, to their former course. + +_Boab._ In walls we meanly must our hopes inclose, +To wait our friends, and weary out our foes: +While Almahide +To lawless rebels is exposed a prey, +And forced the lustful victor to obey. + +_Aben._ One of my blood, in rules of virtue bred! +Think better of her, and believe she's dead. + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR. + +_Boab._ We are betrayed, the enemy is here; +We have no farther room to hope or fear. + +_Almanz._ It is indeed Almanzor whom you see, +But he no longer is your enemy. +You were ungrateful, but your foes were more; +What your injustice lost you, theirs restore. +Make profit of my vengeance while you may, +My two-edged sword can cut the other way.-- +I am your fortune, but am swift like her, +And turn my hairy front if you defer: +That hour, when you deliberate, is too late; +I point you the white moment of your fate. + +_Aben._ Believe him sent as prince Abdalla's spy; +He would betray us to the enemy. + +_Almanz_, Were I, like thee, in cheats of state grown old, +(Those public markets, where, for foreign gold, +The poorest prince is to the richest sold) +Then thou mightst think me fit for that low part; +But I am yet to learn the statesman's art. +My kindness and my hate unmasked I wear; +For friends to trust, and enemies to fear. +My heart's so plain, +That men on every passing through may look, +Like fishes gliding in a crystal brook; +When troubled most, it does the bottom shew, +'Tis weedless all above, and rockless all below. + +_Aben._ Ere he be trusted, let him then be tried; +He may be false, who once has changed his side. + +_Almanz._ In that you more accuse yourselves than me; +None who are injured can inconstant be. +You were inconstant, you, who did the wrong; +To do me justice does to me belong. +Great souls by kindness only can be tied; +Injured again, again I'll leave your side. +Honour is what myself, and friends, I owe; +And none can lose it who forsake a foe. +Since, then, your foes now happen to be mine, +Though not in friendship, we'll in interest join: +So while my loved revenge is full and high, +I'll give you back your kingdom by the by. + +_Boab._ That I so long delayed what you desire, [_Embracing him._ +Was, not to doubt your worth, but to admire. + +_Almanz._ This counsellor an old man's caution shows, +Who fears that little, he has left, to lose: +Age sets a fortune; while youth boldly throws. +But let us first your drooping soldiers cheer; +Then seek out danger, ere it dare appear: +This hour I fix your crown upon your brow; +Next hour fate gives it, but I give it now. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II. + + _Enter_ LYNDARAXA. + +_Lyndar._ O, could I read the dark decrees of fate, +That I might once know whom to love, or hate! +For I myself scarce my own thoughts can guess, +So much I find them varied by success. +As in some weather-glass, my love I hold; +Which falls or rises with the heat or cold.-- +I will be constant yet, if fortune can; +I love the king,--let her but name the man. + + _Enter_ HALYMA. + +_Hal._ Madam, a gentleman, to me unknown, +Desires that he may speak with you alone. + +_Lyndar._ Some message from the king.--Let him appear. + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH; _who throws off his disguise.--She starts._ + +_Abdelm._ I see you are amazed that I am here: +But let at once your fear and wonder end. +In the usurper's guards I found a friend, +Who led me safe to you in this disguise. + +_Lyndar._ Your danger brings this trouble in my eyes.-- +But what affair this 'venturous visit drew? + +_Abdelm._ The greatest in the world,--the seeing you. + +_Lyndar._ The courage of your love I so admire, +That, to preserve you, you shall straight retire. + [_She leads him to the door._ +Go, dear! each minute does new dangers bring; +You will be taken, I expect the king. + +_Abdelm._ The king!--the poor usurper of an hour: +His empire's but a dream of kingly power.-- +I warn you, as a lover and a friend, +To leave him, ere his short dominion end: +The soldier I suborned will wait at night, +And shall alone be conscious of your flight. + +_Lyndar._ I thank you, that you so much care bestow; +But, if his reign be short, I need not go. +For why should I expose my life, and yours, +For what, you say, a little time assures? + +_Abdelm_, My danger in the attempt is very small; +And, if he loves you, yours is none at all. +But, though his ruin be as sure as fate, +Your proof of love to me would come too late. +This trial I in kindness would allow; +'Tis easy; if you love me, show it now. + +_Lyndar._ It is because I love you, I refuse; +For all the world my conduct would accuse, +If I should go with him I love away; +And, therefore, in strict virtue, I will stay. + +_Abdelm._ You would in vain dissemble love to me; +Through that thin veil your artifice I see. +You would expect the event, and then declare; +But do not, do not drive me to despair: +For, if you now refuse with me to fly, +Rather than love you after this, I'll die; +And, therefore, weigh it well before you speak; +My king is safe, his force within not weak. + +_Lyndar._ The counsel, you have given me, may be wise; +But, since the affair is great, I will advise. + +_Abdelm._ Then that delay I for denial take. [_Is going._ + +_Lyndar._ Stay; you too swift an exposition make. +If I should go, since Zulema will stay, +I should my brother to the king betray. + +_Abdelm._ There is no fear; but, if there were, I see +You value still your brother more than me.-- +Farewell! some ease I in your falsehood find; +It lets a beam in, that will clear my mind: +My former weakness I with shame confess, +And, when I see you next, shall love you less. [_Is going again._ + +_Lyndar._ Your faithless dealings you may blush to tell: [_Weeping._ +This is a maid's reward, who loves too well.-- [_He looks back._ +Remember that I drew my latest breath, +In charging your unkindness with my death. + +_Abdelm._ [_coming back_] +Have I not answered all you can invent, +Even the least shadow of an argument? + +_Lyndar._ You want not cunning what you please to prove, +But my poor heart knows only how to love; +And, finding this, you tyrannize the more: +'Tis plain, some other mistress you adore; +And now, with studied tricks of subtlety, +You come prepared to lay the fault on me. [_Wringing her hands._ +But, oh, that I should love so false a man! + +_Abdelm._ Hear me, and then disprove it, if you can. + +_Lyndar._ I'll hear no more; your breach of faith is plain: +You would with wit your want of love maintain. +But, by my own experience, I can tell, +They, who love truly, cannot argue well.-- +Go faithless man! +Leave me alone to mourn my misery; +I cannot cease to love you, but I'll die. + [_Leans her head on his arm._ + +_Abdelm._ What man but I so long unmoved could hear [_Weeping._ +Such tender passion, and refuse a tear!-- +But do not talk of dying any more, +Unless you mean that I should die before. + +_Lyndar._ I fear your feigned repentance comes too late; +I die, to see you still thus obstinate: +But yet, in death my truth of love to show, +Lead me; if I have strength enough, I'll go. + +_Abdelm._ By heaven, you shall not go! I will not be +O'ercome in love or generosity. +All I desire, to end the unlucky strife, +Is but a vow, that you will be my wife. + +_Lyndar._ To tie me to you by a vow is hard; +It shows, my love you as no tie regard.-- +Name any thing but that, and I'll agree. + +_Abdelm._ Swear, then, you never will my rival's be. + +_Lyndar._ Nay, pr'ythee, this is harder than before.-- +Name any thing, good dear, but that thing more. + +_Abdelm._ Now I too late perceive I am undone; +Living and seeing, to my death I run. +I know you false, yet in your snares I fall; +You grant me nothing, and I grant you all. + +_Lyndar._ I would grant all; but I must curb my will, +Because I love to keep you jealous still. +In your suspicion I your passion find; +But I will take a time to cure your mind. + +_Halyma._ O, madam, the new king is drawing near! + +_Lyndar._ Haste quickly hence, lest he should find you here! + +_Abdelm._ How much more wretched than I came, I go! +I more my weakness and your falsehood know; +And now must leave you with my greatest foe! [_Exit_ ABDELM. + +_Lyndar._ Go!--How I love thee heaven can only tell: +And yet I love thee, for a subject, well.-- +Yet whatsoever charms a crown can bring, +A subject's greater than a little king. +I will attend till time this throne secure; +And, when I climb, my footing shall be sure.-- [_Music without._ +Music! and, I believe, addressed to me. + + SONG. + + I. + + _Wherever I am, and whatever I do, + My Phyllis is still in my mind; + When angry, I mean not to Phyllis to go, + My feet, of themselves, the way find: + Unknown to myself I am just at her door, + And, when I would rail, I can bring out no more + Than, Phyllis too fair and unkind!_ + + II. + + _When Phyllis I see, my heart bounds in my breast, + And the love I would stifle is shown; + But asleep, or awake, I am never at rest, + When from my eyes Phyllis is gone. + Sometimes a sad dream does delude my sad mind; + But, alas! when I wake, and no Phyllis I find, + How I sigh to myself all alone!_ + + III. + + _Should a king be my rival in her I adore, + He should offer his treasure in vain: + O, let me alone to be happy and poor, + And give me my Phyllis again! + Let Phyllis be mine, and but ever be kind, + I could to a desart with her be confined, + And envy no monarch his reign._ + + IV. + + _Alas! I discover too much of my love, + And she too well knows her own power! + She makes me each day a new martyrdom prove, + And makes me grow jealous each hour: + But let her each minute torment my poor mind, + I had rather love Phyllis, both false and unkind. + Than ever be freed from her power._ + + _Enter_ ABDALLA, _with guards._ + +_Abdal._ Now, madam, at your feet a king you see; +Or, rather, if you please, a sceptered slave: +'Tis just you should possess the power you gave. +Had love not made me yours, I yet had been +But the first subject to Boabdelin. +Thus heaven declares the crown I bring your due; +And had forgot my title, but for you. + +_Lyndar._ Heaven to your merits will, I hope, be kind; +But, sir, it has not yet declared its mind. +'Tis true, it holds the crown above your head; +But does not fix it 'till your brother's dead. + +_Abdal._ All, but the Alhambra, is within my power; +And that my forces go to take this hour. + +_Lyndar._ When, with its keys, your brother's head you bring, +I shall believe you are indeed a king. + +_Abdal._ But since the events of all things doubtful are, +And, of events, most doubtful those of war; +I beg to know before, if fortune frown, +Must I then lose your favour with my crown? + +_Lyndar._ You'll soon return a conqueror again; +And, therefore, sir, your question is in vain. + +_Abdul._ I think to certain victory I move; +But you may more assure it, by your love. +That grant will make my arms invincible. + +_Lyndar._ My prayers and wishes your success foretell.-- +Go then, and fight, and think you fight for me; +I wait but to reward your victory. + +_Abdal._ But if I lose it, must I lose you too? + +_Lyndar._ You are too curious, if you more would know. +I know not what my future thoughts will be: +Poor women's thoughts are all _extempore_. +Wise men, indeed, +Beforehand a long chain of thoughts produce; +But ours are only for our present use. + +_Abdal._ Those thoughts, you will not know, too well declare. +You mean to wait the final doom of war. + +_Lyndar._ I find you come to quarrel with me now; +Would you know more of me than I allow? +Whence are you grown that great divinity, +That with such ease into my thoughts can pry? +Indulgence does not with some tempers suit; +I see I must become more absolute. + +_Abdal._ I must submit, +On what hard terms soe'er my peace be bought. + +_Lyndar._ Submit!--you speak as you were not in fault.-- +'Tis evident the injury is mine; +For why should you my secret thoughts divine? + +_Abdal._ Yet if we might be judged by reason's laws-- + +_Lyndar._ Then you would have your reason judge my cause!-- +Either confess your fault, or hold your tongue; +For I am sure I'm never in the wrong. + +_Abdal._ Then I acknowledge it. + +_Lyndar._ Then I forgive. + +_Abdal._ Under how hard a law poor lovers live! +Who, like the vanquished, must their right release, +And with the loss of reason buy their peace.-- [_Aside._ +Madam, to show that you my power command, +I put my life and safety in your hand:-- +Dispose of the Albayzyn as you please, +To your fair hands I here resign the keys. + +_Lyndar._ I take your gift, because your love it shows, +And faithful Selin for alcade chuse. + +_Abdal._ Selin, from her alone your orders take.-- +This one request, yet, madam, let me make, +That, from those turrets, you the assault will see; +And crown, once more, my arms with victory. + [_Exeunt, leading her out._ + [SELIN _remains with_ GAZUL _and_ REDUAN, + _his servants._ + +_Selin._ Gazul, go tell my daughter that I wait-- +You Reduan, bring the prisoner to his fate. [_Exeunt_ GAZ. _and_ RED. +Ere of my charge I will possession take, +A bloody sacrifice I mean to make: +The manes of my son shall smile this day, +While I, in blood, my vows of vengeance pay. + + _Enter at one door_ BENZAYDA, _with_ GAZUL; _at the other,_ OZMYN + _bound, with_ REDUAN. + +_Selin._ I sent, Benzayda, to glad your eyes: +These rites we owe your brother's obsequies.-- +You two [_To_ GAZ. _and_ RED.] the cursed Abencerrago bind: +You need no more to instruct you in my mind. + [_They bind him to a corner of the stage._ + +_Benz._ In what sad object am I called to share? +Tell me, what is it, sir, you here prepare? + +_Selin._ 'Tis what your dying brother did bequeath; +A scene of vengeance, and a pomp of death! + +_Benz._ The horrid spectacle my soul does fright: +I want the heart to see the dismal sight. + +_Selin._ You are my principal invited guest, +Whose eyes I would not only feed, but feast: +You are to smile at his last groaning breath, +And laugh to see his eye-balls roll in death; +To judge the lingering soul's convulsive strife, +When thick short breath catches at parting life. + +_Benz._ And of what marble do you think me made? + +_Selin._ What! can you be of just revenge afraid? + +_Benz._ He killed my brother in his own defence. +Pity his youth, and spare his innocence. + +_Selin._ Art thou so soon to pardon murder won? +Can he be innocent, who killed my son? +Abenamar shall mourn as well as I; +His Ozmyn, for my Tarifa, shall die. +But since thou plead'st so boldly, I will see +That justice, thou would'st hinder, done by thee. +Here, [_Gives her his sword._] take the sword, and do a sister's part: +Pierce his, fond girl, or I will pierce thy heart. + +_Ozm._ To his commands I join my own request; +All wounds from you are welcome to my breast: +Think only, when your hand this act has done, +It has but finished what your eyes begun. +I thought, with silence, to have scorned my doom; +But now your noble pity has o'ercome; +Which I acknowledge with my latest breath,-- +The first whoe'er began a love in death. + +_Benz._ to _Selin._ Alas, what aid can my weak hand afford? +You see I tremble when I touch a sword: +The brightness dazzles me, and turns my sight; +Or, if I look, 'tis but to aim less right. + +_Ozm._ I'll guide the hand which must my death convey; +My leaping heart shall meet it half the way. + +_Selin_ to _Benz._ Waste not the precious time in idle breath. + +_Benz._ Let me resign this instrument of death. + [_Giving the sword to her father, and then pulling it back._ +Ah, no! I was too hasty to resign: +'Tis in your hand more mortal than in mine. + + _Enter_ HAMET. + +_Hamet._ The king is from the Alhambra beaten back, +And now preparing for a new attack; +To favour which, he wills, that instantly +You reinforce him with a new supply. + +_Selin_ to _Benz._ Think not, although my duty calls me hence, +That with the breach of yours I will dispense. +Ere my return, see my commands you do: +Let me find Ozmyn dead, and killed by you.-- +Gazul and Reduan, attend her still; +And, if she dares to fail, perform my will. + [_Exeunt_ SELIN _and_ HAMET. + [BENZAYDA _looks languishing on him, with her + sword down_; GAZUL _and_ REDUAN _standing + with drawn swords by her._ + +_Ozm._ Defer not, fair Benzayda, my death: +Looking on you, +I should but live to sigh away my breath. +My eyes have done the work they had to do: +I take your image with me, which they drew; +And, when they close, I shall die full of you. + +_Benz._ When parents their commands unjustly lay, +Children are privileged to disobey; +Yet from that breach of duty I am clear, +Since I submit the penalty to bear. +To die, or kill you, is the alternative; +Rather than take your life, I will not live. + +_Ozm._ This shows the excess of generosity; +But, madam, you have no pretence to die. +I should defame the Abencerrages race, +To let a lady suffer in my place. +But neither could that life, you would bestow, +Save mine; nor do you so much pity owe +To me, a stranger, and your house's foe. + +_Benz._ From whencesoe'er their hate our houses drew, +I blush to tell you, I have none for you. +'Tis a confession which I should not make, +Had I more time to give, or you to take: +But, since death's near, and runs with so much force, +We must meet first, and intercept his course. + +_Ozm._ Oh, how unkind a comfort do you give! +Now I fear death again, and wish to live. +Life were worth taking, could I have it now; +But 'tis more good than heaven can e'er allow +To one man's portion, to have life and you. + +_Benz._ Sure, at our births, +Death with our meeting planets danced above, +Or we were wounded by a mourning love!-- [_Shouts within._ + +_Red._ The noise returns, and doubles from behind; +It seems as if two adverse armies joined.-- +Time presses us. + +_Gaz._ If longer you delay, +We must, though loth, your father's will obey. + +_Ozm._ Haste, madam, to fulfil his hard commands. +And rescue me from their ignoble hands. +Let me kiss yours, when you my wound begin, +Then easy death will slide with pleasure in. + +_Benz._ Ah, gentle soldiers, some short time allow! + [_To_ GAZ. _and_ RED. +My father has repented him ere now; +Or will repent him, when he finds me dead. +My clue of life is twined with Ozmyn's thread. + +_Red._ 'Tis fatal to refuse her, or obey.-- +But where is our excuse? what can we say? + +_Benz._ Say any thing. +Say, that to kill the guiltless you were loth; +Or if you did, say, I would kill you both. + +_Gaz._ To disobey our orders is to die.-- +I'll do't,--who dares oppose it? + +_Red._ That dare I. [REDUAN _stands before_ OZMYN, _and fights with_ + GAZUL. BENZAYDA _unbinds_ OZMYN, _and gives him + her sword._ + +_Benz._ Stay not to see the issue of the fight; [RED. _kills_ GAZ. +But haste to save yourself by speedy flight. + [OZMYN _kneels to kiss her hand._ + +_Ozm._ Did all mankind against my life conspire. +Without this blessing I would not retire.-- +But madam, can I go and leave you here? +Your father's anger now for you I fear: +Consider you have done too much to stay. + +_Benz._ Think not of me, but fly yourself away. + +_Red._ Haste quickly hence; the enemies are nigh! +From every part I see the soldiers fly. +The foes not only our assailants beat, +But fiercely sally out on their retreat, +And, like a sea broke loose, come on amain. + + _Enter_ ABENAMAR, _and a party with their swords drawn, driving in + some of the enemies._ + +_Aben._ Traitors, you hope to save yourselves in vain!-- +Your forfeit lives shall for your treason pay; +And Ozmyn's blood shall be revenged this day. + +_Ozm._ No, sir, your Ozmyn lives; and lives to own + [_Kneeling to his father._ +A father's piety to free his son. + +_Aben._ My Ozmyn!--O, thou blessing of my age! [_Embracing him._ +And art thou safe from their deluded rage!-- +Whom must I praise for thy deliverance? +Was it thy valour, or the work of chance? + +_Ozm._ Nor chance, nor valour, could deliver me; +But 'twas a noble pity set me free.-- +My liberty, and life, +And what your happiness you're pleased to call, +We to this charming beauty owe it all. + +_Aben._ Instruct me, visible divinity!-- [_To her._ +Instruct me by what name to worship thee! +For to thy virtue I would altars raise, +Since thou art much above all human praise. +But see,-- + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR, _his sword bloody, leading in_ ALMAHIDE _attended + by_ ESPERANZA. + +My other blessing, Almahide, is here!-- +I'll to the king, and tell him she is near: +You, Ozmyn, on your fair deliverer wait, +And with your private joys the public celebrate. + [_Exeunt_ ABEN. OZM. _and_ BENZ. + +_Almanz._ The work is done; now, madam, you are free; +At least, if I can give you liberty: +But you have chains which you yourself have chose; +And, O, that I could free you too from those! +But you are free from force, and have full power +To go, and kill my hopes and me, this hour.-- +I see, then, you will go; but yet my toil +May he rewarded with a looking while. + +_Almah._ Almanzor can from every subject raise +New matter for our wonder and his praise. +You bound and freed me; but the difference is, +That showed your valour; but your virtue this. + +_Almanz._ Madam, you praise a funeral victory, +At whose sad pomp the conqueror must die. + +_Almah._ Conquest attends Almanzor every where; +I am too small a foe for him to fear: +But heroes still must be opposed by some, +Or they would want occasion to o'ercome. + +_Almanz._ Madam, I cannot on bare praises live: +Those, who abound in praises, seldom give. + +_Almah._ While I to all the world your worth make known, +May heaven reward the pity you have shown! + +_Almanz._ My love is languishing, and starved to death; +And would you give me charity--in breath? +Prayers are the alms of churchmen to the poor: +They send's to heaven, but drive us from their door. + +_Almah._ Cease, cease a suit +So vain to you, and troublesome to me, +If you will have me think that I am free. +If I am yet a slave, my bonds I'll bear; +But what I cannot grant, I will not hear. + +_Almanz._ You will not hear!--You must both hear and grant; +For, madam, there's an impudence in want. + +_Almah._ Your way is somewhat strange to ask relief +You ask with threatening, like a begging thief.-- +Once more, Almanzor, tell me, am I free? + +_Almanz._ Madam, you are, from all the world,--but me!-- +But as a pirate, when he frees the prize +He took from friends, sees the rich merchandize, +And, after he has freed it, justly buys; +So, when I have restored your liberty-- +But then, alas, I am too poor to buy! + +_Almah._ Nay, now you use me just as pirates do: +You free me; but expect a ransom too. + +_Almanz._ You've all the freedom that a prince can have; +But greatness cannot be without a slave. +A monarch never can in private move, +But still is haunted with officious love. +So small an inconvenience you may bear; +'Tis all the fine fate sets upon the fair. + +_Almah._ Yet princes may retire, whene'er they please, +And breathe free air from out their palaces: +They go sometimes unknown, to shun their state; +And then, 'tis manners not to know or wait. + +_Almanz._ If not a subject then, a ghost I'll be; +And from a ghost, you know, no place is free. +Asleep, awake, I'll haunt you every where; +From my white shroud groan love into your ear: +When in your lover's arms you sleep at night, +I'll glide in cold betwixt, and seize my right: +And is't not better, in your nuptial bed, +To have a living lover than a dead? + +_Almah._ I can no longer bear to be accused, +As if what I could grant you, I refused. +My father's choice I never will dispute; +And he has chosen ere you moved your suit. +You know my case; if equal you can be, +Plead for yourself, and answer it for me. + +_Almanz._ Then, madam, in that hope you bid me live; +I ask no more than you may justly give: +But in strict justice there may favour be, +And may I hope that you have that for me? + +_Almah._ Why do you thus my secret thoughts pursue, +Which, known, hurt me, and cannot profit you? +Your knowledge but new troubles does prepare, +Like theirs who curious in their fortunes are. +To say, I could with more content be yours, +Tempts you to hope; but not that hope assures. +For since the king has right, +And favoured by my father in his suit, +It is a blossom which can bear no fruit. +Yet, if you dare attempt so hard a task, +May you succeed; you have my leave to ask. + +_Almanz._ I can with courage now my hopes pursue, +Since I no longer have to combat you. +That did the greatest difficulty bring; +The rest are small, a father and a king! + +_Almah._ Great souls discern not when the leap's too wide, +Because they only view the farther side. +Whatever you desire, you think is near; +But, with more reason, the event I fear. + +_Almanz._ No; there is a necessity in fate, +Why still the brave bold man is fortunate: +He keeps his object ever full in sight, +And that assurance holds him firm and right. +True, 'tis a narrow path that leads to bliss, +But right before there is no precipice: +Fear makes men look aside, and then their footing miss. + +_Almah._ I do your merit all the right I can; +Admiring virtue in a private man: +I only wish the king may grateful be, +And that my father with my eyes may see. +Might I not make it as my last request,-- +Since humble carriage suits a suppliant best,-- +That you would somewhat of your fierceness hide-- +That inborn fire--I do not call it pride? + +_Almanz._ Born, as I am, still to command, not sue, +Yet you shall see that I can beg for you; +And if your father will require a crown, +Let him but name the kingdom, 'tis his own. +I am, but while I please, a private man; +I have that soul which empires first began. +From the dull crowd, which every king does lead, +I will pick out whom I will chuse to head: +The best and bravest souls I can select, +And on their conquered necks my throne erect. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT V. SCENE I. + + ABDALLA _alone, under the walls of the Albayzyn._ + +_Abdal._ While she is mine, I have not yet lost all, +But in her arms shall have a gentle fall: +Blest in my love, although in war o'ercome, +I fly, like Antony from Actium, +To meet a better Cleopatra here.-- +You of the watch! you of the watch! appear. + +_Sold._ [_above._] Who calls below? What's your demand? + +_Abdal._ 'Tis I: +Open the gate with speed; the foe is nigh. + +_Sold._ What orders for admittance do you bring? + +_Abdal._ Slave, my own orders; look, and know the king. + +_Sold._ I know you; but my charge is so severe, +That none, without exception, enter here. + +_Abdal._ Traitor, and rebel! thou shalt shortly see +Thy orders are not to extend to me. + +_Lyndar._ [_above._] What saucy slave so rudely does exclaim, +And brands my subject with a rebel's name? + +_Abdal._ Dear Lyndaraxa, haste; the foes pursue. + +_Lyndar._ My lord, the Prince Abdalla, is it you? +I scarcely can believe the words I hear; +Could you so coarsely treat my officer? + +_Abdal._ He forced me; but the danger nearer draws: +When I am entered, you shall know the cause. + +_Lyndar._ Entered! Why, have you any business here? + +_Abdal._ I am pursued, the enemy is near. + +_Lyndar._ Are you pursued, and do you thus delay +To save yourself? Make haste, my lord, away. + +_Abdal._ Give me not cause to think you mock my grief: +What place have I, but this, for my relief? + +_Lyndar._ This favour does your handmaid much oblige, +But we are not provided for a siege: +My subjects few; and their provision thin; +The foe is strong without, we weak within. +This to my noble lord may seem unkind, +But he will weigh it in his princely mind; +And pardon her, who does assurance want +So much, she blushes when she cannot grant. + +_Abdal._ Yes, you may blush; and you have cause to weep. +Is this the faith you promised me to keep? +Ah yet, if to a lover you will bring +No succour, give your succour to a king. + +_Lyndar._ A king is he, whom nothing can withstand; +Who men and money can with ease command. +A king is he, whom fortune still does bless; +He is a king, who does a crown possess. +If you would have me think that you are he, +Produce to view your marks of sovereignty; +But if yourself alone for proof you bring, +You are but a single person, not a king. + +_Abdal._ Ungrateful maid, did I for this rebel? +I say no more; but I have loved too well. + +_Lyndar._ Who but yourself did that rebellion move: +Did I e'er promise to receive your love? +Is it my fault you are not fortunate? +I love a king, but a poor rebel hate. + +_Abdal._ Who follow fortune, still are in the right; +But let me be protected here this night. + +_Lyndar._ The place to-morrow will be circled round; +And then no way will for your flight be found. + +_Abdal._ I hear my enemies just coming on; [_Trampling within._ +Protect me but one hour, till they are gone. + +_Lyndar._ They'll know you have been here; it cannot be; +That very hour you stay, will ruin me: +For if the foe behold our interview, +I shall be thought a rebel too, like you. +Haste hence; and, that your flight may prosperous prove, +I'll recommend you to the powers above. [_Exit_ LYND. _from above._ + +_Abdal._ She's gone: Ah, faithless and ungrateful maid!-- +I hear some tread; and fear I am betrayed. +I'll to the Spanish king; and try if he, +To countenance his own right, will succour me: +There is more faith in Christian dogs, than thee. [_Exit._ + + _Enter_ OZMYN, BENZAYDA, _and_ ABENAMAR. + +_Benz._ I wish +(To merit all these thanks) I could have said, +My pity only did his virtue aid; +'Twas pity, but 'twas of a love-sick maid. +His manly suffering my esteem did move; +That bred compassion, and compassion love. + +_Ozm._ O blessing sold me at too cheap a rate! +My danger was the benefit of fate. [_To his father._ +But that you may my fair deliverer know, +She was not only born our house's foe, +But to my death by powerful reasons led; +At least, in justice, she might wish me dead. + +_Aben._ But why thus long do you her name conceal? + +_Ozm._ To gain belief for what I now reveal: +Even thus prepared, you scarce can think it true, +The saver of my life from Selin drew +Her birth; and was his sister whom I slew. + +_Aben._ No more; it cannot, was not, must not be: +Upon my blessing, say not it was she. +The daughter of the only man I hate! +Two contradictions twisted in a fate! + +_Ozm._ The mutual hate, which you and Selin bore, +Does but exalt her generous pity more. +Could she a brother's death forgive to me, +And cannot you forget her family? +Can you so ill requite the life I owe, +To reckon her, who gave it, still your foe? +It lends too great a lustre to her line, +To let her virtue ours so much out-shine. + +_Aben._ Thou gav'st her line the advantage which they have, +By meanly taking of the life they gave. +Grant that it did in her a pity shew; +But would my son be pitied by a foe? +She has the glory of thy act defaced: +Thou kill'dst her brother; but she triumphs last: +Poorly for us our enmity would cease; +When we are beaten, we receive a peace. + +_Benz._ If that be all in which you disagree, +I must confess 'twas Ozmyn conquered me. +Had I beheld him basely beg his life, +I should not now submit to be his wife; +But when I saw his courage death controul, +I paid a secret homage to his soul; +And thought my cruel father much to blame, +Since Ozmyn's virtue his revenge did shame. + +_Aben._ What constancy can'st thou e'er hope to find +In that unstable, and soon conquered mind? +What piety can'st thou expect from her, +Who could forgive a brother's murderer? +Or, what obedience hop'st thou to be paid, +From one who first her father disobeyed? + +_Ozm._ Nature, that bids us parents to obey, +Bids parents their commands by reason weigh; +And you her virtue by your praise did own, +Before you knew by whom the act was done. + +_Aben._ Your reasons speak too much of insolence; +Her birth's a crime past pardon or defence. +Know, that as Selin was not won by thee, +Neither will I by Selin's daughter be. +Leave her, or cease henceforth to be my son: +This is my will; and this I will have done. [_Exit_ ABEN. + +_Ozm._ It is a murdering will, +That whirls along with an impetuous sway, +And, like chain-shot, sweeps all things in its way. +He does my honour want of duty call; +To that, and love, he has no right at all. + +_Benz._ No, Ozmyn, no; it is a much less ill +To leave me, than dispute a father's will: +If I had any title to your love, +Your father's greater right does mine remove: +Your vows and faith I give you back again, +Since neither can be kept without a sin. + +_Ozm._ Nothing but death my vows can give me back: +They are not yours to give, nor mine to take. + +_Benz._ Nay, think not, though I could your vows resign, +My love or virtue could dispense with mine. +I would extinguish your unlucky fire, +To make you happy in some new desire: +I can preserve enough for me and you, +And love, and be unfortunate, for two. + +_Ozm._ In all that's good and great +You vanquish me so fast, that in the end +I shall have nothing left me to defend. +From every post you force me to remove; +But let me keep my last entrenchment, love. + +_Benz._ Love then, my Ozmyn; I will be content [_Giving her hand._ +To make you wretched by your own consent: +Live poor, despised, and banished for my sake, +And all the burden of my sorrows take; +For, as for me, in whatsoe'er estate, +While I have you, I must be fortunate. + +_Ozm._ Thus then, secured of what we hold most dear, +(Each other's love) we'll go--I know not where. +For where, alas, should we our flight begin? +The foe's without; our parents are within. + +_Benz._ I'll fly to you, and you shall fly to me; +Our flight but to each other's arms shall be. +To providence and chance permit the rest; +Let us but love enough, and we are blest. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II. + + _Enter_ BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, ABDELMELECH, _Guards:_ ZULEMA _and_ + HAMET, _Prisoners._ + +_Abdelm._ They are Lyndaraxa's brothers; for her sake, +Their lives and pardon my request I make. + +_Boab._ Then, Zulema and Hamet, live; but know, +Your lives to Abdelmelech's suit you owe. + +_Zul._ The grace received so much my hope exceeds, +That words come weak and short to answer deeds. +You've made a venture, sir, and time must shew, +If this great mercy you did well bestow. + +_Boab._ You, Abdelmelech, haste before 'tis night, +And close pursue my brother in his flight. + [_Exeunt_ ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, _and_ HAMET. + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR, ALMAHIDE, _and_ ESPERANZA. + +But see, with Almahide +The brave Almanzor comes, whose conquering sword +The crown, it once took from me, has restored. +How can I recompence so great desert! + +_Almanz._ I bring you, sir, performed in every part, +My promise made; your foes are fled or slain; +Without a rival, absolute you reign. +Yet though, in justice, this enough may be, +It is too little to be done by me: +I beg to go, +Where my own courage and your fortune calls, +To chase these misbelievers from our walls. +I cannot breathe within this narrow space; +My heart's too big, and swells beyond the place. + +_Boab._ You can perform, brave warrior, what you please; +Fate listens to your voice, and then decrees. +Now I no longer fear the Spanish powers; +Already we are free, and conquerors. + +_Almanz._ Accept, great king, to-morrow, from my hand, +The captive head of conquered Ferdinand. +You shall not only what you lost regain, +But o'er the Biscayan mountains to the main, +Extend your sway, where never Moor did reign. + +_Aben._ What, in another, vanity would seem, +Appears but noble confidence in him; +No haughty boasting, but a manly pride; +A soul too fiery, and too great to guide: +He moves excentric, like a wandering star, +Whose motion's just, though 'tis not regular. + +_Boab._ It is for you, brave man, and only you, +Greatly to speak, and yet more greatly do. +But, if your benefits too far extend, +I must be left ungrateful in the end: +Yet somewhat I would pay, +Before my debts above all reckoning grow, +To keep me from the shame of what I owe. +But you +Are conscious to yourself of such desert, +That of your gift I fear to offer part. + +_Almanz._ When I shall have declared my high request, +So much presumption there will be confest, +That you will find your gifts I do not shun; +But rather much o'er-rate the service done. + +_Boab._ Give wing to your desires, and let 'em fly, +Secure they cannot mount a pitch too high. +So bless me, Alha, both in peace and war, +As I accord, whate'er your wishes are. + +_Almanz._ Emboldened by the promise of a prince, + [_Putting one knee to the ground._ +I ask this lady now with confidence. + +_Boab._ You ask the only thing I cannot grant. + [_The King and_ ABENAMAR _look amazedly on + each other._ +But, as a stranger, you are ignorant +Of what by public fame my subjects know; +She is my mistress. + +_Aben._ --And my daughter too. + +_Almanz._ Believe, old man, that I her father knew: +What else should make Almanzor kneel to you?-- +Nor doubt, sir, but your right to her was known: +For had you had no claim but love alone, +I could produce a better of my own. + +_Almah._ [_softly to him._] +Almanzor, you forget my last request: +Your words have too much haughtiness expressed. +Is this the humble way you were to move? + +_Almanz._ [_to her._] +I was too far transported by my love. +Forgive me; for I had not learned to sue +To any thing before, but heaven and you.-- +Sir, at your feet, I make it my request-- [_To the King._ + [_First line kneeling: second, rising, and boldly._ +Though, without boasting, I deserve her best; +For you her love with gaudy titles sought, +But I her heart with blood and dangers bought. + +_Boab._ The blood, which you have shed in her defence, +Shall have in time a fitting recompence: +Or, if you think your services delayed, +Name but your price, and you shall soon be paid. + +_Almanz._ My price!--why, king, you do not think you deal +With one who sets his services to sale? +Reserve your gifts for those who gifts regard; +And know, I think myself above reward. + +_Boab._ Then sure you are some godhead; and our care +Must be to come with incense and with prayer. + +_Almanz._ As little as you think yourself obliged, +You would be glad to do't, when next besieged. +But I am pleased there should be nothing due; +For what I did was for myself, not you. + +_Boab._ You with contempt on meaner gifts look down; +And, aiming at my queen, disdain my crown. +That crown, restored, deserves no recompence. +Since you would rob the fairest jewel thence. +Dare not henceforth ungrateful me to call; +Whate'er I owed you, this has cancelled all. + +_Almanz._ I'll call thee thankless, king, and perjured both: +Thou swor'st by Alha, and hast broke thy oath. +But thou dost well; thou tak'st the cheapest way; +Not to own services thou canst not pay. + +_Boab._ My patience more than pays thy service past; +But now this insolence shall be thy last. +Hence from my sight! and take it as a grace, +Thou liv'st, and art but banished from the place. + +_Almanz._ Where'er I go, there can no exile be; +But from Almanzor's sight I banish thee: +I will not now, if thou wouldst beg me, stay; +But I will take my Almahide away. +Stay thou with all thy subjects here; but know, +We leave thy city empty when we go. [_Takes_ ALMAHIDE'S _hand._ + +_Boab._ Fall on; take; kill the traitor. + [_The Guards fall on him; he makes at the King + through the midst of them, and falls upon + him; they disarm him, and rescue the King._ + +_Almanz._ --Base and poor, +Blush that thou art Almanzor's conqueror. + [ALMAHIDE _wrings her hands, then turns and + veils her face._ +Farewell, my Almahide! +Life of itself will go, now thou art gone, +Like flies in winter, when they lose the sun. + [ABENAMAR _whispers the King a little, then + speaks aloud._ + +_Aben._ Revenge, and taken so secure a way, +Are blessings which heaven sends not every day. + +_Boab._ I will at leisure now revenge my wrong; +And, traitor, thou shalt feel my vengeance long: +Thou shalt not die just at thy own desire, +But see my nuptials, and with rage expire. + +_Almanz._ Thou darest not marry her while I'm in sight: +With a bent brow thy priest and thee I'll fright; +And in that scene, +Which all thy hopes and wishes should content, +The thought of me shall make thee impotent. + [_He is led off by Guards._ + +_Boab._ As some fair tulip, by a storm oppressed, [_To_ ALMAH. +Shrinks up, and folds its silken arms to rest; +And, bending to the blast, all pale and dead, +Hears, from within, the wind sing round its head,-- +So, shrouded up, your beauty disappears: +Unveil, my love, and lay aside your fears. +The storm, that caused your fright, is passed and done. + [ALMAHIDE _unveiling, and looking round for_ + ALMANZOR. + +_Almah._ So flowers peep out too soon, and miss the sun. + [_Turning from him._ + +_Boab._ What mystery in this strange behaviour lies? + +_Almah._ Let me for ever hide these guilty eyes, +Which lighted my Almanzor to his tomb; +Or, let them blaze, to show me there a room. + +_Boab._ Heaven lent their lustre for a nobler end; +A thousand torches must their light attend, +To lead you to a temple and a crown. +Why does my fairest Almahide frown? +Am I less pleasing then I was before, +Or, is the insolent Almanzor more? + +_Almah._ I justly own that I some pity have, +Not for the insolent, but for the brave. + +_Aben._ Though to your king your duty you neglect, +Know, Almahide, I look for more respect: +And, if a parent's charge your mind can move, +Receive the blessing of a monarch's love. + +_Almah._ Did he my freedom to his life prefer, +And shall I wed Almanzor's murderer? +No, sir; I cannot to your will submit; +Your way's too rugged for my tender feet. + +_Aben._ You must be driven where you refuse to go; +And taught, by force, your happiness to know. + +_Almah._ To force me, sir, is much unworthy you, + [_Smiling scornfully._ +And, when you would, impossible to do. +If force could bend me, you might think, with shame, +That I debase the blood from whence I came. +My soul is soft, which you may gently lay +In your loose palm; but, when 'tis pressed to stay, +Like water, it deludes your grasp, and slips away. + +_Boab._ I find I must revoke what I decreed: +Almanzor's death my nuptials must precede. +Love is a magic which the lover ties; +But charms still end when the magician dies. +Go; let me hear my hated rival's dead; [_To his Guard._ +And, to convince my eyes, bring back his head. + +_Almah._ Go on: I wish no other way to prove +That I am worthy of Almanzor's love. +We will in death, at least, united be: +I'll shew you I can die as well as he. + +_Boab._ What should I do! when equally I dread +Almanzor living and Almanzor dead!-- +Yet, by your promise, you are mine alone. + +_Almah._ How dare you claim my faith, and break your own? + +_Aben._ This for your virtue is a weak defence: +No second vows can with your first dispense. +Yet, since the king did to Almanzor swear, +And in his death ungrateful may appear, +He ought, in justice, first to spare his life, +And then to claim your promise as his wife. + +_Almah._ Whate'er my secret inclinations be, +To this, since honour ties me, I agree: +Yet I declare, and to the world will own, +That, far from seeking, I would shun the throne. +And with Almanzor lead a humble life: +There is a private greatness in his wife. + +_Boab._ That little love I have, I hardly buy; +You give my rival all, while you deny: +Yet, Almahide, to let you see your power, +Your loved Almanzor shall be free this hour. +You are obeyed; but 'tis so great a grace, +That I could wish me in my rival's place. + [_Exeunt_ KING _and_ ABENAMAR. + +_Almah._ How blessed was I before this fatal day, +When all I knew of love, was to obey! +'Twas life becalmed, without a gentle breath; +Though not so cold, yet motionless as death. +A heavy quiet state; but love, all strife, +All rapid, is the hurricane of life. +Had love not shewn me, I had never seen +An excellence beyond Boabdelin. +I had not, aiming higher, lost my rest; +But with a vulgar good been dully blest: +But, in Almanzor, having seen what's rare, +Now I have learnt too sharply to compare; +And, like a favourite quickly in disgrace, +Just knew the value ere I lost the place. + + _To her_ ALMANZOR, _bound and guarded._ + +_Almanz._ I see the end for which I'm hither sent, +To double, by your sight, my punishment. +There is a shame in bonds I cannot bear; +Far more than death, to meet your eyes I fear. + +_Almah._ That shame of long continuance shall not be: + [_Unbinding him._ +The king, at my entreaty, sets you free. + +_Almanz._ The king! my wonder's greater than before; +How did he dare my freedom to restore? +He like some captive lion uses me; +He runs away before he sets me free, +And takes a sanctuary in his court: +I'll rather lose my life than thank him for't. + +_Almah._ If any subject for your thanks there be, +The king expects them not, you owe them me. +Our freedoms through each other's hands have past; +You give me my revenge in winning last. + +_Almanz._ Then fate commodiously for me has done; +To lose mine there where I would have it won. + +_Almah._ Almanzor, you too soon will understand, +That what I win is on another's hand. +The king (who doomed you to a cruel fate) +Gave to my prayers both his revenge and hate; +But at no other price would rate your life, +Than my consent and oath to be his wife. + +_Almanz._ Would you, to save my life, my love betray? +Here; take me; bind me; carry me away; +Kill me! I'll kill you if you disobey. [_To the Guards._ + +_Almah._ That absolute command your love does give, +I take, and charge you by that power to live. + +_Almanz._ When death, the last of comforts, you refuse, +Your power, like heaven upon the damned, you use; +You force me in my being to remain, +To make me last, and keep me fresh for pain. +When all my joys are gone, +What cause can I for living longer give, +But a dull, lazy habitude to live? + +_Almah._ Rash men, like you, and impotent of will, +Give chance no time to turn, but urge her still; +She would repent; you push the quarrel on, +And once because she went, she must be gone. + +_Almanz._ She shall not turn; what is it she can do, +To recompense me for the loss of you? + +_Almah_, Heaven will reward your worth some better way: +At least, for me, you have but lost one day. +Nor is't a real loss which you deplore; +You sought a heart that was engaged before. +'Twas a swift love which took you in his way; +Flew only through your heart, but made no stay: +'Twas but a dream, where truth had not a place; +A scene of fancy, moved so swift a pace, +And shifted, that you can but think it was;-- +Let then, the short vexatious vision pass. + +_Almanz._ My joys, indeed, are dreams; but not my pain: +'Twas a swift ruin, but the marks remain. +When some fierce fire lays goodly buildings waste, +Would you conclude +There had been none, because the burning's past? + +_Almah._ It was your fault that fire seized all your breast; +You should have blown up some to save the rest: +But 'tis, at worst, but so consumed by fire, +As cities are, that by their fall rise higher. +Build love a nobler temple in my place; +You'll find the fire has but enlarged your space. + +_Almanz._ Love has undone me; I am grown so poor, +I sadly view the ground I had before, +But want a stock, and ne'er can build it more. + +_Almah._ Then say what charity I can allow; +I would contribute if I knew but how. +Take friendship; or, if that too small appear, +Take love,--which sisters may to brothers bear. + +_Almanz._ A sister's love! that is so palled a thing, +What pleasure can it to a lover bring? +'Tis like thin food to men in fevers spent; +Just keeps alive, but gives no nourishment. +What hopes, what fears, what transports can it move? +'Tis but the ghost of a departed love. + +_Almah._ You, like some greedy cormorant, devour +All my whole life can give you in an hour. +What more I can do for you is to die, +And that must follow, if you this deny. +Since I gave up my love, that you might live, +You, in refusing life, my sentence give. + +_Almanz._ Far from my breast be such an impious thought! +Your death would lose the quiet mine had sought. +I'll live for you, in spite of misery; +But you shall grant that I had rather die. +I'll be so wretched, filled with such despair, +That you shall see, to live was more to dare. + +_Almah._ Adieu, then, O my soul's far better part! +Your image sticks so close, +That the blood follows from my rending heart. +A last farewell! +For, since a last must come, the rest are vain, +Like gasps in death, which but prolong our pain. +But, since the king is now a part of me, +Cease from henceforth to be his enemy. +Go now, for pity go! for, if you stay, +I fear I shall have something still to say. +Thus--I for ever shut you from my sight. [_Veils._ + +_Almanz._ Like one thrust out in a cold winters night, +Yet shivering underneath your gate I stay; +One look--I cannot go before 'tis day.-- + [_She beckons him to be gone._ +Not one--Farewell: Whate'er my sufferings be +Within, I'll speak farewell as loud as she: +I will not be out-done in constancy.-- [_She turns her back._ +Then like a dying conqueror I go; +At least I have looked last upon my foe. +I go--but, if too heavily I move, +I walk encumbered with a weight of love. +Fain I would leave the thought of you behind, +But still, the more I cast you from my mind, +You dash, like water, back, when thrown against the wind. [_Exit._ + + _As he goes off, the_ KING _meets him with_ ABENAMAR; _they stare at + each other without saluting._ + +_Boab._ With him go all my fears: A guard there wait, +And see him safe without the city gate. + + _To them_ ABDELMELECH. + +Now, Abdelmelech, is my brother dead? + +_Abdelm._ Th' usurper to the Christian camp is fled; +Whom as Granada's lawful king they own, +And vow, by force, to seat him on the throne. +Mean time the rebels in the Albayzyn rest; +Which is in Lyndaraxa's name possest. + +_Boab._ Haste and reduce it instantly by force. + +_Abdelm._ First give me leave to prove a milder course. +She will, perhaps, on summons yield the place. + +_Boab._ We cannot to your suit refuse her grace. + [_One enters hastily, and whispers_ ABENAMAR. + +_Aben._ How fortune persecutes this hoary head! +My Ozmyn is with Selin's daughter fled. +But he's no more my son: +My hate shall like a Zegry him pursue, +'Till I take back what blood from me he drew. + +_Boab._ Let war and vengeance be to-morrow's care; +But let us to the temple now repair. +A thousand torches make the mosque more bright: +This must be mine and Almahide's night. +Hence, ye importunate affairs of state, +You should not tyrannize on love, but wait. +Had life no love, none would for business live; +Yet still from love the largest part we give; +And must be forced, in empire's weary toil, +To live long wretched, to be pleased a while. [_Exeunt._ + + + EPILOGUE. + + Success, which can no more than beauty last, + Makes our sad poet mourn your favours past: + For, since without desert he got a name, + He fears to lose it now with greater shame. + Fame, like a little mistress of the town, + Is gained with ease, but then she's lost as soon: + For, as those tawdry misses, soon or late, + Jilt such as keep them at the highest rate; + And oft the lacquey, or the brawny clown, + Gets what is hid in the loose-bodied gown,-- + So, fame is false to all that keep her long; + And turns up to the fop that's brisk and young. + Some wiser poet now would leave fame first; + But elder wits are, like old lovers, cursed: + Who, when the vigour of their youth is spent, + Still grow more fond, as they grow impotent. + This, some years hence, our poet's case may prove; + But yet, he hopes, he's young enough to love. + When forty comes, if e'er he live to see + That wretched, fumbling age of poetry, + 'Twill be high time to bid his muse adieu:-- + Well may he please himself, but never you. + Till then, he'll do as well as he began, + And hopes you will not find him less a man. + Think him not duller for this year's delay; + He was prepared, the women were away; + And men, without their parts, can hardly play. + If they, through sickness, seldom did appear, + Pity the virgins of each theatre: + For, at both houses, 'twas a sickly year! + And pity us, your servants, to whose cost, + In one such sickness, nine whole months are lost. + Their stay, he fears, has ruined what he writ: + Long waiting both disables love and wit. + They thought they gave him leisure to do well; + But, when they forced him to attend, he fell! + Yet, though he much has failed, he begs, to-day, + You will excuse his unperforming play: + Weakness sometimes great passion does express; + He had pleased better, had he loved you less. + + + * * * * * + + + ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE: + + OR, THE + + CONQUEST OF GRANADA + + BY THE + + _SPANIARDS._ + + A TRAGEDY. + + THE SECOND PART. + + + _--Stimulos dedit æmula virtus._ + LUCAN. + + + + + PROLOGUE + + TO THE SECOND PART. + + +They, who write ill, and they, who ne'er durst write, +Turn critics, out of mere revenge and spite: +A playhouse gives them fame; and up there starts, +From a mean fifth-rate wit, a man of parts. +(So common faces on the stage appear; +We take them in, and they turn beauties here.) +Our author fears those critics as his fate; +And those he fears, by consequence must hate, +For they the traffic of all wit invade, +As scriveners draw away the bankers' trade. +Howe'er, the poet's safe enough to day, +They cannot censure an unfinished play. +But, as when vizard-mask appears in pit, +Straight every man, who thinks himself a wit, +Perks up, and, managing his comb with grace, +With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face; +That done, bears up to th' prize, and views each limb, +To know her by her rigging and her trim; +Then, the whole noise of fops to wagers go,-- +"Pox on her, 'tmust be she;" and--"damme, no!"-- +Just, so, I prophesy, these wits to-day +Will blindly guess at our imperfect play; +With what new plots our Second Part is filled, +Who must be kept alive, and who be killed. +And as those vizard-masks maintain that fashion, +To soothe and tickle sweet imagination; +So our dull poet keeps you on with masking, +To make you think there's something worth your asking. +But, when 'tis shown, that, which does now delight you, +Will prove a dowdy, with a face to fright you. + + + + + ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE, + + OR, THE + + CONQUEST OF GRANADA. + + THE SECOND PART. + + +ACT I + +SCENE I.--_A Camp._ + + _Enter_ KING FERDINAND, QUEEN ISABELLA, ALONZO D'AGUILAR; + _Attendants, Men and Women._ + +_K. Ferd._ At length the time is come, when Spain shall be +From the long yoke of Moorish tyrants free. +All causes seem to second our design, +And heaven and earth in their destruction join. +When empire in its childhood first appears, +A watchful fate o'ersees its tender years; +Till, grown more strong, it thrusts and stretches out, +And elbows all the kingdoms round about: +The place thus made for its first breathing free, +It moves again for ease and luxury; +Till, swelling by degrees, it has possessed +The greater space, and now crowds up the rest; +When, from behind, there starts some petty state, +And pushes on its now unwieldy fate; +Then down the precipice of time it goes, +And sinks in minutes, which in ages rose. + +_Q. Isabel._ Should bold Columbus in his search succeed, +And find those beds in which bright metals breed; +Tracing the sun, who seems to steal away, +That, miser-like, he might alone survey +The wealth which he in western mines did lay,-- +Not all that shining ore could give my heart +The joy, this conquered kingdom will impart; +Which; rescued from these misbelievers' hands, +Shall now, at once, shake off its double bands: +At once to freedom and true faith restored, +Its old religion and its ancient lord. + +_K. Ferd._ By that assault which last we made, I find, +Their courage is with their success declined: +Almanzor's absence now they dearly buy, +Whose conduct crowned their arms with victory. + +_Alonzo._ Their king himself did their last sally guide; +I saw him, glistering in his armour, ride +To break a lance in honour of his bride: +But other thoughts now fill his anxious breast; +Care of his crown his love has dispossest. + + _To them_ ABDALLA. + +_Q. Isabel._ But see, the brother of the Moorish king: +He seems some news of great import to bring. + +_K. Ferd._ He brings a spacious title to our side: +Those, who would conquer, must their foes divide. + +_Abdal._ Since to my exile you have pity shown, +And given me courage yet to hope a throne; +While you without our common foes subdue, +I am not wanting to myself or you; +But have, within, a faction still alive, +Strong to assist, and secret to contrive, +And watching each occasion to foment +The people's fears into a discontent; +Which, from Almanzor's loss, before were great, +And now are doubled by their late defeat: +These letters from their chiefs the news assures. + [_Gives letters to the_ KING. + +_K. Ferd._ Be mine the honour, but the profit yours. + + _To them the_ DUKE OF ARCOS, _with_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA, + _Prisoners._ + +_K. Ferd._ That tertia of Italians did you guide, +To take their post upon the river side? + +_D. Arcos._ All are according to your orders placed: +My chearful soldiers their intrenchments haste; +The Murcian foot hath ta'en the upper ground, +And now the city is beleaguered round. + +_K. Ferd._ Why is not then their leader here again? + +_D. Arcos._ The master of Alcantara is slain; +But he, who slew him, here before you stands: +It is that Moor whom you behold in bands. + +_K. Ferd._ A braver man I had not in my host; +His murderer shall not long his conquest boast: +But, Duke of Arcos, say, how was he slain? + +_D. Arcos._ Our soldiers marched together on the plain; +We two rode on, and left them far behind, +Till, coming where we found the valley wind, +We saw these Moors; who, swiftly as they could, +Ran on to gain the covert of a wood. +This we observed; and, having crossed their way, +The lady, out of breath, was forced to stay: +The man then stood, and straight his faulchion drew; +Then told us, we in vain did those pursue, +Whom their ill fortune to despair did drive, +And yet, whom we should never take alive. +Neglecting this, the master straight spurred on; +But the active Moor his horse's shock did shun, +And, ere his rider from his reach could go, +Finished the combat with one deadly blow. +I, to revenge my friend, prepared to fight; +But now our foremost men were come in sight, +Who soon would have dispatched him on the place, +Had I not saved him from a death so base, +And brought him to attend your royal doom. + +_K. Ferd._ A manly face, and in his age's bloom; +But, to content the soldiers, he must die: +Go, see him executed instantly. + +_Q. Isabel._ Stay; I would learn his name before he go: +You, Prince Abdalla, may the prisoner know. + +_Abdal._ Ozmyn's his name, and he deserves his fate; +His father heads the faction which I hate: +But much I wonder, that with him I see +The daughter of his mortal enemy. + +_Benz._ 'Tis true, by Ozmyn's sword my brother fell; +But 'twas a death he merited too well. +I know a sister should excuse his fault; +But you know too, that Ozmyn's death he sought, + +_Abdal._ Our prophet has declared, by the event, +That Ozmyn is reserved for punishment; +For, when he thought his guilt from danger clear, +He, by new crimes, is brought to suffer here. + +_Benz._ In love, or pity, if a crime you find, +We two have sinned above all human kind. + +_Ozm._ Heaven in my punishment has done a grace; +I could not suffer, in a better place: +That I should die by Christians it thought good, +To save your father's guilt, who sought my blood. [_To her._ + +_Benz._ Fate aims so many blows to make us fall, +That 'tis in vain to think to ward them all: +And, where misfortunes great and many are, +Life grows a burden, and not worth our care. + +_Ozm._ I cast it from me, like a garment torn, +Ragged, and too indecent to be worn: +Besides, there is contagion in my fate, [_To_ BENZ. +It makes your life too much unfortunate.-- +But, since her faults are not allied to mine, +In her protection let your favour shine. +To you, great queen, I make this last request, +(Since pity dwells in every royal breast) +Safe, in your care, her life and honour be: +It is a dying lover's legacy. + +_Benz._ Cease, Ozmyn, cease so vain a suit to move; +I did not give you on those terms my love. +Leave me the care of me; for, when you go, +My love will soon instruct me what to do. + +_Q. Isabel._ Permit me, sir, these lovers' doom to give: +My sentence is, they shall together live. +The courts of kings +To all distressed should sanctuaries be, +But most to lovers in adversity. +Castile and Arragon, +Which long against each other war did move, +My plighted lord and I have joined by love; +And, if to add this conquest heaven thinks good, +I would not have it stained with lovers' blood. + +_K. Ferd._ Whatever Isabella shall command +Shall always be a law to Ferdinand. + +_Benz._ The frowns of fate we will no longer fear. +Ill fate, great queen, can never find us here. + +_Q. Isabel._ Your thanks some other time I will receive: +Henceforward safe in my protection live. +Granada is for noble loves renowned: +Her best defence is in her lovers found. +Love's an heroic passion, which can find +No room in any base degenerate mind: +It kindles all the soul with honour's fire, +To make the lover worthy his desire. +Against such heroes I success should fear, +Had we not too an host of lovers here. +An army, of bright beauties come with me; +Each lady shall her servant's actions see: +The fair and brave on each side shall contest; +And they shall overcome, who love the best. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_The Alhambra._ + + _Enter_ ZULEMA. + +_Zul._ True, they have pardoned me; but do they know +What folly 'tis to trust a pardoned foe? +A blush remains in a forgiven face: +It wears the silent tokens of disgrace. +Forgiveness to the injured does belong; +But they ne'er pardon, who have done the wrong. +My hopeful fortunes lost! and, what's above +All I can name or think, my ruined love! +Feigned honesty shall work me into trust, +And seeming penitence conceal my lust. +Let heaven's great eye of Providence now take +One day of rest, and ever after wake. + + _Enter_ BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, _and Guards._ + +_Boab._ Losses on losses! as if heaven decreed +Almanzor's valour should alone succeed. + +_Aben._ Each sally we have made, since he is gone, +Serves but to pull our speedy ruin on. + +_Boab._ Of all mankind, the heaviest fate he bears, +Who the last crown of sinking empire wears. +No kindly planet of his birth took care: +Heaven's outcast, and the dross of every star! + [_A tumultuous noise within._ + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH. + +What new misfortunes do these cries presage? + +_Abdelm._ They are the effects of the mad people's rage. +All in despair tumultuously they swarm: +The fairest streets already take the alarm; +The needy creep from cellars under ground; +To them new cries from tops of garrets sound; +The aged from the chimneys seek the cold; +And wives from windows helpless infants hold. + +_Boab._ See what the many-headed beast demands.-- [_Exit_ ABDELM. +Cursed is that king, whose's honour's in their hands. +In senates, either they too slowly grant, +Or saucily refuse to aid my want; +And, when their thrift has ruined me in war, +They call their insolence my want of care. + +_Aben._ Cursed be their leaders, who that rage foment, +And veil, with public good, their discontent: +They keep the people's purses in their hands, +And hector kings to grant their wild demands; +But to each lure, a court throws out, descend, +And prey on those they promised to defend. + +_Zul._ Those kings, who to their wild demands consent, +Teach others the same way to discontent. +Freedom in subjects is not, nor can be; +But still, to please them, we must call them free. +Propriety, which they their idol make, +Or law, or law's interpreters, can shake. + +_Aben._ The name of commonwealth is popular; +But there the people their own tyrants are. + +_Boab._ But kings, who rule with limited command, +Have players' sceptres put into their hand. +Power has no balance, one side still weighs down, +And either hoists the commonwealth or crown; +And those, who think to set the scale more right, +By various turnings but disturb the weight. + +_Aben._ While people tug for freedom, kings for power, +Both sink beneath some foreign conqueror: +Then subjects find too late they were unjust, +And want that power of kings, they durst not trust. + + _To them_ ABDELMELECH. + +_Abdelm._ The tumult now is high, and dangerous grown: +The people talk of rendering up the town; +And swear that they will force the king's consent. + +_Boab._ What counsel can this rising storm prevent? + +_Abdelm._ Their fright to no persuasions will give ear: +There's a deaf madness in a people's fear. + + _Enter a Messenger._ + +_Mess._ Their fury now a middle course does take; +To yield the town, or call Almanzor back. + +_Boab._ I'll rather call my death.-- +Go and bring up my guards to my defence: +I'll punish this outrageous insolence. + +_Aben._ Since blind opinion does their reason sway, +You must submit to cure them their own way. +You to their fancies physic must apply; +Give them that chief on whom they most rely. +Under Almanzor prosperously they fought; +Almanzor, therefore, must with prayers be brought. + + _Enter a second Messenger._ + +_2 Mess._ Haste all you can their fury to assuage: +You are not safe from their rebellious rage. + + _Enter a third Messenger._ + +_3 Mess._ This minute, if you grant not their desire, +They'll seize your person, and your palace fire. + +_Abdelm._ Your danger, sir, admits of no delay. + +_Boab._ In tumults people reign, and kings obey.-- +Go and appease them with the vow I make, +That they shall have their loved Almanzor back. [_Exit_ ABDEL. +Almanzor has the ascendant o'er my fate; +I'm forced to stoop to one I fear and hate: +Disgraced, distressed, in exile, and alone, +He's greater than a monarch on his throne: +Without a realm, a royalty he gains; +Kings are the subjects over whom he reigns. + [_A shout of acclamations within._ + +_Aben._ These shouts proclaim the people satisfied. + +_Boab._ We for another tempest must provide. +To promise his return as I was loth, +So I want power now to perform my oath. +Ere this, for Afric he is sailed from Spain. + +_Aben._ The adverse winds his passage yet detain; +I heard, last night, his equipage did stay +At a small village, short of Malaga. + +_Boab._ Abenamar, this evening thither haste; +Desire him to forget his usage past: +Use all your rhetoric, promise, flatter, pray. + + _To them_ ALMAHIDE, _attended._ + +_Aben._ Good fortune shows you yet a surer way: +Nor prayers nor promises his mind will move; +'Tis inaccessible to all, but love. + +_Boab._ Oh, thou hast roused a thought within my breast, +That will for ever rob me of my rest. +Ah jealousy, how cruel is thy sting! +I, in Almanzor, a loved rival bring! +And now, I think, it is an equal strife, +If I my crown should hazard, or my wife. +Where, marriage, is thy cure, which husbands boast, +That in possession their desire is lost? +Or why have I alone that wretched taste, +Which, gorged and glutted, does with hunger last? +Custom and duty cannot set me free, +Even sin itself has not a charm for me. +Of married lovers I am sure the first, +And nothing but a king could be so curst. + +_Almah._ What sadness sits upon your royal heart? +Have you a grief, and must not I have part? +All creatures else a time of love possess; +Man only clogs with cares his happiness: +And, while he should enjoy his part of bliss, +With thoughts of what may be, destroys what is. + +_Boab._ You guess aright; I am oppressed with grief, +And 'tis from you that I must seek relief. [_To the company._ +Leave us; to sorrow there's a reverence due: +Sad kings, like suns eclipsed, withdraw from view. + [_The Attendants go off, and chairs are set for + the King and Queen._ + +_Almah._ So, two kind turtles, when a storm is nigh, +Look up, and see it gathering in the sky: +Each calls his mate, to shelter in the groves, +Leaving, in murmur, their unfinished loves: +Perched on some drooping branch, they sit alone, +And coo, and hearken to each other's moan. + +_Boab._ Since, Almahide, you seem so kind a wife, + [_Taking her by the hand._ +What would you do to save a husband's life? + +_Almah._ When fate calls on that hard necessity, +I'll suffer death, rather than you shall die. + +_Boab._ Suppose your country should in danger be; +What would you undertake to set it free? + +_Almah._ It were too little to resign my breath: +My own free hand should give me nobler death. + +_Boab._ That hand, which would so much for glory do, +Must yet do more; for it must kill me too. +You must kill me, for that dear country's sake; +Or, what's all one, must call Almanzor back. + +_Almah._ I see to what your speech you now direct; +Either my love or virtue you suspect. +But know, that, when my person I resigned, +I was too noble not to give my mind. +No more the shadow of Almanzor fear; +I have no room, but for your image, here. + +_Boab._ This, Almahide, would make me cease to mourn, +Were that Almanzor never to return: +But now my fearful people mutiny; +Their clamours call Almanzor back, not I. +Their safety, through my ruin, I pursue; +He must return, and must be brought by you. + +_Almah._ That hour, when I my faith to you did plight, +I banished him for ever from my sight. +His banishment was to my virtue due; +Not that I feared him for myself, but you. +My honour had preserved me innocent: +But I would, your suspicion to prevent; +Which, since I see augmented in your mind, +I yet more reason for his exile find. + +_Boab._ To your entreaties he will yield alone. +And on your doom depend my life and throne. +No longer, therefore, my desires withstand; +Or, if desires prevail not, my command. + +_Almah._ In his return, too sadly I foresee +The effects of your returning jealousy. +But your command I prize above my life; +'Tis sacred to a subject and a wife: +If I have power, Almanzor shall return. + +_Boab._ Cursed be that fatal hour when I was born! + [_Letting go her hand, and starting up._ +You love, you love him; and that love reveal, +By your too quick consent to his repeal. +My jealousy had but too just a ground; +And now you stab into my former wound. + +_Almah._ This sudden change I do not understand. +Have you so soon forgot your own command? + +_Boab._ Grant that I did the unjust injunction lay, +You should have loved me more than to obey. +I know you did this mutiny design; +But I'll your love-plot quickly countermine. +Let my crown go; he never shall return; +I, like a phoenix, in my nest will burn. + +_Almah._ You please me well; that in one common fate +You wrap yourself, and me, and all your state. +Let us no more of proud Almanzor hear: +'Tis better once to die, than still to fear; +And better many times to die, than be +Obliged, past payment, to an enemy. + +_Boab._ 'Tis better; but you wives have still one way: +Whene'er your husbands are obliged, you pay. + +_Almah._ Thou, heaven, who know'st it, judge my innocence!-- +You, sir, deserve not I should make defence. +Yet, judge my virtue by that proof I gave, +When I submitted to be made your slave. + +_Boab._ If I have been suspicious or unkind, +Forgive me; many cares distract my mind: +Love, and a crown! +Two such excuses no one man e'er had; +And each of them enough to make me mad: +But now my reason reassumes its throne, +And finds no safety when Almanzor's gone. +Send for him then; I'll be obliged, and sue; +'Tis a less evil than to part with you. +I leave you to your thoughts; but love me still! +Forgive my passion, and obey my will. [_Exit_ BOABDELIN. + + ALMAHIDE _solus._ + +My jealous lord will soon to rage return; +That fire, his fear rakes up, does inward burn. +But heaven, which made me great, has chose for me, +I must the oblation for my people be. +I'll cherish honour, then, and life despise; +What is not pure, is not for sacrifice. +Yet for Almanzor I in secret mourn! +Can virtue, then, admit of his return? +Yes; for my love I will by virtue square; +My heart's not mine, but all my actions are. +I'll like Almanzor act; and dare to be +As haughty, and as wretched too, as he. +What will he think is in my message meant? +I scarcely understand my own intent: +But, silk-worm like, so long within have wrought, +That I am lost in my own web of thought. [_Exit_ ALMAHIDE. + + +ACT II. + +SCENE I.--_A Wood._ + + _Enter_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA. + +_Ozm._ 'Tis true, that our protection here has been +The effect of honour in the Spanish queen; +But, while I as a friend continue here, +I to my country must a foe appear. + +_Benz._ Think not, my Ozmyn, that we here remain +As friends, but prisoners to the power of Spain. +Fortune dispenses with your country's right; +But you desert your honour in your flight. + +_Ozm._ I cannot leave you here, and go away; +My honour's glad of a pretence to stay. + [_A noise within,_--Follow, follow, follow!-- + + _Enter_ SELIN, _his sword drawn, as pursued._ + +_Selin._ I am pursued, and now am spent and done; +My limbs suffice me not with strength to run. +And, if I could, alas! what can I save? +A year, the dregs of life too, from the grave. + [_Sits down on the ground._ +Here will I sit, and here attend my fate, +With the same hoary majesty and state, +As Rome's old senate for the Gauls did wait. + +_Benz._ It is my father; and he seems distressed. + +_Ozm._ My honour bids me succour the oppressed; +That life he sought, for his I'll freely give; +We'll die together, or together live. + +_Benz._ I'll call more succour, since the camp is near, +And fly on all the wings of love and fear. [_Exit_ BENZ. + + _Enter_ ABENAMAR, _and four or five Moors. He looks and finds_ + SELIN. + +_Aben._ You've lived, and now behold your latest hour. + +_Selin._ I scorn your malice, and defy your power. +A speedy death is all I ask you now; +And that's a favour you may well allow. + +_Ozm._ [_shewing himself._] +Who gives you death, shall give it first to me; +Fate cannot separate our destiny.-- [_Knows his father._ +My father here! then heaven itself has laid +The snare, in which my virtue is betrayed. + +_Aben._ Fortune, I thank thee! thou hast kindly done, +To bring me back that fugitive, my son; +In arms too? fighting for my enemy!-- +I'll do a Roman justice,--thou shalt die! + +_Ozm._ I beg not you my forfeit life would save; +Yet add one minute to that breath you gave. +I disobeyed you, and deserve my fate; +But bury in my grave two houses' hate. +Let Selin live; and see your justice done +On me, while you revenge him for his son: +Your mutual malice in my death may cease, +And equal loss persuade you both to peace. + +_Aben._ Yes, justice shall be done on him and thee.-- +Haste and dispatch them both immediately. [_To a soldier._ + +_Ozm._ If you have honour,--since you nature want,-- +For your own sake my last petition grant; +And kill not a disarmed, defenceless foe, +Whose death your cruelty, or fear, will show. +My father cannot do an act so base:-- +My father!--I mistake;--I meant, who was. + +_Aben._ Go, then, dispatch him first who was my son! + +_Ozm._ Swear but to save his life, I'll yield my own. + +_Aben._ Nor tears, nor prayers, thy life, or his, shall buy. + +_Ozm._ Then, sir, Benzayda's father shall not die!-- + [_Putting himself before_ SELIN. +And, since he'll want defence when I am gone, +I will, to save his life, defend my own. + +_Aben._ This justice, parricides, like thee, should have!-- + [ABEN. _and his party attack them both._ OZM. + _parries his father's thrusts, and thrusts + at the others._ + + _Enter_ BENZAYDA, _with_ ABDALLA, _the Duke of_ ARCOS, _and + Spaniards._ + +_Benz._ O, help my father! and my Ozmyn save! + +_Abdal._ Villains, that death you have deserved is near! + +_Ozm._ Stay, prince! and know, I have a father here!-- + [_Stops_ ABDALLA'S _hand._ +I were that parricide, of whom he spoke, +Did not my piety prevent your stroke. + +_D. Arcos._ to _Aben._ +Depart, then, and thank heaven you had a son. + +_Aben._ I am not with these shows of duty won. + +_Ozm._ to his _Father._ +Heaven knows, I would that life, you seek, resign; +But, while Benzayda lives, it is not mine. +Will you yet pardon my unwilling crime? + +_Aben._ By no entreaties, by no length of time, +Will I be won; but, with my latest breath, +I'll curse thee here, and haunt thee after death. + [_Exit_ ABEN. _with his party._ + +_Ozm._ Can you be merciful to that degree, [_Kneeling to_ SELIN. +As to forgive my father's faults in me? +Can you forgive +The death of him I slew in my defence, +And from the malice separate the offence? +I can no longer be your enemy: +In short, now kill me, sir, or pardon me. [_Offers him his sword._ +In this your silence my hard fate appears. + +_Selin._ I'll answer you, when I can speak for tears. +But, till I can, +Imagine what must needs be brought to pass; [_Embraces him._ +My heart's not made of marble, nor of brass. +Did I for you a cruel death prepare, +And have you, have you made my life your care! +There is a shame contracted by my faults, +Which hinders me to speak my secret thoughts. +And I will tell you--when the shame's removed-- +You are not better by my daughter loved.-- +Benzayda be yours.--I can no more. + +_Ozm._ Blessed be that breath which does my life restore! + [_Embracing his knees._ + +_Benz._ I hear my father now; these words confess +That name, and that indulgent tenderness. + +_Selin._ Benzayda, I have been too much to blame; +But let your goodness expiate my shame: +You Ozmyn's virtue did in chains adore, +And part of me was just to him before.-- +My son!-- + +_Ozm._ My father!-- + +_Selin._ Since by you I live, +I, for your sake, your family forgive. +Let your hard father still my life pursue, +I hate not him, but for his hate to you; +Even that hard father yet may one day be +By kindness vanquished, as you vanquished me; +Or, if my death can quench to you his rage, +Heaven makes good use of my remaining age. + +_Abdal._ I grieve your joys are mingled with my cares; +But all take interest in their own affairs; +And, therefore, I must ask how mine proceed. + +_Selin._ They now are ripe, and but your presence need: +For Lyndaraxa, faithless as the wind, +Yet to your better fortunes will be kind; +For, hearing that the Christians own your cause, +From thence the assurance of a throne she draws. +And since Almanzor, whom she most did fear, +Is gone, she to no treaty will give ear; +But sent me her unkindness to excuse. + +_Abdal._ You much surprise me with your pleasing news. + +_Selin._ But, sir, she hourly does the assault expect, +And must be lost if you her aid neglect: +For Abdelmelech loudly does declare, +He'll use the last extremities of war, +If she refuse the fortress to resign. + +_Abdal._ The charge of hastening this relief be mine. + +_Selin._ This while I undertook, whether beset, +Or else by chance, Abenamar I met; +Who seemed, in haste, returning to the town. + +_Abdal._ My love must in my diligence be shown.-- +And [_To_ ARCOS.] as my pledge of faith to Spain, this hour +I'll put the fortress in your master's power. + +_Selin._ An open way from hence to it there lies, +And we with ease may send in large supplies, +Free from the shot and sallies of the town. + +_D. Arcos._ Permit me, sir, to share in your renown; +First to my king I will impart the news, +And then draw out what succours we shall use. + [_Exit Duke of_ ARCOS. + +_Abdal._ [_Aside._] +Grant that she loves me not, at least I see +She loves not others, if she loves not me.-- +'Tis pleasure, when we reap the fruit of pain: +'Tis only pride, to be beloved again. +How many are not loved, who think they are! +Yet all are willing to believe the fair; +And, though 'tis beauty's known and obvious cheat, +Yet man's self-love still favours the deceit. [_Exit_ ABDAL. + +_Selin._ Farewell, my children! equally so dear, +That I myself am to myself less near: +While I repeat the dangers of the war, +Your mutual safety be each other's care. +Your father, Ozmyn, till the war be done, +As much as honour will permit, I'll shun: +If by his sword I perish, let him know +It was, because I would not be his foe. + +_Ozm._ Goodness and virtue all your actions guide; +You only err in choosing of your side. +That party I, with honour, cannot take; +But can much less the care of you forsake: +I must not draw my sword against my prince, +But yet may hold a shield in your defence. +Benzayda, free from danger, here shall stay, +And for a father and a lover pray. + +_Benz._ No, no! I gave not on those terms my heart, +That from my Ozmyn I should ever part: +That love I vowed, when you did death attend, +'Tis just that nothing but my death should end. +What merchant is it, who would stay behind, +His whole stock ventured to the waves and wind? +I'll pray for both, but both shall be in sight; +And heaven shall hear me pray, and see you fight. + +_Selin._ No longer, Ozmyn, combat a design, +Where so much love, and so much virtue join. + +_Ozm._ [_To_ BENZ.] +Then conquer, and your conquest happy be, +Both to yourself, your father, and to me.-- +With bended knees our freedom we'll demand +Of Isabel, and mighty Ferdinand: +Then while the paths of honour we pursue, +We'll interest heaven for us, in right of you. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_The Albayzyn._ + + _An alarm within; then Soldiers running over the stage. Enter_ + ABDELMELECH, _victorious, with Soldiers._ + +_Abdelm._ 'Tis won, 'tis won! and Lyndaraxa, now, +Who scorned to treat, shall to a conquest bow. +To every sword I free commission give; +Fall on, my friends, and let no rebel live. +Spare only Lyndaraxa; let her be +In triumph led, to grace my victory. +Since by her falsehood she betrayed my love, +Great as that falsehood my revenge shall prove.-- + + _Enter_ LYNDARAXA, _as frightened, attended by women._ + +Go, take the enchantress, bring her to me bound! + +_Lyndar._ Force needs not, where resistance is not found: +I come, myself, to offer you my hands; +And, of my own accord, invite your bands. +I wished to be my Abdelmelech's slave; +I did but wish,--and easy fortune gave. + +_Abdelm._ O, more than woman false!--but 'tis in vain.-- +Can you ere hope to be believed again? +I'll sooner trust the hyæna, than your smile; +Or, than your tears, the weeping crocodile. +In war and love none should be twice deceived; +The fault is mine if you are now believed. + +_Lyndar._ Be overwise, then, and too late repent; +Your crime will carry its own punishment. +I am well pleased not to be justified; +I owe no satisfaction to your pride. +It will be more advantage to my fame, +To have it said, I never owned a flame. + +_Abdelm._ 'Tis true, my pride has satisfied itself: +I have at length escaped the deadly shelf. +The excuses you prepare will be in vain, +Till I am fool enough to love again. + +_Lyndar._ Am I not loved? + +_Abdelm._ I must with shame avow, +I loved you once;--but do not love you now. + +_Lyndar._ Have I for this betrayed Abdalla's trust? +You are to me, as I to him, unjust. [_Angrily._ + +_Abdelm._ 'Tis like you have done much for love of me, +Who kept the fortress of my enemy. + +_Lyndar._ 'Tis true, I took the fortress from his hand; +But, since, have kept it in my own command. + +_Abdelm._ That act your foul ingratitude did show. + +_Lyndar._ You are the ungrateful, since 'twas kept for you. + +_Abdelm._ 'Twas kept indeed; but not by your intent: +For all your kindness I may thank the event. +Blush, Lyndaraxa, for so gross a cheat: +'Twas kept for me,--when you refused to treat! [_Ironically._ + +_Lyndar._ Blind man! I knew the weakness of the place: +It was my plot to do your arms this grace. +Had not my care of your renown been great, +I loved enough to offer you to treat. +She, who is loved, must little lets create; +But you bold lovers are to force your fate. +This force, you used, my maiden blush will save; +You seemed to take, what secretly I gave. +I knew we must be conquered; but I knew +What confidence I might repose in you. +I knew, you were too grateful to expose +My friends, and soldiers, to be used like foes. + +_Abdelm._ Well, though I love you not, their lives shall be +Spared out of pity and humanity.-- +Alferez, [_To a Soldier._] go, and let the slaughter cease. + [_Exit the Alferez._ + +_Lyndar._ Then must I to your pity owe my peace? +Is that the tenderest term you can afford? +Time was, you would have used another word. + +_Abdelm._ Then, for your beauty I your soldiers spare: +For, though I do not love you, you are fair. + +_Lyndar._ That little beauty why did heaven impart, +To please your eyes, but not to move your heart! +I'll shroud this gorgon from all human view, +And own no beauty, since it charms not you! +Reverse your orders, and your sentence give; +My soldiers shall not from my beauty live. + +_Abdelm._ Then, from your friendship they their lives shall gain; +Tho' love be dead, yet friendship does remain. + +_Lyndar._ That friendship, which from withered love does shoot, +Like the faint herbage on a rock, wants root. +Love is a tender amity, refined: +Grafted on friendship it exalts the kind. +But when the graff no longer does remain, +The dull stock lives, but never bears again. + +_Abdelm._ Then, that my friendship may not doubtful prove,-- +Fool that I am to tell you so!--I love. +You would extort this knowledge from my breast, +And tortured me so long that I confest. +Now I expect to suffer for my sin; +My monarchy must end, and yours begin. + +_Lyndar._ Confess not love, but spare yourself that shame, +And call your passion by some other name. +Call this assault, your malice, or your hate; +Love owns no acts so disproportionate. +Love never taught this insolence you shew, +To treat your mistress like a conquered foe. +Is this the obedience which my heart should move! +This usage looks more like a rape than love. + +_Abdelm._ What proof of duty would you I should give? + +_Lyndar._ 'Tis grace enough to let my subjects live! +Let your rude soldiers keep possession still; +Spoil, rifle, pillage,--any thing but kill. +In short, sir, use your fortune as you please; +Secure my castle, and my person seize; +Let your true men my rebels hence remove; +I shall dream on, and think 'tis all your love! + +_Abdelm._ You know too well my weakness and your power: +Why did heaven make a fool a conqueror! +She was my slave, 'till she by me was shewn +How weak my force was, and how strong her own. +Now she has beat my power from every part, +Made her way open to my naked heart: [_To a Soldier._ +Go, strictly charge my soldiers to retreat: +Those countermand who are not entered yet. +On peril of your lives leave all things free. [_Exit Soldier._ +Now, madam, love Abdalla more than me. +I only ask, in duty you would bring +The keys of our Albayzyn to the king: +I'll make your terms as gentle as you please. + [_Trumpets sound a charge within, and soldiers shout._ +What shouts, and what new sounds of war are these? + +_Lyndar._ Fortune, I hope, has favoured my intent, [_Aside._ +Of gaining time, and welcome succours sent. + + _Enter the Alferez._ + +_Alferez._ All's lost, and you are fatally deceived: +The foe is entered, and the place relieved. +Scarce from the walls had I drawn off my men, +When, from their camp, the enemy rushed in, +And prince Abdalla entered first the gate. + +_Abdelm._ I am betrayed, and find it now too late. +When your proud soul to flatteries did descend, [_To her._ +I might have known it did some ill portend. +The weary seaman stormy weather fears, +When winds shift often, and no cause appears. +You by my bounty live-- +Your brothers, too, were pardoned for my sake, +And this return your gratitude does make. + +_Lyndar._ My brothers best their own obligement know; +Without your charging me with what they owe. +But, since you think the obligement is so great, +I'll bring a friend to satisfy my debt. [_Looking behind._ + +_Abdelm._ Thou shalt not triumph in thy base design; +Though not thy fort, thy person shall be mine. + [_He goes to take her: She runs and cries out help._ + + _Enter_ ABDALLA, _Duke of_ ARCOS, _and Spaniards._ ABDELMELECH + _retreats fighting, and is pursued by the adverse party off the + stage. The alarm within._ + + _Enter again_ ABDALLA _and the Duke of_ ARCOS, _with_ LYNDARAXA. + +_D. Arcos._ Bold Abdelmelech twice our Spaniards faced, +Though much out-numbered; and retreated last. + +_Abdal._ Your beauty, as it moves no common fire, [_To_ LYNDARAXA. +So it no common courage can inspire. +As he fought well, so had he prospered too, +If, madam, he, like me, had fought for you. + +_Lyndar._ Fortune, at last, has chosen with my eyes; +And, where I would have given it, placed the prize. +You see, sir, with what hardship I have kept +This precious gage, which in my hands you left. +But 'twas the love of you which made me fight, +And gave me courage to maintain your right. +Now, by experience, you my faith may find, +And are to thank me that I seemed unkind. +When your malicious fortune doomed your fall, +My care restrained you then from losing all; +Against your destiny I shut the gate, +And gathered up the shipwrecks of your fate; +I, like a friend, did even yourself withstand, +From throwing all upon a losing hand. + +_Abdal._ My love makes all your acts unquestioned go, +And sets a sovereign stamp on all you do. +Your love I will believe with hood-winked eyes;-- +In faith, much merit in much blindness lies. +But now, to make you great as you are fair, +The Spaniards an imperial crown prepare. + +_Lyndar._ That gift's more welcome, which with you I share. +Let us no time in fruitless courtship lose, +But sally out upon our frighted foes. +No ornaments of power so please my eyes, +As purple, which the blood of princes dies. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_The Alhambra._ + + BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, ALMAHIDE, _and Guards, &c. The Queen wearing a + scarf._ + +_Aben._ My little journey has successful been, +The fierce Almanzor will obey the queen. +I found him, like Achilles on the shore, +Pensive, complaining much, but threatening more; +And, like that injured Greek, he heard our woes, +Which, while I told, a gloomy smile arose +From his bent brows: And still, the more he heard, +A more severe and sullen joy appeared. +But, when he knew we to despair were driven, +Betwixt his teeth he muttered thanks to heaven. + +_Boab._ How I disdain this aid! which I must take, +Not for my own, but Almahide's sake. + +_Aben._ But when he heard it was the queen who sent, +That her command repealed his banishment, +He took the summons with a greedy joy, +And asked me how she would his sword employ: +Then bid me say, her humblest slave would come, +From her fair mouth with joy to take his doom. + +_Boab._ Oh that I had not sent you! though it cost +My crown! though I, and it, and all were lost! + +_Aben._ While I, to bring this news, came on before, +I met with Selin-- + +_Boab._ I can hear no more. + + _Enter_ HAMET. + +_Hamet._ Almanzor is already at the gate, +And throngs of people on his entrance wait. + +_Boab._ Thy news does all my faculties surprise; +He bears two basilisks in those fierce eyes; +And that tame dæmon, which should guard my throne, +Shrinks at a genius greater than his own. + [_Exit_ BOAB. _with_ ABEN. _and Guards._ + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR; _seeing_ ALMAHIDE _approach him, he speaks._ + +_Almanz._ So Venus moves, when to the Thunderer, +In smiles or tears, she would some suit prefer; +When with her cestus girt, +And drawn by doves, she cuts the liquid skies, +And kindles gentle fires where'er she flies: +To every eye a goddess is confest, +By all the heavenly nation she is blest, +And each with secret joy admits her to his breast.-- +Madam your new commands I come to know, +If yet you can have any where I go. [_To her bowing._ +If to the regions of the dead they be, +You take the speediest course to send by me. + +_Almah._ Heaven has not destined you so soon to rest: +Heroes must live to succour the distrest. + +_Almanz._ To serve such beauty all mankind should live; +And, in our service, our reward you give. +But stay me not in torture, to behold +And ne'er enjoy. As from another's gold +The miser hastens, in his own defence, +And shuns the sight of tempting excellence; +So, having seen you once so killing fair, +A second sight were but to move despair. +I take my eyes from what too much would please, +As men in fevers famish their disease. + +_Almah._ No; you may find your cure an easier way, +If you are pleased to seek it,--in your stay. +All objects lose by too familiar view, +When that great charm is gone, of being new; +By often seeing me, you soon will find +Defects so many, in my face and mind, +That to be freed from love you need not doubt; +And, as you looked it in, you'll look it out. + +_Almanz._ I rather, like weak armies, should retreat, +And so prevent my more entire defeat. +For your own sake in quiet let me go; +Press not too far on a despairing foe: +I may turn back, and armed against you move, +With all the furious train of hopeless love. + +_Almah._ Your honour cannot to ill thoughts give way, +And mine can run no hazard by your stay. + +_Almanz._ Do you then think I can with patience see +That sovereign good possessed, and not by me? +No; I all day shall languish at the sight, +And rave on what I do not see all night; +My quick imagination will present +The scenes and images of your content. + +_Almah._ These are the day-dreams which wild fancy yields, +Empty as shadows are, that fly o'er fields. +Oh, whither would this boundless fancy move! +'Tis but the raging calenture of love. +Like a distracted passenger you stand, +And see, in seas, imaginary land, +Cool groves, and flowery meads; and while you think +To walk, plunge in, and wonder that you sink. + +_Almanz._ Love's calenture too well I understand; +But sure your beauty is no fairy-land! +Of your own form a judge you cannot be; +For, glow-worm like, you shine, and do not see. + +_Almah._ Can you think this, and would you go away? + +_Almanz._ What recompence attends me, if I stay? + +_Almah._ You know I am from recompence debarred, +But I will grant your merit a reward; +Your flame's too noble to deserve a cheat, +And I too plain to practise a deceit. +I no return of love can ever make, +But what I ask is for my husband's sake; +He, I confess, has been ungrateful too, +But he and I are ruined if you go: +Your virtue to the hardest proof I bring;-- +Unbribed, preserve a mistress and a king. + +_Almanz._ I'll stop at nothing that appears so brave: +I'll do't, and now I no reward will have. +You've given my honour such an ample field, +That I may die, but that shall never yield. +Spite of myself I'll stay, fight, love, despair; +And I can do all this, because I dare. +Yet I may own one suit-- +That scarf, which, since by you it has been borne, +Is blessed, like relicks which by saints were worn. + +_Almah._ Presents like this my virtue durst not make, +But that 'tis given you for my husband's sake. [_Gives the scarf._ + +_Almanz._ This scarf to honourable rags I'll wear, +As conquering soldiers tattered ensigns bear; +But oh, how much my fortune I despise, +Which gives me conquest, while she love denies! [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT III. + +SCENE I.--_The Alhambra._ + + _Enter_ ALMAHIDE _and_ ESPERANZA. + +_Esper._ Affected modesty has much of pride; +That scarf he begged, you could not have denied; +Nor does it shock the virtue of a wife, +When given that man, to whom you owe your life. + +_Almah._ Heaven knows, from all intent of ill 'twas free, +Yet it may feed my husband's jealousy; +And for that cause I wish it were not done. + + _To them_ BOABDELIN, _and walks apart._ + +See, where he comes, all pensive and alone; +A gloomy fury has o'erspread his face: +'Tis so! and all my fears are come to pass. + +_Boab._ Marriage, thou curse of love, and snare of life, [_Aside_ +That first debased a mistress to a wife! +Love, like a scene, at distance should appear, +But marriage views the gross-daubed landscape near. +Love's nauseous cure! thou cloyest whom thou should'st please; +And, when thou cur'st, then thou art the disease. +When hearts are loose, thy chain our bodies ties; +Love couples friends, but marriage enemies. +If love like mine continues after thee, +'Tis soon made sour, and turned by jealousy; +No sign of love in jealous men remains, +But that which sick men have of life--their pains. + +_Almah._ Has my dear lord some new affliction had? [_Walking to him._ +Have I done any thing that makes him sad? + +_Boab._ You! nothing: You! But let me walk alone. + +_Almah._ I will not leave you till the cause be known: +My knowledge of the ill may bring relief. + +_Boab._ Thank ye; you never fail to cure my grief! +Trouble me not, my grief concerns not you. + +_Almah._ While I have life, I will your steps pursue. + +_Boab._ I'm out of humour now; you must not stay. + +_Almah._ I fear it is that scarf I gave away. + +_Boab._ No, 'tis not that; but speak of it no more: +Go hence! I am not what I was before. + +_Almah._ Then I will make you so; give me your hand! +Can you this pressing and these tears withstand? + +_Boab._ Oh heaven, were she but mine, or mine alone! + [_Sighing, and going off from her._ +Ah, why are not the hearts of women known! +False women to new joys unseen can move; +There are no prints left in the paths of love, +All goods besides by public marks are known; +But what we most desire to keep, has none. + +_Almah._ Why will you in your breast your passion crowd, + [_Approaching him._ +Like unborn thunder rolling in a cloud? +Torment not your poor heart, but set it free, +And rather let its fury break on me. +I am not married to a god; I know, +Men must have passions, and can bear from you. +I fear the unlucky present I have made! + +_Boab._ O power of guilt! how conscience can upbraid! +It forces her not only to reveal, +But to repeat what she would most conceal! + +_Almah._ Can such a toy, and given in public too-- + +_Boab._ False woman, you contrived it should be so. +That public gift in private was designed +The emblem of the love you meant to bind. +Hence from my sight, ungrateful as thou art! +And, when I can, I'll banish thee my heart. [_She weeps._ + + _To them_ ALMANZOR _wearing the Scarf. He sees her weep._ + +_Almanz._ What precious drops are those, +Which silently each other's track pursue, +Bright as young diamonds in their infant dew? +Your lustre you should free from tears maintain, +Like Egypt, rich without the help of rain. +Now cursed be he who gave this cause of grief; +And double cursed, who does not give relief! + +_Almah._ Our common fears, and public miseries, +Have drawn these tears from my afflicted eyes. + +_Almanz._ Madam, I cannot easily believe +It is for any public cause you grieve. +On your fair face the marks of sorrow lie; +But I read fury in your husband's eye: +And, in that passion, I too plainly find +That you're unhappy, and that he's unkind. + +_Almah._ Not new-made mothers greater love express +Than he, when with first looks their babes they bless; +Not Heaven is more to dying martyrs kind, +Nor guardian angels to their charge assigned. + +_Boab._ O goodness counterfeited to the life! +O the well-acted virtue of a wife! +Would you with this my just suspicions blind? +You've given me great occasion to be kind! +The marks, too, of your spotless love appear; +Witness the badge of my dishonour there. + [_Pointing to_ ALMANZOR'S _scarf._ + +_Almanz._ Unworthy owner of a gem so rare! +Heavens! why must he possess, and I despair? +Why is this miser doomed to all this store; +He, who has all, and yet believes he's poor? + +_Almah._ [_to_ ALMANZ.] +You're much too bold, to blame a jealousy +So kind in him, and so desired by me. +The faith of wives would unrewarded prove, +Without those just observers of our love. +The greater care the higher passion shows; +We hold that clearest we most fear to lose. +Distrust in lovers is too warm a sun, +But yet 'tis night in love when that is gone; +And in those climes which most his scorching know, +He makes the noblest fruits and metals grow. + +_Almanz._ Yes; there are mines of treasure in your breast, +Seen by that jealous sun, but not possest. +He, like a devil, among the blest above, +Can take no pleasure in your heaven of love. +Go, take her; and thy causeless fears remove; [_To the King._ +Love her so well, that I with rage may die: +Dull husbands have no right to jealousy: +If that's allowed, it must in lovers be. + +_Boab._ The succour, which thou bring'st me, makes thee bold: +But know, without thy aid, my crown I'll hold; +Or, if I cannot, I will fire the place, +Of a full city make a naked space. +Hence, then, and from a rival set me free! +I'll do, I'll suffer any thing but thee. + +_Almanz._ I wonnot go; I'll not be forced away: +I came not for thy sake; nor do I stay. +It was the queen who for my aid did send; +And 'tis I only can the queen defend: +I, for her sake, thy sceptre will maintain; +And thou, by me, in spite of thee, shalt reign. + +_Boab._ Had I but hope I could defend this place +Three days, thou should'st not live to my disgrace +So small a time; +Might I possess my Almahide alone, +I would live ages out ere they were gone. +I should not be of love or life bereft; +All should be spent before, and nothing left. + +_Almah._ [_to_ BOAB.] As for your sake I for Almanzor sent, +So, when you please, he goes to banishment. +You shall, at last, my loyalty approve: +I will refuse no trial of my love. + +_Boab._ How can I think you love me, while I see +That trophy of a rival's victory? +I'll tear it from his side. + +_Almanz._ I'll hold it fast +As life, and when life's gone, I'll hold this last; +And if thou tak'st it after I am slain, +I'll send my ghost to fetch it back again. + +_Almah._ When I bestowed that scarf, I had not thought, +Or not considered it might be a fault; +But, since my lord's displeased that I should make +So small a present, I command it back. +Without delay the unlucky gift restore; +Or, from this minute, never see me more. + +_Almanz._ The shock of such a curse I dare not stand: + [_Pulling it off hastily, and presenting it to her._ +Thus I obey your absolute command. [_She gives it to the King._ +Must he the spoils of scorn'd Almanzor wear?-- +May Turnus' fate be thine, who dared to bear +The belt of murdered Pallas! from afar +Mayest thou be known, and be the mark of war! +Live, just to see it from thy shoulders torn +By common hands, and by some coward worn. [_An alarm within._ + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, HAMET, ABENAMAR; _their swords drawn._ + +_Abdelm._ Is this a time for discord or for grief? +We perish, sir, without your quick relief. +I have been fooled, and am unfortunate; +The foes pursue their fortune and our fate. + +_Zul._ The rebels with the Spaniards are agreed. + +_Boab._ Take breath; my guards shall to the fight succeed. + +_Aben._ [_to_ ALMANZOR.] +Why stay you, sir? the conquering foe is near: +Give us their courage, and give them our fear. + +_Hamet._ Take arms, or we must perish in your sight. + +_Almanz._ I care not: perish: for I will not fight, +I wonnot lift an arm in his defence: +And yet I wonnot stir one foot from hence. +I to your king's defence his town resign; +This only spot, whereon I stand, is mine.-- +Madam, be safe, and lay aside your fear, [_To the Queen_ +You are as in a magic circle here. + +_Boab._ To our own valour our success we'll owe. +Haste, Hamet, with Abenamar to go; +You two draw up, with all the speed you may, +Our last reserves, and yet redeem the day. + [_Exeunt_ HAMET _and_ ABENAMAR _one way, the + King the other, with_ ABDELMELECH, _&c. + Alarm within._ + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH, _his sword drawn._ + +_Abdelm._ Granada is no more! the unhappy king +Venturing too far, ere we could succour bring, +Was by the duke of Arcos prisoner made, +And, past relief, is to the fort conveyed. + +_Almanz._ Heaven, thou art just! go, now despise my aid. + +_Almah._ Unkind Almanzor, how am I betrayed! +Betrayed by him in whom I trusted most! +But I will ne'er outlive what I have lost. +Is this your succour, this your boasted love! +I will accuse you to the saints above! +Almanzor vowed he would for honour fight, +And lets my husband perish in my sight. + [_Exeunt_ ALMAHIDE _and_ ESPERANZA. + +_Almanz._ Oh, I have erred; but fury made me blind; +And, in her just reproach, my fault I find! +I promised even for him to fight, whom I-- +But since he's loved by her, he must not die. +Thus, happy fortune comes to me in vain, +When I myself must ruin it again. + + _To him_ ABENAMAR, HAMET, ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, _Soldiers._ + +_Aben._ The foe has entered the Vermillion towers; +And nothing but the Alhambra now is ours. + +_Almanz._ Even that's too much, except we may have more; +You lost it all to that last stake before. +Fate, now come back; thou canst not farther get; +The bounds of thy libration here are set. +Thou know'st this place, +And, like a clock wound up, strik'st here for me; +Now, Chance, assert thy own inconstancy, +And, Fortune, fight, that thou may'st Fortune be!-- +They come: here, favoured by the narrow place, [_A noise within._ +I can, with few, their gross battalion face. +By the dead wall, you, Abdelmelech, wind; +Then charge, and their retreat cut off behind. [_Exeunt._ + [_An alarm within._ + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR _and his Party, with_ ABDALLA _prisoner._ + +_Almanz._ You were my friend: and to that name I owe [_To_ ABDAL. +The just regard, which you refused to show. +Your liberty I frankly would restore, +But honour now forbids me to do more. +Yet, sir, your freedom in your choice shall be, +When you command to set your brother free. + +_Abdal._ The exchange, which you propose, with joy I take; +An offer easier than my hopes could make. +Your benefits revenge my crimes to you, +For I my shame in that bright mirror view. + +_Almanz._ No more; you give me thanks you do not owe: +I have been faulty, and repent me now. +But, though our penitence a virtue be, +Mean souls alone repent in misery; +The brave own faults when good success is given, +For then they come on equal terms to heaven. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_The Albayzyn._ + + _Enter_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA. + +_Benz._ I see there's somewhat which you fear to tell; +Speak quickly, Ozmyn, is my father well? +Why cross you thus your arms, and shake your head? +Kill me at once, and tell me he is dead. + +_Ozm._ I know not more than you; but fear not less; +Twice sinking, twice I drew him from the press: +But the victorious foe pursued so fast, +That flying throngs divided us at last. +As seamen parting in a general wreck, +When first the loosening planks begin to crack; +Each catches one, and straight are far disjoined, +Some borne by tides, and others by the wind; +So, in this ruin, from each other rent, +With heaved-up hands we mutual farewells sent: +Methought his eyes, when just I lost his view, +Were looking blessings to be sent to you. + +_Benz._ Blind queen of Chance, to lovers too severe, +Thou rulest mankind, but art a tyrant there! +Thy widest empire's in a lover's breast: +Like open seas, we seldom are at rest. +Upon thy coasts our wealth is daily cast; +And thou, like pirates, mak'st no peace to last. + + _To them_ LYNDARAXA, _Duke of Arcos, and Guards._ + +_D. Arcos._ We were surprised when least we did suspect, +And justly suffered by our own neglect. + +_Lyndar._ No; none but I have reason to complain! +So near a kingdom, yet 'tis lost again! +O, how unequally in me were joined +A creeping fortune, with a soaring mind! +O lottery of fate! where still the wise +Draw blanks of fortune, and the fools the prize! +These cross, ill-shuffled lots from heaven are sent, +Yet dull Religion teaches us content; +But when we ask it where the blessing dwells, +It points to pedant colleges, and cells; +There shows it rude, and in a homely dress, +And that proud Want mistakes for happiness. [_A trumpet within._ + + _Enter_ ZULEMA. + +Brother! what strange adventure brought you here? + +_Zul._ The news I bring will yet more strange appear. +The little care you of my life did show, +Has of a brother justly made a foe; +And Abdelmelech who that life did save, +As justly has deserved that life he gave. + +_Lyndar._ Your business cools, while tediously it stays +On the low theme of Abdelmelech's praise. + +_Zul._ This I present from Prince Abdalla's hands. + [_Delivers a letter, which she reads._ + +_Lyndar._ He has proposed, (to free him from his bands) +That, with his brother, an exchange be made. + +_D. Arcos._ It proves the same design which we had laid. +Before the castle let a bar be set; +And when the captives on each side are met, +With equal numbers chosen for their guard, +Just at the time the passage is unbarred, +Let both at once advance, at once be free. + +_Lyndar._ The exchange I will myself in person see. + +_Benz._ I fear to ask, yet would from doubt be freed,-- +Is Selin captive, sir, or is he dead? + +_Zul._ I grieve to tell you what you needs must know,-- +He is a prisoner to his greatest foe; +Kept with strong guards in the Alhambra tower; +Without the reach even of Almanzor's power. + +_Ozm._ With grief and shame I am at once opprest. + +_Zul._ You will be more, when I relate the rest. +To you I from Abenamar am sent, [_To_ OZMYN. +And you alone can Selin's death prevent. +Give up yourself a prisoner in his stead; +Or, ere to-morrow's dawn, believe him dead. + +_Benz._ Ere that appear, I shall expire with grief. + +_Zul._ Your action swift, your counsel must be brief. + +_Lyndar._ While for Abdalla's freedom we prepare, +You in each other's breast unload your care. + [_Exeunt all but_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA. + +_Benz._ My wishes contradictions must imply; +You must not go; and yet he must not die. +Your reason may, perhaps, the extremes unite; +But there's a mist of fate before my sight. + +_Ozm._ The two extremes too distant are, to close; +And human wit can no mid way propose. +My duty therefore shows the nearest way +To free your father, and my own obey. + +_Benz._ Your father, whom, since yours, I grieve to blame, +Has lost, or quite forgot, a parent's name; +And, when at once possessed of him and you, +Instead of freeing one, will murder two. + +_Ozm._ Fear not my life; but suffer me to go: +What cannot only sons with parents do! +'Tis not my death my father does pursue; +He only would withdraw my love from you. + +_Benz._ Now, Ozmyn, now your want of love I see; +For would you go, and hazard losing me? + +_Ozm._ I rather would ten thousand lives forsake; +Nor can you e'er believe the doubt you make. +This night I with a chosen band will go, +And, by surprise, will free him from the foe. + +_Benz._ What foe! ah whither would your virtue fall! +It is your father whom the foe you call. +Darkness and rage will no distinction make, +And yours may perish for my father's sake. + +_Ozm._ Thus, when my weaker virtue goes astray. +Yours pulls it back, and guides me in the way: +I'll send him word, my being shall depend +On Selin's life, and with his death shall end. + +_Benz._ 'Tis that, indeed, would glut your father's rage: +Revenge on Ozmyn's youth, and Selin's age. + +_Ozm._ Whate'er I plot, like Sysiphus, in vain +I heave a stone, that tumbles down again. + +_Benz._ This glorious work is then reserved for me: +He is my father, and I'll set him free. +These chains my father for my sake does wear: +I made the fault; and I the pains will bear. + +_Ozm._ Yes; you no doubt have merited these pains; +Those hands, those tender limbs, were made for chains! +Did I not love you, yet it were too base +To let a lady suffer in my place. +Those proofs of virtue you before did show, +I did admire; but I must envy now. +Your vast ambition leaves no fame for me, +But grasps at universal monarchy. + +_Benz._ Yes, Ozmyn, I shall still this palm pursue; +I will not yield my glory even to you. +I'll break those bonds in which my father's tied, +Or, if I cannot break them, I'll divide. +What, though my limbs a woman's weakness show, +I have a soul as masculine as you; +And when these limbs want strength my chains to wear, +My mind shall teach my body how to bear. [_Exit_ BENZ. + +_Ozm._ What I resolve, I must not let her know; +But honour has decreed she must not go. +What she resolves, I must prevent with care; +She shall not in my fame or danger share. +I'll give strict order to the guards which wait, +That, when she comes, she shall not pass the gate. +Fortune, at last, has run me out of breath; +I have no refuge but the arms of death: +To that dark sanctuary I will go; +She cannot reach me when I lie so low. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE III.--_The Albayzyn._ + + _Enter, on one side_, ALMANZOR, ABDALLA, ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, HAMET. + _On the other side, the Duke of_ ARCOS, BOABDELIN, LYNDARAXA, _and + their Party. After which the bars are opened; and at the same time_ + BOABDELIN _and_ ABDALLA _pass by each other, each to his Party; + when_ ABDALLA _is passed on the other side, the Duke of_ ARCOS + _approaches the bars, and calls to_ ALMANZOR. + +_D. Arcos._ The hatred of the brave with battles ends, +And foes, who fought for honour, then are friends. +I love thee, brave Almanzor, and am proud +To have one hour when love may be allowed. +This hand, in sign of that esteem, I plight; +We shall have angry hours enough to fight. [_Giving his hand._ + +_Almanz._ The man who dares, like you, in fields appear, +And meet my sword, shall be my mistress here. +If I am proud, 'tis only to my foes; +Rough but to such who virtue would oppose. +If I some fierceness from a father drew, +A mother's milk gives me some softness too. + +_D. Arcos._ Since first you took, and after set me free, +(Whether a sense of gratitude it be, +Or some more secret motion of my mind, +For which I want a name that's more than kind) +I shall be glad, by whate'er means I can, +To get the friendship of so brave a man; +And would your unavailing valour call, +From aiding those whom heaven has doomed to fall. +We owe you that respect, +Which to the gods of foes besieged was shown, +To call you out before we take your town. + +_Almanz._ Those whom we love, we should esteem them too, +And not debauch that virtue which we woo. +Yet, though you give my honour just offence, +I'll take your kindness in the better sense; +And, since you for my safety seem to fear, +I, to return your bribe, should wish you here. +But, since I love you more than you do me, +In all events preserve your honour free; +For that's your own, though not your destiny. + +_D. Arcos._ Were you obliged in honour by a trust, +I should not think my own proposals just; +But since you fight for an unthankful king, +What loss of fame can change of parties bring? + +_Almanz._ It will, and may with justice too be thought, +That some advantage in that change I sought. +And though I twice have changed for wrongs received, +That it was done for profit none believed. +The king's ingratitude I knew before; +So that can be no cause of changing more. +If now I stand, when no reward can be, +'Twill show the fault before was not in me. + +_D. Arcos._ Yet there is a reward to valour due, +And such it is as may be sought by you; +That beauteous queen, whom you can never gain, +While you secure her husband's life and reign. + +_Almanz._ Then be it so; let me have no return + [_Here_ LYNDARAXA _comes near, and hears them._ +From him but hatred, and from her but scorn. +There is this comfort in a noble fate, +That I deserve to be more fortunate. +You have my last resolve; and now, farewell: +My boding heart some mischief does foretell; +But what it is, heaven will not let me know. +I'm sad to death, that I must be your foe. + +_D. Arcos._ Heaven, when we meet, if fatal it must be +To one, spare him, and cast the lot on me. [_They retire._ + +_Lyndar._ Ah, what a noble conquest were this heart! +I am resolved I'll try my utmost art: +In gaining him, I gain that fortune too, +Which he has wedded, and which I but woo. +I'll try each secret passage to his mind, +And love's soft bands about his heart-strings wind. +Not his vowed constancy shall 'scape my snare; +While he without resistance does prepare, +I'll melt into him ere his love's aware. + [_She makes a gesture of invitation to_ ALMANZOR, + _who returns again_. + +_Lyndar._ You see, sir, to how strange a remedy +A persecuted maid is forced to fly: +Who, much distressed, yet scarce has confidence +To make your noble pity her defence. + +_Almanz._ Beauty, like yours, can no protection need; +Or, if it sues, is certain to succeed. +To whate'er service you ordain my hand, +Name your request, and call it your command. + +_Lyndar._ You cannot, sir, but know, that my ill fate +Has made me loved with all the effects of hate: +One lover would, by force, my person gain; +Which one, as guilty, would by force detain. +Rash Abdelmelech's love I cannot prize, +And fond Abdalla's passion I despise. +As you are brave, so you are prudent too; +Advise a wretched woman what to do. + +_Almanz._ Have courage, fair one, put your trust in me; +You shall, at least, from those you hate, be free. +Resign your castle to the king's command, +And leave your love concernments in my hand. + +_Lyndar._ The king, like them, is fierce, and faithless too; +How can I trust him who has injured you? +Keep for yourself, (and you can grant no less) +What you alone are worthy to possess. +Enter, brave sir; for, when you speak the word, +These gates will open of their own accord; +The genius of the place its lord will meet, +And bend its tow'ry forehead to your feet. +That little citadel, which now you see, +Shall, then, the head of conquered nations be; +And every turret, from your coming, rise +The mother of some great metropolis. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis pity, words, which none but gods should hear, +Should lose their sweetness in a soldier's ear: +I am not that Almanzor whom you praise; +But your fair mouth can fair ideas raise:-- +I am a wretch, to whom it is denied +To accept, with honour, what I wish with pride; +And, since I light not for myself, must bring +The fruits of all my conquests to the king. + +_Lyndar._ Say rather to the queen, to whose fair name +I know you vow the trophies of your fame. +I hope she is as kind as she is fair; +Kinder than inexperienced virgins are +To their first loves; (though she has loved before, +And that first innocence is now no more:) +But, in revenge, she gives you all her heart, +(For you are much too brave to take a part.) +Though, blinded by a crown, she did not see +Almanzor greater than a king could be, +I hope her love repairs her ill-made choice: +Almanzor cannot be deluded twice. + +_Almanz._ No, not deluded; for none count their gains, +Who, like Almanzor, frankly give their pains. + +_Lyndar._ Almanzor, do not cheat yourself, nor me; +Your love is not refined to that degree: +For, since you have desires, and those not blest, +Your love's uneasy, and at little rest. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis true, my own unhappiness I see; +But who, alas, can my physician be? +Love, like a lazy ague, I endure, +Which fears the water, and abhors the cure. + +_Lyndar._ 'Tis a consumption, which your life does waste, +Still flattering you with hope, till help be past; +But, since of cure from her you now despair, +You, like consumptive men, should change your air: +Love somewhere else; 'tis a hard remedy, +But yet you owe yourself so much, to try. + +_Almanz._ My love's now grown so much a part of me, +That life would, in the cure, endangered be: +At least, it like a limb cut off would show; +And better die than like a cripple go. + +_Lyndar._ You must be brought like madmen to their cure, +And darkness first, and next new bonds endure: +Do you dark absence to yourself ordain, +And I, in charity, will find the chain. + +_Almanz._ Love is that madness which all lovers have; +But yet 'tis sweet and pleasing so to rave: +'Tis an enchantment, where the reason's bound; +But Paradise is in the enchanted ground; +A palace, void of envy, cares and strife, +Where gentle hours delude so much of life. +To take those charms away, and set me free, +Is but to send me into misery; +And prudence, of whose cure so much you boast, +Restores those pains, which that sweet folly lost. + +_Lyndar._ I would not, like philosophers, remove, +But show you a more pleasing shape of love. +You a sad, sullen, froward love did see; +I'll show him kind, and full of gaiety. +In short, Almanzor, it shall be my care +To show you love; for you but saw despair. + +_Almanz._ I, in the shape of love, despair did see; +You, in his shape, would show inconstancy. + +_Lyndar._ There's no such thing as constancy you call; +Faith ties not hearts; 'tis inclination all. +Some wit deformed, or beauty much decayed, +First constancy in love a virtue made. +From friendship they that land-mark did remove, +And falsely placed it on the bounds of love. +Let the effects of change be only tried; +Court me, in jest, and call me Almahide: +But this is only counsel I impart, +For I, perhaps, should not receive your heart. + +_Almanz._ Fair though you are +As summer mornings, and your eyes more bright +Than stars that twinkle in a winter's night; +Though you have eloquence to warm and move +Cold age, and praying hermits, into love; +Though Almahide with scorn rewards my care,-- +Yet, than to change, 'tis nobler to despair. +My love's my soul; and that from fate is free; +'Tis that unchanged and deathless part of me. + +_Lyndar._ The fate of constancy your love pursue! +Still to be faithful to what's false to you. + [_Turns from him, and goes off angrily._ + +_Almanz._ Ye gods, why are not hearts first paired above, +But some still interfere in others' love! +Ere each for each by certain marks are known, +You mould them up in haste, and drop them down; +And, while we seek what carelessly you sort, +You sit in state, and make our pains your sport. + [_Exeunt on both sides._ + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ ABENAMAR, _and Soldier._ + +_Aben._ Haste and conduct the prisoner to my sight. + [_Exit Soldier, and immediately enters with_ SELIN + _bound._ + +_Aben._ Did you, according to my orders, write? [_To_ SELIN +And have you summoned Ozmyn to appear? + +_Selin._ I am not yet so much a slave to fear, +Nor has your son deserved so ill of me, +That by his death or bonds I would be free. + +_Aben._ Against thy life thou dost the sentence give; +Behold how short a time thou hast to live. + +_Selin._ Make haste, and draw the curtain while you may; +You but shut out the twilight of my day. +Beneath the burden of my age I bend: +You kindly ease me ere my journey's end. + [_To them a Soldier with_ OZMYN; OZMYN _kneels._ + +_Aben._ to _Selin._ It is enough, my promise makes you free; +Resign your bonds, and take your liberty. + +_Ozm._ Sir, you are just, and welcome are these bands; +'Tis all the inheritance a son demands. + +_Selin._ Your goodness, O my Ozmyn, is too great; +I am not weary of my fetters yet: +Already, when you move me to resign, +I feel them heavier on your feet than mine. + + _Enter another Soldier._ + +_Sold._ A youth attends you in the outer room, +Who seems in haste, and does from Ozmyn come. + +_Aben._ Conduct him in.-- + +_Ozm._ Sent from Benzayda, I fear, to me. + + _To them_ BENZAYDA, _in the habit of a man._ + +_Benz._ My Ozmyn here! + +_Ozm._ Benzayda! 'tis she!-- +Go youth, I have no business for thee here; +Go to the Albayzyn, and attend me there. +I'll not be long away; I pray thee go, +By all our love and friendship-- + +_Benz._ Ozmyn, no: +I did not take on me this bold disguise, +For ends so low, to cheat your watchmen's eyes. +When I attempted this, it was to do +An action, to be envied even by you; +But you, alas, have been too diligent, +And what I purposed fatally prevent! +Those chains, which for my father I would bear, +I take with less content to find you here; +Except your father will that mercy show, +That I may wear them both for him and you. + +_Aben._ I thank thee, fortune! thou hast, in one hour, +Put all I could have asked thee in my power. +My own lost wealth thou giv'st not only back, +But driv'st upon my coast my pirate's wreck. + +_Selin._ With Ozmyn's kindness I was grieved before, +But yours, Benzayda, has' undone me more. + +_Aben._ to a _Soldier._ +Go fetch new fetters, and the daughter bind. + +_Ozm._ Be just at least, sir, though you are not kind: +Benzayda is not as a prisoner brought, +But comes to suffer for another's fault. + +_Aben._ Then, Ozmyn, mark, that justice which I do, +I, as severely, will exact from you: +The father is not wholly dead in me; +Or you may yet revive it, if it be. +Like tapers new blown out, the fumes remain, +To catch the light, and bring it back again. +Benzayda gave you life, and set you free; +For that, I will restore her liberty. + +_Ozm._ Sir, on my knees I thank you. + +_Aben._ Ozmyn, hold; +One part of what I purpose is untold: +Consider, then, it on your part remains, +When I have broke, not to resume your chains. +Like an indulgent father, I have paid +All debts, which you, my prodigal, have made. +Now you are clear, break off your fond design, +Renounce Benzayda, and be wholly mine. + +_Ozm._ Are these the terms? Is this the liberty? +Ah, sir, how can you so inhuman be? +My duty to my life I will prefer; +But life and duty must give place to her. + +_Aben._ Consider what you say, for, with one breath, +You disobey my will, and give her death. + +_Ozm._ Ah, cruel father, what do you propose! +Must I then kill Benzayda, or must lose? +I can do neither; in this wretched state. +The least that I can suffer is your hate; +And yet that's worse than death: Even while I sue, +And choose your hatred, I could die for you. +Break quickly, heart, or let my blood be spilt +By my own hand, to save a father's guilt. + +_Benz._ Hear me, my lord, and take this wretched life, +To free you from the fear of Ozmyn's wife. +I beg but what with ease may granted be, +To spare your son, and kill your enemy; +Or, if my death's a grace too great to give, +Let me, my lord, without my Ozmyn live. +Far from your sight and Ozmyn's let me go, +And take from him a care, from you a foe. + +_Ozm._ How, my Benzayda! can you thus resign +That love, which you have vowed so firmly mine? +Can you leave me for life and liberty? + +_Benz._ What I have done will show that I dare die; +But I'll twice suffer death, and go away, +Rather than make you wretched by my stay: +By this my father's freedom will be won; +And to your father I restore a son. + +_Selin._ Cease, cease, my children, your unhappy strife, +Selin will not be ransomed by your life. +Barbarian, thy old foe defies thy rage; [_To_ ABEN. +Turn, from their youth, thy malice to my age. + +_Benz._ Forbear, dear father! for your Ozmyn's sake, +Do not such words to Ozmyn's father speak. + +_Ozm._ Alas, 'tis counterfeited rage; he strives +But to divert the danger from our lives: +For I can witness, sir, and you might see, +How in your person he considered me. +He still declined the combat where you were; +And you well know it was not out of fear. + +_Benz._ Alas, my lord, where can your vengeance fall? +Your justice will not let it reach us all. +Selin and Ozmyn both would sufferers be; +And punishment's a favour done to me. +If we are foes, since you have power to kill, +'Tis generous in you not to have the will; +But, are we foes? Look round, my lord, and see; +Point out that face which is your enemy. +Would you your hand in Selin's blood embrue? +Kill him unarmed, who, armed, shunned killing you? +Am I your foe? Since you detest my line, +That hated name of Zegry I resign: +For you, Benzayda will herself disclaim; +Call me your daughter, and forget my name. + +_Selin._ This virtue would even savages subdue; +And shall it want the power to vanquish you? + +_Ozm._ It has, it has; I read it in his eyes; +'Tis now not anger, 'tis but shame denies; +A shame of error, that great spirits find, +When keeps down virtue struggling in the mind. + +_Aben._ Yes, I am vanquished! The fierce conflict's past, +And shame itself is now o'ercome at last. +'Twas long before my stubborn mind was won; +But, melting once, I on the sudden run; +Nor can I hold my headlong kindness more, +Than I could curb my cruel rage before. + [_Runs to_ BENZ., _and embraces her._ +Benzayda, 'twas your virtue vanquished me; +That could alone surmount my cruelty. + [_Runs to_ SELIN, _and unbinds him._ +Forgive me, Selin, my neglect of you; +But men, just waking, scarce know what they do. + +_Ozm._ O father! + +_Benz._ Father! + +_Aden._ Dare I own that name! +Speak, speak it often, to remove my shame. [_They all embrace him._ +O Selin, O my children, let me go! +I have more kindness than I yet can show. +For my recovery I must shun your sight; +Eyes used to darkness cannot bear the light. + [_He runs in, they following him._ + + +SCENE II.--_The Albayzyn._ + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR, ABDELMELECH, _Soldiers._ + +_Almanz._ 'Tis war again, and I am glad 'tis so; +Success shall now by force and courage go. +Treaties are but the combat of the brain, +Where still the stronger lose, and weaker gain. + +_Abdelm._ On this assault, brave sir, which we prepare, +Depends the sum and fortune of the war. +Encamped without the fort the Spaniard lies, +And may, in spite of us, send in supplies. +Consider yet, ere we attack the place, +What 'tis to storm it in an army's face. + +_Almanz._ The minds of heroes their own measures are, +They stand exempted from the rules of war. +One loose, one sally of the hero's soul, +Does all the military art controul; +While timorous wit goes round, or fords the shore, +He shoots the gulph, and is already o'er; +And, when the enthusiastic fit is spent, +Looks back amazed at what he underwent. [_Exeunt._ + [_An alarum within._ + + _Re-enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ ABDELMELECH, _with their Soldiers._ + +_Abdelm._ They fly, they fly; take breath and charge again. + +_Almanz._ Make good your entrance, and bring up more men. +I feared, brave friend, my aid had been too late. + +_Abdelm._ You drew us from the jaws of certain fate. +At my approach, +The gate was open, and the draw-bridge down; +But, when they saw I stood, and came not on, +They charged with fury on my little band, +Who, much o'erpowered, could scarce the shock withstand. + +_Almanz._ Ere night we shall the whole Albayzyn gain. +But see, the Spaniards march along the plain +To its relief; you, Abdelmelech, go, +And force the rest, while I repulse the foe. [_Exit_ ALMANZOR. + + _Enter_ ABDALLA, _and some few Soldiers, who seem fearful._ + +_Abdal._ Turn cowards, turn! there is no hope in flight; +You yet may live, if you but dare to fight. +Come, you brave few, who only fear to fly, +We're not enough to conquer, but to die. + +_Abdelm._ No, prince, that mean advantage I refuse; +'Tis in your power a nobler fate to choose. +Since we are rivals, honour does command +We should not die, but by each other's hand. +Retire; and, if it prove my destiny [_To his men._ +To fall, I charge you let the prince go free. + [_The Soldiers depart on both sides._ + +_Abdal._ O, Abdelmelech, that I knew some way +This debt of honour, which I owe, to pay! +But fate has left this only means for me, +To die, and leave you Lyndaraxa free. + +_Abdelm._ He, who is vanquished and is slain, is blest; +The wretched conqueror can ne'er have rest; +But is reserved a harder fate to prove. +Bound in the fetters of dissembled love. + +_Abdal._ Now thou art base, and I deserve her more; +Without complaint I will to death adore. +Dar'st thou see faults, and yet dost love pretend? +I will even Lyndaraxa's crimes defend. + +_Abdelm._ Maintain her cause, then, better than thy own,-- +Than thy ill got, and worse defended throne. + [_They fight,_ ABDALLA _falls._ + +_Abdelm._ Now ask your life. + +_Abdal._ 'Tis gone; that busy thing, +The soul, is packing up, and just on wing, +Like parting swallows, when they seek the spring: +Like them, at its appointed time, it goes, +And flies to countries more unknown than those. + + _Enter_ LYNDARAXA _hastily, sees them, and is going out again._ + ABDELMELECH _stops her._ + +_Abdelm._ No, you shall stay, and see a sacrifice, +Not offered by my sword, but by your eyes. +From those he first ambitious poison drew, +And swelled to empire from the love of you. +Accursed fair! +Thy comet-blaze portends a prince's fate; +And suffering subjects groan beneath thy weight. + +_Abdal._ Cease, rival, cease! +I would have forced you, but it wonnot be; +I beg you now, upbraid her not for me. +You, fairest, to my memory be kind! [_To_ LYNDAR. +Lovers like me your sex will seldom find. +When I usurped a crown for love of you, +I then did more, than, dying, now I do. +I'm still the same as when my love begun; +And, could I now this fate foresee or shun, +Would yet do all I have already done. [_Dies._ + [_She puts her handkerchief to her eyes._ + +_Abdelm._ Weep on, weep on, for it becomes you now; +These tears you to that love may well allow. +His unrepenting soul, if it could move +Upward in crimes, flew spotted with your love; +And brought contagion to the blessed above. + +_Lyndar._ He's gone, and peace go with a constant mind! +His love deserved I should have been more kind; +But then your love and greater worth I knew: +I was unjust to him, but just to you. + +_Abdelm._ I was his enemy, and rival too, +Yet I some tears to his misfortune owe: +You owe him more; weep then, and join with me: +So much is due even to humanity. + +_Lyndar._ Weep for this wretch, whose memory I hate! +Whose folly made us both unfortunate! +Weep for this fool, who did my laughter move! +This whining, tedious, heavy lump of love! + +_Abdelm._ Had fortune favoured him, and frowned on me, +I then had been that heavy fool, not he: +Just this had been my funeral elegy. +Thy arts and falsehood I before did know, +But this last baseness was concealed till now; +And 'twas no more than needful to be known; +I could be cured by such an act alone. +My love, half blasted, yet in time would shoot; +But this last tempest rends it to the root. + +_Lyndar._ These little piques, which now your anger move, +Will vanish, and are only signs of love. +You've been too fierce; and, at some other time, +I should not with such ease forgive your crime: +But, in a day of public joy like this, +I pardon, and forget whate'er's amiss. + +_Abdelm._ These arts have oft prevailed, but must no more: +The spell is ended, and the enchantment o'er. +You have at last destroyed, with much ado, +That love, which none could have destroyed, but you. +My love was blind to your deluding art; +But blind men feel, when stabbed so near the heart. + +_Lyndar._ I must confess there was some pity due; +But I concealed it out of love to you. + +_Abdelm._ No, Lyndaraxa; 'tis at last too late: +Our loves have mingled with too much of fate. +I would, but cannot now, myself deceive: +O that you still could cheat, and I believe! + +_Lyndar._ Do not so light a quarrel long pursue: +You grieve your rival was less loved than you. +'Tis hard, when men of kindness must complain! + +_Abdelm._ I'm now awake, and cannot dream again. + +_Lyndar._ Yet hear-- + +_Abdelm._ No more; nothing my heart can bend: +That queen, you scorned, you shall this night attend. +Your life the king has pardoned for my sake; +But on your pride I some revenge must take. +See now the effects of what your arts designed! +Thank your inconstant and ambitious mind. +'Tis just that she, who to no love is true, +Should be forsaken, and contemned, like you. + +_Lyndar._ All arts of injured women I will try: +First I will be revenged; and then I'll die. +But like some falling tower, +Whose seeming firmness does the sight beguile, +So hold I up my nodding head a while, +Till they come under; and reserve my fall, +That with my ruins I may reach them all, + +_Abdelm._ Conduct her hence. [_Exit_ LYNDAR. _guarded._ + + _Enter a Soldier._ + +_Sold._ Almanzor is victorious without fight; +The foes retreated when he came in sight. +Under the walls, this night, his men are drawn, +And mean to seek the Spaniard with the dawn. + +_Abdelm._ The sun's declined: +Command the watch be set without delay, +And in the fort let bold Benducar stay.-- [_Exit Sold._ +I'll haste to court, where solitude I'll fly, +And herd, like wounded deer, in company. +But oh, how hard a passion to remove, +When I must shun myself, to 'scape from love! [_Exit._ + + +SCENE III.--_A Gallery in the Alhambra._ + + ZULEMA, HAMET. + +_Hamet._ I thought your passion for the queen was dead, +Or that your love had, with your hopes, been fled. + +_Zul._ 'Twas like a fire within a furnace pent: +I smothered it, and kept it long from vent; +But, fed with looks, and blown with sighs so fast, +It broke a passage through my lips at last. + +_Hamet._ Where found you confidence your suit to move? +Our broken fortunes are not fit to love. +Well; you declared your love:--What followed then? + +_Zul._ She looked as judges do on guilty men, +When big with fate they triumph in their dooms, +And smile before the deadly sentence comes. +Silent I stood, as I were thunder-struck; +Condemned and executed with a look. + +_Hamet._ You must, with haste, some remedy prepare: +Now you are in, you must break through the snare. + +_Zul._ She said, she would my folly yet conceal; +But vowed my next attempt she would reveal. + +_Hamet._ 'Tis dark; and in this lonely gallery, +Remote from noise, and shunning every eye, +One hour each evening she in private mourns, +And prays, and to the circle then returns. + +_Zul._ These lighted tapers show the time is nigh. +Perhaps my courtship will not be in vain: +At least, few women will of force complain. + + _At the other end of the Gallery, enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ ESPERANZA. + +_Hamet._ Almanzor, and with him +The favourite slave of the sultana queen. + +_Zul._ Ere they approach, let us retire unseen, +And watch our time when they return again: +Then force shall give, if favour does deny; +And, that once done, we'll to the Spaniards fly. + [_Exeunt_ ZUL. _and_ HAMET. + +_Almanz._ Now stand; the apartment of the queen is near; +And, from this place, your voice will reach her ear. + [ESPERANZA _goes out._ + + SONG, IN TWO PARTS. + + I. + + He. _How unhappy a lover am I, + While I sigh for my Phillis in vain; + All my hopes of delight + Are another man's right, + Who is happy, while I am in pain!_ + + II. + + She. _Since her honour allows no relief, + But to pity the pains which you bear, + 'Tis the best of your fate + In a hopeless estate, + To give o'er, and betimes to despair._ + + III. + + He. _I have tried the false med'cine in vain; + For I wish what I hope not to win: + From without, my desire + Has no food to its fire; + But it burns and consumes me within._ + + IV. + + She. _Yet, at least, 'tis a pleasure to know + That you are not unhappy alone: + For the nymph you adore + Is as wretched, and more; + And counts all your sufferings her own._ + + V. + + He. _O ye gods, let me suffer for both; + At the feet of my Phyllis I'll lie: + I'll resign up my breath, + And take pleasure in death + To be pitied by her when I die._ + + VI. + + She. _What her honour denied you in life, + In her death she will give to your love. + Such flame as is true + After fate will renew, + For the souls to meet closer above._ + + _Enter_ ESPERANZA _again, after the Song._ + +_Almanz._ Accept this diamond, till I can present +Something more worthy my acknowledgement. +And now farewell: I will attend, alone, +Her coming forth; and make my sufferings known. [_Exit_ ESPERANZA. +A hollow wind comes whistling through that door, +And a cold shivering seizes me all o'er; +My teeth, too, chatter with a sudden fright:-- +These are the raptures of too fierce delight, +The combat of the tyrants, hope and fear; +Which hearts, for want of field-room, cannot bear. +I grow impatient;--this, or that's the room:-- +I'll meet her;--now methinks, I her her come. + [_He goes to the door; the Ghost of his Mother + meets him: He starts back: The Ghost stands + in the door._ +Well may'st thou make thy boast, whate'er thou art! +Thou art the first e'er made Almanzor start. +My legs +Shall bear me to thee in their own despite: +I'll rush into the covert of thy night, +And pull thee backward, by the shroud, to light; +Or else I'll squeeze thee, like a bladder, there, +And make thee groan thyself away to air. [_The Ghost retires._ +So, thou art gone! Thou canst no conquest boast: +I thought what was the courage of a ghost.-- +The grudging of my ague yet remains; +My blood, like icicles, hangs in my veins, +And does not drop:--Be master of that door, +We two will not disturb each other more. +I erred a little, but extremes may join; +That door was hell's, but this is heaven's and mine. + [_Goes to the other door, and is met again by the Ghost._ +Again! by heaven, I do conjure thee, speak! +What art thou, spirit? and what dost thou seek? + [_The Ghost comes on softly after the conjuration; + and_ ALMANZOR _retires to the middle of the + stage._ + +_Ghost._ I am the ghost of her who gave thee birth; +The airy shadow of her mouldering earth. +Love of thy father me through seas did guide; +On seas I bore thee, and on seas I died. +I died; and for my winding sheet a wave +I had, and all the ocean for my grave. +But, when my soul to bliss did upward move, +I wandered round the crystal walls above; +But found the eternal fence so steeply high, +That, when I mounted to the middle sky, +I flagged, and fluttered down, and could not fly. +Then, from the battlements of the heavenly tower, +A watchman angel bid me wait this hour; +And told me, I had yet a task assigned, +To warn that little pledge I left behind; +And to divert him, ere it were too late, +From crimes unknown, and errors of his fate. + +_Almanz._ Speak, holy shade; thou parent-form, speak on! [_Bowing._ +Instruct thy mortal-elemented son; +For here I wander, to myself unknown. +But O, thou better part of heavenly air, +Teach me, kind spirit, since I'm still thy care, +My parents' names: +If I have yet a father, let me know +To whose old age my humble youth must bow, +And pay its duty, if he mortal be, +Or adoration, if a mind, like thee. + +_Ghost._ Then, what I may, I'll tell.-- +From ancient blood thy father's lineage springs, +Thy mother's thou deriv'st from stems of kings. +A Christian born, and born again that day, +When sacred water washed thy sins away. +Yet, bred in errors, thou dost misemploy +That strength heaven gave thee, and its flock destroy. + +_Almanz._ By reason, man a godhead may discern, +But how he should be worshipped cannot learn. + +_Ghost._ Heaven does not now thy ignorance reprove, +But warns thee from known crimes of lawless love. +That crime thou knowest, and, knowing, dost not shun, +Shall an unknown and greater crime pull on: +But if, thus warned, thou leav'st this cursed place, +Then shalt thou know the author of thy race. +Once more I'll see thee; then my charge is done. +Far hence, upon the mountains of the moon, +Is my abode; where heaven and nature smile, +And strew with flowers the secret bed of Nile. +Blessed souls are there refined, and made more bright, +And, in the shades of heaven, prepared for light. [_Exit Ghost._ + +_Almanz._ O heaven, how dark a riddle's thy decree, +Which bounds our wills, yet seems to leave them free! +Since thy fore-knowledge cannot be in vain, +Our choice must be what thou didst first ordain. +Thus, like a captive in an isle confined, +Man walks at large, a prisoner of the mind: +Wills all his crimes, while heaven the indictment draws, +And, pleading guilty, justifies the laws. +Let fate be fate; the lover and the brave +Are ranked, at least, above the vulgar slave. +Love makes me willing to my death to run; +And courage scorns the death it cannot shun. + + _Enter_ ALMAHIDE _with a taper._ + +_Almah._ My light will sure discover those who talk.-- +Who dares to interrupt my private walk? + +_Almanz._ He, who dares love, and for that love must die, +And, knowing this, dares yet love on, am I. + +_Almah._ That love which you can hope, and I can pay, +May be received and given in open day: +My praise and my esteem you had before; +And you have bound yourself to ask no more. + +_Almanz._ Yes, I have bound myself; but will you take +The forfeit of that bond, which force did make? + +_Almah._ You know you are from recompence debarred; +But purest love can live without reward. + +_Almanz._ Pure love had need be to itself a feast; +For, like pure elements, 'twill nourish least. + +_Almah._ It therefore yields the only pure content; +For it, like angels, needs no nourishment. +To eat and drink can no perfection be; +All appetite implies necessity. + +_Almanz._ 'Twere well, if I could like a spirit live; +But, do not angels food to mortals give? +What if some demon should my death foreshow, +Or bid me change, and to the Christians go; +Will you not think I merit some reward, +When I my love above my life regard? + +_Almah._ In such a case your change must be allowed: +I would myself dispense with what you vowed. + +_Almanz._ Were I to die that hour when I possess, +This minute shall begin my happiness. + +_Almah._ The thoughts of death your passion would remove; +Death is a cold encouragement to love. + +_Almanz._ No; from my joys I to my death would run, +And think the business of my life well done: +But I should walk a discontented ghost, +If flesh and blood were to no purpose lost. + +_Almah._ You love me not, Almanzor; if you did, +You would not ask what honour must forbid. + +_Almanz._ And what is honour, but a love well hid? + +_Almah._ Yes, 'tis the conscience of an act well done, +Which gives us power our own desires to shun; +The strong and secret curb of headlong will; +The self-reward of good, and shame of ill. + +_Almanz._ These, madam, are the maxims of the day, +When honour's present, and when love's away. +The duty of poor honour were too hard, +In arms all day, at night to mount the guard. +Let him, in pity, now to rest retire; +Let these soft hours be watched by warm desire. + +_Almah._ Guards, who all day on painful duty keep, +In dangers are not privileged to sleep. + +_Almanz._ And with what dangers are you threatened here? +Am I, alas! a foe for you to fear? +See, madam, at your feet this enemy; [_Kneels._ +Without your pity and your love I die. + +_Almah._ Rise, rise, and do not empty hopes pursue; +Yet think that I deny myself, not you. + +_Almanz._ A happiness so high I cannot bear: +My love's too fierce, and you too killing fair. +I grow enraged to see such excellence!-- +If words, so much disordered, give offence, +My love's too full of zeal to think of sense. +Be you like me; dull reason hence remove, +And tedious forms, and give a loose to love. +Love eagerly; let us be gods to-night; +And do not, with half yielding, clash delight. + +_Almah._ Thou strong seducer, opportunity! +Of womankind, half are undone by thee! +Though I resolve I will not be misled, +I wish I had not heard what you have said! +I cannot be so wicked to comply; +And, yet, am most unhappy to deny! +Away! + +_Almanz._ I will not move me from this place: +I can take no denial from that face! + +_Almah._ If I could yield,--but think not that I will,-- +You and myself I in revenge should kill; +For I should hate us both, when it were done, +And would not to the shame of life be won. + +_Almanz._ Live but to-night, and trust to-morrow's mind: +Ere that can come, there's a whole life behind. +Methinks, already crowned with joys I lie, +Speechless and breathless, in an ecstasy! +Not absent in one thought: I am all there: +Still close, yet wishing still to be more near. + +_Almah._ Deny your own desires; for it will be +Too little now to be denied by me. +Will he, who does all great, all noble seem, +Be lost and forfeit to his own esteem? +Will he, who may with heroes claim a place, +Belie that fame, and to himself be base? +Think how august and godlike you did look, +When my defence, unbribed, you undertook; +But, when an act so brave you disavow, +How little, and how mercenary now! + +_Almanz._ Are, then, my services no higher prized? +And can I fall so low, to be despised? + +_Almah._ Yes; for whatever may be bought, is low; +And you yourself, who sell yourself, are so. +Remember the great act you did this day: +How did your love to virtue then give way! +When you gave freedom to my captive lord,-- +That rival who possessed what you adored,-- +Of such a deed what price can there be made? +Think well; is that an action to be paid? +It was a miracle of virtue shown; +And wonders are with wonder paid alone. +And would you all that secret joy of mind, +Which great souls only in great actions find, +All that, for one tumultuous minute lose? + +_Almanz_, I would that minute before ages chuse. +Praise is the pay of heaven for doing good; +But love's the best return for flesh and blood. + +_Almah._ You've moved my heart so much, I can deny +No move; but know, Almanzor, I can die. +Thus far my virtue yields; if I have shown +More love than what I ought, let this atone. [_Going to stab herself._ + +_Almanz._ Hold, hold! +Such fatal proofs of love you shall not give: +Deny me; hate me; both are just,--but live! +Your virtue I will ne'er disturb again; +Nor dare to ask, for fear I should obtain. + +_Almah._ 'Tis generous to have conquered your desire; +You mount above your wish, and lose it higher. +There's pride in virtue, and a kindly heat; +Not feverish, like your love, but full as great. +Farewell; and may our loves hereafter be +But image-like, to heighten piety. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis time I should be gone.-- +Alas! I am but half converted yet; +All I resolve, I with one look forget; +And, like a lion, whom no arts can tame, +Shall tear even those, who would my rage reclaim. [_Exeunt severally._ + [ZULEMA _and_ HAMET _watch_ ALMANZOR; _and + when he is gone, go in after the Queen._ + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH _and_ LYNDARAXA. + +_Lyndar._ It is enough, you've brought me to this place: +Here stop, and urge no further my disgrace. +Kill me; in death your mercy will be seen, +But make me not a captive to the queen. + +_Abdelm._ 'Tis therefore I this punishment provide: +This only can revenge me on your pride. +Prepare to suffer what you shun in vain; +And know, you now are to obey, not reign. + + _Enter_ ALMAHIDE _shrieking; her hair loose; she runs over the + stage._ + +_Almah._ Help, help, O heaven, some help! + + _Enter_ ZULEMA _and_ HAMET. + +_Zul._ Make haste before, +And intercept her passage to the door. + +_Abdelm._ Villains, what act are you attempting here! + +_Almah._ I thank thee, heaven! some succour does appear. + [_As_ ABDELMELECH _is going to help the Queen,_ + LYNDARAXA _pulls out his sword, and holds it._ + +_Abdelm._ With what ill fate my good design is curst! + +_Zul._ We have no time to think; dispatch him first. + +_Abdelm._ O for a sword! [_They make at_ ABDELMELECH; _he goes off at + one door, while the Queen escapes at the + other._ + +_Zul._ Ruined! + +_Hamet._ Undone! + +_Lyndar._ And, which is worst of all, +He is escaped. + +_Zul._ I hear them loudly call. + +_Lyndar._ Your fear will lose you; call as loud as they: +I have not time to teach you what to say. +The court will in a moment all be here; +But second what I say, and do not fear. +Call help; run that way; leave the rest to me. + [ZUL. _and_ HAMET _retire, and within cry,_--Help! + + _Enter, at several doors, the King_, ABENAMAR, SELIN, OZMYN, + ALMANZOR, _with Guards attending_ BOABDELIN. + +_Boab._ What can the cause of all this tumult be? +And what the meaning of that naked sword? + +_Lyndar._ I'll tell, when fear will so much breath afford.-- +The queen and Abdelmelech--'Twill not out-- +Even I, who saw it, of the truth yet doubt, +It seems so strange. + +_Almanz._ Did she not name the queen? +Haste; speak. + +_Lyndar._ How dare I speak what I have seen?-- +With Hamet, and with Zulema I went, +To pay both theirs, and my acknowledgment +To Almahide, and by her mouth implore +Your clemency, our fortunes to restore. +We chose this hour, which we believed most free, +When she retired from noise and company. +The ante-chamber past, we gently knocked, +Unheard it seems, but found the lodgings locked, +In duteous silence while we waited there, +We first a noise, and then long whispers hear; +Yet thought it was the queen at prayers alone, +Till she distinctly said,--If this were known, +My love, what shame, what danger would ensue! +Yet I,--and sighed,--could venture more for you! + +_Boab._ O heaven, what do I hear! + +_Almanz._ Let her go on. + +_Lyndar._ And how,--then murmured in a bigger tone +Another voice,--and how should it be known? +This hour is from your court attendants free; +The king suspects Almanzor, but not me. + +_Zul._ I find her drift; Hamet, be confident; [_At the door._ +Second her words, and fear not the event. + + ZULEMA _and_ HAMET _enter. The King embraces them._ + +_Boab._ Welcome, my only friends;--behold in me, +O kings, behold the effects of clemency! +See here the gratitude of pardoned foes! +That life, I gave them, they for me expose! + +_Hamet._ Though Abdelmelech was our friend before, +When duty called us, he was so no more. + +_Almanz._ Damn your delay!--you torturers, proceed! +I will not hear one word but Almahide. + +_Boab._ When you, within, the traitor's voice did hear, +What did you then? + +_Zul._ I durst not trust my ear; +But, peeping through the key-hole, I espied +The queen, and Abdelmelech by her side; +She on the couch, he on her bosom lay; +Her hand about his neck his head did stay, +And from his forehead wiped the drops away. + +_Boab._ Go on, go on, my friends, to clear my doubt; +I hope I shall have life to hear you out. + +_Zul_ What had been, sir, you may suspect too well; +What followed, modesty forbids to tell: +Seeing what we had thought beyond belief, +Our hearts so swelled with anger and with grief, +That, by plain force, we strove the door to break. +He, fearful, and with guilt, or love, grown weak, +Just as we entered, 'scaped the other way; +Nor did the amazed queen behind him stay. + +_Lyndar._ His sword, in so much haste, he could not mind; +But left this witness of his crime behind. + +_Boab._ O proud, ungrateful, faithless womankind! +How changed, and what a monster am I made! +My love, my honour, ruined and betrayed! + +_Almanz._ Your love and honour! mine are ruined worse:-- +Furies and hell!--What right have you to curse? +Dull husband as you are, +What can your love, or what your honour, be? +I am her lover, and she's false to me. + +_Boab._ Go; when the authors of my shame are found, +Let them be taken instantly and bound: +They shall be punished as our laws require: +'Tis just, that flames should be condemned to fire. +This, with the dawn of morning shall be done. + +_Aben._ You haste too much her execution. +Her condemnation ought to be deferred; +With justice, none can be condemned unheard. + +_Boab._ A formal process tedious is, and long; +Besides, the evidence is full and strong. + +_Lyndar._ The law demands two witnesses; and she +Is cast, for which heaven knows I grieve, by three. + +_Ozm._ Hold, sir! since you so far insist on law, +We can from thence one just advantage draw: +That law, which dooms adultresses to die, +Gives champions, too, to slandered chastity. + +_Almanz._ And how dare you, who from my bounty live, +Intrench upon my love's prerogative? +Your courage in your own concernments try; +Brothers are things remote, while I am by. + +_Ozm._ I knew not you thus far her cause would own, +And must not suffer you to fight alone: +Let two to two in equal combat join; +You vindicate her person, I her line. + +_Lyndar._ Of all mankind, Almanzor has least right +In her defence, who wrong'd his love, to fight. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis false: she is not ill, nor can she be; +She must be chaste, because she's loved by me. + +_Zul._ Dare you, what sense and reason prove, deny? + +_Almanz._ When she's in question, sense and reason lie. + +_Zul._ For truth, and for my injured sovereign, +What I have said, I will to death maintain. + +_Ozm._ So foul a falsehood, whoe'er justifies, +Is basely born, and, like a villain, lies. +In witness of that truth, be this my gage. + [_Takes a ring from his finger._ + +_Hamet._ I take it; and despise a traitor's rage. + +_Boab._ The combat's yours.--A guard the lists surround; +Then raise a scaffold in the encompassed ground, +And, by it, piles of wood; in whose just fire, +Her champions slain, the adultress shall expire. + +_Aben._ We ask no favour, but what arms will yield. + +_Boab._ Choose, then, two equal judges of the field: +Next morning shall decide the doubtful strife, +Condemn the unchaste, or quit the virtuous wife. + +_Almanz._ But I am both ways cursed: +For Almahide must die, if I am slain; +Or for my rival I the conquest gain. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT V. SCENE I. + + ALMANZOR _solus._ + +I have outfac'd myself; and justified, +What I knew false, to all the world beside. +She was as faithless as her sex could be; +And, now I am alone, she's so to me. +She's fallen! and, now, where shall we virtue find? +She was the last that stood of womankind. +Could she so holily my flames remove, +And fall that hour to Abdelmelech's love? +Yet her protection I must undertake; +Not now for love, but for my honour's sake, +That moved me first, and must oblige me still: +My cause is good, however her's be ill. +I'll leave her, when she's freed; and let it be +Her punishment, she could be false to me. + + _To him_ ABDELMELECH, _guarded._ + +_Abdelm._ Heaven is not heaven, nor are there deities +There is some new rebellion in the skies. +All that was good and holy is dethroned, +And lust and rapine are for justice owned. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis true; what justice in that heaven can be, +Which thus affronts me with the sight of thee? +Why must I be from just revenge debarred? +Chains are thy arms, and prisons are thy guard: +The death, thou diest, may to a husband be +A satisfaction; but 'tis none to me. +My love would justice to itself afford; +But now thou creep'st to death below my sword. + +_Abdelm._ This threatening would show better were I free. + +_Almanz._ No; wert thou freed, I would not threaten thee; +This arm should then--but now it is too late! +I could redeem thee to a nobler fate. +As some huge rock, +Rent from its quarry, does the waves divide, +So I +Would souse upon thy guards, and dash them wide: +Then, to my rage left naked and alone, +Thy too much freedom thou should'st soon bemoan: +Dared like a lark, that, on the open plain +Pursued and cuffed, seeks shelter now in vain; +So on the ground wouldst thou expecting lie, +Not daring to afford me victory. +But yet thy fate's not ripe; it is decreed, +Before thou diest, that Almahide be freed. +My honour first her danger must remove, +And then revenge on thee my injured love. [_Exeunt severally._ + + +SCENE II. + + _The_ SCENE _changes to the Vivarambla, and appears + filled with Spectators; a Scaffold hung with black._ + + _Enter the_ QUEEN _guarded, with_ ESPERANZA. + +_Almah._ See how the gazing people crowd the place, +All gaping to be filled with my disgrace. [_A shout within._ +That shout, like the hoarse peals of vultures, rings, +When over fighting fields they beat their wings.-- +Let never woman trust in innocence, +Or think her chastity its own defence; +Mine has betrayed me to this public shame, +And virtue, which I served, is but a name. + +_Esper._ Leave then that shadow, and for succour fly +To Him we serve, the Christian's Deity. +Virtue's no god, nor has she power divine: +But He protects it, who did first enjoin. +Trust then in Him; and from his grace implore +Faith to believe, what rightly we adore. + +_Almah._ Thou Power unknown, if I have erred, forgive! +My infancy was taught what I believe. +But if the Christians truly worship thee, +Let me thy Godhead in thy succour see: +So shall thy justice in my safety shine, +And all my days, which thou shalt add, be thine! + + _Enter the_ KING, ABENAMAR, LYNDARAXA, BENZAYDA: _then_ ABDELMELECH + _guarded; and after him_ SELIN _and_ ALABEZ, _as Judges of the + Field._ + +_Boab._ You, judges of the field, first take your place.-- +The accusers and accused bring face to face. +Set guards, and let the lists be opened wide; +And may just heaven assist the juster side! + +_Almah._ What! not one tender look, one passing word? +Farewell, my much unkind, but still loved lord! +Your throne was for my humble fate too high, +And therefore heaven thinks fit that I should die. +My story be forgot, when I am dead, +Lest it should fright some other from your bed; +And, to forget me, may you soon adore +Some happier maid,--yet none could love you more. +But may you never think me innocent, +Lest it should cause you trouble to repent. + +_Boab._ 'Tis pity so much beauty should not live; [_Aside._ +Yet I too much am injured, to forgive. [_Goes to his seat._ + + _Trumpets: Then enter two Moors, bearing two naked swords before the + accusers_ ZULEMA _and_ HAMET, _who follow them. The Judges seat + themselves; the_ QUEEN _and_ ABDELMELECH _are led to the Scaffold._ + +_Alabez._ Say for what end you thus in arms appear; +What are your names, and what demand you here? + +_Zul._ The Zegrys' ancient race our lineage claims; +And Zulema and Hamet are our names. +Like loyal subjects in these lists we stand, +And justice in our king's behalf demand. + +_Hamet._ For whom, in witness of what both have seen, +Bound by our duty, we appeach the queen +And Abdelmelech, of adultery. + +_Zul._ Which, like true knights, we will maintain, or die. + +_Alabez._ Swear on the Alcoran your cause is right, +And Mahomet so prosper you in fight. + [_They touch their foreheads with the Alcoran, + and bow._ + + _Trumpets on the other side of the Stage; two Moors, as before, with + bare swords before_ ALMANZOR _and_ OZMYN. + +_Selin._ Say for what end you thus in arms appear; +What are your names, and what demand you here? + +_Almanz._ Ozmyn is his, Almanzor is my name; +We come as champions of the queen's fair fame. + +_Ozm._ To prove these Zegrys, like false traitors, lie; +Which, like true knights, we will maintain, or die. + +_Selin._ [_to_ ALMAH.] +Madam, do you for champions take these two, +By their success to live or die? + +_Almah._ I do. + +_Selin._ Swear on the Alcoran your cause is right; +And Mahomet so prosper you in fight. [_They kiss the Alcoran._ + [OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA _embrace, and take leave + in dumb show; while_ LYNDARAXA _speaks to her + Brother._ + +_Lyndar._ If you o'ercome, let neither of them live, +But use with care the advantages I give: +One of their swords in fight shall useless be; +The bearer of it is suborned by me. [_She and_ BENZAYDA _retire._ + +_Alabez._ Now, principals and seconds, all advance, +And each of you assist his fellow's chance. + +_Selin._ The wind and sun we equally divide, +So let the event of arms the truth decide. +The chances of the fight, and every wound, +The trumpets, on the victor's part, resound. + [_The Trumpets sound;_ ALMANZOR _and_ ZULEMA + _meet and fight;_ OZMYN _and_ HAMET. _After + some passes, the sword of_ OZMYN _breaks; + he retires, defending himself, and is + wounded; the Zegrys' Trumpets sound their + advantage._ ALMANZOR, _in the mean time, + drives_ ZULEMA _to the farther end of the + Stage, till, hearing the Trumpets of the + adverse Party, he looks back, and sees_ + OZMYN'S _misfortune; he makes at_ ZULEMA + _just as_ OZMYN _falls, in retiring, and_ + HAMET _is thrusting at him._ + +_Hamet._ [_to_ OZMYN, _thrusting._] +Our difference now shall soon determined be. + +_Almanz._ Hold, traitor, and defend thyself from me. + [HAMET _leaves_ OZMYN _(who cannot rise), and both + he and_ ZULEMA _fall on_ ALMANZOR, _and press + him; he retires, and_ HAMET, _advancing first, is + run through the body, and falls. The Queen's + Trumpets sound._ ALMANZOR _pursues_ ZULEMA. + +_Lyndar._ I must make haste some remedy to find:-- +Treason, Almanzor, treason! look behind. + [ALMANZOR _looks behind him to see who calls, and_ + ZULEMA _takes the advantage, and wounds him; the + Zegrys' Trumpets sound;_ ALMANZOR _turns upon_ + ZULEMA, _and wounds him; he falls. The Queens + Trumpets sound._ + +_Almanz._ Now triumph in thy sister's treachery. [_Stabbing him._ + +_Zul._ Hold, hold! I have enough to make me die, +But, that I may in peace resign my breath, +I must confess my crime before my death. +Mine is the guilt; the queen is innocent: +I loved her, and, to compass my intent, +Used force, which Abdelmelech did prevent. +The lie my sister forged; but, O! my fate +Comes on too soon, and I repent too late. +Fair queen, forgive; and let my penitence +Expiate some part of-- [_Dies._ + +_Almah._ Even thy whole offence! + +_Almanz._ [_to the Judges._] +If aught remains in the sultana's cause, +I here am ready to fulfil the laws. + +_Selin._ The law is fully satisfied, and we +Pronounce the queen and Abdelmelech free. + +_Abdelm._ Heaven, thou art just! + [_The Judges rise from their seats, and go before_ + ALMANZOR _to the Queens Scaffold; he unbinds_ + _the Queen and_ ABDELMELECH; _they all go off, + the People shouting, and the Trumpets sounding + the while._ + +_Boab._ Before we pay our thanks, or show our joy, +Let us our needful charity employ. +Some skilful surgeon speedily be found, +To apply fit remedies to Ozmyn's wound. + +_Benz._ [_running to OZM._] +That be my charge: my linen I will tear; +Wash it with tears, and bind it with my hair. + +_Ozm._ With how much pleasure I my pains endure, +And bless the wound which causes such a cure! + [_Exit_ OZM. _led by_ BENZ. _and_ ABEN. + +_Boab._ Some from the place of combat bear the slain.-- +Next Lyndaraxa's death I should ordain: +But let her, who this mischief did contrive, +For ever banished from Granada live. + +_Lyndar._ Thou shouldst have punished more, or not at all: +By her thou hast not ruined, thou shalt fall. +The Zegrys shall revenge their branded line, +Betray their gate, and with the Christians join. [_Aside._ + [_Exit_ LYNDARAXA _with_ ALABEZ; _the bodies of + her Brothers are borne after her._ + + ALMANZOR, ALMAHIDE, _and_ ESPERANZA, _re-enter to the King._ + +_Almah._ The thanks thus paid, which first to heaven were due, +My next, Almanzor, let me pay to you: +Somewhat there is of more concernment too, +Which 'tis not fit you should in public know. +First let your wounds be dressed with speedy care, +And then you shall the important secret share. + +_Almanz._ Whene'er you speak, +Were my wounds mortal, they should still bleed on; +And I would listen till my life were gone: +My soul should even for your last accent stay, +And then shout out, and with such speed obey, +It should not bait at heaven to stop its way. [_Exit_ ALMANZ. + +_Boab._ 'Tis true, Almanzor did her honour save, +But yet what private business can they have? +Such freedom virtue will not sure allow; +I cannot clear my heart, but must my brow. [_Aside._ + [_He approaches_ ALMAHIDE. +Welcome again, my virtuous, loyal wife; +Welcome to love, to honour, and to life! + [_Goes to salute her, she starts back._ +You seem +As if you from a loathed embrace did go! + +_Almah._ Then briefly will I speak, since you must know +What to the world my future acts will show: +But hear me first, and then my reasons weigh. +'Tis known, how duty led me to obey +My father's choice; and how I since did live, +You, sir, can best your testimony give. +How to your aid I have Almanzor brought, +When by rebellious crowds your life was sought; +Then, how I bore your causeless jealousy, +(For I must speak) and after set you free, +When you were prisoner in the chance of war: +These, sure, are proofs of love. + +_Boab._ I grant they are. + +_Almah._ And could you then, O cruelly unkind! +So ill reward such tenderness of mind? +Could you, denying what our laws afford +The meanest subject, on a traitor's word, +Unheard, condemn, and suffer me to go +To death, and yet no common pity show! + +_Boab._ Love filled my heart even to the brim before; +And then, with too much jealousy, boiled o'er. + +_Almah._ Be't love or jealousy, 'tis such a crime, +That I'm forewarned to trust a second time. +Know, then, my prayers to heaven shall never cease, +To crown your arms in war, your wars with peace; +But from this day I will not know your bed: +Though Almahide still lives, your wife is dead; +And with her dies a love so pure and true, +It could be killed by nothing but by you. [_Exit_ ALMAH. + +_Boab._ Yes; you will spend your life in prayers for me, +And yet this hour my hated rival see. +She might a husband's jealousy forgive; +But she will only for Almanzor live. +It is resolved; I will myself provide +That vengeance, which my useless laws denied; +And, by Almanzor's death, at once remove +The rival of my empire, and my love. [_Exit_ BOAB. + + _Enter_ ALMAHIDE, _led by_ ALMANZOR, _and followed by_ ESPERANZA; + _she speaks, entering._ + +_Almah._ How much, Almanzor, to your aid I owe, +Unable to repay, I blush to know; +Yet, forced by need, ere I can clear that score, +I, like ill debtors, come to borrow more. + +_Almanz._ Your new commands I on my knees attend: +I was created for no other end. +Born to be yours, I do by nature serve, +And, like the labouring beast, no thanks deserve. + +_Almah._ Yet first your virtue to your succour call, +For in this hard command you'll need it all. + +_Almanz._ I stand prepared; and whatsoe'er it be, +Nothing is hard to him, who loves like me. + +_Almah._ Then know, I from your love must yet implore +One proof:--that you would never see me more. + +_Almanz._ I must confess, [_Starting back._ +For this last stroke I did no guard provide; +I could suspect no foe was near that side. +From winds and thickening clouds we thunder fear, +None dread it from that quarter which is clear; +And I would fain believe, 'tis but your art +To shew +You knew where deepest you could wound my heart. + +_Almah._ So much respect is to your passion due, +That sure I could not practise arts on you. +But that you may not doubt what I have said, +This hour I have renounced my husband's bed: +Judge, then, how much my fame would injured be, +If, leaving him, I should a lover see. + +_Almanz._ If his unkindness have deserved that curse, +Must I, for loving well, be punished worse? + +_Almah._ Neither your love nor merits I compare, +But my unspotted name must be my care. + +_Almanz._ I have this day established its renown. + +_Almah._ Would you so soon, what you have raised, throw down? + +_Almanz._ But, madam, is not yours a greater guilt, +To ruin him, who has that fabric built? + +_Almah._ No lover should his mistress' prayers withstand, +Yet you contemn my absolute command. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis not contempt, +When your command is issued out too late; +'Tis past my power, and all beyond is fate. +I scarce could leave you, when to exile sent, +Much less when now recalled from banishment; +For if that heat your glances cast were strong, +Your eyes, like glasses, fire, when held so long. + +_Almah._ Then, since you needs will all my weakness know, +I love you; and so well, that you must go. +I am so much obliged, and have withal +A heart so boundless and so prodigal, +I dare not trust myself, or you, to stay, +But, like frank gamesters, must forswear the play. + +_Almanz._ Fate, thou art kind to strike so hard a blow: +I am quite stunned, and past all feeling now. +Yet--can you tell me you have power and will +To save my life, and at that instant kill? + +_Almah._ This, had you staid, you never must have known; +But, now you go, I may with honour own. + +_Almanz._ But, madam, I am forced to disobey: +In your defence my honour bids me stay. +I promised to secure your life and throne, +And, heaven be thanked, that work is yet undone. + +_Almah._ I here make void that promise which you made, +For now I have no farther need of aid. +That vow, which to my plighted lord was given, +I must not break, but may transfer to heaven: +I will with vestals live: +There needs no guard at a religious door; +Few will disturb the praying and the poor. + +_Almanz._ Let me but near that happy temple stay, +And through the grates peep on you once a day; +To famished hope I would no banquet give: +I cannot starve, and wish but just to live. +Thus, as a drowning man +Sinks often, and does still more faintly rise, +With his last hold catching whate'er he spies; +So, fallen from those proud hopes I had before, +Your aid I for a dying wretch implore. + +_Almah._ I cannot your hard destiny withstand, + + BOABDELIN, _and Guards above._ + +But slip, like bending rushes, from your hand. +Sink all at once, since you must sink at last. + +_Almanz._ Can you that last relief of sight remove, +And thrust me out the utmost line of love! +Then, since my hopes of happiness are gone, +Denied all favours, I will seize this one. + [_Catches her hand, and kisses it._ + +_Boab._ My just revenge no longer I'll forbear: +I've seen too much; I need not stay to hear. [_Descends._ + +_Almanz._ As a small shower +To the parched earth does some refreshment give, +So, in the strength of this, one day I'll live: +A day,--a year,--an age,--for ever, now; + [_Betwixt each word he kisses her hand by force; + she struggling._ +I feel from every touch a new soul flow. + [_She snatches her hand away._ +My hoped eternity of joy is past! +'Twas insupportable, and could not last. +Were heaven not made of less, or duller joy, +'Twould break each minute, and itself destroy. + + _Enter King and Guards, below._ + +_Boab._ This, this, is he, for whom thou didst deny +To share my bed:--Let them together die. + +_Almah._ Hear me, my lord. + +_Boab._ Your flattering arts are vain: +Make haste, and execute what I ordain. [_To the Guards._ + +_Almanz._ Cut piece-meal in this cause, +From every wound I should new vigour take, +And every limb should new Almanzors make. + [_He puts himself before the Queen; the Guards + attack him, with the King._ + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH. + +_Abdelm._ What angry god, to exercise his spite, [_To the King._ +Has arm'd your left hand, to cut off your right? + [_The King turns, the fight ceases._ +The foes are entered at the Elvira gate: +False Lyndaraxa has the town betrayed, +And all the Zegrys give the Spaniards aid. + +_Boab._ O mischief, not suspected nor foreseen! + +_Abdelm._ Already they have gained the Zacatin, +And thence the Vivarambla place possest, +While our faint soldiers scarce defend the rest. +The duke of Arcos does one squadron head, +The next by Ferdinand himself is led. + +_Almah._ Now, brave Almanzor, be a god again; +Above our crimes and your own passions reign. +My lord has been by jealousy misled, +To think I was not faithful to his bed. +I can forgive him, though my death he sought, +For too much love can never be a fault. +Protect him, then; and what to his defence +You give not, give to clear my innocence. + +_Almanz._ Listen, sweet heaven, and all ye blessed above, +Take rules of virtue from a mortal love! +You've raised my soul; and if it mount more high, +'Tis as the wren did on the eagle fly. +Yes, I once more will my revenge neglect, +And, whom you can forgive, I can protect. + +_Boab._ How hard a fate is mine, still doomed to shame! +I make occasions for my rival's fame! [_Exeunt. An alarm within._ + + _Enter_ FERDINAND, ISABELLA, _Don_ ALONZO D'AGUILAR; _Spaniards and + Ladies._ + +_K. Ferd._ Already more than half the town is gained, +But there is yet a doubtful fight maintained. + +_Alonz._ The fierce young king the entered does attack, +And the more fierce Almanzor drives them back. + +_K. Ferd._ The valiant Moors like raging lions fight; +Each youth encouraged by his lady's sight. + +_Q. Isabel._ I will advance with such a shining train, +That Moorish beauties shall oppose in vain. +Into the press of clashing swords we'll go, +And, where the darts fly thickest, seek the foe. + +_K. Ferd._ May heaven, which has inspired this generous thought, +Avert those dangers you have boldly sought! +Call up more troops; the women, to our shame, +Will ravish from the men their part of fame. + [_Exeunt_ ISABELLA _and Ladies._ + + _Enter_ ALABEZ, _and kisses the King's hand._ + +_Alabez._ Fair Lyndaraxa, and the Zegry line, +Have led their forces with your troops to join; +The adverse part, which obstinately fought, +Are broke, and Abdelmelech prisoner brought. + +_K. Ferd._ Fair Lyndaraxa, and her friends, shall find +The effects of an obliged and grateful mind. + +_Alabez._ But, marching by the Vivarambla place, +The combat carried a more doubtful face: +In that vast square the Moors and Spaniards met, +Where the fierce conflict is continued yet; +But with advantage on the adverse side, +Whom fierce Almanzor does to conquest guide. + +_K. Ferd._ With my Castilian foot I'll meet his rage; + [_Is going out: Shouts within are heard,_--Victoria! + Victoria! +But these loud clamours better news presage. + + _Enter the_ DUKE OF ARCOS, _and Soldiers; their Swords drawn and + bloody._ + +_D. Arcos._ Granada now is yours; and there remain +No Moors, but such as own the power of Spain. +That squadron, which their king in person led, +We charged, but found Almanzor on their head: +Three several times we did the Moors attack, +And thrice with slaughter did he drive us back: +Our troops then shrunk; and still we lost more ground, +'Till from our queen we needful succour found: +Her guards to our assistance bravely flew, +And with fresh vigour did the fight renew: +At the same time +Did Lyndaraxa with her troops appear, +And, while we charged the front, engaged the rear: +Then fell the king, slain by a Zegry's hand. + +_K. Ferd._ How could he such united force withstand? + +_D. Arcos._ Discouraged with his death, the Moorish powers +Fell back, and, falling back, were pressed by ours; +But as, when winds and rain together crowd, +They swell till they have burst the bladdered cloud; +And first the lightning, flashing deadly clear, +Flies, falls, consumes, kills ere it does appear,-- +So from his shrinking troops, Almanzor flew, +Each blow gave wounds, and with each wound he slew: +His force at once I envied and admired, +And rushing forward, where my men retired, +Advanced alone. + +_K. Ferd._ You hazarded too far +Your person, and the fortune of the war. + +_D. Arcos._ Already both our arms for fight did bare, +Already held them threatening in the air, +When heaven (it must be heaven) my sight did guide +To view his arm, upon whose wrist I spied +A ruby cross in diamond bracelets tied; +And just above it, in the brawnier part, +By nature was engraved a bloody heart: +Struck with these tokens, which so well I knew, +And staggering back some paces, I withdrew: +He followed, and supposed it was my fear; +When, from above, a shrill voice reached his ear:-- +"Strike not thy father!"--it was heard to cry; +Amazed, and casting round his wondrous eye, +He stopped; then, thinking that his fears were vain, +He lifted up his thundering arm again: +Again the voice withheld him from my death; +"Spare, spare his life," it cried, "who gave thee breath!" +Once more he stopped; then threw his sword away; +"Blessed shade," he said, "I hear thee, I obey +Thy sacred voice;" then, in the sight of all, +He at my feet, I on his neck did fall. + +_K. Ferd._ O blessed event! + +_D. Arcos._ The Moors no longer fought; +But all their safety by submission sought: +Mean time my son grew faint with loss of blood, +And on his bending sword supported stood; +Yet, with a voice beyond his strength, he cried, +"Lead me to live or die by Almahide." + +_K. Ferd._ I am not for his wounds less grieved than you: +For, if what now my soul divines prove true, +This is that son, whom in his infancy +You lost, when by my father forced to fly. + +_D. Arcos._ His sister's beauty did my passion move, +(The crime for which I suffered was my love.) +Our marriage known, to sea we took our flight: +There, in a storm, Almanzor first saw light. +On his right arm a bloody heart was graved, +(The mark by which, this day, my life was saved:) +The bracelets and the cross his mother tied +About his wrist, ere she in childbed died. +How we were captives made, when she was dead, +And how Almanzor was in Afric bred, +Some other hour you may at leisure hear, +For see, the queen in triumph does appear. + + _Enter_ QUEEN ISABELLA, LYNDARAXA, _Ladies, Moors and Spaniards + mixed as Guards,_ ABDELMELECH, ABENAMAR, SELIN, _Prisoners._ + +_K. Ferd._ [_embracing Q. Isabel._] +All stories which Granada's conquest tell, +Shall celebrate the name of Isabel. +Your ladies too, who, in their country's cause, +Led on the men, shall share in your applause; +And, for your sakes, henceforward I ordain, +No lady's dower shall questioned be in Spain, +Fair Lyndaraxa, for the help she lent, +Shall, under tribute, have this government. + +_Abdelm._ O heaven, that I should live to see this day! + +_Lyndar._ You murmur now, but you shall soon obey. +I knew this empire to my fate was owed; +Heaven held it back as long as e'er it could; +For thee, base wretch, I want a torture yet-- [_To_ ABDELM. +I'll cage thee; thou shalt be my Bajazet. +I on no pavement but on thee will tread; +And, when I mount, my foot shall know thy head. + +_Abdelm._ (_Stabbing her with a poniard._) +This first shall know thy heart. + +_Lyndar._ O! I am slain! + +_Abdelm._ Now, boast thy country is betrayed to Spain. + +_K. Ferd._ Look to the lady!--Seize the murderer! + +_Abdelm._ (_Stabbing himself._) +I do myself that justice I did her. +Thy blood I to thy ruined country give, [_To_ LYNDAR. +But love too well thy murder to out-live. +Forgive a love, excused by its excess, +Which, had it not been cruel, had been less. +Condemn my passion, then, but pardon me, +And think I murdered him who murdered thee. [_Dies._ + +_Lyndar._ Die for us both; I have not leisure now; +A crown is come, and will not fate allow: +And yet I feel something like death is near, +My guards, my guards,-- +Let not that ugly skeleton appear! +Sure destiny mistakes; this death's not mine; +She dotes, and meant to cut another line. +Tell her I am a queen;--but 'tis too late; +Dying, I charge rebellion on my fate. +Bow down, ye slaves:-- [_To the Moors._ +Bow quickly down, and your submission show.-- [_They bow._ +I'm pleased to taste an empire ere I go. [_Dies._ + +_Selin._ She's dead, and here her proud ambition ends. + +_Aben._ Such fortune still such black designs attends. + +_K. Ferd._ Remove those mournful objects from our eyes, +And see performed their funeral obsequies. + [_The bodies are carried off._ + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ ALMAHIDE, OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA; ALMAHIDE + _brought in a chair;_ ALMANZOR _led betwixt Soldiers._ ISABELLA + _salutes_ ALMAHIDE _in dumb show._ + +_D. Arcos._ (_Presenting_ ALMANZOR _to the King._) +See here that son, whom I with pride call mine; +And who dishonours not your royal line. + +_K. Ferd._ I'm now secure, this sceptre, which I gain, +Shall be continued in the power of Spain; +Since he, who could alone my foes defend, +By birth and honour is become my friend; +Yet I can own no joy, nor conquest boast, [_To_ ALMANZ. +While in this blood I see how dear it cost. + +_Almanz._ This honour to my veins new blood will bring; +Streams cannot fail, fed by so high a spring. +But all court-customs I so little know, +That I may fail in those respects I owe. +I bring a heart which homage never knew; +Yet it finds something of itself in you: +Something so kingly, that my haughty mind +Is drawn to yours, because 'tis of a kind. + +_Q. Isabel._ And yet that soul, which bears itself so high, +If fame be true, admits a sovereignty. +This queen, in her fair eyes, such fetters brings, +As chain that heart, which scorns the power of kings. + +_Almah._ Little of charm in these sad eyes appears; +If they had any, now 'tis lost in tears. +A crown, and husband, ravished in one day!-- +Excuse a grief, I cannot choose but pay. + +_Q. Isabel._ Have courage, madam; heaven has joys in store, +To recompence those losses you deplore. + +_Almah._ I know your God can all my woes redress; +To him I made my vows in my distress: +And, what a misbeliever vowed this day, +Though not a queen, a Christian yet shall pay. + +_Q. Isabel._ (_Embracing her._) +That Christian name you shall receive from me, +And Isabella of Granada be. + +_Benz._ This blessed change we all with joy receive; +And beg to learn that faith which you believe. + +_Q. Isabel._ With reverence for those holy rites prepare; +And all commit your fortunes to my care. + +_K. Ferd._ to _Almah._ +You, madam, by that crown you lose, may gain, +If you accept, a coronet of Spain, +Of which Almanzor's father stands possest. + +_Q. Isabel._ to _Almah._ +May you in him, and he in you, be blest! + +_Almah._ I owe my life and honour to his sword; +But owe my love to my departed lord. + +_Almanz._ Thus, when I have no living force to dread, +Fate finds me enemies amongst the dead. +I'm now to conquer ghosts, and to destroy +The strong impressions of a bridal joy. + +_Almah._ You've yet a greater foe than these can be,-- +Virtue opposes you, and modesty. + +_Almanz._ From a false fear that modesty does grow, +And thinks true love, because 'tis fierce, its foe. +'Tis but the wax whose seals on virgins stay: +Let it approach love's fire, 'twill melt away:-- +But I have lived too long; I never knew, +When fate was conquered, I must combat you. +I thought to climb the steep ascent of love; +But did not think to find a foe above. +'Tis time to die, when you my bar must be, +Whose aid alone could give me victory; +Without, +I'll pull up all the sluices of the flood, +And love, within, shall boil out all my blood. + +_Q. Isabel._ Fear not your love should find so sad success, +While I have power to be your patroness. +I am her parent now, and may command +So much of duty as to give her hand. [_Gives him_ ALMAHIDE'S _hand._ + +_Almah._ Madam, I never can dispute your power, +Or as a parent, or a conqueror; +But, when my year of widowhood expires, +Shall yield to your command, and his desires. + +_Almanz._ Move swiftly, sun, and fly a lover's pace; +Leave weeks and months behind thee in thy race! + +_K. Ferd._ Mean time, you shall my victories pursue, +The Moors in woods and mountains to subdue. + +_Almanz._ The toils of war shall help to wear each day, +And dreams of love shall drive my nights away.-- +Our banners to the Alhambra's turrets bear; +Then, wave our conquering crosses in the air, +And cry, with shouts of triumph,--Live and reign, +Great Ferdinand and Isabel of Spain! [_Exeunt._ + + + EPILOGUE. + + They, who have best succeeded on the stage, + Have still conformed their genius to their age. + Thus Jonson did mechanic humour show, + When men were dull, and conversation low. + Then comedy was faultless, but 'twas coarse: + Cobb's tankard was a jest, and Otter's horse[1]. + And, as their comedy, their love was mean; + Except, by chance, in some one laboured scene, + Which must atone for an ill-written play. + They rose, but at their height could seldom stay. + Fame then was cheap, and the first comer sped; + And they have kept it since, by being dead. + But, were they now to write, when critics weigh + Each line, and every word, throughout a play, + None of them, no not Jonson in his height, + Could pass, without allowing grains for weight. + Think it not envy, that these truths are told; + Our poet's not malicious, though he's bold. + 'Tis not to brand them, that their faults are shown, + But, by their errors, to excuse his own. + If love and honour now are higher raised, + 'Tis not the poet, but the age is praised. + Wit's now arrived to a more high degree; + Our native language more refined and free. + Our ladies and our men now speak more wit + In conversation, than those poets writ. + Then, one of these is, consequently, true; + That what this poet writes comes short of you, + And imitates you ill (which most he fears), + Or else his writing is not worse than theirs. + Yet, though you judge (as sure the critics will), + That some before him writ with greater skill, + In this one praise he has their fame surpast, + To please an age more gallant than the last. + + +Footnote: +1. The characters alluded to are Cobb, the water bearer, in "Every Man + in his Humour;" and Captain Otter, in "Epicene, or the Silent + Woman," whose humour it was to christen his drinking cups by the + names of Horse, Bull, and Bear.] + + + + + DEFENCE + + OF + + THE EPILOGUE; + + OR, + + AN ESSAY ON THE DRAMATIC POETRY + OF THE LAST AGE. + + +The promises of authors, that they will write again, are, in effect, a +threatening of their readers with some new impertinence; and they, who +perform not what they promise, will have their pardon on easy terms. +It is from this consideration, that I could be glad to spare you the +trouble, which I am now giving you, of a postscript, if I were not +obliged, by many reasons, to write somewhat concerning our present +plays, and those of our predecessors on the English stage. The truth +is, I have so far engaged myself in a bold epilogue to this play, +wherein I have somewhat taxed the former writing, that it was +necessary for me either not to print it, or to show that I could +defend it. Yet I would so maintain my opinion of the present age, as +not to be wanting in my veneration for the past: I would ascribe to +dead authors their just praises in those things wherein they have +excelled us; and in those wherein we contend with them for the +pre-eminence, I would acknowledge our advantages to the age, and claim +no victory from our wit. This being what I have proposed to myself, I +hope I shall not be thought arrogant when I enquire into their errors: +For we live in an age so sceptical, that as it determines little, so +it takes nothing from antiquity on trust; and I profess to have no +other ambition in this essay, than that poetry may not go backward, +when all other arts and sciences are advancing. Whoever censures me +for this inquiry, let him hear his character from Horace: + + _Ingeniis non ille favet, plauditque sepultis, + Nostra sed impugnat; nos nostraque lividus odit._ + + He favours not dead wits, but hates the living. + +It was upbraided to that excellent poet, that he was an enemy to the +writings of his predecessor Lucilius, because he had said, _Lucilium +lutulentum fluere_, that he ran muddy; and that he ought to have +retrenched from his satires many unnecessary verses. But Horace makes +Lucilius himself to justify him from the imputation of envy, by +telling you that he would have done the same, had he lived in an age +which was more refined: + + _Si foret hoc nostrum fato delapsus in ævum, + Detereret sibi multa, recideret omne quod, ultra + Perfectum traheretur, &c._ + +And, both in the whole course of that satire, and in his most +admirable Epistle to Augustus, he makes it his business to prove, that +antiquity alone is no plea for the excellency of a poem; but that, one +age learning from another, the last (if we can suppose an equality of +wit in the writers,) has the advantage of knowing more and better than +the former And this, I think, is the state of the question in dispute. +It is therefore my part to make it clear, that the language, wit, and +conversation of our age, are improved and refined above the last; and +then it will not be difficult to infer, that our plays have received +some part of those advantages. + +In the first place, therefore, it will be necessary to state, in +general, what this refinement is, of which we treat; and that, I +think, will not be defined amiss, "An improvement of our Wit, Language +and Conversation; or, an alteration in them for the better." + +To begin with Language. That an alteration is lately made in ours, or +since the writers of the last age (in which I comprehend Shakespeare, +Fletcher, and Jonson), is manifest. Any man who reads those excellent +poets, and compares their language with what is now written, will see +it almost in every line; but that this is an improvement of the +language or an alteration for the better, will not so easily be +granted. For many are of a contrary opinion that the English tongue +was then in the height of its perfection; that from Jonson's time to +ours it has been in a continual declination, like that of the Romans +from the age of Virgil to Statius, and so downward to Claudian; of +which, not only Petronius, but Quintilian himself so much complains, +under the person of _Secundus_, in his famous dialogue _De Causis +corruptæ Eloquentiæ_. + +But, to shew that our language is improved, and that those people have +not a just value for the age in which they live, let us consider in +what the refinement of a language principally consists: that is, +"either in rejecting such old words, or phrases, which are ill +sounding, or improper; or in admitting new, which are more proper, +more sounding, and more significant." + +The reader will easily take notice, that when I speak of rejecting +improper words and phrases, I mention not such as are antiquated by +custom only and, as I may say, without any fault of theirs. For in +this case the refinement can be but accidental; that is, when the +words and phrases, which are rejected, happen to be improper. Neither +would I be understood, when I speak of impropriety of language, either +wholly to accuse the last age, or to excuse the present, and least of +all myself; for all writers have their imperfections and failings: but +I may safely conclude in the general, that our improprieties are less +frequent, and less gross than theirs. One testimony of this is +undeniable, that we are the first who have observed them; and, +certainly, to observe errors is a great step to the correcting of +them. But, malice and partiality set apart, let any man, who +understands English, read diligently the works of Shakespeare and +Fletcher, and I dare undertake, that he will find in every page either +some solecism of speech, or some notorious flaw in sense[1]; and yet +these men are reverenced, when we are not forgiven. That their wit is +great, and many times their expressions noble, envy itself cannot +deny. + + _--Neque ego illis detrahere ausim + Hærentem capiti multâ cum laude coronam._ + +But the times were ignorant in which they lived. Poetry was then, if +not in its infancy among us, at least not arrived to its vigour and +maturity: Witness the lameness of their plots; many of which, +especially those which they writ first (for even that age refined +itself in some measure), were made up of some ridiculous incoherent +story, which in one play many times took up the business of an age. I +suppose I need not name "Pericles, Prince of Tyre," nor the historical +plays of Shakespeare: besides many of the rest, as the "Winter's +Tale," "Love's Labour Lost," "Measure for Measure," which were either +grounded on impossibilities, or at least so meanly written, that the +comedy neither caused your mirth, nor the serious part your +concernment[2]. If I would expatiate on this subject, I could easily +demonstrate, that our admired Fletcher, who wrote after him, neither +understood correct plotting, nor that which they call "the decorum of +the stage." I would not search in his worst plays for examples: He who +will consider his "Philaster," his "Humorous Lieutenant," his +"Faithful Shepherdess," and many others which I could name, will find +them much below the applause which is now given them. He will see +Philaster wounding his mistress, and afterwards his boy, to save +himself; not to mention the Clown, who enters immediately, and not +only has the advantage of the combat against the hero, but diverts you +from your serious concernment, with his ridiculous and absurd +raillery. In his "Humorous Lieutenant," you find his Demetrius and +Leontius staying in the midst of a routed army, to hear the cold mirth +of the Lieutenant; and Demetrius afterwards appearing with a pistol in +his hand, in the next age to Alexander the Great[3]. And for his +Shepherd, he falls twice into the former indecency of wounding women. +But these absurdities, which those poets committed, may more properly +be called the age's fault than theirs. For, besides the want of +education and learning, (which was their particular unhappiness) they +wanted the benefit of converse: But of that I shall speak hereafter, +in a place more proper for it. Their audiences knew no better; and +therefore were satisfied with what they brought. Those, who call +theirs the golden age of poetry, have only this reason for it, that +they were then content with acorns before they knew the use of bread; +or that [Greek: Alis druos] was become a proverb. They had many who +admired them, and few who blamed them; and certainly a severe critic +is the greatest help to a good wit: he does the office of a friend, +while he designs that of an enemy; and his malice keeps a poet within +those bounds, which the luxuriancy of his fancy would tempt him to +overleap. + +But it is not their plots which I meant principally to tax; I was +speaking of their sense and language; and I dare almost challenge any +man to shew me a page together which is correct in both. As for Ben +Jonson, I am loth to name him, because he is a most judicious writer; +yet he very often falls into these errors: and I once more beg the +reader's pardon for accusing him of them. Only let him consider, that +I live in an age where my least faults are severely censured; and that +I have no way left to extenuate my failings, but by showing as great +in those whom we admire: + + _Cædimus, inque vicem præbemus crura sagittis._ + +I cast my eyes but by chance on Catiline; and in the three or four +last pages, found enough to conclude that Jonson writ not correctly. + + --Let the long-hid seeds + Of treason, in thee, now shoot forth in deeds + Ranker than horror. + +In reading some bombast speeches of Macbeth, which are not to be +understood, he used to say that it was horror; and I am much afraid +that this is so. + + Thy parricide late on thy only son, + After his mother, to make empty way + For thy last wicked nuptials, worse than they + That blaze that act of thy incestuous life, + Which gained thee at once a daughter and a wife. + +The sense is here extremely perplexed; and I doubt the word _they_ is +false grammar. + + --And be free + Not heaven itself from thy impiety. + +A synchysis, or ill-placing of words, of which Tully so much complains +in oratory. + + The waves and dens of beasts could not receive + The bodies that those souls were frighted _from_. + +The preposition in the end of the sentence; a common fault with him, +and which I have but lately observed in my own writings. + + What all the several ills that visit earth, + Plague, famine, fire, could not reach _unto_, + The sword, nor surfeits, let thy fury do. + +Here are both the former faults: for, besides that the preposition +_unto_ is placed last in the verse, and at the half period, and is +redundant, there is the former synchysis in the words "the sword, nor +surfeits" which in construction ought to have been placed before the +other. + +Catiline says of Cethegus, that for his sake he would + + _Go on upon_ the gods, kiss lightning, wrest + The engine from the Cyclops, and _give fire + At face of a full cloud_, and stand _his ire_. + +To "go on upon," is only to go on twice[4]. To "give fire at face of a +full cloud," was not understood in his own time; "and stand _his +ire_," besides the antiquated word _ire_, there is the article _his_, +which makes false construction: and giving fire at the face of a +cloud, is a perfect image of shooting, however it came to be known in +those days to Catiline. + + --Others there are, + Whom envy to the state draws and pulls on, + For contumelies received; and such are sure _ones_. + +_Ones_, in the plural number: but that is frequent with him; for he +says, not long after, + + Cæsar and Crassus, if they be ill men, + Are mighty _ones_. + Such men, _they_ do not succour more the cause, &c. + +_They_ redundant. + + Though heaven should speak with all _his_ wrath at once, + We should stand upright and _unfeared_. + +_His_ is ill syntax with _heaven_; and by _unfeared_ he means +_unafraid_: Words of a quite contrary signification. + +"The ports are open." He perpetually uses ports for gates; which is an +affected error in him, to introduce Latin by the loss of the English +idiom; as, in the translation of Tully's speeches, he usually does. + +Well-placing of words, for the sweetness of pronunciation was not +known till Mr Waller introduced it; and, therefore, it is not to be +wondered if Ben Jonson has many such lines as these: + +"But being bred up in his father's needy fortunes; brought up in's +sister's prostitution," &c. + +But meanness of expression one would think not to be his error in a +tragedy, which ought to be more high and sounding than any other kind +of poetry; and yet, amongst others in "Catiline," I find these four +lines together: + + So Asia, thou art cruelly even + With us, for all the blows thee given; + When we, whose virtues conquered thee, + Thus by thy vices ruined be. + +_Be_ there is false English for _are_; though the rhyme hides it. + +But I am willing to close the book, partly out of veneration to the +author, partly out of weariness to pursue an argument which is so +fruitful in so small a compass. And what correctness, after this, can +be expected from Shakespeare or from Fletcher, who wanted that +learning and care which Jonson had? I will, therefore, spare my own +trouble of enquiring into their faults; who, had they lived now, had +doubtless written more correctly. I suppose it will be enough for me +to affirm, (as I think I safely may) that these, and the like errors, +which I taxed in the most correct of the last age, are such into which +we do not ordinarily fall. I think few of our present writers would +have left behind them such a line as this: + + Contain your spirit in more stricter bounds. + +But that gross way of two comparatives was then ordinary; and, +therefore, more pardonable in Jonson. + +As for the other part of refining, which consists in receiving new +words and phrases, I shall not insist much on it. It is obvious that +we have admitted many, some of which we wanted, and therefore our +language is the richer for them, as it would be by importation of +bullion: Others are rather ornamental than necessary; yet, by their +admission, the language is become more courtly, and our thoughts are +better drest. These are to be found scattered in the writers of our +age, and it is not my business to collect them. They, who have lately +written with most care, have, I believe, taken the rule of Horace for +their guide; that is, not to be too hasty in receiving of words, but +rather stay till custom has made them familiar to us: + + _Quern penes arbitrium est, et jus, et norma loquendi._ + +For I cannot approve of their way of refining, who corrupt our English +idiom by mixing it too much with French: That is a sophistication of +language not an improvement of it; a turning English into French, +rather than a refining of English by French. We meet daily with those +fops, who value themselves on their travelling, and pretend they +cannot express their meaning in English, because they would put off to +us some French phrase of the last edition; without considering, that, +for aught they know, we have a better of our own. But these are not +the men who are to refine us; their talent is to prescribe fashions, +not words: at best, they are only serviceable to a writer, so as +Ennius was to Virgil. He may _aurum ex stercore colligere:_ For it is +hard if, amongst many insignificant phrases, there happen not +something worth preserving; though they themselves, like Indians, know +not the value of their own commodity. + +There is yet another way of improving language, which poets especially +have practised in all ages; that is, by applying received words to a +new signification; and this, I believe, is meant by Horace, in that +precept which is so variously construed by expositors: + + _Dixeris egregie, notum si callida verbum + Reddiderit junctura novum._ + +And, in this way, he himself had a particular happiness; using all the +tropes, and particular metaphors, with that grace which is observable +in his Odes, where the beauty of expression is often greater than that +of thought; as, in that one example, amongst an infinite number of +others, "_Et vultus nimium lubricus aspici._" + +And therefore, though he innovated a little, he may justly be called a +great refiner of the Roman tongue. This choice of words, and +heightening of their natural signification, was observed in him by the +writers of the following ages; for Petronius says of him, "_Et Horatii +curiosa felicitas._" By this graffing, as I may call it, on old words, +has our tongue been beautified by the three before-mentioned poets, +Shakespeare, Fletcher, and Jonson, whose excellencies I can never +enough admire; and in this they have been followed, especially by Sir +John Suckling and Mr Waller, who refined upon them. Neither have they, +who succeeded them, been wanting in their endeavours to adorn our +mother tongue: But it is not so lawful for me to praise my living +contemporaries, as to admire my dead predecessors. + +I should now speak of the refinement of Wit; but I have been so large +on the former subject, that I am forced to contract myself in this. I +will therefore only observe to you, that the wit of the last age was +yet more incorrect than their language. Shakespeare, who many times +has written better than any poet, in any language, is yet so far from +writing wit always, or expressing that wit according to the dignity of +the subject, that he writes, in many places, below the dullest writers +of ours, or any precedent age. Never did any author precipitate +himself from such height of thought to so low expressions, as he often +does. He is the very Janus of poets; he wears almost every where two +faces; and you have scarce begun to admire the one, ere you despise +the other. Neither is the luxuriance of Fletcher, which his friends +have taxed in him, a less fault than the carelessness of Shakespeare. +He does not well always; and, when he does, he is a true +Englishman,--he knows not when to give over. If he wakes in one scene, +he commonly slumbers in another; and, if he pleases you in the first +three acts, he is frequently so tired with his labour, that he goes +heavily in the fourth, and sinks under his burden in the fifth. + +For Ben Jonson, the most judicious of poets, he always writ properly, +and as the character required; and I will not contest farther with my +friends, who call that wit: it being very certain, that even folly +itself, well represented, is wit in a larger signification; and that +there is fancy, as well as judgment, in it, though not so much or +noble: because all poetry being imitation, that of folly is a lower +exercise of fancy, though perhaps as difficult as the other; for it is +a kind of looking downward in the poet, and representing that part of +mankind which is below him. + +In these low characters of vice and folly, lay the excellency of that +inimitable writer; who, when at any time he aimed at wit in the +stricter sense, that is, sharpness of conceit, was forced either to +borrow from the ancients, as to my knowledge he did very much from +Plautus; or, when he trusted himself alone, often fell into meanness +of expression. Nay, he was not free from the lowest and most groveling +kind of wit, which we call clenches, of which "Every Man in his +Humour" is infinitely full; and, which is worse, the wittiest persons +in the drama speak them. His other comedies are not exempt from them. +Will you give me leave to name some few? Asper, in which character he +personates himself, (and he neither was nor thought himself a fool) +exclaiming against the ignorant judges of the age, speaks thus: + + How monstrous and detested is't, to see + A fellow, that has neither art nor brain, + Sit like an _Aristarchus_, or _stark-ass_, + Taking men's lines, with a _tobacco face_, + In _snuff_, &c. + +And presently after: "I marvel whose wit 'twas to put a prologue in +yond Sackbut's mouth. They might well think he would be out of tune, +and yet you'd play upon him too."--Will you have another of the same +stamp? "O, I cannot abide these limbs of _sattin_, or rather _Satan_." + +But, it may be, you will object that this was Asper, Macilente, or +Carlo Buffone; you shall, therefore, hear him speak in his own person, +and that in the two last lines, or sting of an epigram. It is +inscribed to _Fine Grand_, who, he says, was indebted to him for many +things which he reckons there; and concludes thus: + + Forty things more, dear _Grand_, which you know true, + For which, or pay me quickly, or I'll pay you. + +This was then the mode of wit, the vice of the age, and not Ben +Jonson's; for you see, a little before him, that admirable wit, Sir +Philip Sidney, perpetually playing with his words. In his time, I +believe, it ascended first into the pulpit, where (if you will give me +leave to clench too) it yet finds the benefit of its clergy; for they +are commonly the first corrupters of eloquence, and the last reformed +from vicious oratory; as a famous Italian has observed before me, in +his Treatise of the Corruption of the Italian Tongue; which he +principally ascribes to priests and preaching friars. + +But, to conclude with what brevity I can, I will only add this, in +defence of our present writers, that, if they reach not some +excellencies of Ben Jonson, (which no age, I am confident, ever shall) +yet, at least, they are above that meanness of thought which I have +taxed, and which is frequent in him. + +That the wit of this age is much more courtly, may easily be proved, +by viewing the characters of gentlemen which were written in the last. +First, for Jonson:--True-wit, in the "Silent Woman," was his +master-piece; and Truewit was a scholar-like kind of man, a gentleman +with an allay of pedantry, a man who seems mortified to the world, by +much reading. The best of his discourse is drawn, not from the +knowledge of the town, but books; and, in short, he would be a fine +gentleman in an university. Shakespeare shewed the best of his skill +in his Mercutio; and he said himself, that he was forced to kill him +in the third act, to prevent being killed by him. But, for my part, I +cannot find he was so dangerous a person: I see nothing in him but +what was so exceeding harmless, that he might have lived to the end of +the play, and died in his bed, without offence to any man. + +Fletcher's Don John is our only bugbear; and yet I may affirm, without +suspicion of flattery, that he now speaks better, and that his +character is maintained with much more vigour in the fourth and fifth +acts, than it was by Fletcher in the three former. I have always +acknowledged the wit of our predecessors, with all the veneration +which becomes me; but, I am sure, their wit was not that of gentlemen; +there was ever somewhat that was ill-bred and clownish in it, and +which confessed the conversation of the authors. + +And this leads me to the last and greatest advantage of our writing, +which proceeds from conversation. In the age wherein those poets +lived, there was less of gallantry than in ours; neither did they keep +the best company of theirs. Their fortune has been much like that of +Epicurus, in the retirement of his gardens; to live almost unknown, +and to be celebrated after their decease. I cannot find that any of +them had been conversant in courts, except Ben Jonson; and his genius +lay not so much that way, as to make an improvement by it. Greatness +was not then so easy of access, nor conversation so free, as now it +is. I cannot, therefore, conceive it any insolence to affirm, that, by +the knowledge and pattern of their wit who writ before us, and by the +advantage of our own conversation, the discourse and raillery of our +comedies excel what has been written by them. And this will be denied +by none, but some few old fellows who value themselves on their +acquaintance with the Black Friars; who, because they saw their plays, +would pretend a right to judge ours. The memory of these grave +gentlemen is their only plea for being wits. They can tell a story of +Ben Jonson, and, perhaps, have had fancy enough to give a supper in +the Apollo, that they might be called his sons[5]: And, because they +were drawn in to be laughed at in those times, they think themselves +now sufficiently entitled to laugh at ours. Learning I never saw in +any of them; and wit no more than they could remember. In short, they +were unlucky to have been bred in an unpolished age, and more unlucky +to live to a refined one. They have lasted beyond their own, and are +cast behind ours; and, not contented to have known little at the age +of twenty, they boast of their ignorance at threescore. + +Now, if they ask me, whence it is that our conversation is so much +refined? I must freely, and without flattery, ascribe it to the court; +and, in it, particularly to the king, whose example gives a law to it. +His own misfortunes, and the nation's, afforded him an opportunity, +which is rarely allowed to sovereign princes, I mean of travelling, +and being conversant in the most polished courts of Europe; and, +thereby, of cultivating a spirit which was formed by nature to receive +the impressions of a gallant and generous education. At his return, he +found a nation lost as much in barbarism as in rebellion: And, as the +excellency of his nature forgave the one, so the excellency of his +manners reformed the other. The desire of imitating so great a pattern +first awakened the dull and heavy spirits of the English from their +natural reservedness; loosened them from their stiff forms of +conversation, and made them easy and pliant to each other in +discourse. Thus, insensibly, our way of living became more free; and +the fire of the English wit, which was before stifled under a +constrained, melancholy way of breeding, began first to display its +force, by mixing the solidity of our nation with the air and gaiety of +our neighbours[6]. This being granted to be true, it would be a wonder +if the poets, whose work is imitation, should be the only persons in +three kingdoms who should not receive advantage by it; or, if they +should not more easily imitate the wit and conversation of the present +age than of the past. + +Let us therefore admire the beauties and the heights of Shakespeare, +without falling after him into a carelessness, and, as I may call it, +a lethargy of thought, for whole scenes together. Let us imitate, as +we are able, the quickness and easiness of Fletcher, without proposing +him as a pattern to us, either in the redundancy of his matter, or the +incorrectness of his language. Let us admire his wit and sharpness of +conceit; but let us at the same time acknowledge, that it was seldom +so fixed, and made proper to his character, as that the same things +might not be spoken by any person in the play. Let us applaud his +scenes of love; but let us confess, that he understood not either +greatness or perfect honour in the parts of any of his women. In fine, +let us allow, that he had so much fancy, as when he pleased he could +write wit; but that he wanted so much judgment, as seldom to have +written humour, or described a pleasant folly. Let us ascribe to +Jonson, the height and accuracy of judgment in the ordering of his +plots, his choice of characters, and maintaining what he had chosen to +the end: But let us not think him a perfect pattern of imitation, +except it be in humour; for love, which is the foundation of all +comedies in other languages, is scarcely mentioned in any of his +plays: And for humour itself, the poets of this age will be more wary +than to imitate the meanness of his persons. Gentlemen will now be +entertained with the follies of each other; and, though they allow +Cobb and Tib to speak properly, yet they are not much pleased with +their tankard, or with their rags: And surely their conversation can +be no jest to them on the theatre, when they would avoid it in the +street. + +To conclude all, let us render to our predecessors what is their due, +without confining ourselves to a servile imitation of all they writ; +and, without assuming to ourselves the title of better poets, let us +ascribe to the gallantry and civility of our age the advantage which +we have above them, and, to our knowledge of the customs and manners +of it, the happiness we have to please beyond them. + + * * * * * + +The bold Epilogue, which is here defended with so much animation, and +the censure which it threw on the fathers of the stage, seems to have +given great offence. It is thus severely assailed by Rochester: + + But does not Dryden find even Jonson dull? + Beaumont and Fletcher incorrect, and full + Of lewd lines, as he calls them? Shakespeare's style + Stiff and affected? to his own, the while, + Allowing all the justice that his pride + So arrogantly had to these denied: + And may I not have leave impartially + To search and censure Dryden's works, and try + If those gross faults, his choice pen doth commit, + Proceed from want of judgment, or of wit? + Or if his lumpish fancy doth refuse + Spirit and grace to his loose slattern muse? + Five hundred verses, every morning writ, + Prove him no more a poet than a wit. + +It is a bold, perhaps a presumptuous task, to attempt to separate the +true from the false criticism in the foregoing essay; for who is +qualified to be umpire betwixt Shakespeare and Dryden? Nevertheless, +our knowledge of the manners of the respective ages which these +extraordinary men adorned, and the remoteness of our own from both, +may enable us, with impartiality at least, to sift the grounds of +Dryden's censure. The nature of the stage in the days of Shakespeare +has been ascertained, by the sedulous exertions of his commentators. A +variety of small theatres, all of them accessible to the lowest of the +people, poor and rude in all the arts of decoration, were dispersed +through London when Shakespeare and Jonson wrote for the stage. It was +a natural consequence, that the writings of these great men were +biassed by the taste of those, for whom they wrote; + + For those, who live to please, must please, to live. + +Art was not demanded; and when used by Jonson, he complains it was not +duly appreciated. Men of a middle rank were then probably worse +educated than our mere vulgar. But the good old time bore rough and +manly spirits, who came prepared with a tribute of tears and laughter, +to bursts of pathos, or effusions of humour, although incapable of +receiving the delights which a cultivated mind derives from the +gradual developement of a story, the just dependence of its parts upon +each other, the minute beauties of language, and the absence of every +thing incongruous or indecorous. Dryden, on the other hand, wrote for +a stage patronized by a monarch and his courtiers, who were professed +judges of dramatic composition; while the rigour of religious +prejudice, and perhaps a just abhorrence of the licentious turn of the +drama, banished from the theatres a great proportion of the middle +classes, always the most valuable part of an audience; because, with a +certain degree of cultivation, they unite an unhacknied energy of +feeling. Art, therefore, became, in the days of Dryden, not only a +requisite qualification, but even the principal attribute of the +dramatic poet. He was to address himself to the heads and judgments of +his audience, on the acuteness of which they piqued themselves; not to +their feelings, stupified, probably, by selfish dissipation. Even the +acquisition and exercise of critical knowledge tends to blunt the +sense of natural beauties, as a refined harmonist becomes indifferent +to the strains of simple melody. Hence the sacrifices which +Shakespeare made, without being aware, to the taste of his age, were +amply compensated by his being called upon, and, as it were, +compelled, by the nature of his audience, to rouse them with his +thunder, and to melt them with his dew. I question much if the age of +Charles II. would have borne the introduction of Othello or Falstaff. +We may find something like Dryden's self-complacent opinion expressed +by the editor of Corneille, where he civilly admits, "_Corneille etoit +inegal comme Shakespeare, et plein de genie comme lui: mais le genie +de Corneille etoit a celui de Shakespeare ce qu' un seigneur est a +l'egard d'un homme de peuple, né avec le meme esprit que lui._" In +other words, the works of the one retain the rough, bold tints of +nature and originality, while those of the other are qualified by the +artificial restraints which fashion imposes upon the _homme de +condition_. It is, therefore, unjustly, that Dryden dwells so long on +Shakespeare's irregularities, amongst which I cannot help suspecting +he includes some of his greatest beauties. While we do not defend his +quibbles and carwitchets, as Bibber would have termed them, we may +rejoice that he purchased, at so slight a sacrifice, the power and +privilege of launching into every subject with a liberty as unbounded +as his genius; + + As there is music, uninformed by art, + In those wild notes, which, with a merry heart, + The birds in unfrequented shades express, + Which better taught at home, yet please us less. + + +Footnotes: +1. In mitigation of the censure which must be passed on our author for + this hasty and ill-considered judgment, let us remember the very + inaccurate manner in which Shakespeare's plays were printed in the + early editions. + +2. Mr Malone has judiciously remarked, that Dryden seems to have been + ignorant of the order in which Shakespeare wrote his plays; and + there will be charity in believing, that he was not intimately + acquainted with those he so summarily and unjustly censures. + +3. In these criticisms, we see the effects of the refinement which our + stage had now borrowed from the French. It is probable, that, in + the age of heroic plays, any degree of dulness, or extravagance, + would have been tolerated in the dialogue, rather than an offence + against the decorum of the scene. + +4. Jonson seems to have used it for to _go on against_. + +5. The Apollo was Ben Jonson's favourite club-room in the Devil + Tavern. The custom of adopting his admirers and imitators, by + bestowing upon them the title of Son, is often alluded to in his + works. In Dryden's time, the fashion had so far changed, that the + poetical progeny of old Ben seem to have incurred more ridicule + than honour by this ambitious distinction. Oldwit, in Shadwell's + play, called Bury Fair, is described as "a paltry old-fashioned wit + and punner of the last age, that pretends to have been one of Ben + Jonson's sons, and to have seen plays at the Blackfriars." + +6. This passage, though complimentary to Charles, contains much sober + truth: Having considerable taste for the Belles Lettres, he + cultivated them during his exile, and was naturally swayed by the + French rules of composition, particularly as applicable to the + Theatre. These he imported with him at his Restoration; and hence + arose the Heroic Drama, so much cultivated by our author. + + + * * * * * + + + MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE: + + A COMEDY. + + _--Quicquid sum ego, quamvis + Infra Lucili censum ingeniumque, tamen me + Cum magnis vixisse, invita fatebitur usque + Invidia, et fragili quærens illidere dentem, + Offendet solido._ + HORAT. SERM. + + + + + MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE + + Marriage a-la-mode was one of Dryden's most successful comedies. A +venerable praiser of the past time, in a curious letter printed in the +Gentleman's Magazine for 1745, gives us this account of its first +representation. "This comedy, acted by his Majesty's servants at the +Theatre-Royal, made its first appearance with extraordinary lustre. +Divesting myself of the old man, I solemnly declare, that you have +seen no such acting, no, not in any degree since. The players were +then, 1673, on a court establishment, seventeen men, and eight women." +_Gent. Mag._ Vol. xv. p. 99. From a copy of verses, to which this +letter is annexed, we learn the excellence of the various performers +by whom the piece was first presented. They are addressed to a young +actress. + + Henceforth, in livelier characters excel, + Though 'tis great merit to act folly well; + Take, take from Dryden's hand Melantha's part, + The gaudy effort of luxuriant art, + In all imagination's glitter drest; + What from her lips fantastic Montfort caught, + And almost moved the thing the poet thought. + These scenes, the glory of a comic age, + (It decency could blanch each sullied page) + Peruse, admire, and give unto the stage; + Or thou, or beauteous Woffington, display + What Dryden's self, with pleasure, might survey. + Even he, before whose visionary eyes, + Melantha, robed in ever-varying dies, + Gay fancy's work, appears, actor renowned. + Like Roscius, with theatric laurels crowned, + Cibber will smile applause, and think again + Of Harte, and Mohun, and all the female train, + Coxe, Marshal, Dryden's Reeve, Bet Slade, and Charles's reign. + +Mrs Monfort, who, by her second marriage, became Mrs Verbruggen, was +the first who appeared in the highly popular part of Melantha, and the +action and character appear to have been held incomparable by that +unquestionable judge of the humour of a coquette, or coxcomb, the +illustrious Colley Cibber. "Melantha" says Cibber, "is as finished an +impertinent as ever fluttered in a drawing-room; and seems to contain +the most complete system of female foppery that could possibly be +crowded into the tortured form of a fine lady. Her language, dress, +motion, manners, soul, and body, are in a continual hurry to be +something more than is necessary or commendable. And, though I doubt +it will be a vain labour to offer you a just likeness of Mrs Monfort's +action, yet the fantastic expression is still so strong in my memory, +that I cannot help saying something, though fantastically, about it. +The first ridiculous airs, that break from her, are upon a gallant +never seen before, who delivers her a letter from her father, +recommending him to her good graces as an honourable lover. Here, now, +one would think she might naturally shew a little of the sex's decent +reserve, though never so slightly covered. No, sir, not a tittle of +it: Modesty is a poor-souled country gentlewoman; she is too much a +court lady to be under so vulgar a confusion. She reads the letter, +therefore, with a careless dropping lip, and an erected brow, humming +it hastily over, as if she were impatient to outgo her father's +commands, by making a complete conquest of him at once; and, that the +letter might not embarrass the attack, crack! she crumbles it at once +into her palm, and pours down upon him her whole artillery of airs, +eyes, and motion; down goes her dainty diving body to the ground, as +it she were sinking under the conscious load of her own attractions; +then launches into a flood of fine language and compliment, still +playing her chest forward in fifty falls and risings, like a swan upon +waving water; and, to complete her impertinence, she is so rapidly +fond of her own wit, that she will not give her lover leave to praise +it. Silent assenting bows, and vain endeavours to speak, are all the +share of the conversation he is admitted to, which, at last, he is +removed from by her engagement to half a score of visits, which she +swims from him to make, with a promise to return in a twinkling." +_Cibber's Apology_, p. 99. + +By this lively sketch, some judgment may be formed of the effect +produced by the character of Melantha, when ably represented; but, to +say the truth, we could hardly have drawn the same deduction from a +simple perusal of the piece. Of the French phrases, which the affected +lady throws into her conversation, some have been since naturalized, +as _good graces_, _minuet_, _chagrin_, _grimace_, _ridicule_, and +others. Little can be said of the tragic part of the drama. The sudden +turn of fortune in the conclusion is ridiculed in "The Rehearsal." + +The researches of Mr Malone have ascertained that "Marriage A-la-Mode" +was first acted in 1673, in an old theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, +occupied by the King's company, after that in Drury-Lane had been +burned, and during its re-building. The play was printed in the same +year. + + + + + TO + + THE RIGHT HONOURABLE + + THE + + EARL OF ROCHESTER[1]. + + +MY LORD, + +I humbly dedicate to your Lordship that poem, of which you were +pleased to appear an early patron, before it was acted on the stage. I +may yet go farther, with your permission, and say, that it received +amendment from your noble hands ere it was fit to be presented. You +may please likewise to remember, with how much favour to the author, +and indulgence to the play, you commended it to the view of his +Majesty, then at Windsor, and, by his approbation of it in writing, +made way for its kind reception on the theatre. In this dedication, +therefore, I may seem to imitate a custom of the ancients, who offered +to their gods the firstlings of the flock, (which, I think, they +called _Ver sacrum_) because they helped them to increase. I am sure, +if there be any thing in this play, wherein I have raised myself +beyond the ordinary lowness of my comedies, I ought wholly to +acknowledge it to the favour of being admitted into your lordship's +conversation. And not only I, who pretend not to this way, but the +best comic writers of our age, will join with me to acknowledge, that +they have copied the gallantries of courts, the delicacy of +expression, and the decencies of behaviour, from your lordship, with +more success, than if they had taken their models from the court of +France. But this, my lord, will be no wonder to the world, which knows +the excellency of your natural parts, and those you have acquired in a +noble education. That which, with more reason, I admire, is that being +so absolute a courtier, you have not forgot either the ties of +friendship, or the practice of generosity. In my little experience of +a court, (which, I confess, I desire not to improve) I have found in +it much of interest, and more of detraction: Few men there have that +assurance of a friend, as not to be made ridiculous by him when they +are absent. There are a middling sort of courtiers, who become happy +by their want of wit; but they supply that want by an excess of malice +to those who have it. And there is no such persecution as that of +fools: They can never be considerable enough to be talked of +themselves; so that they are safe only in their obscurity, and grow +mischievous to witty men, by the great diligence of their envy, and by +being always present to represent and aggravate their faults. In the +mean time, they are forced, when they endeavour to be pleasant, to +live on the offals of their wit whom they decry; and either to quote +it, (which they do unwillingly) or to pass it upon others for their +own. These are the men who make it their business to chace wit from +the knowledge of princes, lest it should disgrace their ignorance. And +this kind of malice your lordship has not so much avoided, as +surmounted. But if by the excellent temper of a royal master, always +more ready to hear good than ill; if by his inclination to love you; +if by your own merit and address; if by the charms of your +conversation, the grace of your behaviour, your knowledge of +greatness, and habitude in courts, you have been able to preserve +yourself with honour in the midst of so dangerous a course; yet at +least the remembrance of those hazards has inspired you with pity for +other men, who, being of an inferior wit and quality to you, are yet +persecuted, for being that in little, which your lordship is in +great[2]. For the quarrel of those people extends itself to any thing +of sense; and if I may be so vain to own it, amongst the rest of the +poets, has sometimes reached to the very borders of it, even to me. So +that, if our general good fortune had not raised up your lordship to +defend us, I know not whether any thing had been more ridiculous in +court than writers. It is to your lordship's favour we generally owe +our protection and patronage; and to the nobleness of your nature, +which will not suffer the least shadow of your wit to be contemned in +other men. You have been often pleased, not only to excuse my +imperfections, but to vindicate what was tolerable in my writings from +their censures; and, what I never can forget, you have not only been +careful of my reputation, but of my fortune. You have been solicitous +to supply my neglect of myself; and to overcome the fatal modesty of +poets, which submits them to perpetual wants, rather than to become +importunate with those people who have the liberality of kings in +their disposing, and who, dishonouring the bounty of their master, +suffer such to be in necessity who endeavour at least to please him; +and for whose entertainment he has generously provided, if the fruits +of his royal favour were not often stopped in other hands. But your +lordship has given me occasion, not to complain of courts whilst you +are there. I have found the effects of your mediation in all my +concernments; and they were so much the more noble in you, because +they were wholly voluntary. I, became your lordship's, (if I may +venture on the similitude) as the world was made, without knowing him +who made it; and brought only a passive obedience to be your creature. +This nobleness of yours I think myself the rather obliged to own, +because otherwise it must have been lost to all remembrance: For you +are endowed with that excellent quality of a frank nature, to forget +the good which you have done. + +But, my lord, I ought to have considered, that you are as great a +judge, as you are a patron; and that in praising you ill, I should +incur a higher note of ingratitude, than that I thought to have +avoided. I stand in need of all your accustomed goodness for the +dedication of this play; which, though perhaps it be the best of my +comedies, is yet so faulty, that I should have feared you for my +critic, if I had not, with some policy, given you the trouble of being +my protector. Wit seems to have lodged itself more nobly in this age, +than in any of the former; and people of my mean condition are only +writers, because some of the nobility, and your lordship in the first +place, are above the narrow praises which poesy could give you. But, +let those who love to see themselves exceeded, encourage your lordship +in so dangerous a quality; for my own part, I must confess, that I +have so much of self-interest, as to be content with reading some +papers of your verses, without desiring you should proceed to a scene, +or play; with the common prudence of those who are worsted in a duel, +and declare they are satisfied, when they are first wounded. Your +lordship has but another step to make, and from the patron of wit, you +may become its tyrant; and oppress our little reputations with more +ease than you now protect them. But these, my lord, are designs, which +I am sure you harbour not, any more than the French king is contriving +the conquest of the Swissers. It is a barren triumph, which is not +worth your pains; and would only rank him amongst your slaves, who is +already, + + MY LORD, + + Your Lordship's most obedient, + And most faithful servant, + JOHN DRYDEN. + + +Footnotes: +1. The patron, whom Dryden here addresses, was the famous John Wilmot, + Earl of Rochester, the wittiest, perhaps, and most dissolute, among + the witty and dissolute courtiers of Charles II. It is somewhat + remarkable, and may be considered as a just judgment upon the poet, + that he was, a few years afterwards, way-laid and severely beaten + by bravoes, whom Lord Rochester employed to revenge the share which + Dryden is supposed to have had in the Essay on Satire. The reader + is referred to the life of the author for the particulars of this + occurrence, which is here recalled to his recollection, as a + striking illustration of the inutility, as well as meanness, of ill + applied praise; since even the eulogy of Dryden, however liberally + bestowed and beautifully expressed, failed to save him from the + most unmanly treatment at the hands of the worthless and heartless + object, on whom it was wasted. It is melancholy to see Dryden, as + may be fairly inferred from his motto, piqueing himself on being + admitted into the society of such men as Rochester, and enjoying + their precarious favour. Mr Malone has remarked, that even in the + course of the year 1673, when this dedication came forth, Rochester + entertained the perverse ambition of directing the public favour, + not according to merit, but to his own caprice. Accordingly, he + countenanced Settle in his impudent rivalry of Dryden, and wrote a + prologue to the "Empress of Morocco," when it was exhibited at + Whitehall. Perhaps, joined to a certain envy of Dryden's talents, + the poet's intimacy with Sheffield Earl of Mulgrave gave offence to + Rochester. It is certain they were never afterwards reconciled; and + even after Rochester's death, Dryden only mentions his once valued + patron, as "a man of quality whose ashes he will not + disturb."--_Essay on the Origin and Progress of Satire_, prefixed + to Juvenal. It would seem, however, that this dedication was very + favourably received by Rochester, since a letter of Dryden's to + that nobleman is still extant, in which he acknowledges a + flattering return of compliment from his Lordship in exchange for + it. + +2. When this play was acted for the first time in 1673. But about + 1675, Rochester contrived to give such offence as even the + excellent temper of his royal master was unable to digest. This was + by writing a lampoon called "The Insipids," in which the person and + character of Charles are treated with most merciless and irreverent + severity. It begins thus: + + Chaste, pious, prudent, Charles the Second, + The miracle of thy Restoration + May like to that of quails be reckoned, + Rained on the Israelitish nation; + The wished-for blessing, from heaven sent, + Became their curse and punishment. + + For this satiric effusion the author was banished from the court. + + + + + PROLOGUE. + + + Lord, how reformed and quiet are we grown, + Since all our braves and all our wits are gone! + Fop-corner now is free from civil war, + White-wig and vizard make no longer jar. + France, and the fleet, have swept the town so clear, + That we can act in peace, and you can hear. + 'Twas a sad sight, before they marched from home, + To see our warriors in red waistcoats come, + With hair tucked up, into our tireing-room. + But 'twas more sad to hear their last adieu: + The women sobbed, and swore they would be true; + And so they were, as long as e'er they could, + But powerful guinea cannot be withstood, + And they were made of play-house flesh and blood. + Fate did their friends for double use ordain; + In wars abroad they grinning honour gain, + And mistresses, for all that stay, maintain. + Now they are gone, 'tis dead vacation here, + For neither friends nor enemies appear. + Poor pensive punk now peeps ere plays begin, + Sees the bare bench, and dares not venture in; + But manages her last half-crown with care, + And trudges to the Mall, on foot, for air. + Our city friends so far will hardly come, + They can take up with pleasures nearer home; + And see gay shows, and gaudy scenes elsewhere; + For we presume they seldom come to hear. + But they have now ta'en up a glorious trade, + And cutting Morecraft[1] struts in masquerade. + There's all our hope, for we shall shew to-day + A masking ball, to recommend our play; + Nay, to endear them more, and let them see + We scorn to come behind in courtesy, + We'll follow the new mode which they begin, + And treat them with a room, and couch within: + For that's one way, howe'er the play fall short, + To oblige the town, the city, and the court. + + +Footnote: +1. In the conclusion of Beaumont and Fletcher's play of "The Scornful + Lady," Morecraft, an usurer, turns a cutter, or, as we now say, a + buck. Dryden seems to allude to Ravenscroft's play of "The Citizen + turned Gentleman," a transmigration somewhat resembling that of + cutting Morecraft. This play was now acting by the Duke's company + in Dorset Gardens, which, from its situation, says Mr Malone, was + much frequented by citizens, as here insinuated. + + + + + DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. + + POLYDAMAS, _Usurper of Sicily._ + LEONIDAS, _the rightful Prince, unknown._ + ARGALEON, _favourite to_ POLYDAMAS. + HERMOGENES, _foster-father to_ LEONIDAS. + EUBULUS, _his friend and companion._ + RHODOPHIL, _captain of the guards._ + PALAMEDE, _a courtier._ + + PALMYRA, _daughter to the Usurper._ + AMALTHEA, _sister to_ ARGALEON. + DORALICE, _wife to_ RHODOPHIL. + MELANTHA, _an affected lady._ + PHILOTIS, _woman to_ MELANTHA. + BELIZA, _woman to_ DORALICE. + ARTEMIS, _a court lady._ + +SCENE,--_Sicily._ + + + + + MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE. + + +ACT I. + +SCENE I.--_Walks near the Court._ + + _Enter_ DORALICE _and_ BELIZA. + +_Dor._ Beliza, bring the lute into this arbour; the walks are empty: I +would try the song the princess Amalthea bade me learn. + [_They go in, and sing._ + + I. + + _Why should a foolish marriage vow, + Which long ago was made, + Oblige us to each other now, + When passion is decayed? + We loved, and we loved, as long as we could, + 'Till our love was loved out in us both; + But our marriage is dead, when the pleasure is fled: + 'Twas pleasure first made it an oath._ + + II. + + _If I have pleasures for a friend, + And further love in store, + What wrong has he, whose joys did end, + And who could give no more?_ + _'Tis a madness that he + Should be jealous of me, + Or that I should bar him of another: + For all we can gain, + Is to give ourselves pain, + When neither can hinder the other._ + + _Enter_ PALAMEDE, _in a riding-habit, and hears the Song. Re-enter_ + DORALICE _and_ BELIZA. + +_Bel._ Madam, a stranger. + +_Dor._ I did not think to have had witnesses of my bad singing. + +_Pala._ If I have erred, madam, I hope you'll pardon the curiosity of +a stranger; for I may well call myself so, after five years absence +from the court: but you have freed me from one error. + +_Dor._ What's that, I beseech you? + +_Pala._ I thought good voices, and ill faces, had been inseparable; +and that to be fair, and sing well, had been only the privilege of +angels. + +_Dor._ And how many more of these fine things can you say to me? + +_Pala._ Very few, madam; for if I should continue to see you some +hours longer, you look so killingly that I should be mute with wonder. + +_Dor._ This will not give you the reputation of a wit with me. You +travelling monsieurs live upon the stock you have got abroad, for the +first day or two: to repeat with a good memory, and apply with a good +grace, is all your wit; and, commonly, your gullets are sewed up, like +cormorants. When you have regorged what you have taken in, you are the +leanest things in nature. + +_Pala._ Then, madam, I think you had best make that use of me; let me +wait on you for two or three days together, and you shall hear all I +have learnt of extraordinary in other countries; and one thing which I +never saw 'till I came home, that is, a lady of a better voice, better +face, and better wit, than any I have seen abroad. And, after this, if +I should not declare myself most passionately in love with you, I +should have less wit than yet you think I have. + +_Dor._ A very plain, and pithy declaration. I see, sir, you have been +travelling in Spain or Italy, or some of the hot countries, where men +come to the point immediately. But are you sure these are not words of +course? For I would not give my poor heart an occasion of complaint +against me, that I engaged it too rashly, and then could not bring it +off. + +_Pala._ Your heart may trust itself with me safely; I shall use it +very civilly while it stays, and never turn it away, without fair +warning to provide for itself. + +_Dor._ First, then, I do receive your passion with as little +consideration, on my part, as ever you gave it me, on yours. And now, +see what a miserable wretch you have made yourself! + +_Pala._ Who, I miserable? Thank you for that. Give me love enough, and +life enough, and I defy Fortune. + +_Dor._ Know, then, thou man of vain imagination, know, to thy utter +confusion, that I am virtuous. + +_Pala._ Such another word, and I give up the ghost. + +_Dor._ Then, to strike you quite dead, know that I am married too. + +_Pala._ Art thou married? O thou damnable virtuous woman! + +_Dor._ Yes, married to a gentleman; young, handsome rich, valiant, and +with all the good qualities that will make you despair, and hang +yourself. + +_Pala._ Well, in spite of all that, I'll love you: Fortune has cut us +out for one another; for I am to be married within these three days; +married, past redemption to a young, fair, rich, and virtuous lady; +and it shall go hard but I will love my wife as little, as, I +perceive, you do your husband. + +_Dor._ Remember, I invade no propriety: my servant you are, only 'till +you are married. + +_Pala._ In the meantime, you are to forget you have a husband. + +_Dor._ And you, that you are to have a wife. + +_Bel._ [_aside, to her Lady._] O madam, my lord's just at the end of +the walks! and, if you make not haste, will discover you. + +_Dor._ Some other time, new servant, we'll talk further of the +premises; in the mean while, break not my first commandment, that is, +not to follow me. + +_Pala._ But where, then, shall I find you again? + +_Dor._ At court. Yours, for two days, sir. + +_Pala._ And nights, I beseech you, madam. + [_Exeunt_ DORALICE _and_ BELIZ. + +_Pala._ Well, I'll say that for thee, thou art a very dexterous +executioner; thou hast done my business at one stroke: yet I must +marry another--and yet I must love this; and if it lead me into some +little inconveniencies, as jealousies, and duels, and death, and so +forth--yet, while sweet love is in the case, Fortune, do thy worst, +and avaunt, mortality! + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL, _who seems speaking to one within._ + +_Rho._ Leave 'em with my lieutenant, while I fetch new orders from the +king.--How? Palamede! [_Sees_ PALAMEDE. + +_Pala._ Rhodophil! + +_Rho._ Who thought to have seen you in Sicily? + +_Pala._ Who thought to have found the court so far from Syracuse? + +_Rho._ The king best knows the reason of the progress. But, answer me, +I beseech you, what brought you home from travel? + +_Pala._ The commands of an old rich father. + +_Rho._ And the hopes of burying him? + +_Pala._ Both together, as you see, have prevailed on my good nature. +In few words, my old man has already married me; for he has agreed +with another old man, as rich and as covetous as himself; the articles +are drawn, and I have given my consent, for fear of being +disinherited; and yet know not what kind of woman I am to marry. + +_Rho._ Sure your father intends you some very ugly wife, and has a +mind to keep you in ignorance till you have shot the gulf. + +_Pala._ I know not that; but obey I will, and must. + +_Rho._ Then I cannot chuse but grieve for all the good girls and +courtezans of France and Italy. They have lost the most kind-hearted, +doting, prodigal humble servant, in Europe. + +_Pala._ All I could do, in these three years I staid behind you, was +to comfort the poor creatures for the loss of you. But what's the +reason that, in all this time, a friend could never hear from you? + +_Rho._ Alas, dear Palamede! I have had no joy to write, nor indeed to +do any thing in the world to please me. The greatest misfortune +imaginable is fallen upon me. + +_Pala._ Pr'ythee, what's the matter? + +_Rho._ In one word, I am married: wretchedly married; and have been +above these two years. Yes, faith, the devil has had power over me, in +spite of my vows and resolutions to the contrary. + +_Pala._ I find you have sold yourself for filthy lucre; she's old, or +ill conditioned. + +_Rho._ No; none of these: I'm sure she's young; and, for her humour, +she laughs, sings, and dances eternally; and, which is more, we never +quarrel about it, for I do the same. + +_Pala._ You're very unfortunate indeed: then the case is plain, she is +not handsome. + +_Rho._ A great beauty too, as people say. + +_Pala._ As people say? why, you should know that best yourself. + +_Rho._ Ask those, who have smelt to a strong perfume two years +together, what's the scent. + +_Pala._ But here are good qualities enough for one woman. + +_Rho._ Ay, too many, Palamede. If I could put them into three or four +women, I should be content. + +_Pala._ O, now I have found it! you dislike her for no other reason +but because she's your wife. + +_Rho._ And is not that enough? All that I know of her perfections now, +is only by memory. I remember indeed, that about two years ago I loved +her passionately; but those golden days are gone, Palamede: Yet I +loved her a whole half year, double the natural term of any mistress; +and I think, in my conscience, I could have held out another quarter, +but then the world began to laugh at me, and a certain shame, of being +out of fashion, seized me. At last, we arrived at that point, that +there was nothing left in us to make us new to one another. Yet still +I set a good face upon the matter, and am infinite fond of her before +company; but when we are alone, we walk like lions in a room; she one +way, and I another. And we lie with our backs to each other, so far +distant, as if the fashion of great beds was only invented to keep +husband and wife sufficiently asunder. + +_Pala._ The truth is, your disease is very desperate; but, though you +cannot be cured you may be patched up a little: you must get you a +mistress, Rhodophil. That, indeed, is living upon cordials; but, as +fast as one fails, you must supply it with another. You're like a +gamester who has lost his estate; yet, in doing that, you have learned +the advantages of play, and can arrive to live upon't. + +_Rho._ Truth is, I have been thinking on't, and have just resolved to +take your counsel; and, faith, considering the damned disadvantages of +a married man, I have provided well enough, for a poor humble sinner, +that is not ambitious of great matters. + +_Pala._ What is she, for a woman? + +_Rho._ One of the stars of Syracuse, I assure you: Young enough, fair +enough; and, but for one quality, just such a woman as I could wish. + +_Pala._ O friend, this is not an age to be critical in beauty. When we +had good store of handsome women, and but few chapmen, you might have +been more curious in your choice; but now the price is enhanced upon +us, and all mankind set up for mistresses, so that poor little +creatures, without beauty, birth, or breeding, but only impudence, go +off at unreasonable rates: And a man, in these hard times, snaps at +them, as he does at broad gold; never examines the weight, but takes +light or heavy, as he can get it. + +_Rho._ But my mistress has one fault, that's almost unpardonable; for, +being a town-lady, without any relation to the court, yet she thinks +herself undone if she be not seen there three or four times a day with +the princess Amalthea. And, for the king, she haunts and watches him +so narrowly in a morning, that she prevents even the chemists, who +beset his chamber, to turn their mercury into his gold. + +_Pala._ Yet, hitherto, methinks, you are no very unhappy man. + +_Rho._ With all this, she's the greatest gossip in nature; for, +besides the court, she's the most eternal visitor of the town; and yet +manages her time so well, that she seems ubiquitary. For my part, I +can compare her to nothing but the sun; for, like him, she takes no +rest, nor ever sets in one place, but to rise in another. + +_Pala._ I confess, she had need be handsome, with these qualities. + +_Rho._ No lady can be so curious of a new fashion, as she is of a new +French word: she's the very mint of the nation; and as fast as any +bullion comes out of France, coins it immediately into our language. + +_Pala._ And her name is-- + +_Rho._ No naming; that's not like a cavalier: Find her, if you can, by +my description; and I am not so ill a painter that I need write the +name beneath the picture. + +_Pala._ Well, then, how far have you proceeded in your love? + +_Rho._ 'Tis yet in the bud, and what fruit it may bear I cannot tell; +for this insufferable humour, of haunting the court, is so +predominant, that she has hitherto broken all her assignations with +me, for fear of missing her visits there. + +_Pala._ That's the hardest part of your adventure. But, for aught I +see, fortune has used us both alike: I have a strange kind of mistress +too in court, besides her I am to marry. + +_Rho._ You have made haste to be in love, then; for, if I am not +mistaken, you are but this day arrived. + +_Pala._ That's all one: I have seen the lady already, who has charmed +me; seen her in these walks, courted her, and received, for the first +time, an answer that does not put me into despair. + + _To them_ ARGALEON, AMALTHEA, _and_ ARTEMIS. + +I'll tell you more at leisure my adventures. The walks fill apace, I +see. Stay, is not that the young lord Argaleon, the king's favourite? + +_Rho._ Yes, and as proud as ever, as ambitious, and as revengeful. + +_Pala._ How keeps he the king's favour with these qualities? + +_Rho._ Argaleon's father helped him to the crown: besides, he gilds +over all his vices to the king, and, standing in the dark to him, sees +all his inclinations, interests, and humours, which he so times and +soothes, that, in effect, he reigns. + +_Pala._ His sister Amalthea, who, I guess, stands by him, seems not to +be of his temper. + +_Rho._ O, she's all goodness and generosity. + +_Arga._ Rhodophil, the king expects you earnestly. + +_Rho._ 'Tis done, my lord, what he commanded: I only waited his return +from hunting. Shall I attend your lordship to him? + +_Arga._ No; I go first another way. [_Exit hastily._ + +_Pala._ He seems in haste, and discomposed. + +_Amal._ [_to_ RHOD. _after a short whisper._] Your friend? then he +must needs be of much merit. + +_Rho._ When he has kissed the king's hand, I know he'll beg the honour +to kiss yours. Come, Palamede. + [_Exeunt_ RHODO. _and_ PALA. _bowing to_ AMAL. + +_Arte._ Madam, you tell me most surprising news. + +_Amal._ The fear of it, you see, +Has discomposed my brother; but to me, +All, that can bring my country good, is welcome. + +_Arte._ It seems incredible, that this old king, +Whom all the world thought childless, +Should come to search the farthest parts of Sicily, +In hope to find an heir. + +_Amal._ To lessen your astonishment, I will +Unfold some private passages of state, +Of which you are yet ignorant: Know, first, +That this Polydamus, who reigns, unjustly +Gained the crown. + +_Arte._ Somewhat of this I have confusedly heard. + +_Amal._ I'll tell you all in brief: Theagenes, +Our last great king, +Had, by his queen, one only son, an infant +Of three years old, called, after him, Theagenes. +The general, this Polydamus, then married; +The public feasts for which were scarcely past, +When a rebellion in the heart of Sicily +Called out the king to arms. + +_Arte._ Polydamus +Had then a just excuse to stay behind. + +_Amal._ His temper was too warlike to accept it. +He left his bride, and the new joys of marriage, +And followed to the field. In short, they fought, +The rebels were o'ercome; but in the fight +The too bold king received a mortal wound. +When he perceived his end approaching near, +He called the general, to whose care he left +His widow queen, and orphan son; then died. + +_Arte._ Then false Polydamus betrayed his trust? + +_Amal._ He did; and, with my father's help,--for which +Heaven pardon him!--so gained their soldiers' hearts, +That, in a few days, he was saluted king: +And when his crimes had impudence enough +To bear the eye of day, +He marched his army back to Syracuse. +But see how heaven can punish wicked men, +In granting their desires: The news was brought him, +That day he was to enter it, that Eubulus, +Whom his dead master had left governor, +Was fled, and with him bore away the queen, +And royal orphan; but, what more amazed him, +His wife, now big with child, and much detesting +Her husband's practices, had willingly +Accompanied their flight. + +_Arte._ How I admire her virtue! + +_Amal._ What became +Of her, and them, since that, was never known; +Only, some few days since, a famous robber +Was taken with some jewels of vast price, +Which, when they were delivered to the king, +He knew had been his wife's; with these, a letter, +Much torn and sullied, but which yet he knew +To be her writing. + +_Arte._ Sure, from hence he learned +He had a son? + +_Amal._ It was not left so plain: +The paper only said, she died in child-bed; +But when it should have mentioned son or daughter, +Just there it was torn off. + +_Arte._ Madam, the king. + + _To them_ POLYDAMUS, ARGALEON, _Guard and Attendants._ + +_Arga._ The robber, though thrice racked, confessed no more. +But that he took those jewels near this place. + +_Poly._ But yet the circumstances strongly argue, +That those, for whom I search, are not far off. + +_Arga._ I cannot easily believe it. + +_Arte._ No, +You would not have it so. [_Aside._ + +_Poly._ Those, I employed, have in the neighbouring hamlet, +Amongst the fishers' cabins, made discovery +Of some young persons, whose uncommon beauty, +And graceful carriage, make it seem suspicious +They are not what they seem: I therefore sent +The captain of my guards, this morning early, +With orders to secure and bring them to me. + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL _and_ PALAMEDE. + +O, here he is.--Have you performed my will? + +_Rho._ Sir, those, whom you commanded me to bring, +Are waiting in the walks. + +_Poly._ Conduct them hither. + +_Rho._ First, give me leave +To beg your notice of this gentleman. + +_Poly._ He seems to merit it. His name and quality? + +_Rho._ Palamede, son to lord Cleodemus of Palermo, +And new returned from travel. + [PALAMEDE _approaches, and kneels to kiss the + Kings hand._ + +_Poly._ You are welcome. +I knew your father well, he was both brave +And honest; we two once were fellow soldiers +In the last civil wars. + +_Pala._ I bring the same unquestion'd honesty +And zeal to serve your majesty; the courage +You were pleased to praise in him, +Your royal prudence, and your people's love, +Will never give me leave to try, like him, +In civil wars; I hope it may in foreign. + +_Poly._ Attend the court, and it shall be my care +To find out some employment, worthy you. +Go, Rhodophil, and bring in those without. [_Exeunt_ RHO. _and_ PALA. + + RHODOPHIL _returns again immediately, and with him enter_ + HERMOGENES, LEONIDAS, _and_ PALMYRA. + +Behold two miracles! [_Looking earnestly on_ LEON. _and_ PALMYRA. +Of different sexes, but of equal form: +So matchless both, that my divided soul +Can scarcely ask the gods a son or daughter, +For fear of losing one. If from your hands, +You powers, I shall this day receive a daughter, +Argaleon, she is yours; but, if a son, +Then Amalthea's love shall make him happy. + +_Arga._ Grant, heaven, this admirable nymph may prove +That issue, which he seeks! + +_Amal._ Venus Urania, if thou art a goddess, +Grant that sweet youth may prove the prince of Sicily! + +_Poly._ Tell me, old man, and tell me true, from whence [_To_ HERM. +Had you that youth and maid? + +_Her._ From whence you had +Your sceptre, sir: I had them from the gods. + +_Poly._ The gods then have not such another gift. +Say who their parents were. + +_Her._ My wife, and I. + +_Arga._ It is not likely, a virgin, of so excellent a beauty, +Should come from such a stock. + +_Amal._ Much less, that such a youth, so sweet, so graceful, +Should be produced from peasants. + +_Her._ Why, nature is the same in villages, +And much more fit to form a noble issue, +Where it is least corrupted. + +_Poly._ He talks too like a man that knew the world, +To have been long a peasant. But the rack +Will teach him other language. Hence with him! + [_As the Guards are carrying him away, his peruke + falls off._ +Sure I have seen that face before. Hermogenes! +'Tis he, 'tis he, who fled away with Eubulus, +And with my dear Eudoxia. + +_Her._ Yes, sir, I am Hermogenes; +And if to have been loyal be a crime, +I stand prepared to suffer. + +_Poly._ If thou would'st live, speak quickly, +What is become of my Eudoxia? +Where is the queen and young Theagenes? +Where Eubulus? and which of these is mine? + [_Pointing to_ LEON. _and_ PALM. + +_Her._ Eudoxia is dead, so is the queen, +The infant king, her son, and Eubulus. + +_Poly._ Traitor, 'tis false: Produce them, or-- + +_Her._ Once more +I tell you, they are dead; but leave to threaten, +For you shall know no further. + +_Poly._ Then prove indulgent to my hopes, and be +My friend for ever. Tell me, good Hermogenes, +Whose son is that brave youth? + +_Her._ Sir, he is yours. + +_Poly._ Fool that I am! thou see'st that so I wish it, +And so thou flatter'st me. + +_Her._ By all that's holy! + +_Poly._ Again. Thou canst not swear too deeply.-- +Yet hold, I will believe thee:--Yet I doubt. + +_Her._ You need not, sir. + +_Arga._ Believe him not; he sees you credulous, +And would impose his own base issue on you, +And fix it to your crown. + +_Amal._ Behold his goodly shape and feature, sir; +Methinks he much resembles you. + +_Arga._ I say, if you have any issue here, +It must be that fair creature; +By all my hopes I think so. + +_Amal._ Yes, brother, I believe you by your hopes, +For they are all for her. + +_Poly._ Call the youth nearer. + +_Her._ Leonidas, the king would speak with you. + +_Poly._ Come near, and be not dazzled with the splendour, +And greatness of a court. + +_Leon._ I need not this encouragement; +I can fear nothing but the gods. +And, for this glory, after I have seen +The canopy of state spread wide above +In the abyss of heaven, the court of stars, +The blushing morning, and the rising sun, +What greater can I see? + +_Poly._ This speaks thee born a prince; thou art, thyself, + [_Embracing him._ +That rising sun, and shalt not see, on earth, +A brighter than thyself. All of you witness, +That for my son I here receive this youth, +This brave, this--but I must not praise him further, +Because he now is mine. + +_Leon._ I wo'not, sir, believe [_Kneeling._ +That I am made your sport; +For I find nothing in myself, but what +Is much above a scorn. I dare give credit +To whatsoe'er a king, like you, can tell me. +Either I am, or will deserve to be, your son. + +_Arga._ I yet maintain it is impossible +This young man should be yours; for, if he were, +Why should Hermogenes so long conceal him, +When he might gain so much by his discovery? + +_Her._ I staid a while to make him worthy, sir, +Of you. [_To the King._ +But in that time I found +Somewhat within him, which so moved my love, +I never could resolve to part with him. + +_Leon._ You ask too many questions, and are [_To_ ARGA. +Too saucy for a subject. + +_Arga._ You rather over-act your part, and are +Too soon a prince. + +_Leon._ Too soon you'll find me one. + +_Poly._ Enough, Argaleon! +I have declared him mine; and you, Leonidas, +Live well with him I love. + +_Arga._ Sir, if he be your son, I may have leave +To think your queen had twins. Look on this virgin; +Hermogenes would enviously deprive you +Of half your treasure. + +_Her._ Sir, she is my daughter. +I could, perhaps, thus aided by this lord, +Prefer her to be yours; but truth forbid +I should procure her greatness by a lie! + +_Poly._ Come hither, beauteous maid: Are you not sorry +Your father will not let you pass for mine? + +_Palm._ I am content to be what heaven has made me. + +_Poly._ Could you not wish yourself a princess then? + +_Palm._ Not to be sister to Leonidas. + +_Poly._ Why, my sweet maid? + +_Palm._ Indeed I cannot tell; +But I could be content to be his handmaid. + +_Arga._ I wish I had not seen her. [_Aside._ + +_Palm._ I must weep for your good fortune; [_To_ LEON. +Pray, pardon me, indeed I cannot help it. +Leonidas,--alas! I had forgot, +Now I must call you prince,--but must I leave you? + +_Leon._ I dare not speak to her; for, if I should, +I must weep too. [_Aside._ + +_Poly._ No, you shall live at court, sweet innocence, +And see him there. Hermogenes, +Though you intended not to make me happy, +Yet you shall be rewarded for the event. +Come, my Leonidas, let's thank the gods; +Thou for a father, I for such a son. + [_Exeunt all but_ LEON. _and_ PALM. + +_Leon._ My dear Palmyra, many eyes observe me, +And I have thoughts so tender, that I cannot +In public speak them to you: Some hours hence, +I shall shake off these crowds of fawning courtiers, +And then-- [_Exit_ LEON. + +_Palm._ Fly swift, you hours! you measure time for me in vain, +'Till you bring back Leonidas again. +Be shorter now; and, to redeem that wrong, +When he and I are met, be twice as long! [_Exit._ + + +ACT II. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ MELANTHA _and_ PHILOTIS. + +_Phil._ Count Rhodophil's a fine gentleman indeed, madam; and, I +think, deserves your affection. + +_Mel._ Let me die but he's a fine man; he sings and dances _en +François_, and writes the _billets doux_ to a miracle. + +_Phil._ And those are no small talents, to a lady that understands, +and values the French air, as your ladyship does. + +_Mel._ How charming is the French air! and what an _etourdi bête_ is +one of our untravelled islanders! When he would make his court to me, +let me die but he is just Æsop's ass, that would imitate the courtly +French in his addresses; but, instead of those, comes pawing upon me, +and doing all things so _mal a droitly_. + +_Phil._ 'Tis great pity Rhodophil's a married man, that you may not +have an honourable intrigue with him. + +_Mel._ Intrigue, Philotis! that's an old phrase; I have laid that word +by; amour sounds better. But thou art heir to all my cast words, as +thou art to my old wardrobe. Oh, count Rhodophil! Ah _mon cher_! I +could live and die with him. + + _Enter_ PALAMEDE, _and a Servant._ + +_Serv._ Sir, this is my lady. + +_Pala._ Then this is she that is to be divine, and nymph, and goddess, +and with whom I am to be desperately in love. + [_Bows to her, delivering a letter._ +This letter, madam, which I present you from your father, has given me +both the happy opportunity, and the boldness, to kiss the fairest +hands in Sicily. + +_Mel._ Came you lately from Palermo, sir? + +_Pala._ But yesterday, madam. + +_Mel._ [Reading the letter.] _Daughter, receive the bearer of this +letter, as a gentleman whom I have chosen to make you happy._ [O +Venus, a new servant sent me! and let me die but he has the air of a +_gallant homme_!] _His father is the rich lord Cleodemus, our +neighbour: I suppose you'll find nothing disagreeable in his person or +his converse; both which he has improved by travel. The treaty is +already concluded, and I shall be in town within these three days; so +that you have nothing to do but to obey your careful father._ + +[_To_ PALA.] Sir, my father, for whom I have a blind obedience, has +commanded me to receive your passionate addresses; but you must also +give me leave to avow, that I cannot merit them from so accomplished a +cavalier. + +_Pala._ I want many things, madam, to render me accomplished; and the +first and greatest of them is your favour. + +_Mel._ Let me die, Philotis, but this is extremely French; but yet +Count Rhodophil--a gentleman, sir, that understands the _grand monde_ +so well, who has haunted the best conversations, and who, in short, +has voyaged, may pretend to the good graces of a lady. + +_Pala._ [_Aside._] Hey-day! _Grand monde! Conversation! voyaged!_ and +_good graces!_ I find my mistress is one of those that run mad in new +French words. + +_Mel._ I suppose, sir, you have made the tour of France; and, having +seen all that's fine there, will make a considerable reformation in +the rudeness of our court: For let me die, but an unfashioned, +untravelled, mere Sicilian, is a _bête_; and has nothing in the world +of an _honnête homme_. + +_Pala._ I must confess, madam, that-- + +_Mel._ And what new minuets have you brought over with you? their +minuets are to a miracle! and our Sicilian jiggs are so dull and sad +to them! + +_Pala._ For minuets, madam-- + +_Mel._ And what new plays are there in vogue? And who danced best in +the last grand ballet? Come, sweet servant, you shall tell me all. + +_Pala._ [_aside._] Tell her all? Why, she asks all, and will hear +nothing.--To answer in order, madam, to your demands-- + +_Mel._ I am thinking what a happy couple we shall be! For you shall +keep up your correspondence abroad, and every thing that's new writ, +in France, and fine, I mean all that's delicate, and _bien tourné_, we +will have first. + +_Pala._ But, madam, our fortune-- + +_Mel._ I understand you, sir; you'll leave that to me: For the +_menage_ of a family, I know it better than any lady in Sicily. + +_Pala._ Alas, madam, we-- + +_Mel._ Then, we will never make visits together, nor see a play, but +always apart; you shall be every day at the king's levee, and I at the +queen's; and we will never meet, but in the drawing-room. + +_Phil._ Madam, the new prince is just passed by the end of the walk. + +_Mel._ The new prince, sayest thou? Adieu, dear servant; I have not +made my court to him these two long hours. O, it is the sweetest +prince! so _obligeant_, _charmant_, _ravissant_, that--Well, I'll make +haste to kiss his hands, and then make half a score visits more, and +be with you again in a twinkling. [_Exit running, with_ PHIL. + +_Pala._ [_solus._] Now heaven, of thy mercy, bless me from this +tongue! it may keep the field against a whole army of lawyers, and +that in their own language, French gibberish. It is true, in the +day-time, it is tolerable, when a man has field room to run from it; +but to be shut up in a bed with her, like two cocks in a pit, humanity +cannot support it. I must kiss all night in my own defence, and hold +her down, like a boy at cuffs, and give her the rising blow every time +she begins to speak. + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL. + +But here comes Rhodophil. It is pretty odd that my mistress should so +much resemble his: The same newsmonger, the same passionate lover of a +court, the same--But, Basta, since I must marry her. I'll say nothing, +because he shall not laugh at my misfortune. + +_Rho._ Well, Palamede, how go the affairs of love? You have seen your +mistress? + +_Pala._ I have so. + +_Rho._ And how, and how? has the old Cupid, your father, chosen well +for you? is he a good woodman? + +_Pala._ She's much handsomer than I could have imagined: In short, I +love her, and will marry her. + +_Rho._ Then you are quite off from your other mistress? + +_Pala._ You are mistaken; I intend to love them both, as a reasonable +man ought to do: For, since all women have their faults and +imperfections, it is fit that one of them should help out the other. + +_Rho._ This were a blessed doctrine, indeed, if our wives would hear +it; but they are their own enemies: If they would suffer us but now +and then to make excursions, the benefit of our variety would be +theirs; instead of one continued, lazy, tired love, they would, in +their turns, have twenty vigorous, fresh, and active lovers. + +_Pala._ And I would ask any of them, whether a poor narrow brook, half +dry the best part of the year, and running ever one way, be to be +compared to a lusty stream, that has ebbs and flows? + +_Rho._ Ay, or is half so profitable for navigation? + + _Enter_ DORALICE, _walking by, and reading._ + +_Pala._ Ods my life, Rhodophil, will you keep my counsel? + +_Rho._ Yes: Where's the secret? + +_Pala._ There it is: [_Shewing_ DOR.] I may tell you, as my friend, +_sub sigillo_, &c. this is that very lady, with whom I am in love. + +_Rho._ By all that's virtuous, my wife! [_Aside._ + +_Pala._ You look strangely: How do you like her? Is she not very +handsome? + +_Rho._ Sure he abuses me. [_Aside._]--Why the devil do you ask my +judgment? + +_Pala._ You are so dogged now, you think no man's mistress handsome +but your own. Come, you shall hear her talk too; she has wit, I assure +you. + +_Rho._ This is too much, Palamede. [_Going back._ + +_Pala._ Pr'ythee do not hang back so: Of an old tried lover, thou art +the most bashful fellow! [_Pulling him forward._ + +_Dor._ Were you so near, and would not speak, dear husband? + [_Looking up._ + +_Pala._ Husband, quoth a! I have cut out a fine piece of work for +myself. [_Aside._ + +_Rho._ Pray, spouse, how long have you been acquainted with this +gentleman? + +_Dor._ Who? I acquainted with this stranger? To my best knowledge, I +never saw him before. + + _Enter_ MELANTHA _at the other end._ + +_Pala._ Thanks, fortune, thou hast helped me. [_Aside._ + +_Rho._ Palamede, this must not pass so. I must know your mistress a +little better. + +_Pala._ It shall be your own fault else. Come, I'll introduce you. + +_Rho._ Introduce me! where? + +_Pala._ There. To my mistress. + [_Pointing to_ MELANTHA, _who swiftly passes + over the stage._ + +_Rho._ Who? Melantha! O heavens, I did not see her. + +_Pala._ But I did: I am an eagle where I love; I have seen her this +half hour. + +_Dor._ [_Aside._] I find he has wit, he has got off so readily; but it +would anger me, if he should love Melantha. + +_Rho._ [_Aside._] Now, I could even wish it were my wife he loved; I +find he's to be married to my mistress. + +_Pala._ Shall I run after, and fetch her back again, to present you to +her? + +_Rho._ No, you need not; I have the honour to have some small +acquaintance with her. + +_Pala._ [_Aside._] O Jupiter! what a blockhead was I, not to find it +out! my wife, that must be, is his mistress. I did a little suspect it +before. Well, I must marry her, because she's handsome, and because I +hate to be disinherited by a younger brother, which I am sure I shall +be, if I disobey; and yet I must keep in with Rhodophil, because I +love his wife.--[_To_ RHO.] I must desire you to make my excuse to +your lady, if I have been so unfortunate to cause any mistake; and, +withal, to beg the honour of being known to her. + +_Rho._ O, that is but reason.--Hark you, spouse, pray look upon this +gentleman as my friend; whom, to my knowledge, you have never seen +before this hour. + +_Dor._ I am so obedient a wife, sir, that my husband's commands shall +ever be a law to me. + + _Enter_ MELANTHA _again, hastily, and runs to embrace_ DORALICE. + +_Mel._ O, my dear, I was just going to pay my devoirs to you; I had +not time this morning, for making my court to the king, and our new +prince. Well, never nation was so happy, and all that, in a young +prince; and he is the kindest person in the world to me, let me die if +he is not. + +_Dor._ He has been bred up far from court, and therefore-- + +_Mel._ That imports not: Though he has not seen the _grand monde_, and +all that, let me die but he has the air of the court most absolutely. + +_Pala._ But yet, madam, he-- + +_Mel._ O, servant, you can testify that I am in his good graces. Well, +I cannot stay long with you, because I have promised him this +afternoon to--But hark you, my dear, I'll tell you a secret. + [_Whispers to_ DOR. + +_Rho._ The devil's in me, that I must love this woman. [_Aside._ + +_Pala._ The devil's in me, that I must marry this woman. [_Aside._ + +_Mel._ [_Raising her voice._] So the prince and I--But you must make a +secret of this, my dear; for I would not for the world your husband +should hear it, or my tyrant, there, that must be. + +_Pala._ Well, fair impertinent, your whisper is not lost, we hear you. + [_Aside._ + +_Dor._ I understand then, that-- + +_Mel._ I'll tell you, my dear, the prince took me by the hand, and +pressed it _a la derobbée_, because the king was near, made the _doux +yeux_ to me, and, _ensuite_, said a thousand gallantries, or let me +die, my dear. + +_Dor._ Then I am sure you-- + +_Mel._ You are mistaken, my dear. + +_Dor._ What, before I speak? + +_Mel._ But I know your meaning. You think, my dear, that I assumed +something of _fierté_ into my countenance, to _rebute_, him; but, +quite contrary, I regarded him,--I know not how to express it in our +dull Sicilian language,--_d'un air enjoüé_; and said nothing but _ad +autre, ad autre,_ and that it was all _grimace_, and would not pass +upon me. + + _Enter_ ARTEMIS: MELANTHA _sees her, and runs away from_ DORALICE. + +[_To_ ARTEMIS.] My dear, I must beg your pardon, I was just making a +loose from Doralice, to pay my respects to you. Let me die, if I ever +pass time so agreeably as in your company, and if I would leave it for +any lady's in Sicily. + +_Arte._ The princess Amalthea is coming this way. + + _Enter_ AMALTHEA: MELANTHA _runs to her._ + +_Mel._ O, dear madam! I have been at your lodging in my new _galeche_, +so often, to tell you of a new amour, betwixt two persons whom you +would little suspect for it, that, let me die if one of my +coach-horses be not dead, and another quite tired, and sunk under the +fatigue. + +_Amal._ O, Melantha, I can tell you news; the prince is coming this +way. + +_Mel._ The prince? O sweet prince! He and I are to--and I forgot it.-- +Your pardon, sweet madam, for my abruptness.--Adieu, my dear +servant,--Rhodophil.--Servant, servant, servant all. [_Exit running._ + +_Amal._ Rhodophil, a word with you. [_Whispers._ + +_Dor._ [_To PALA._] Why do you not follow your mistress, sir? + +_Pala._ Follow her? Why, at this rate she'll be at the Indies within +this half hour. + +_Dor._ However, if you cannot follow her all day, you will meet her at +night, I hope? + +_Pala._ But can you, in charity, suffer me to be so mortified, without +affording me some relief? If it be but to punish that sign of a +husband there, that lazy matrimony, that dull insipid taste, who +leaves such delicious fare at home, to dine abroad on worse meat, and +pay dear for it into the bargain. + +_Dor._ All this is in vain: Assure yourself, I will never admit of any +visit from you in private. + +_Pala._ That is to tell me, in other words, my condition is desperate. + +_Dor._ I think you in so ill a condition, that I am resolved to pray +for you, this very evening, in the close walk behind the terrace; for +that's a private place, and there I am sure nobody will disturb my +devotions. And so, good-night, sir. [_Exit._ + +_Pala._ This is the newest way of making an appointment I ever heard +of. Let women alone to contrive the means; I find we are but dunces to +them. Well, I will not be so prophane a wretch as to interrupt her +devotions; but, to make them more effectual, I'll down upon my knees, +and endeavour to join my own with them. [_Exit._ + +_Amal._ [_To_ RHO.] I know already they do not love each other; and +that my brother acts but a forced obedience to the king's commands; so +that if a quarrel should arise betwixt the prince and him, I were most +miserable on both sides. + +_Rho._ There shall be nothing wanting in me, madam, to prevent so sad +a consequence. + + _Enter the King and_ LEONIDAS; _the King whispers_ AMALTHEA. + +[_To himself._] I begin to hate this Palamede, because he is to marry +my mistress: Yet break with him I dare not, for fear of being quite +excluded from her company. It is a hard case, when a man must go by +his rival to his mistress: But it is, at worst, but using him like a +pair of heavy boots in a dirty journey; after I have fouled him all +day, I'll throw him off at night. [_Exit._ + +_Amal._ [_To the King._] This honour is too great for me to hope. + +_Poly._ You shall this hour have the assurance of it.-- +Leonidas, come hither; you have heard, +I doubt not, that the father of this princess +Was my most faithful friend, while I was yet +A private man; and when I did assume +This crown, he served me in the high attempt. +You see, then, to what gratitude obliges me; +Make your addresses to her. + +_Leon._ Sir, I am yet too young to be a courtier; +I should too much betray my ignorance, +And want of breeding to so fair a lady. + +_Amal._ Your language speaks you not bred up in desarts, +But in the softness of some Asian court, +Where luxury and ease invent kind words, +To cozen tender virgins of their hearts. + +_Poly._ You need not doubt, +But in what words soe'er a prince can offer +His crown and person, they will be received. +You know my pleasure, and you know your duty. + +_Leon._ Yes, sir, I shall obey, in what I can. + +_Poly._ In what you can, Leonidas? Consider, +He's both your king, and father, who commands you. +Besides, what is there hard in my injunction? + +_Leon._ 'Tis hard to have my inclination forced. +I would not marry, sir; and, when I do, +I hope you'll give me freedom in my choice. + +_Poly._ View well this lady, +Whose mind as much transcends her beauteous face, +As that excels all others. + +_Amal._ My beauty, as it ne'er could merit love, +So neither can it beg: And, sir, you may +Believe, that what the king has offered you, +I should refuse, did I not value more +Your person than your crown. + +_Leon._ Think it not pride, +Or my new fortunes swell me to contemn you; +Think less, that I want eyes to see your beauty; +And, least of all, think duty wanting in me +To obey a father's will: But-- + +_Poly._ But what, Leonidas? +For I must know your reason; and be sure +It be convincing too. + +_Leon._ Sir, ask the stars, +Which have imposed love on us, like a fate, +Why minds are bent to one, and fly another? +Ask, why all beauties cannot move all hearts? +For though there may +Be made a rule for colour, or for feature, +There can be none for liking. + +_Poly._ Leonidas, you owe me more +Than to oppose your liking to my pleasure. + +_Leon._ I owe you all things, sir; but something, too, +I owe myself. + +_Poly._ You shall dispute no more; I am a king, +And I will be obeyed. + +_Leon._ You are a king, sir, but you are no god; +Or, if you were, you could not force my will. + +_Poly._ [_Aside._] But you are just, ye gods; O you are just, +In punishing the crimes of my rebellion +With a rebellious son! +Yet I can punish him, as you do me.-- +Leonidas, there is no jesting with +My will: I ne'er had done so much to gain +A crown, but to be absolute in all things. + +_Amal._ O, sir, be not so much a king, as to +Forget you are a father: Soft indulgence +Becomes that name. Tho' nature gives you power +To bind his duty, 'tis with silken bonds: +Command him, then, as you command yourself; +He is as much a part of you, as are +Your appetite and will, and those you force not, +But gently bend, and make them pliant to your reason. + +_Poly._ It may be I have used too rough a way.-- +Forgive me, my Leonidas; I know +I lie as open to the gusts of passion, +As the bare shore to every, beating surge: +I will not force thee now; but I entreat thee, +Absolve a father's vow to this fair virgin; +A vow, which hopes of having such a son +First caused. + +_Leon._ Show not my disobedience by your prayers; +For I must still deny you, though I now +Appear more guilty to myself than you: +I have some reasons, which I cannot utter, +That force my disobedience; yet I mourn +To death, that the first thing, you e'er enjoined me, +Should be that only one command in nature, +Which I could not obey. + +_Poly._ I did descend too much below myself, +When I entreated him.--Hence, to thy desart! +Thou'rt not my son, or art not fit to be. + +_Amal._ Great sir, I humbly beg you, make not me [_Kneeling._ +The cause of your displeasure. I absolve +Your vow; far from me be such designs; +So wretched a desire of being great, +By making him unhappy. You may see +Something so noble in the prince's nature, +As grieves him more, not to obey, than you, +That you are not obeyed. + +_Poly._ Then, for your sake, +I'll give him one day longer to consider, +Not to deny; for my resolves are firm +As fate, that cannot change. [_Exeunt King and_ AMAL. + +_Leon._ And so are mine. +This beauteous princess, charming as she is, +Could never make me happy: I must first +Be false to my Palmyra, and then wretched. +But, then, a father's anger! +Suppose he should recede from his own vow, +He never would permit me to keep mine. + + _Enter_ PALMYRA; ARGALEON _following her, a little after._ + +See, she appears! +I'll think no more of any thing, but her. +Yet I have one good hour ere I am wretched. +But, oh! Argaleon follows her! so night +Treads on the footsteps of a winter's sun, +And stalks all black behind him. + +_Palm._ O, Leonidas, +For I must call you still by that dear name, +Free me from this bad man. + +_Leon._ I hope he dares not be injurious to you. + +_Arga._ I rather was injurious to myself, +Than her. + +_Leon._ That must be judged, when I hear what you said. + +_Arga._ I think you need not give yourself that trouble: +It concerned us alone. + +_Leon._ You answer saucily, and indirectly: +What interest can you pretend in her? + +_Arga._ It may be, sir, I made her some expressions +Which I would not repeat, because they were +Below my rank, to one of hers. + +_Leon._ What did he say, Palmyra? + +_Palm._ I'll tell you all: First, he began to look, +And then he sighed, and then he looked again; +At last, he said, my eyes wounded his heart: +And, after that, he talked of flames and fires, +And such strange words, that I believed he conjured. + +_Leon._ O my heart!--Leave me, Argaleon. + +_Arga._ Come, sweet Palmyra, +I will instruct you better in my meaning: +You see he would be private. + +_Leon._ Go yourself, +And leave her here. + +_Arga._ Alas, she's ignorant, +And is not fit to entertain a prince. + +_Leon._ First learn what's fit for you; that's to obey. + +_Arga._ I know my duty is to wait on you. +A great king's son, like you, ought to forget +Such mean converse. + +_Leon._ What? a disputing subject? +Hence, or my sword shall do me justice on thee. + +_Arga._ Yet I may find a time-- [_Going._ + +_Leon._ What's that you mutter, [_Going after him._ +To find a time?-- + +_Arga._ To wait on you again-- +In the mean while I'll watch you. [_Softly._ + [_Exit, and watches during the scene._ + +_Leon._ How precious are the hours of love in courts! +In cottages, where love has all the day, +Full, and at ease, he throws it half away. +Time gives himself, and is not valued, there; +But sells at mighty rates, each minute, here: +There, he is lazy, unemployed, and slow; +Here, he's more swift; and yet has more to do. +So many of his hours in public move, +That few are left for privacy and love. + +_Palm._ The sun, methinks, shines faint and dimly, here; +Light is not half so long, nor half so clear: +But, oh! when every day was yours and mine, +How early up! what haste he made to shine! + +_Leon._ Such golden days no prince must hope to see, +Whose every subject is more blessed than he. + +_Palm._ Do you remember, when their tasks were done, +How all the youth did to our cottage run? +While winter-winds were whistling loud without, +Our cheerful hearth was circled round about: +With strokes in ashes, maids their lovers drew; +And still you fell to me, and I to you. + +_Leon._ When love did of my heart possession take, +I was so young, my soul was scarce awake: +I cannot tell when first I thought you fair; +But sucked in love, insensibly as air. + +_Palm._ I know too well when, first my love began, +When at our wake you for the chaplet ran: +Then I was made the lady of the May, +And, with the garland, at the goal did stay: +Still, as you ran, I kept you full in view; +I hoped, and wished, and ran, methought, for you. +As you came near, I hastily did rise, +And stretched my arm outright, that held the prize. +The custom was to kiss whom I should crown; +You kneeled, and in my lap your head laid down: +I blushed, and blushed, and did the kiss delay; +At last my subjects forced me to obey: +But, when I gave the crown, and then the kiss, +I scarce had breath to say, Take that,--and this. + +_Leon._ I felt, the while, a pleasing kind of smart; +That kiss went, tingling, to my very heart. +When it was gone, the sense of it did stay; +The sweetness clinged upon my lips all day, +Like drops of honey, loth to fall away. + +_Palm._ Life, like a prodigal, gave all his store +To my first youth, and now can give no more. +You are a prince; and, in that high degree, +No longer must converse with humble me. + +_Leon._ 'Twas to my loss the gods that title gave; +A tyrant's son is doubly born a slave: +He gives a crown; but, to prevent my life +From being happy, loads it with a wife. + +_Palm._ Speak quickly; what have you resolved to do? + +_Leon._ To keep my faith inviolate to you. +He threatens me with exile, and with shame, +To lose my birthright, and a prince's name; +But there's a blessing which he did not mean, +To send me back to love and you again. + +_Palm._ Why was not I a princess for your sake? +But heaven no more such miracles can make: +And, since that cannot, this must never be; +You shall not lose a crown for love of me. +Live happy, and a nobler choice pursue; +I shall complain of fate, but not of you. + +_Leon._ Can you so easily without me live? +Or could you take the counsel, which you give? +Were you a princess, would you not be true? + +_Palm._ I would; but cannot merit it from you. + +_Leon._ Did you not merit, as you do, my heart, +Love gives esteem, and then it gives desert. +But if I basely could forget my vow, +Poor helpless innocence, what would you do? + +_Palm._ In woods, and plains, where first my love began, +There would I live, retired from faithless man: +I'd sit all day within some lonely shade, +Or that close arbour which your hands have made: +I'd search the groves, and every tree, to find +Where you had carved our names upon the rind: +Your hook, your scrip, all that was yours, I'd keep, +And lay them by me when I went to sleep. +Thus would I live: And maidens, when I die, +Upon my hearse white true-love-knots should tie; +And thus my tomb should be inscribed above, +_Here the forsaken Virgin rests from love._ + +_Leon._ Think not that time or fate shall e'er divide +Those hearts, which love and mutual vows have tied. +But we must part; farewell, my love. + +_Palm._ Till when? + +_Leon._ Till the next age of hours we meet again. +Meantime, we may, +When near each other we in public stand, +Contrive to catch a look, or steal a hand: +Fancy will every touch and glance improve; +And draw the most spirituous parts of love. +Our souls sit close, and silently within, +And their own web from their own entrails spin; +And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, +That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT III. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL, _meeting_ DORALICE _and_ ARTEMIS; RHODOPHIL _and_ + DORALICE _embrace._ + +_Rho._ My own dear heart! + +_Dor._ My own true love! [_She starts back._] I had forgot myself to +be so kind; indeed, I am very angry with you, dear; you are come home +an hour after you appointed: if you had staid a minute longer, I was +just considering whether I should stab, hang, or drown myself. + [_Embracing him._ + +_Rho._ Nothing but the king's business could have hindered me; and I +was so vexed, that I was just laying down my commission, rather than +have failed my dear. [_Kisses her hand._ + +_Arte._ Why, this is love as it should be betwixt man and wife: such +another couple would bring marriage into fashion again. But is it +always thus betwixt you? + +_Rho._ Always thus! this is nothing. I tell you, there is not such a +pair of turtles in Sicily; there is such an eternal cooing and kissing +betwixt us, that indeed it is scandalous before civil company. + +_Dor._ Well, if I had imagined I should have been this fond fool, I +would never have married the man I loved: I married to be happy, and +have made myself miserable by over-loving. Nay, and now my case is +desperate; for I have been married above these two years, and find +myself every day worse and worse in love: nothing but madness can be +the end on't. + +_Arte._ Doat on, to the extremity, and you are happy. + +_Dor._ He deserves so infinitely much, that, the truth is, there can +be no doating in the matter; but, to love well, I confess, is a work +that pays itself: 'Tis telling gold, and, after, taking it for one's +pains. + +_Rho._ By that I should be a very covetous person; for I am ever +pulling out my money, and putting it into my pocket again. + +_Dor._ O dear Rhodophil! + +_Rho._ O sweet Doralice! [_Embracing each other._ + +_Arte._ [_Aside._] Nay, I am resolved, I'll never interrupt lovers: +I'll leave them as happy as I found them. [_Steals away._ + +_Rho._ What, is she gone? [_Looking up._ + +_Dor._ Yes; and without taking leave. + +_Rho._ Then there's enough for this time. [_Parting from her._ + +_Dor._ Yes, sure, the scene is done, I take it. + + _They walk contrary ways on the stage; he, with his hands in his + pockets, whistling; she singing a dull melancholy tune._ + +_Rho._ Pox o'your dull tune, a man can't think for you. + +_Dor._ Pox o'your damned whistling; you can neither be company to me +yourself, nor leave me to the freedom of my own fancy. + +_Rho._ Well, thou art the most provoking wife! + +_Dor._ Well, thou art the dullest husband, thou art never to be +provoked. + +_Rho._ I was never thought dull till I married thee; and now thou hast +made an old knife of me; thou hast whetted me so long, till I have no +edge left. + +_Dor._ I see you are in the husband's fashion; you reserve all your +good humours for your mistresses, and keep your ill for your wives. + +_Rho._ Prythee leave me to my own cogitations; I am thinking over all +my sins, to find for which of them it was I married thee. + +_Dor._ Whatever your sin was, mine's the punishment. + +_Rho._ My comfort is, thou art not immortal; and, when that blessed, +that divine day comes of thy departure, I'm resolved I'll make one +holiday more in the almanack for thy sake. + +_Dor._ Ay, you had need make a holiday for me, for I am sure you have +made me a martyr. + +_Rho._ Then, setting my victorious foot upon thy head, in the first +hour of thy silence, (that is, the first hour thou art dead, for I +despair of it before) I will swear by thy ghost,--an oath as terrible +to me as Styx is to the gods,--never more to be in danger of the banes +of matrimony. + +_Dor._ And I am resolved to marry the very same day thou diest, if it +be but to show how little I'm concerned for thee. + +_Rho._ Pray thee, Doralice, why do we quarrel thus a-days? ha! this is +but a kind of heathenish life, and does not answer the ends of +marriage. If I have erred, propound what reasonable atonement may be +made before we sleep, and I will not be refractory; but withal +consider, I have been married these three years, and be not too +tyrannical. + +_Dor._ What should you talk of a peace a-bed, when you can give no +security for performance of articles? + +_Rho._ Then, since we must live together, and both of us stand upon +our terms, as to matters of dying first, let us make ourselves as +merry as we can with our misfortunes. Why, there's the devil on't! if +thou could'st make my enjoying thee but a little easy, or a little +more unlawful, thou should'st see what a termagant lover I would +prove. I have taken such pains to enjoy thee, Doralice, that I have +fancied thee all the fine women of the town--to help me out: But now +there's none left for me to think on, my imagination is quite jaded. +Thou art a wife, and thou wilt be a wife, and I can make thee another +no longer. [_Exit_ RHO. + +_Dor._ Well, since thou art a husband, and wilt be a husband, I'll try +if I can find out another. 'Tis a pretty time we women have on't, to +be made widows while we are married. Our husbands think it reasonable +to complain, that we are the same, and the same to them, when we have +more reason to complain, that they are not the same to us. Because +they cannot feed on one dish, therefore we must be starved. 'Tis +enough that they have a sufficient ordinary provided, and a table +ready spread for them: If they cannot fall too, and eat heartily, the +fault is theirs; and 'tis pity, methinks, that the good creature +should be lost, when many a poor sinner would be glad on't. + + _Enter_ MELANTHA _and_ ARTEMIS _to her._ + +_Mel._ Dear, my dear, pity me, I am so _chagrin_ to day, and have had +the most signal affront at court! I went this afternoon to do my +devoir to princess Amalthea, found her, conversed with her, and helped +to make her court some half an hour; after which, she went to take the +air, chose out two ladies to go with her, that came in after me, and +left me most barbarously behind her. + +_Arte._ You are the less to be pitied, Melantha, because you subject +yourself to these affronts, by coming perpetually to court, where you +have no business nor employment. + +_Mel._ I declare, I had rather of the two be rallied nay, _mal +traitée_ at court, than be deified in the town; for, assuredly, +nothing can be so _ridicule_ as a mere town lady. + +_Dor._ Especially at court. How I have seen them crowd and sweat in +the drawing-room on a holiday-night! For that's their time to swarm +and invade the presence. O, how they catch at a bow, or any little +salute from a courtier, to make show of their acquaintance! and, +rather than be thought to be quite unknown, they court'sy to one +another; but they take true pains to come near the circle, and press +and peep upon the princess, to write letters into the country how she +was dressed, while the ladies, that stand about, make their court to +her with abusing them. + +_Arte._ These are sad truths, Melantha; and therefore I would e'en +advise you to quit the court, and live either wholly in the town, or, +if you like not that, in the country. + +_Dor._ In the country! nay, that's to fall beneath the town, for they +live upon our offals here. Their entertainment of wit is only the +remembrance of what they had when they were last in town;--they live +this year upon the last year's knowledge, as their cattle do all +night, by chewing the cud of what they eat in the afternoon. + +_Mel._ And they tell, for news, such unlikely stories! A letter from +one of us is such a present to them, that the poor souls wait for the +carrier's-day with such devotion, that they cannot sleep the night +before. + +_Arte._ No more than I can, the night before I am to go a journey. + +_Dor._ Or I, before I am to try on a new gown. + +_Mel._ A song, that's stale here, will be new there a twelvemonth +hence; and if a man of the town by chance come amongst them, he's +reverenced for teaching them the tune. + +_Dor._ A friend of mine, who makes songs sometimes, came lately out of +the west, and vowed he was so put out of countenance with a song of +his; for, at the first country gentleman's he visited, he saw three +tailors cross legged upon the table in the hall, who were tearing out +as loud as ever they could sing, + + --After the pangs of a desperate lover, &c. + +And that all day he heard of nothing else, but the daughters of the +house, and the maids, humming it over in every corner, and the father +whistling it. + +_Arte._ Indeed, I have observed of myself, that when I am out of town +but a fortnight, I am so humble, that I would receive a letter from my +tailor or mercer for a favour. + +_Mel._ When I have been at grass in the summer, and am new come up +again, methinks I'm to be turned into ridicule by all that see me; but +when I have been once or twice at court, I begin to value myself +again, and to despise my country acquaintance. + +_Arte._ There are places where all people may be adored, and we ought +to know ourselves so well as to choose them. + +_Dor._ That's very true; your little courtier's wife, who speaks to +the king but once a month, need but go to a town lady, and there she +may vapour and cry,--"The king and I," at every word. Your town lady, +who is laughed at in the circle, takes her coach into the city, and +there she's called Your honour, and has a banquet from the merchant's +wife, whom she laughs at for her kindness. And, as for my finical cit, +she removes but to her country house, and there insults over the +country gentlewoman that never comes up, who treats her with furmity +and custard, and opens her dear bottle of _mirabilis_ beside, for a +gill-glass of it at parting. + +_Arte._ At last, I see, we shall leave Melantha where we found her; +for, by your description of the town and country, they are become more +dreadful to her than the court, where she was affronted. But you +forget we are to wait on the princess Amalthea. Come, Doralice. + +_Dor._ Farewell, Melantha. + +_Mel._ Adieu, my dear. + +_Arte._ You are out of charity with her, and therefore I shall not +give your service. + +_Mel._ Do not omit it, I beseech you; for I have such a _tendre_ for +the court, that I love it even from the drawing-room to the lobby, and +can never be _rebutée_ by any usage. But hark you, my dears; one thing +I had forgot, of great concernment. + +_Dor._ Quickly then, we are in haste. + +_Mel._ Do not call it my service, that's too vulgar; but do my _baise +mains_ to the princess Amalthea; that is _spirituelle_! + +_Dor._ To do you service, then, we will _prendre_ the _carosse_ to +court, and do your _baise mains_ to the princess Amalthea, in your +phrase _spirituelle_. [_Exeunt_ ARTEMIS _and_ DORALICE. + + _Enter_ PHILOTIS, _with a paper in her hand._ + +_Mel._ O, are you there, minion? And, well, are not you a most +precious damsel, to retard all my visits for want of language, when +you know you are paid so well for furnishing me with new words for my +daily conversation? Let me die, if I have not run the risque already +to speak like one of the vulgar, and if I have one phrase left in all +my store, that is not thread-bare _et usé_, and fit for nothing but to +be thrown to peasants. + +_Phil._ Indeed, Madam, I have been very diligent in my vocation; but +you have so drained all the French plays and romances, that they are +not able to supply you with words for your daily expence. + +_Mel._ Drained? What a word's there! _Epuisée_, you sot you. Come, +produce your morning's work. + +_Phil._ 'Tis here, madam. [_Shows the paper._ + +_Mel._ O, my Venus! fourteen or fifteen words to serve me a whole day! +Let me die, at this rate I cannot last till night. Come, read your +works: Twenty to one, half of them will not pass muster neither. + +Phil. _Sottises._ [_Reads._ + +Mel. _Sottises: bon._ That's an excellent word to begin withal; as, +for example, he or she said a thousand _sottises_ to me. Proceed. + +Phil. _Figure:_ As, what a _figure_ of a man is there! _Naive, and +naiveté._ + +_Mel._ _Naive!_ as how? + +_Phil._ Speaking of a thing that was naturally said, it was so +_naive;_ or, such an innocent piece of simplicity 'twas such a +_naiveté._ + +_Mel._ Truce with your interpretations. Make haste. + +Phil. _Foible, chagrin, grimace, embarrasse, double entendre, +equivoque, ecclaircissement, suittè, beveue, façon, penchant, coup +d'etourdy,_ and _ridicule._ + +_Mel._ Hold, hold; how did they begin? + +_Phil._ They began at _sottises_, and ended _en ridicule_. + +_Mel._ Now, give me your paper in my hand, and hold you my glass, +while I practise my postures for the day. [MELANTHA _laughs in the +glass._] How does that laugh become my face? + +_Phil._ Sovereignly well, madam. + +_Mel._ Sovereignly? Let me die, that's not amiss. That word shall not +be yours; I'll invent it, and bring it up myself: My new point gorget +shall be yours upon't. Not a word of the word, I charge you. + +_Phil._ I am dumb, madam. + +_Mel._ That glance, how suits it with my face? + [_Looking in the glass again._ + +_Phil._ 'Tis so _languissant_! + +_Mel._ _Languissant!_ that word shall be mine too, and my last Indian +gown thine for't. That sigh? [_Looks again._ + +_Phil._ 'Twill make a man sigh, madam. 'Tis a mere _incendiary_. + +_Mel._ Take my guimp petticoat for that truth. If thou hast most of +these phrases, let me die but I could give away all my wardrobe, and +go naked for them. + +_Phil._ Go naked? Then you would be a Venus, madam. O Jupiter! what +had I forgot? This paper was given me by Rhodophil's page. + +_Mel._ [_Reading the letter._] Beg the favour from you.--Gratify my +passion--so far--assignation--in the grotto--behind the terrace--clock +this evening--Well, for the _billets doux_ there is no man in Sicily +must dispute with Rhodophil; they are so French, so _gallant_, and so +_tendre_, that I cannot resist the temptation of the assignation. Now, +go you away, Philotis; it imports me to practise what to say to my +servant when I meet him. [_Exit_ PHILOTIS.] Rhodophil, you'll wonder +at my assurance to meet you here;--let me die, I am so out of breath +with coming, that I can render you no reason of it.--Then he will make +this _repartee_; Madam, I have no reason to accuse you for that which +is so great a favour to me.--Then I reply, But why have you drawn me +to this solitary place? Let me die, but I am apprehensive of some +violence from you.--Then says he, Solitude, madam, is most fit for +lovers; but by this fair hand--Nay, now I vow you're rude, sir. O fy, +fy, fy; I hope you'll be honourable?--You'd laugh at me if I should, +madam.--What, do you mean to throw me down thus? Ah me! ah! ah! ah! + + _Enter_ POLYDAMAS, LEONIDAS, _and Guards._ + +O Venus! the king and court. Let me die, but I fear they have found my +foible, and will turn me into _ridicule_. [_Exit, running._ + +_Leon._ Sir, I beseech you. + +_Poly._ Do not urge my patience. + +_Leon._ I'll not deny, +But what your spies informed you of is true: +I love the fair Palmyra; but I loved her +Before I knew your title to my blood. + + _Enter_ PALMYRA _guarded._ + +See, here she comes, and looks, amidst her guards, +Like a weak dove under the falcon's gripe. +O heaven, I cannot bear it. + +_Poly._ Maid, come hither. +Have you presumed so far, as to receive +My son's affections? + +_Palm._ Alas, what shall I answer? To confess it +Will raise a blush upon a virgin's face; +Yet I was ever taught 'twas base to lie. + +_Poly._ You've been too bold, and you must love no more. + +_Palm._ Indeed I must; I cannot help my love; +I was so tender when I took the bent, +That now I grow that way. + +_Poly._ He is a prince, and you are meanly born. + +_Leon._ Love either finds equality, or makes it: +Like death, he knows no difference in degrees, +But plains, and levels all. + +_Palm._ Alas! I had not rendered up my heart, +Had he not loved me first; but he preferred me +Above the maidens of my age and rank,-- +Still shunned their company, and still sought mine. +I was not won by gifts, yet still he gave; +And all his gifts, though small, yet spoke his love. +He picked the earliest strawberries in woods, +The clustered filberds, and the purple grapes; +He taught a prating stare to speak my name; +And, when he found a nest of nightingales, +Or callow linnets, he would show them me, +And let me take them out. + +_Poly._ This is a little mistress, meanly born, +Fit only for a prince's vacant hours, +And then, to laugh at her simplicity, +Not fix a passion there. Now hear my sentence. + +_Leon._ Remember, ere you give it, 'tis pronounced +Against us both. + +_Poly._ First, in her hand +There shall be placed a player's painted sceptre, +And, on her head, a gilded pageant crown: +Thus shall she go, +With all the boys attending on her triumph; +That done, be put alone into a boat, +With bread and water only for three days; +So on the sea she shall be set adrift, +And who relieves her dies. + +_Palm._ I only beg that you would execute +The last part first: Let me be put to sea; +The bread and water for my three days life +I give you back, I would not live so long; +But let me 'scape the shame. + +_Leon._ Look to me, piety; and you, O Gods, look to my piety! +Keep me from saying that, which misbecomes a son; +But let me die before I see this done. + +_Poly._ If you for ever will abjure her sight, +I can be yet a father; she shall live. + +_Leon._ Hear, O you powers! is this to be a father? +I see 'tis all my happiness and quiet +You aim at, sir; and take them: +I will not save even my Palmyra's life +At that ignoble price; but I'll die with her. + +_Palm._ So had I done by you, +Had fate made me a princess.--Death, methinks, +Is not a terror now: +He is not fierce, or grim, but fawns, and sooths me, +And slides along, like Cleopatra's aspick, +Offering his service to my troubled breast. + +_Leon._ Begin what you have purposed when you please; +Lead her to scorn, your triumph shall be doubled. +As holy priests, +In pity, go with dying malefactors, +So I will share her shame. + +_Poly._ You shall not have your will so much; first part them, +Then execute your office. + +_Leon._ No; I'll die +In her defence. [_Draws his sword._ + +_Palm._ Ah, hold, and pull not on +A curse, to make me worthy of my death: +Do not by lawless force oppose your father, +Whom you have too much disobeyed for me. + +_Leon._ Here, take it, sir, and with it pierce my heart: + [_Presenting his sword to his Father upon his + knees._ +You have done more in taking my Palmyra. +You are my father; therefore I submit. + +_Poly._ Keep him from any thing he may design +Against his life, while the first fury lasts; +And now perform what I commanded you. + +_Leon._ In vain; if sword and poison be denied me, +I'll hold my breath and die. + +_Palm._ Farewell, my last Leonidas; yet live, +I charge you, live, 'till you believe me dead. +I cannot die in peace, if you die first; +If life's a blessing, you shall have it last. + +_Poly._ Go on with her, and lead him after me. + + _Enter_ ARGALEON _hastily, with_ HERMOGENES. + +_Arga._ I bring you, sir, such news as must amaze you, +And such as will prevent you from an action, +Which would have rendered all your life unhappy. [HERMOGENES _kneels._ + +_Poly._ Hermogenes, you bend your knees in vain, +My doom's already past. + +_Her._ I kneel not for Palmyra, for I know +She will not need my prayers; but for myself: +With a feigned tale I have abused your ears, +And, therefore, merit death: but since, unforced, +I first accuse myself, I hope your mercy. + +_Poly._ Haste to explain your meaning. + +_Her._ Then, in few words, Palmyra is your daughter. + +_Poly._ How can I give belief to this impostor? +He, who has once abused me, often may. +I'll hear no more. + +_Arga._ For your own sake, you must. + +_Her._ A parent's love,--for I confess my crime,-- +Moved me to say, Leonidas was yours; +But when I heard Palmyra was to die, +The fear of guiltless blood so stung my conscience, +That I resolved, even with my shame, to save +Your daughter's life. + +_Poly._ But how can I be certain, but that interest, +Which moved you first to say your son was mine, +Does not now move you too, to save your daughter? + +_Her._ You had but then my word; I bring you now +Authentic testimonies. Sir, in short, + [_Delivers on his knees a jewel, and letter._ +If this will not convince you, let me suffer. + +_Poly._ I know this jewel well; 'twas once my mother's, + [_Looking first on the jewel._ +Which, marrying, I presented to my wife. +And this, O this is my Eudocia's hand. +_This was the pledge of love given to Eudocia,_ [Reads. +_Who, dying, to her young Palmyra leaves it;_ +_And this, when you, my dearest lord, receive, +Own her, and think on me, dying Eudocia._ +Take it; 'tis well there is no more to read. [_To_ ARGA. +My eyes grow full, and swim in their own light. [_He embraces_ PALM. + +_Palm._ I fear, sir, this is your intended pageant. +You sport yourself at poor Palmyra's cost; +But if you think to make me proud, +Indeed I cannot be so: I was born +With humble thoughts, and lowly, like my birth. +A real fortune could not make me haughty, +Much less a feigned. + +_Poly._ This was her mother's temper. +I have too much deserved thou shouldst suspect +That I am not thy father; but my love +Shall henceforth show I am. Behold my eyes, +And see a father there begin to flow: +This is not feigned, Palmyra. + +_Palm._ I doubt no longer, sir; you are a king, +And cannot lie: Falsehood's a vice too base +To find a room in any royal breast. +I know, in spite of my unworthiness, +I am your child; for when you would have killed me, +Methought I loved you then. + +_Arga._ Sir, we forget the prince Leonidas; +His greatness should not stand neglected thus. + +_Poly._ Guards, you may now retire; Give him his sword, +And leave him free. + +_Leon._ Then the first use I make of liberty +Shall be, with your permission, mighty sir, +To pay that reverence to which nature binds me. + [_Kneels to_ HERMOGENES. + +_Arga._ Sure you forget your birth, thus to misplace +This act of your obedience; you should kneel +To nothing but to heaven, and to a king. + +_Leon._ I never shall forget what nature owes, +Nor be ashamed to pay it; though my father +Be not a king, I know him brave and honest, +And well deserving of a worthier son. + +_Poly._ He bears it gallantly. + +_Leon._ Why would you not instruct me, sir, before, [_To_ HERM. +Where I should place my duty? +From which, if ignorance have made me swerve, +I beg your pardon for an erring son. + +_Palm._ I almost grieve I am a princess, since +It makes him lose a crown. + +_Leon._ And next, to you, my king, thus low I kneel, +To implore your mercy; if in that small time +I had the honour to be thought your son, +I paid not strict obedience to your will. +I thought, indeed, I should not be compelled, +But thought it as your son; so what I took +In duty from you, I restored in courage; +Because your son should not be forced. + +_Poly._ You have my pardon for it. + +_Leon._ To you, fair princess, I congratulate +Your birth; of which I ever thought you worthy: +And give me leave to add, that I am proud +The gods have picked me out to be the man, +By whose dejected fate yours is to rise; +Because no man could more desire your fortune, +Or franklier part with his, to make you great. + +_Palm._ I know the king, though you are not his son, +Will still regard you as my foster-brother, +And so conduct you downward from a throne, +By slow degrees, so unperceived and soft, +That it may seem no fall: Or, if it be, +May fortune lay a bed of down beneath you! + +_Poly._ He shall be ranked with my nobility, +And kept from scorn by a large pension given him. + +_Leon._ You are all great and royal in your gifts; [_Bowing._ +But at the donor's feet I lay them down: +Should I take riches from you, it would seem +As I did want a soul to bear that poverty, +To which the gods designed my humble birth: +And should I take your honours without merit, +It would appear, I wanted manly courage +To hope them, in your service, from my sword. + +_Poly._ Still brave, and like yourself. +The court shall shine this night in its full splendour, +And celebrate this new discovery. +Argaleon, lead my daughter: As we go, +I shall have time to give her my commands, +In which you are concerned. [_Exeunt all but_ LEONIDAS. + +_Leon._ Methinks, I do not want +That huge long train of fawning followers, +That swept a furlong after me. +'Tis true I am alone; +So was the godhead, ere he made the world, +And better served himself, than served by nature. +And yet I have a soul +Above this humble fate. I could command, +Love to do good, give largely to true merit, +All that a king should do: But though these are not +My province, I have scene enough within, +To exercise my virtue. +All that a heart, so fixed as mine, can move, +Is, that my niggard fortune starves my love. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II. + + PALAMEDE _and_ DORALICE _meet: She, with a book in her hand, seems + to start at the sight of him._ + +_Dor._ 'Tis a strange thing that no warning will serve your turn; and +that no retirement will secure me from your impertinent addresses! Did +not I tell you, that I was to be private here at my devotions? + +_Pala._ Yes; and you see I have observed my cue exactly: I am come to +relieve you from them. Come, shut up, shut up your book; the man's +come who is to supply all your necessities. + +_Dor._ Then, it seems, you are so impudent to think it was an +assignation? This, I warrant, was your lewd interpretation of my +innocent meaning. + +_Pala._ Venus forbid, that I should harbour so unreasonable a thought +of a fair young lady, that you should lead me hither into temptation. +I confess, I might think indeed it was a kind of honourable challenge, +to meet privately without seconds, and decide the difference betwixt +the two sexes; but heaven forgive me, if I thought amiss. + +_Dor._ You thought too, I'll lay my life on't, that you might as well +make love to me, as my husband does to your mistress. + +_Pala._ I was so unreasonable to think so too. + +_Dor._ And then you wickedly inferred, that there was some justice in +the revenge of it; or, at least, but little injury for a man to +endeavour to enjoy that, which he accounts a blessing, and which is +not valued as it ought by the dull possessor. Confess your +wickedness,--did you not think so? + +_Pala._ I confess I was thinking so, as fast as I could; but you think +so much before me, that you will let me think nothing. + +_Dor._ 'Tis the very thing that I designed; I have forestalled all +your arguments, and left you without a word more, to plead for mercy. +If you have any thing farther to offer, ere sentence pass--Poor +animal, I brought you hither only for my diversion. + +_Pala._ That you may have, if you'll make use of me the right way; but +I tell thee, woman, I am now past talking. + +_Dor._ But it may be, I came hither to hear what fine things you could +say for yourself. + +_Pala._ You would be very angry, to my knowledge, if I should lose so +much time to say many of them.--By this hand you would! + +_Dor._ Fye, Palamede, I am a woman of honour. + +_Pala._ I see you are; you have kept touch with your assignation: And +before we part, you shall find that I am a man of honour. Yet I have +one scruple of conscience-- + +_Dor._ I warrant you will not want some naughty argument, or other, to +satisfy yourself.--I hope you are afraid of betraying your friend? + +_Pala._ Of betraying my friend! I am more afraid of being betrayed by +you to my friend. You women now are got into the way of telling first +yourselves: A man, who has any care of his reputation, will be loth to +trust it with you. + +_Dor._ O, you charge your faults upon our sex! You men are like cocks; +you never make love, but you clap your wings, and crow when you have +done. + +_Pala._ Nay, rather you women are like hens; you never lay, but you +cackle an hour after, to discover your nest.--But I'll venture it for +once. + +_Dor._ To convince you that you are in the wrong, I'll retire into the +dark grotto, to my devotion, and make so little noise, that it shall +be impossible for you to find me. + +_Pala._ But if I find you-- + +_Dor._ Ay, if you find me--But I'll put you to search in more corners +than you imagine. [_She runs in, and he after her._ + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL _and_ MELANTHA. + +_Mel._ Let me die, but this solitude, and that grotto are scandalous; +I'll go no further; besides, you have a sweet lady of your own. + +_Rho._ But a sweet mistress, now and then, makes my sweet lady so much +more sweet. + +_Mel._ I hope you will not force me? + +_Rho._ But I will, if you desire it. + +_Pala._ [_Within._] Where the devil are you, madam? 'Sdeath, I begin +to be weary of this hide and seek: If you stay a little longer, till +the fit's over, I'll hide in my turn, and put you to the finding me. +[_He enters, and sees_ RHODOPHIL _and_ MELANTHA.] How! Rhodophil and +my mistress! + +_Mel._ My servant, to apprehend me! this is _surprenant au dernier_. + +_Rho._ I must on; there's nothing but impudence can help me out. + +_Pala._ Rhodophil, how came you hither in so good company? + +_Rho._ As you see, Palamede; an effect of pure friendship; I was not +able to live without you. + +_Pala._ But what makes my mistress with you? + +_Rho._ Why, I heard you were here alone, and could not in civility but +bring her to you. + +_Mel._ You'll pardon the effects of a passion which I may now avow for +you, if it transported me beyond the rules of _bienseance._ + +_Pala._ But, who told you I was here? they, that told you that, may +tell you more, for aught I know. + +_Rho._ O, for that matter, we had intelligence. + +_Pala._ But let me tell you, we came hither so very privately, that +you could not trace us. + +_Rho._ Us! what us? you are alone. + +_Pala._ Us! the devil's in me for mistaking:--me, I meant. Or us, that +is, you are me, or I you, as we are friends: That's us. + +_Dor._ Palamede, Palamede! [_Within._ + +_Rho._ I should know that voice; who's within there, that calls you? + +_Pala._ Faith, I can't imagine; I believe the place is haunted. + +_Dor._ Palamede, Palamede, all-cocks hidden. [_Within._ + +_Pala._ Lord, Lord, what shall I do?--Well, dear friend, to let you +see I scorn to be jealous, and that I dare trust my mistress with you, +take her back, for I would not willingly have her frighted, and I am +resolved to see who's there; I'll not be daunted with a bugbear, +that's certain:--Prithee, dispute it not, it shall be so; nay do not +put me to swear, but go quickly: There's an effort of pure friendship +for you now. + + _Enter_ DORALICE, _and looks amazed, seeing them._ + +_Rho._ Doralice! I am thunder-struck to see you here. + +_Pala._ So am I! quite thunder-struck. Was it you, that called me +within?--I must be impudent. + +_Rho._ How came you hither, spouse? + +_Pala._ Ay, how came you hither? And, which is more, how could you be +here without my knowledge? + +_Dor._ [_To her husband._] O, gentlemen, have I caught you i'faith! +have I broke forth in ambush upon you! I thought my suspicions would +prove true. + +_Rho._ Suspicions! this is very fine, spouse! Prithee, what +suspicions? + +_Dor._ O, you feign ignorance: Why, of you and Melantha; here have I +staid these two hours, waiting with all the rage of a passionate, +loving wife, but infinitely jealous, to take you two in the manner; +for hither I was certain you would come. + +_Rho._ But you are mistaken, spouse, in the occasion; for we came +hither on purpose to find Palamede, on intelligence he was gone +before. + +_Pala._ I'll be hanged then, if the same party, who gave you +intelligence I was here, did not tell your wife you would come hither. +Now I smell the malice on't on both sides. + +_Dor._ Was it so, think you? nay, then, I'll confess my part of the +malice too. As soon as ever I spied my husband and Melantha come +together, I had a strange temptation to make him jealous in revenge; +and that made me call Palamede, Palamede! as though there had been an +intrigue between us. + +_Mel._ Nay, I avow, there was an appearance of an intrigue between us +too. + +_Pala._ To see how things will come about! + +_Rho._ And was it only thus, my dear Doralice? [_Embrace._ + +_Dor._ And did I wrong n'own Rhodophil, with a false suspicion? + [_Embracing him._ + +_Pala._ [_Aside._] Now I am confident we had all four the same design: +'Tis a pretty odd kind of game this, where each of us plays for double +stakes: This is just thrust and parry with the same motion; I am to +get his wife, and yet to guard my own mistress. But I am vilely +suspicious, that, while I conquer in the right wing, I shall be routed +in the left; for both our women will certainly betray their party, +because they are each of them for gaining of two, as well as we; and I +much fear. + + If their necessities and ours were known, + They have more need of two, than we of one. + [_Exeunt, embracing one another._ + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ LEONIDAS, _musing;_ AMALTHEA, _following him._ + +_Amal._ Yonder he is; and I must speak or die; +And yet 'tis death to speak: yet he must know +I have a passion for him, and may know it +With a less blush; because to offer it +To his low fortunes, shows I loved before, +His person, not his greatness. + +_Leon._ First scorned, and now commanded from the court! +The king is good; but he is wrought to this +By proud Argaleon's malice. +What more disgrace can love and fortune join +To inflict upon one man? I cannot now +Behold my dear Palmyra: She, perhaps, too, +Is grown ashamed of a mean ill-placed love. + +_Amal._ Assist me, Venus, for I tremble when +I am to speak, but I must force myself. [_Aside._ +Sir, I would crave but one short minute with you, +And some few words. + +_Leon._ The proud Argaleon's sister! [_Aside._ + +_Amal._ Alas! it will not out; Shame stops my mouth. + [_Aside._ +Pardon my error, sir; I was mistaken, +And took you for another. + +_Leon._ In spite of all his guards, I'll see Palmyra; [_Aside._ +Though meanly born, I have a kingly soul. + +_Amal._ I stand upon a precipice, where fain +I would retire, but love still thrusts me on: +Now I grow bolder, and will speak to him. [_Aside._ +Sir, 'tis indeed to you that I would speak, +And if-- + +_Leon._ O, you are sent to scorn my fortunes? +Your sex and beauty are your privilege; +But should your brother-- + +_Amal._ Now he looks angry, and I dare not speak. +I had some business with you, sir, +But 'tis not worth your knowledge. + +_Leon._ Then 'twill be charity to let me mourn +My griefs alone, for I am much disordered. + +_Amal._ 'Twill be more charity to mourn them with you: +Heaven knows I pity you. + +_Leon._ Your pity, madam, +Is generous, but 'tis unavailable. + +_Amal._ You know not till 'tis tried. +Your sorrows are no secret; you have lost +A crown, and mistress. + +_Leon._ Are not these enough? +Hang two such weights on any other soul, +And see if it can bear them. + +_Amal._ More; you are banished, by my brother's means, +And ne'er must hope again to see your princess; +Except as prisoners view fair walks and streets, +And careless passengers going by their grates, +To make them feel the want of liberty. +But, worse than all, +The king this morning has enjoined his daughter +To accept my brother's love. + +_Leon._ Is this your pity? +You aggravate my griefs, and print them deeper, +In new and heavier stamps. + +_Amal._ 'Tis as physicians show the desperate ill, +To endear their art, by mitigating pains +They cannot wholly cure: When you despair +Of all you wish, some part of it, because +Unhoped for, may be grateful; and some other-- + +_Leon._ What other? + +_Amal._ Some other may-- +My shame again has seized me, and I can go [_Aside._ +No farther. + +_Leon._ These often failing sighs and interruptions +Make me imagine you have grief like mine: +Have you ne'er loved? + +_Amal._ I? never!--'Tis in vain: +I must despair in silence. [_Aside._ + +_Leon._ You come, as I suspected then, to mock, +At least observe, my griefs: Take it not ill, +That I must leave you. [_Is going._ + +_Amal._ You must not go with these unjust opinions. +Command my life and fortunes: you are wise; +Think, and think well, what I can do to serve you. + +_Leon._ I have but one thing in my thoughts and wishes: +If, by your means, I can obtain the sight +Of my adored Palmyra; or, what's harder, +One minute's time, to tell her, I die hers-- [_She starts back._ +I see I am not to expect it from you; +Nor could, indeed, with reason. + +_Amal._ Name any other thing! Is Amalthea +So despicable, she can serve your wishes +In this alone? + +_Leon._ If I should ask of heaven, +I have no other suit. + +_Amal._ To show you, then, I can deny you nothing, +Though 'tis more hard to me than any other, +Yet I will do it for you. + +_Leon._ Name quickly, name the means! speak, my good angel! + +_Amal._ Be not so much o'erjoyed; for, if you are, +I'll rather die than do't. This night the court +Will be in masquerade; +You shall attend on me; in that disguise +You may both see and speak to her, +If you dare venture it. + +_Leon._ Yes; were a god her guardian, +And bore in each hand thunder, I would venture. + +_Amal._ Farewell, then; two hours hence I will expect you:-- +My heart's so full, that I can stay no longer. [_Exit._ + +_Leon._ Already it grows dusky: I'll prepare +With haste for my disguise. But who are these? + + _Enter_ HERMOGENES _and_ EUBULUS. + +_Her._ 'Tis he; we need not fear to speak to him. + +_Eub._ Leonidas? + +_Leon._ Sure I have known that voice. + +_Her._ You have some reason, sir: 'tis Eubulus, +Who bred you with the princess; and, departing, +Bequeathed you to my care. + +_Leon._ My foster-father! let my knees express +My joys for your return! [_Kneeling._ + +_Eub._ Rise, sir; you must not kneel. + +_Leon._ E'er since you left me, +I have been wandering in a maze of fate, +Led by false fires of a fantastic glory, +And the vain lustre of imagined crowns. +But, ah! why would you leave me? or how could you +Absent yourself so long? + +_Eub._ I'll give you a most just account of both: +And something more I have to tell you, which +I know must cause your wonder; but this place, +Though almost hid in darkness, is not safe. +Already I discern some coming towards us [_Torches appear._ +With lights, who may discover me. Hermogenes, +Your lodgings are hard by, and much more private. + +_Her._ There you may freely speak. + +_Leon._ Let us make haste; +For some affairs, and of no small importance, +Call me another way. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II. + + _Enter_ PALAMEDE _and_ RHODOPHIL, _with Vizor Masques in their + Hands, and Torches before them._ + +_Pala._ We shall have noble sport to-night, Rhodophil; this +masquerading is a most glorious invention. + +_Rho._ I believe it was invented first by some jealous lover, to +discover the haunts of his jilting mistress; or, perhaps, by some +distressed servant, to gain an opportunity with a jealous man's wife. + +_Pala._ No, it must be the invention of a woman, it has so much of +subtilty and love in it. + +_Rho._ I am sure 'tis extremely pleasant; for to go unknown, is the +next degree to going invisible. + +_Pala._ What with our antic habits and feigned voices,--_Do you know +me?_ and--_I know you,_--methinks we move and talk just like so many +overgrown puppets. + +_Rho._ Masquerade is only vizor-mask improved; a heightening of the +same fashion. + +_Pala._ No, masquerade is vizor-mask in debauch, and I like it the +better for't: for, with a vizor-mask, we fool ourselves into +courtship, for the sake of an eye that glanced; or a hand that stole +itself out of the glove sometimes, to give us a sample of the skin: +But in masquerade there is nothing to be known, she's all _terra +incognita_; and the bold discoverer leaps ashore, and takes his lot +among the wild Indians and savages, without the vile consideration of +safety to his person, or of beauty, or wholesomeness in his mistress. + + _Enter_ BELIZA. + +_Rho._ Beliza, what make you here? + +_Bel._ Sir, my lady sent me after you, to let you know, she finds +herself a little indisposed; so that she cannot be at court, but is +retired to rest in her own apartment, where she shall want the +happiness of your dear embraces to night. + +_Rho._ A very fine phrase, Beliza, to let me know my wife desires to +lie alone. + +_Pala._ I doubt, Rhodophil, you take the pains sometimes to instruct +your wife's woman in these elegancies. + +_Rho._ Tell my dear lady, that since I must be so unhappy as not to +wait on her to-night, I will lament bitterly for her absence. 'Tis +true I shall be at court, but I will take no divertisement there; and +when I return to my solitary bed, if I am so forgetful of my passion +as to sleep, I will dream of her; and betwixt sleep and waking, put +out my foot towards her side, for midnight consolation; and, not +finding her, I will sigh, and imagine myself a most desolate widower. + +_Bel._ I shall do your commands, sir. [_Exit._ + +_Rho._ [_Aside._] She's sick as aptly for my purpose, as if she had +contrived it so. Well, if ever woman was a help-mate for man, my +spouse is so; for within this hour I received a note from Melantha, +that she would meet me this evening in masquerade, in boys' habit, to +rejoice with me before she entered into fetters; for I find she loves +me better than Palamede, only because he's to be her husband. There's +something of antipathy in the word _marriage_ to the nature of love: +marriage is the mere ladle of affection, that cools it when 'tis never +so fiercely boiling over. + +_Pala._ Dear Rhodophil, I must needs beg your pardon; there is an +occasion fallen out which I had forgot: I cannot be at court to-night. + +_Rho._ Dear Palamede, I am sorry we shall not have one course together +at the herd; but I find your game lies single: Good fortune to you +with your mistress. [_Exit._ + +_Pala._ He has wished me good fortune with his wife; there's no sin in +this then, there's fair leave given. Well, I must go visit the sick; I +cannot resist the temptations of my charity. O what a difference will +she find betwixt a dull resty husband and a quick vigorous lover! He +sets out like a carrier's horse, plodding on, because he knows he +must, with the bells of matrimony chiming so melancholy about his +neck, in pain till he's at his journey's end; and, despairing to get +thither, he is fain to fortify imagination with the thoughts of +another woman: I take heat after heat, like a well-breathed courser, +and--But hark, what noise is that? Swords! [_Clashing of swords +within._] Nay, then, have with you. [_Exit_ PALA. + + _Re-enter_ PALAMEDE, _with_ RHODOPHIL; _and_ DORALICE _in man's + habit._ + +_Rho._ Friend, your relief was very timely, otherwise I had been +oppressed. + +_Pala._ What was the quarrel? + +_Rho._ What I did was in rescue of this youth. + +_Pala._ What cause could he give them? + +_Dor._ The cause was nothing but only the common cause of fighting in +masquerades: They were drunk, as I was sober. + +_Rho._ Have they not hurt you? + +_Dor._ No; but I am exceeding ill with the fright on't. + +_Pala._ Let's lead him to some place, where he may refresh himself. + +_Rho._ Do you conduct him then. + +_Pala._ [_Aside._] How cross this happens to my design of going to +Doralice! for I am confident she was sick on purpose that I should +visit her. Hark you, Rhodophil, could not you take care of the +stripling? I am partly engaged to-night. + +_Rho._ You know I have business; but come, youth, if it must be so. + +_Dor._ to _Rho._ No, good sir, do not give yourself that trouble; I +shall be safer, and better pleased with your friend here. + +_Rho._ Farewell, then; once more I wish you a good adventure. + +_Pala._ Damn this kindness! now must I be troubled with this young +rogue, and miss my opportunity with Doralice. + [_Exit_ RHO. _alone;_ PALA. _with_ DOR. + + +SCENE III. + + _Enter_ POLYDAMUS. + +_Poly._ Argaleon counselled well to banish him: +He has, I know not what, +Of greatness in his looks, and of high fate, +That almost awes me; but I fear my daughter, +Who hourly moves me for him; and I marked, +She sighed when I but named Argaleon to her. +But see, the maskers: Hence, my cares, this night! +At least take truce, and find me on my pillow. + + _Enter the Princess in masquerade, with Ladies. At the other end,_ + ARGALEON _and Gentlemen in masquerade; then_ LEONIDAS _leading_ + AMALTHEA. _The King sits. A Dance. After the Dance,_ + +_Amal._ to _Leon._ That's the princess; +I saw the habit ere she put it on. + +_Leon._ I know her by a thousand other signs; +She cannot hide so much divinity. +Disguised, and silent, yet some graceful motion +Breaks from her, and shines round her like a glory. + [_Goes to_ PALMYRA. + +_Amal._ Thus she reveals herself, and knows it not; +Like love's dark lanthorn, I direct his steps, +And yet he sees not that, which gives him light. + +_Palm._ I know you; but, alas! Leonidas, +Why should you tempt this danger on yourself? + +_Leon._ Madam, you know me not, if you believe; +I would not hazard greater for your sake. +But you, I fear, are changed. + +_Palm._ No, I am still the same; +But there are many things became Palmyra, +Which ill become the princess. + +_Leon_, I ask nothing +Which honour will not give you leave to grant: +One hour's short audience, at my father's house, +You cannot sure refuse me. + +_Palm._ Perhaps I should, did I consult strict virtue; +But something must be given to love and you. +When would you I should come? + +_Leon._ This evening, with the speediest opportunity. +I have a secret to discover to you, +Which will surprise and please you. + +_Palm._ 'Tis enough. +Go now; for we may be observed and known. +I trust your honour; give me not occasion +To blame myself, or you. + +_Leon._ You never shall repent your good opinion. + [_Kisses her hand, and Exit._ + +_Arga._ I cannot be deceived; that is the princess: +One of her maids betrayed the habit to me. +But who was he with whom she held discourse? +'Tis one she favours, for he kissed her hand. +Our shapes are like, our habits near the same; +She may mistake, and speak to me for him. +I am resolved; I'll satisfy my doubts, +Though to be more tormented. + + SONG. + + I. + + _Whilst Alexis lay prest + In her arms he loved best, + With his hands round her neck, + And his head on her breast, + He found the fierce pleasure too hasty to stay, + And his soul in the tempest just flying away._ + + II. + + _When Cælia saw this, + With a sigh and a kiss, + She cried,--O, my dear, I am robbed of my bliss! + 'Tis unkind to your love, and unfaithfully done, + To leave me behind you, and die all alone._ + + III. + + _The youth, though in haste, + And breathing his last, + In pity died slowly, while she died more fast; + Till at length she cried,--Now, my dear, now let us go; + Now die, my Alexis, and I will die too!_ + + IV. + + _Thus entranced they did lie, + Till Alexis did try + To recover new breath, that again he might die: + Then often they died; but the more they did so, + The nymph died more quick, and the shepherd more slow._ + + _Another Dance. After it,_ ARGALEON _re-enters, and stands by the + Princess._ + +_Palm._ Leonidas, what means this quick return? [_To_ ARGA. + +_Arga._ O heaven! 'tis what I feared. + +_Palm._ Is aught of moment happened since you went? + +_Arga._ No, madam; but I understood not fully +Your last commands. + +_Palm._ And yet you answered to them. +Retire; you are too indiscreet a lover: +I'll meet you where I promised. [_Exit._ + +_Arga._ O my curst fortune! what have I discovered! +But I will be revenged. [_Whispers to the King._ + +_Poly._ But are you certain you are not deceived? + +_Arga._ Upon my life. + +_Poly._ Her honour is concerned. +Somewhat I'll do; but I am yet distracted, +And know not where to fix. I wished a child, +And heaven, in anger, granted my request. +So blind we are, our wishes are so vain, +That what we most desire, proves most our pain. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE IV. + + _An Eating-house. Bottles of Wine on the table._ PALAMEDE, _and_ + DORALICE, _in Man's Habit._ + +_Dor._ [_Aside._] Now cannot I find in my heart to discover myself, +though I long he should know me. + +_Pala._ I tell thee, boy, now I have seen thee safe, I must be gone: I +have no leisure to throw away on thy raw conversation; I am a person +that understands better things, I. + +_Dor._ Were I a woman, oh how you would admire me! cry up every word I +said, and screw your face into a submissive smile; as I have seen a +dull gallant act wit, and counterfeit pleasantness, when he whispers +to a great person in a play-house; smile, and look briskly, when the +other answers, as if something of extraordinary had past betwixt them, +when, heaven knows, there was nothing else but,--What a clock does +your lordship think it is? And my lord's _repartee_ is,--It is almost +park-time: or, at most,--Shall we out of the pit, and go behind the +scenes for an act or two--And yet such fine things as these would be +wit in a mistress's mouth. + +_Pala._ Ay, boy; there dame Nature's in the case: He, who cannot find +wit in a mistress, deserves to find nothing else, boy. But these are +riddles to thee, child, and I have not leisure to instruct thee; I +have affairs to dispatch, great affairs; I am a man of business. + +_Dor._ Come, you shall not go: You have no affairs but what you may +dispatch here, to my knowledge. + +_Pala._ I find now, thou art a boy of more understanding than I +thought thee; a very lewd wicked boy: O' my conscience, thou would'st +debauch me, and hast some evil designs upon my person. + +_Dor._ You are mistaken, sir; I would only have you shew me a more +lawful reason why you would leave me, than I can why you should not, +and I'll not stay you; for I am not so young, but I understand the +necessities of flesh and blood, and the pressing occasions of mankind, +as well as you. + +_Pala._ A very forward and understanding boy! thou art in great danger +of a page's wit, to be brisk at fourteen, and dull at twenty. But I'll +give thee no further account; I must, and will go. + +_Dor._ My life on it, your mistress is not at home. + +_Pala._ This imp will make me very angry.--I tell thee, young sir, she +is at home, and at home for me; and, which is more, she is a-bed for +me, and sick for me. + +_Dor._ For you only? + +_Pala._ Aye, for me only. + +_Dor._ But how do you know she's sick a-bed? + +_Pala._ She sent her husband word so. + +_Dor._ And are you such a novice in love, to believe a wife's message +to her husband? + +_Pala._ Why, what the devil should be her meaning else? + +_Dor._ It may be, to go in masquerade, as well as you; to observe your +haunts, and keep you company without your knowledge. + +_Pala._ Nay, I'll trust her for that: She loves me too well, to +disguise herself from me. + +_Dor._ If I were she, I would disguise on purpose to try your wit; and +come to my servant like a riddle,--Read me, and take me. + +_Pala._ I could know her in any shape: My good genius would prompt me +to find out a handsome woman: There's something that would attract me +to her without my knowledge. + +_Dor._ Then you make a load-stone of your mistress? + +_Pala._ Yes, and I carry steel about me, which has been so often +touched, that it never fails to point to the north pole. + +_Dor._ Yet still my mind gives me, that you have met her disguised +to-night, and have not known her. + +_Pala._ This is the most pragmatical conceited little fellow, he will +needs understand my business better than myself. I tell thee, once +more, thou dost not know my mistress. + +_Dor._ And I tell you once more, that I know her better than you do. + +_Pala._ The boy's resolved to have the last word. I find I must go +without reply. [_Exit._ + +_Dor._ Ah mischief, I have lost him with my fooling. Palamede, +Palamede! + + _He returns. She plucks off her peruke, and puts it on again when he + knows her._ + +_Pala._ O heavens! is it you, madam? + +_Dor._ Now, where was your good genius, that would prompt you to find +me out? + +_Pala._ Why, you see I was not deceived; you yourself were my good +genius. + +_Dor._ But where was the steel, that knew the load-stone? Ha? + +_Pala._ The truth is, madam, the steel has lost its virtue: and, +therefore, if you please, we'll new touch it. + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL; _and_ MELANTHA _in Boys habit._ RHODOPHIL _sees_ + PALAMEDE _kissing_ DORALICE'S _hand._ + +_Rho._ Palamede again! am I fallen into your quarters? What? Engaging +with a boy? Is all honourable? + +_Pala._ O, very honourable on my side. I was just chastising this +young villain; he was running away, without paying his share of the +reckoning. + +_Rho._ Then I find I was deceived in him. + +_Pala._ Yes, you are deceived in him: 'tis the archest rogue, if you +did but know him. + +_Mel._ Good Rhodophil, let us get off _a-la derobbée_, for fear I +should be discovered. + +_Rho._ There's no retiring now; I warrant you for discovery. Now have +I the oddest thought, to entertain you before your servant's face, and +he never the wiser; it will be the prettiest juggling trick, to cheat +him when he looks upon us. + +_Mel._ This is the strangest caprice in you. + +_Pala._ [_to_ DORALICE.] This Rhodophil's the unluckiest fellow to me! +this is now the second time he has barred the dice when we were just +ready to have nicked him; but if ever I get the box again-- + +_Dor._ Do you think he will not know me? Am I like myself? + +_Pala._ No more than a picture in the hangings. + +_Dor._ Nay, then he can never discover me, now the wrong side of the +arras is turned towards him. + +_Pala._ At least, it will be some pleasure to me, to enjoy what +freedom I can while he looks on; I will storm the out-works of +matrimony even before his face. + +_Rho._ What wine have you there, Palamede? + +_Pala._ Old Chios, or the rogue's damn'd that drew it. + +_Rho._ Come,--to the most constant of mistresses! that, I believe, is +yours, Palamede. + +_Dor._ Pray spare your seconds; for my part I am but a weak brother. + +_Pala._ Now,--to the truest of turtles! that is your wife, Rhodophil, +that lies sick at home, in the bed of honour. + +_Rho._ Now let us have one common health, and so have done. + +_Dor._ Then, for once, I'll begin it. Here's to him that has the +fairest lady of Sicily in masquerade to night. + +_Pala._ This is such an obliging health, I'll kiss thee, dear rogue, +for thy invention. [_Kisses her._ + +_Rho._ He, who has this lady, is a happy man, without dispute,--I'm +most concerned in this, I am sure. [_Aside._ + +_Pala._ Was it not well found out, Rhodophil? + +_Mel._ Ay, this was _bien trouvée_ indeed. + +_Dor._ [_to_ MELANTHA.] I suppose I shall do you a kindness, to +enquire if you have not been in France, sir? + +_Mel._ To do you service, sir. + +_Dor._ O, monsieur, _votre valet bien humble_. [_Saluting her._ + +_Mel._ _Votre esclave, monsieur, de tout mon coeur._ + [_Returning the salute._ + +_Dor._ I suppose, sweet sir, you are the hope and joy of some thriving +citizen, who has pinched him self at home, to breed you abroad, where +you have learned your exercises, as it appears, most awkwardly, and +are returned, with the addition of a new-laced bosom and a clap, to +your good old father, who looks at you with his mouth, while you spout +French with your man monsieur. + +_Pala._ Let me kiss thee again for that, dear rogue. + +_Mel._ And you, I imagine, are my young master, whom your mother durst +not trust upon salt-water, but left you to be your own tutor at +fourteen, to be very brisk and _entreprenant_, to endeavour to be +debauched ere you have learned the knack of it, to value yourself upon +a clap before you can get it, and to make it the height of your +ambition to get a player for your mistress. + +_Rho._ [_embracing_ MELANTHA.] O dear young bully thou hast tickled +him with a _repartee_, i'faith. + +_Mel._ You are one of those that applaud our country plays, where +drums, and trumpets, and blood, and wounds, are wit. + +_Rho._ Again, my boy? Let me kiss thee most abundantly. + +_Dor._ You are an admirer of the dull French poetry, which is so thin, +that it is the very leaf-gold of wit, the very wafers and whip'd cream +of sense, for which a man opens his mouth, and gapes, to swallow +nothing: And to be an admirer of such profound dulness, one must be +endowed with a great perfection of impudence and ignorance. + +_Pala._ Let me embrace thee most vehemently. + +_Mel._ I'll sacrifice my life for French poetry. [_Advancing._ + +_Dor._ I'll die upon the spot for our country wit. + +_Rho._ [_to_ MELANTHA.] Hold, hold, young Mars! Palamede, draw back +your hero. + +_Pala._ 'Tis time; I shall be drawn in for a second else at the wrong +weapon. + +_Mel._ O that I were a man, for thy sake! + +_Dor._ You'll be a man as soon as I shall. + + _Enter a Messenger to_ RHODOPHIL. + +_Mess._ Sir, the king has instant business with you; +I saw the guard drawn up by your lieutenant, +Before the palace-gate, ready to march. + +_Rho._ 'Tis somewhat sudden; say that I am coming. [_Exit Messenger._ +Now, Palamede, what think you of this sport? +This is some sudden tumult; will you along? + +_Pala._ Yes, yes, I will go; but the devil take me if ever I was less +in humour. Why the pox could they not have staid their tumult till +to-morrow? Then I had done my business, and been ready for them. Truth +is, I had a little transitory crime to have committed first; and I am +the worst man in the world at repenting, till a sin be thoroughly +done: But what shall we do with the two boys? + +_Rho._ Let them take a lodging in the house, 'till the business be +over. + +_Dor._ What, lie with a boy? For my part, I own it, I cannot endure to +lie with a boy. + +_Pala._ The more's my sorrow, I cannot accommodate you with a better +bed-fellow. + +_Mel._ Let me die, if I enter into a pair of sheets with him that +hates the French. + +_Dor._ Pish, take no care for us, but leave us in the streets; I +warrant you, as late as it is, I'll find my lodging as well as any +drunken bully of them all. + +_Rho._ I'll light in mere revenge, and wreak my passion, +On all that spoil this hopeful assignation. [_Aside._ + +_Pala._ I'm sure we light in a good quarrel: +Rogues may pretend religion, and the laws; +But a kind mistress is the good old cause. [_Exuent._ + + +SCENE V. + + _Enter_ PALMYRA, EUBULUS, _and_ HERMOGENES. + +_Palm._ You tell me wonders; that Leonidas +Is prince Theagenes, the late king's son. + +_Eub._ It seems as strange to him, as now to you, +Before I had convinced him; but, besides +His great resemblance to the king his father, +The queen his mother lives, secured by me +In a religious house, to whom, each year, +I brought the news of his increasing virtues. +My last long absence from you both was caused +By wounds, which in my journey I received, +When set upon by thieves; I lost those jewels +And letters, which your dying mother left. + +_Herm._ The same he means, which, since, brought to the king, +Made him first know he had a child alive: +'Twas then my care of prince Leonidas, +Caused me to say he was the usurper's son; +Till after, forced by your apparent danger, +I made the true discovery of your birth, +And once more hid my prince's. + + _Enter_ LEONIDAS. + +_Leon._ Hermogenes, and Eubulus, retire; +Those of our party, whom I left without, +Expect your aid and counsel. [_Exeunt_ HERM. _and_ EUB. + +_Palm._ I should, Leonidas, congratulate +This happy change of your exalted fate; +But, as my joy, so you my wonder move. +Your looks have more of business than of love; +And your last words some great design did shew. + +_Leon._ I frame not any to be hid from you; +You, in my love, all my designs may see. +But what have love and you designed for me? +Fortune, once more, has set the balance right; +First, equalled us in lowness; then, in height. +Both of us have so long, like gamesters, thrown, +Till fate comes round, and gives to each his own. +As fate is equal, so may love appear: +Tell me, at least, what I must hope, or fear. + +_Palm._ After so many proofs, how can you call +My love in doubt? Fear nothing, and hope all. +Think what a prince, with honour, may receive, +Or I may give, without a parent's leave. + +_Leon._ You give, and then restrain the grace you shew; +As ostentatious priests, when souls they woo, +Promise their heaven to all, but grant to few. +But do for me, what I have dared for you: +I did no argument from duty bring; +Duty's a name, and love's a real thing. + +_Palm._ Man's love may, like wild torrents, overflow; +Woman's as deep, but in its banks must go. +My love is mine, and that I can impart; +But cannot give my person, with my heart. + +_Leon._ Your love is then no gift: +For, when the person it does not convey, +'Tis to give gold, and not to give the key. + +_Palm._ Then ask my father. + +_Leon._ He detains my throne; +Who holds back mine, will hardly give his own. + +_Palm._ What then remains? + +_Leon._ That I must have recourse +To arms, and take my love and crown, by force. +Hermogenes is forming the design; +And with him all the brave and loyal join. + +_Palm._ And is it thus you court Palmyra's bed? +Can she the murderer of her parent wed? +Desist from force: So much you well may give +To love, and me, to let my father live. + +_Leon._ Each act of mine my love to you has shewn; +But you who tax my want of it, have none. +You bid me part with you, and let him live; +But they should nothing ask, who nothing give. + +_Palm._ I give what virtue, and what duty can, +In vowing ne'er to wed another man. + +_Leon._ You will be forced to be Argaleon's wife. + +_Palm._ I'll keep my promise, though I lose my life. + +_Leon._ Then you lose love, for which we both contend; +For life is but the means, but love's the end. +_Palm._ Our souls shall love hereafter. + +_Leon._ I much fear, +That soul, which could deny the body here +To taste of love, would be a niggard there. + +_Palm._ Then 'tis past hope: our cruel fate, I see, +Will make a sad divorce 'twixt you and me. +For, if you force employ, by heaven I swear, +And all blessed beings,-- + +_Leon._ Your rash oath forbear. + +_Palm._ I never-- + +_Leon._ Hold once more. But yet, as he, +Who 'scapes a dangerous leap, looks back to see; +So I desire, now I am past my fear, +To know what was that oath you meant to swear. + +_Palm._ I meant, that if you hazarded your life, +Or sought my father's, ne'er to be your wife. + +_Leon._ See now, Palmyra, how unkind you prove! +Could you, with so much ease, forswear my love? + +_Palm._ You force me with your ruinous design. + +_Leon._ Your father's life is more your care, than mine. + +_Palm._ You wrong me: 'Tis not, though it ought to be; +You are my care, heaven knows, as well as he. + +_Leon._ If now the execution I delay, +My honour, and my subjects, I betray. +All is prepared for the just enterprise; +And the whole city will to-morrow rise. +The leaders of the party are within, +And Eubulus has sworn that he will bring, +To head their arms, the person of their king. + +_Palm._ In telling this, you may be guilty too; +I therefore must discover what I know: +What honour bids you do, nature bids me prevent; +But kill me first, and then pursue your black intent. + +_Leon._ Palmyra, no; you shall not heed to die; +Yet I'll not trust so strict a piety. +Within there! + + _Enter_ EUBULUS. + +Eubulus, a guard prepare; +Here, I commit this prisoner to your care. + [_Kisses_ PALMYRA'S _hand, then gives it to_ EUBULUS. + +_Palm._ Leonidas, I never thought these bands +Could e'er be given me by a lover's hands. + +_Leon._ Palmyra, thus your judge himself arraigns; [_Kneeling._ +He, who imposed these bands, still wears your chains: +When you to love or duty false must be, +Or to your father guilty, or to me, +These chains, alone, remain to set you free. + [_Noise of swords clashing._ + +_Poly._ [_within._] +Secure these, first: then search the inner room. + +_Leon._ From whence do these tumultuous clamours come? + + _Enter_ HERMOGENES, _hastily._ + +_Herm._ We are betrayed; and there remains alone +This comfort, that your person is not known. + + _Enter the King,_ ARGALEON, RHODOPHIL, PALAMEDE, _Guards; some like + citizens, as prisoners._ + +_Poly._ What mean these midnight consultations here, +Where I like an unsummoned guest appear? + +_Leon._ Sir-- + +_Arga._ There needs no excuse; 'tis understood; +You were all watching for your prince's good. + +_Poly._ My reverend city friends, you are well met! +On what great work were your grave wisdoms set? +Which of my actions were you scanning here? +What French invasion have you found to fear? + +_Leon._ They are my friends; and come, sir, with intent, +To take their leaves, before my banishment. + +_Poly._ Your exile in both sexes friends can find: +I see the ladies, like the men, are kind. [_Seeing_ PALMYRA. + +_Palm._ Alas, I came but-- [_Kneeling._ + +_Poly._ Add not to your crime +A lie: I'll hear you speak some other time. +How? Eubulus! nor time, nor thy disguise, +Can keep thee undiscovered from my eyes. +A guard there! seize them all. + +_Rho._ Yield, sir; what use of valour can be shewn? + +_Pala._ One, and unarmed, against a multitude! + +_Leon._ Oh for a sword! [_He reaches at one of the Guards' halberds, + and is seized behind._ +I wonnot lose my breath +In fruitless prayers; but beg a speedy death. + +_Palm._ O spare Leonidas, and punish me! + +_Poly._ Mean girl, thou want'st an advocate for thee. +Now the mysterious knot will be untied; +Whether the young king lives, or where he died: +To-morrow's dawn shall the dark riddle clear, +Crown all my joys, and dissipate my fear. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT V. SCENE I. + + PALAMEDE, STRATO. PALAMEDE _with a letter in his hand._ + +_Pala._ This evening, sayest thou? will they both be here? + +_Stra._ Yes, sir, both my old master, and your mistress's father. The +old gentlemen ride hard this journey; they say, it shall be the last +time they will see the town; and both of them are so pleased with this +marriage, which they have concluded for you, that I am afraid they +will live some years longer to trouble you, with the joy of it. + +_Pala._ But this is such an unreasonable thing, to impose upon me to +be married to-morrow; 'tis hurrying a man to execution, without giving +him time to say his prayers. + +_Stra._ Yet, if I might advise you, sir, you should not delay it; for +your younger brother comes up with them, and is got already into their +favours. He has gained much upon my old master, by finding fault with +innkeepers' bills, and by starving us, and our horses, to shew his +frugality; and he is very well with your mistress's father, by giving +him recipes for the spleen, gout and scurvy, and other infirmities of +old age. + +_Pala._ I'll rout him, and his country education: Pox on him, I +remember him before I travelled, he had nothing in him but mere +jockey; used to talk loud, and make matches, and was all for the crack +of the field: Sense and wit were as much banished from his discourse, +as they are when the court goes out of town to a horse race. Go now +and provide your master's lodgings. + +_Stra._ I go, sir. [_Exit._ + +_Pala._ It vexes me to the heart, to leave all my designs with +Doralice unfinished; to have flown her so often to a mark, and still +to be bobbed at retrieve: If I had once enjoyed her, though I could +not have satisfied my stomach with the feast, at least I should have +relished my mouth a little; but now-- + + _Enter_ PHILOTIS. + +_Phil._ Oh, sir, you are happily met; I was coming to find you. + +_Pala._ From your lady. I hope. + +_Phil._ Partly from her; but more especially from myself: She has just +now received a letter from her father, with an absolute command to +dispose herself to marry you to-morrow. + +_Pala._ And she takes it to the death? + +_Phil._ Quite contrary: The letter could never have come in a more +lucky minute; for it found her in an ill-humour with a rival of yours, +that shall be nameless, about the pronunciation of a French word. + +_Pala._ Count Rhodophil? never disguise it, I know the amour: But I +hope you took the occasion to strike in for me? + +_Phil._ It was my good fortune to do you some small service in it; for +your sake I discommended him all over,--clothes, person, humour, +behaviour, every thing; and, to sum up all, told her, it was +impossible to find a married man that was otherwise; for they were all +so mortified at home with their wives' ill humours, that they could +never recover themselves to be company abroad. + +_Pala._ Most divinely urged! + +_Phil._ Then I took occasion to commend your good qualities; as the +sweetness of your humour, the comeliness of your person, your good +mein, your valour; but, above all, your liberality. + +_Pala._ I vow to Gad I had like to have forgot that good quality in +myself, if thou hadst not remembered me of it: Here are five pieces +for thee. + +_Phil._ Lord, you have the softest hand, sir, it would do a woman good +to touch it: Count Rhodophil's is not half so soft; for I remember I +felt it once, when he gave me ten pieces for my new-years-gift. + +_Pala._ O, I understand you, madam; you shall find my hand as soft +again as Count Rhodophil's: There are twenty pieces for you. The +former was but a retaining fee; now I hope you'll plead for me. + +_Phil._ Your own merits speak enough. Be sure only to ply her with +French words, and I'll warrant you'll do your business. Here are a +list of her phrases for this day: Use them to her upon all occasions +and foil her at her own weapon; for she's like one of the old Amazons, +she'll never marry, except it be the man who has first conquered her. + +_Pala._ I'll be sure to follow your advice: But you'll forget to +further my design. + +_Phil._ What, do you think I'll be ungrateful?--But however, if you +distrust my memory, put some token on my finger to remember it by: +That diamond there would do admirably. + +_Pala._ There 'tis; and I ask your pardon heartily for calling your +memory into question: I assure you I'll trust it another time, without +putting you to the trouble of another token. + + _Enter_ PALMYRA _and_ ARTEMIS. + +_Art._ Madam, this way the prisoners are to pass; Here you may see +Leonidas. + +_Palm._ Then here I'll stay, and follow him to death. + + _Enter_ MELANTHA, _hastily._ + +_Mel._ O, here's her highness! Now is my time to introduce myself, and +to make my court to her, in my new French phrases. Stay, let me read +my catalogue--_Suite_, _figure_, _chagrin_, _naiveté_, and _let me +die_, for the parenthesis of all. + +_Pala._ [_Aside._] Do, persecute her; and I'll persecute thee as fast +in thy own dialect. + +_Mel._ Madam, the princess! let me die, but this is a most horrid +spectacle, to see a person, who makes so grand a figure in the court, +without the _suite_ of a princess, and entertaining your _chagrin_ all +alone:--_Naiveté_ should have been there, but the disobedient word +would not come in. [_Aside._ + +_Palm._ What is she, Artemis? + +_Art._ An impertinent lady, madam; very ambitious of being known to +your highness. + +_Pala._ [_To_ MELANTHA.] Let me die, madam, if I have not waited you +here these two long hours, without so much as the _suite_ of a single +servant to attend me; entertaining myself with my own _chagrin_ till I +had the honour of seeing your ladyship, who are a person that makes so +considerable a figure in the court. + +_Mel._ Truce with your _douceurs_, good servant; you see I am +addressing to the princess; pray do not _embarrass_ me--_Embarrass_ +me! what a delicious French word do you make me lose upon you too! +[_To the Princess._] Your highness, madam, will please to pardon the +_beveue_ which I made, in not sooner finding you out to be a princess: +But let me die if this _eclaircissement_, which is made this day of +your quality, does not ravish me; and give me leave to tell you-- + +_Pala._ But first give me leave to tell you, madam, that I have so +great a _tendre_ for your person, and such a _penchant_ to do you +service, that-- + +_Mel._ What, must I still be troubled with your _sottises_? (There's +another word lost, that I meant for the princess, with a mischief to +you!) But your highness, madam-- + +_Pala._ But your ladyship, madam-- + + _Enter_ LEONIDAS, _guarded and led over the stage._ + +_Mel._ Out upon him, how he looks, madam! now he's found no prince, he +is the strangest figure of a man; how could I make that _coup +d'etourdi_ to think him one? + +_Palm._ Away, impertinent!--my dear Leonidas! + +_Leon._ My dear Palmyra! + +_Palm._ Death shall never part us; my destiny is yours. + [_He is led off, she follows._ + +_Mel._ Impertinent! Oh I am the most unfortunate person this day +breathing: That the princess should thus _rompre en visiere_, without +occasion. Let me die, but I'll follow her to death, till I make my +peace. + +_Pala._ [_Holding her._] And let me die, but I'll follow you to the +infernals, till you pity me. + +_Mel._ [_Turning towards him angrily._] Ay, 'tis long of you that this +_malheur_ is fallen upon me; your impertinence has put me out of the +good graces of the princess, and all that, which has ruined me, and +all that, and, therefore, let me die, but I'll be revenged, and all +that. + +Pala. _Façon, façon,_ you must and shall love me, and all that; for my +old man is coming up, and all that; and I am _desesperé au dernier_, +and will not be disinherited, and all that. + +_Mel._ How durst you interrupt me so _mal apropos_, when you knew I +was addressing to the princess? + +_Pala._ But why would you address yourself so much _a contretemps_ +then? + +_Mel._ Ah, _mal peste!_ + +_Pala._ Ah, _j'enrage!_ + +Phil. _Radoucissez vous, de grace, madame; vous étes bien en colere +pour peu de chose. Vous n'entendez pas la raillerie gallante._ + +Mel. _Ad autres, ad autres_: He mocks himself of me,[1] he abuses me: +Ah me unfortunate! [_Cries._ + +_Phil._ You mistake him, madam, he does but accommodate his phrase to +your refined language. _Ah qu'il est un cavalier accompli!_ Pursue +your point, sir-- [_To him._ + +Pala. _Ah qu'il fait beau dans ces boccages;_ [Singing.] _Ah que le +ciet donne un beau jour!_ There I was with you, with a _minuét._ + +_Mel._ Let me die now, but this singing is fine, and extremely French +in him: [_Laughs._] But then, that he should use my own words, as it +were in contempt of me, I cannot bear it. [_Crying._ + +Pala. _Ces beaux sejours, ces doux ramages_-- [Singing. + +Mel. _Ces beaux sejours, ces doux ramages._ [Singing after him.] _Ces +beaux sejours nous invitent á l'amour!_ Let me die, but he sings _en +cavalier_, and so humours the cadence! [_Laughing._ + +Pala. _Foy, ma Clymene, voy sous ce chene._ [Singing again.] +_S'entrebaiser ces oiseaux amoreux!_ Let me die now, but that was +fine. Ah, now, for three or four brisk Frenchmen, to be put into +masking habits, and to sing it on a theatre, how witty it would be! +and then to dance helter skelter to a _chanson a boire: Toute la +terre, toute la terre est a moi!_ What's matter though it were made +and sung two or three years ago in _cabarets_, how it would attract +the admiration, especially of every one that's an _eveillé!_ + +_Mel._ Well; I begin to have a _tendre_ for you; but yet, upon +condition, that--when we are married, you-- + [PAL. _sings, while she speaks._ + +_Phil._ You must drown her voice: If she makes her French conditions, +you are a slave for ever. + +_Mel._ First, you will engage--that-- + +_Pala._ Fa, la, la, la, &c. [_Louder._ + +_Mel._ Will you hear the conditions? + +_Pala._ No; I will hear no conditions; I am resolved to win you _en +François_: To be very airy, with abundance of noise, and no sense: Fa +la, la, la, &c. + +_Mel._ Hold, hold: I am vanquished with your _gayeté d'esprit._ I am +yours, and will be yours, _sans nulle reserve, ni condition_: And let +me die, if I do not think myself the happiest nymph in Sicily--My +dear French dear, stay but a _minuite_, till I _raccommode_ myself +with the princess; and then I am yours, _jusqu' a la mort. Allons +donc._-- [Exeunt MEL. PHIL. + +_Palu._ [_Solus, fanning himself with his hat._] I never thought +before that wooing was so laborious an exercise; if she were worth a +million, I have deserved her; and now, methinks too, with taking all +this pains for her, I begin to like her. 'Tis so; I have known many, +who never cared for hare nor partridge, but those they caught +themselves would eat heartily: The pains, and the story a man tells of +the taking them, makes the meat go down more pleasantly. Besides, last +night I had a sweet dream of her, and, gad, she I have once dreamed +of, I am stark mad till I enjoy her, let her be never so ugly. + + _Enter_ DORALICE. + +_Dor._ Who's that you are so mad to enjoy, Palamede? + +_Pala._ You may easily imagine that, sweet Dorarlice. + +_Dor._ More easily than you think I can: I met just now with a certain +man, who came to you with letters from a certain old gentleman, +y'cleped your father; whereby I am given to understand, that to-morrow +you are to take an oath in the church to be grave henceforward, to go +ill-dressed and slovenly, to get heirs for your estate, and to dandle +them for your diversion; and, in short, that love and courtship are to +be no more. + +_Pala._ Now have I so much shame to be thus apprehended in the manner, +that I can neither speak nor look upon you; I have abundance of grace +in me, that I find: But if you have any spark of true friendship in +you, retire with me a little into the next room, that hath a couch or +bed in it, and bestow your charity upon a dying man! A little comfort +from a mistress, before a man is going to give himself in marriage, is +as good as a lusty dose of strong-water to a dying malefactor: it +takes away the sense of hell and hanging from him. + +_Dor._ No, good Palamede, I must not be so injurious to your bride: +'Tis ill drawing from the bank to-day, when all your ready money is +payable to-morrow. + +_Pala._ A wife is only to have the ripe fruit, that falls of itself; +but a wise man will always preserve a shaking for a mistress. + +_Dor._ But a wife for the first quarter is a mistress. + +_Pala._ But when the second comes-- + +_Dor._ When it does come, you are so given to variety, that you would +make a wife of me in another quarter. + +_Pala._ No, never, except I were married to you: married people can +never oblige one another; for all they do is duty, and consequently +there can be no thanks: But love is more frank and generous than he is +honest; he's a liberal giver, but a cursed pay-master. + +_Dor._ I declare I will have no gallant; but, if I would, he should +never be a married man; a married man is but a mistress's +half-servant, as a clergyman is but the king's half-subject: For a man +to come to me that smells of the wife! 'Slife, I would as soon wear +her old gown after her, as her husband. + +_Pala._ Yet 'tis a kind of fashion to wear a princess's cast shoes; +you see the country ladies buy them, to be fine in them. + +_Dor._ Yes, a princess's shoes may be worn after her, because they +keep their fashion, by being so very little used; but generally a +married man is the creature of the world the most out of fashion: his +behaviour is dumpish; his discourse, his wife and family; his habit so +much neglected, it looks as if that were married too; his hat is +married, his peruke is married, his breeches are married,--and, if we +could look within his breeches, we should find him married there too. + +_Pala._ Am I then to be discarded for ever? pray do but mark how that +word sounds: for ever! it has a very damn'd sound, Doralice. + +_Dor._ Ay, for ever! it sounds as hellishly to me, as it can do to +you, but there's no help for it. + +_Pala._ Yet, if we had but once enjoyed one another!--but then once +only, is worse than not at all: It leaves a man with such a lingering +after it. + +_Dor._ For aught I know, 'tis better that we have not; we might upon +trial have liked each other less, as many a man and woman, that have +loved as desperately as we, and yet, when they came to possession, +have sighed and cried to themselves, Is this all? + +_Pala._ That is only, if the servant were not found a man of this +world; but if, upon trial, we had not liked each other, we had +certainly left loving; and faith, that's the greater happiness of the +two. + +_Dor._ 'Tis better as 'tis; we have drawn off already as much of our +love as would run clear; after possessing, the rest is but jealousies, +and disquiets, and quarrelling, and piecing. + +_Pala._ Nay, after one great quarrel, there's never any sound piecing; +the love is apt to break in the same place again. + +_Dor._ I declare I would never renew a love; that's like him, who +trims an old coach for ten years together; he might buy a new one +better cheap. + +_Pala._ Well, madam, I am convinced, that 'tis best for us not to have +enjoyed; but, gad, the strongest reason is, because I can't help it. + +_Dor._ The only way to keep us new to one another is never to enjoy, +as they keep grapes, by hanging them upon a line; they must touch +nothing, if you would preserve them fresh. + +_Pala._ But then they wither, and grow dry in the very keeping; +however, I shall have a warmth for you, and an eagerness, every time I +see you; and, if I chance to out-live Melantha-- + +_Dor._ And if I chance to out-live Rhodophil-- + +_Pala._ Well, I'll cherish my body as much as I can, upon that hope. +'Tis true, I would not directly murder the wife of my bosom; but, to +kill her civilly, by the way of kindness, I'll put as fair as another +man: I'll begin to-morrow night, and be very wrathful with her; that's +resolved on. + +_Dor._ Well, Palamede, here's my hand, I'll venture to be your second +wife, for all your threatenings. + +_Pala._ In the mean time I'll watch you hourly, as I would the +ripeness of a melon; and I hope you'll give me leave now and then to +look on you, and to see if you are not ready to be cut yet. + +_Dor._ No, no, that must not be, Palamede, for fear the gardener +should come and catch you taking up the glass. + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL. + +_Rho._ [_Aside._] Billing so sweetly! now I am confirmed in my +suspicions; I must put an end to this ere it go farther--[_To_ +DORALICE.] Cry you mercy, spouse, I fear I have interrupted your +recreations. + +_Dor._ What recreations? + +_Rho._ Nay, no excuses, good spouse; I saw fair hand conveyed to lip, +and prest, as though you had been squeezing soft wax together for an +indenture. Palamede, you and I must clear this reckoning: why would +you have seduced my wife? + +_Pala._ Why would you have debauched my mistress? + +_Rho._ What do you think of that civil couple, that played at a game, +called Hide and Seek, last evening in the grotto? + +_Pala._ What do you think of that innocent pair, who made it their +pretence to seek for others, but came, indeed, to hide themselves +there? + +_Rho._ All things considered, I begin vehemently to suspect, that the +young gentleman I found in your company last night, was a certain +youth of my acquaintance. + +_Pala._ And I have an odd imagination, that you could never have +suspected my small gallant, if your little villainous Frenchman had +not been a false brother. + +_Rho._ Further arguments are needless; draw off; I shall speak to you +now by the way of _bilbo_. [_Claps his hand to his sword._ + +_Pala._ And I shall answer you by the way of Dangerfield[2]. + [_Claps his hand on his._ + +_Dor._ Hold, hold; are not you two a couple of mad fighting fools, to +cut one another's throats for nothing? + +_Pala._ How for nothing? He courts the woman I must marry. + +_Rho._ And he courts you, whom I have married. + +_Dor._ But you can neither of you be jealous of what you love not. + +_Rho._ Faith, I am jealous, and this makes me partly suspect that I +love you better than I thought. + +_Dor._ Pish! a mere jealousy of honour. + +_Rho._ Gad, I am afraid there's something else in't; for Palamede has +wit, and, if he loves you, there's something more in ye than I have +found: Some rich mine, for aught I know, that I have not yet +discovered. + +_Pala._ 'Slife, what's this? Here's an argument for me to love +Melantha; for he has loved her, and he has wit too, and, for aught I +know, there may be a mine; but, if there be, I am resolved I'll dig +for it. + +_Dor._ [_To_ RHODOPHIL.] Then I have found my account in raising your +jealousy. O! 'tis the most delicate sharp sauce to a cloyed stomach; +it will give you a new edge, Rhodophil. + +_Rho._ And a new point too, Doralice, if I could be sure thou art +honest. + +_Dor._ If you are wise, believe me for your own sake: Love and +religion have but one thing to trust to; that's a good sound faith. +Consider, if I have played false, you can never find it out by any +experiment you can make upon me. + +_Rho._ No? Why, suppose I had a delicate screwed gun; if I left her +clean, and found her foul, I should discover, to my cost, she had been +shot in. + +_Dor._ But if you left her clean, and found her only rusty, you would +discover, to your shame, she was only so for want of shooting. + +_Pala._ Rhodophil, you know me too well to imagine I speak for fear; +and therefore, in consideration of our past friendship, I will tell +you, and bind it by all things holy, that Doralice is innocent. + +_Rho._ Friend, I will believe you, and vow the same for your Melantha; +but the devil on't is, how shall we keep them so? + +_Pala._ What dost think of a blessed community betwixt us four, for +the solace of the women, and relief of the men? Methinks it would be a +pleasant kind of life: Wife and husband for the standing dish, and +mistress and gallant for the desert. + +_Rho._ But suppose the wife and mistress should both long for the +standing dish, how should they be satisfied together? + +_Pala._ In such a case they must draw lots; and yet that would not do +neither, for they would both be wishing for the longest cut. + +_Rho._ Then I think, Palamede, we had as good make a firm league, not +to invade each other's propriety. + +_Pala._ Content, say I. From henceforth let all acts of hostility +cease betwixt us; and that, in the usual form of treaties, as well by +sea as land, and in all fresh waters. + +_Dor._ I will add but one _proviso_, that whoever breaks the league, +either by war abroad, or neglect at home, both the women shall revenge +themselves by the help of the other party. + +_Rho._ That's but reasonable. Come away, Doralice; I have a great +temptation to be sealing articles in private. + +_Pala._ Hast thou so? [_Claps him on the shoulder._ + + "Fall on, Macduff, + And cursed be he that first cries, Hold, enough." + + _Enter_ POLYDAMAS, PALMYRA, ARTEMIS, ARGALEON: _After them_ EUBULUS + _and_ HERMOGENES, guarded. + +_Palm._ Sir, on my knees I beg you-- + +_Poly._ Away, I'll hear no more. + +_Palm._ For my dead mother's sake; you say you loved her, +And tell me I resemble her. Thus she +Had begged. + +_Poly._ And thus I had denied her. + +_Palm._ You must be merciful. + +_Arga._ You must be constant. + +_Poly._ Go, bear them to the torture; you have boasted +You have a king to head you; I would know +To whom I must resign. + +_Eub._ This is our recompence +For serving thy dead queen. + +_Herm._ And education +Of thy daughter. + +_Arga._ You are too modest, in not naming all +His obligations to you: Why did you +Omit his son, the prince Leonidas? + +_Poly._ That imposture +I had forgot; their tortures shall be doubled. + +_Herm._ You please me; I shall die the sooner. + +_Eub._ No; could I live an age, and still be racked, +I still would keep the secret. [_As they are going off,_ + + _Enter_ LEONIDAS, _guarded._ + +_Leon._ Oh, whither do you hurry innocence! +If you have any justice, spare their lives; +Or, if I cannot make you just, at least +I'll teach you to more purpose to be cruel. + +_Palm._ Alas, what does he seek! + +_Leon._ Make me the object of your hate and vengeance: +Are these decrepid bodies, worn to ruin, +Just ready of themselves to fall asunder. +And to let drop the soul,-- +Are these fit subjects for a rack and tortures? +Where would you fasten any hold upon them? +Place pains on me,--united fix them here,-- +I have both youth, and strength, and soul to bear them; +And, if they merit death, then I much more, +Since 'tis for me they suffer. + +_Herm._ Heaven forbid +We should redeem our pains, or worthless lives, +By our exposing yours. + +_Eub._ Away with us. Farewell, sir: +I only suffer in my fears for you. + +_Arga._ So much concerned for him! Then my [_Aside._ +Suspicion's true. [_Whispers the King._ + +_Palm._ Hear yet my last request for poor Leonidas, +Or take my life with his. + +_Arga._ Rest satisfied, Leonidas is he. [_To the King._ + +_Poly._ I am amazed: What must be done? + +_Arga._ Command his execution instantly: +Give him not leisure to discover it; +He may corrupt the soldiers. + +_Poly._ Hence with that traitor, bear him to his death: +Haste there, and see my will performed. + +_Leon._ Nay, then, I'll die like him the gods have made me. +Hold, gentlemen, I am-- [ARGALEON _stops his mouth._ + +_Arga._ Thou art a traitor; 'tis not fit to hear thee. + +_Leon._ I say, I am the-- [_Getting loose a little._ + +_Arga._ So; gag him, and lead him off. [_Again stopping his mouth._ + [LEONIDAS, HERMOGENES, EUBULUS, _led off;_ + POLYDAMAS _and_ ARGALEON _follow._ + +_Palm._ Duty and love, by turns, possess my soul +And struggle for a fatal victory. +I will discover he's the king:--Ah, no! +That will perhaps save him; +But then I'm guilty of a father's ruin. +What shall I do, or not do? Either way +I must destroy a parent, or a lover. +Break heart; for that's the least of ills to me, +And death the only cure. [_Swoons._ + +_Arte._ Help, help the princess. + +_Rho._ Bear her gently hence, where she may +Have more succour. [_She is borne off;_ ARTE. _follows her._ + [_Shouts within, and clashing of swords._ + +_Pala._ What noise is that? + + _Enter_ AMALTHEA, _running._ + +_Amal._ Oh, gentlemen, if you have loyalty, +Or courage, show it now! Leonidas, +Broke on the sudden from his guards, and snatching +A sword from one, his back against the scaffold, +Bravely defends himself, and owns aloud +He is our long-lost king; found for this moment, +But, if your valour helps not, lost for ever. +Two of his guards, moved by the sense of virtue, +Are turned for him, and there they stand at bay +Against an host of foes. + +_Rho._ Madam, no more; +We lose time; my command, or my example, +May move the soldiers to the better cause. +You'll second me? [_To_ PALA. + +_Pala._ Or die with you: No subject e'er can meet +A nobler fate, than at his sovereign's feet. [_Exeunt._ + [_Clashing of swords within, and shouts._ + + _Enter_ LEONIDAS, RHODOPHIL, PALAMEDE, EUBULUS, HERMOGENES, _and + their Party, victorious;_ POLYDAMAS _and_ ARGALEON, _disarmed._ + +_Leon._ That I survive the dangers of this day, +Next to the gods, brave friends, be yours the honour; +And, let heaven witness for me, that my joy +Is not more great for this my right restored, +Than 'tis, that I have power to recompense +Your loyalty and valour. Let mean princes, +Of abject souls, fear to reward great actions; +I mean to shew, +That whatsoe'er subjects, like you, dare merit, +A king, like me, dares give. + +_Rho._ You make us blush, we have deserved so little. + +_Pala._ And yet instruct us how to merit more. + +_Leon._ And as I would be just in my rewards, +So should I in my punishments; these two, +This, the usurper of my crown, the other, +Of my Palmyra's love, deserve that death, +Which both designed for me. + +_Poly._ And we expect it. + +_Arga._ I have too long been happy, to live wretched. + +_Poly._ And I too long have governed, to desire +A life without an empire. + +_Leon._ You are Palmyra's father; and as such, +Though not a king, shall have obedience paid +From him who is one. Father, in that name +All injuries forgot, and duty owned. [_Embraces him._ + +_Poly._ O, had I known you could have been this king, +Thus god-like, great and good, I should have wished +To have been dethroned before. 'Tis now I live, +And more than reign; now all my joys flow pure, +Unmixed with cares, and undisturbed by conscience. + + _Enter_ PALMYRA, AMALTHEA, ARTEMIS, DORALICE, _and_ MELANTHA. + +_Leon._ See, my Palmyra comes! the frighted blood +Scarce yet recalled to her pale cheeks, +Like the first streaks of light broke loose from darkness, +And dawning into blushes.--Sir, you said [_To_ POLY. +Your joys were full; Oh, would you make mine so! +I am but half restored without this blessing. + +_Poly._ The gods, and my Palmyra, make you happy, +As you make me! [_Gives her hand to_ LEONIDAS. + +_Palm._ Now all my prayers are heard: +I may be dutiful, and yet may love. +Virtue and patience have at length unravelled +The knots, which fortune tyed. + +_Mel._ Let me die, but I'll congratulate his majesty: How admirably +well his royalty becomes him! Becomes! that is _lui sied_, but our +damned language expresses nothing. + +_Pala._ How? Does it become him already? 'Twas but just now you said, +he was such a figure of a man. + +_Mel_ True, my dear, when he was a private man he was a figure; but +since he is a king, methinks he has assumed another figure: He looks +so grand, and so august! [_Going to the King._ + +_Pala._ Stay, stay; I'll present you when it is more convenient. I +find I must get her a place at court; and when she is once there, she +can be no longer ridiculous; for she is young enough, and pretty +enough, and fool enough, and French enough, to bring up a fashion +there to be affected. + +_Leon._ [_To_ RHODOPHIL.] +Did she then lead you to this brave attempt? +[_To_ AMALTHEA.] To you, fair Amalthea, what I am, +And what all these, from me, we jointly owe: +First, therefore, to your great desert we give +Your brother's life; but keep him under guard +Till our new power be settled. What more grace +He may receive, shall from his future carriage +Be given, as he deserves. + +_Arga._ I neither now desire, nor will deserve it; +My loss is such as cannot be repaired, +And, to the wretched, life can be no mercy. + +_Leon._ Then be a prisoner always: Thy ill fate +And pride will have it so: But since in this I cannot, +Instruct me, generous Amalthea, how +A king may serve you. + +_Amal._ I have all I hope, +And all I now must wish; I see you happy. +Those hours I have to live, which heaven in pity +Will make but few, I vow to spend with vestals: +The greatest part in prayers for you; the rest +In mourning my unworthiness. +Press me not farther to explain myself; +'Twill not become me, and may cause your trouble. + +_Leon._ Too well I understand her secret grief, [_Aside._ +But dare not seem to know it.--Come, my fairest; [_To_ PALMYRA. +Beyond my crown I have one joy in store, +To give that crown to her whom I adore. [_Exeunt._ + + + EPILOGUE. + + Thus have my spouse and I informed the nation, + And led you all the way to reformation; + Not with dull morals, gravely writ, like those, + Which men of easy phlegm with care compose,-- + Your poets, of stiff words and limber sense, + Born on the confines of indifference; + But by examples drawn, I dare to say, + From most of you who hear and see the play. + There are more Rhodophils in this theatre, + More Palamedes, and some few wives, I fear: + But yet too far our poet would not run; + Though 'twas well offered, there was nothing done. + He would not quite the women's frailty bare, + But stript them to the waist, and left them there: + And the men's faults are less severely shown, + For he considers that himself is one.-- + Some stabbing wits, to bloody satire bent, + Would treat both sexes with less compliment; + Would lay the scene at home; of husbands tell, + For wenches, taking up their wives i' the Mall; + And a brisk bout, which each of them did want, + Made by mistake of mistress and gallant. + Our modest author thought it was enough + To cut you off a sample of the stuff: + He spared my shame, which you, I'm sure, would not, + For you were all for driving on the plot: + You sighed when I came in to break the sport, + And set your teeth when each design fell short. + To wives and servants all good wishes lend, + But the poor cuckold seldom finds a friend. + Since, therefore, court and town will take no pity, + I humbly cast myself upon the city. + + +Footnotes: +1. _He mocks himself of me_.] Melantha, like some modern coxcombs, + uses the idiom as well as the words of the French language. + +2. _Dangerfield._] A dramatic bully, whose sword and habit became + proverbial. "This gentleman, appearing with his mustaccios, + according to the Turkish manner, Cordubee hat, and strange + out-of-the-way clothes, just as if one had been dressed up to act + Captain Dangerfield in the play, &c." _Life of Sir Dudley North._ + + + * * * * * + + + THE + + ASSIGNATION; + + OR, + + LOVE IN A NUNNERY. + + A + + COMEDY. + + + _Successum dea dira negat_ + VIRG. + + + + + THE ASSIGNATION. + +This play was unfortunate in the representation. It is needless, at +the distance of more than a century, to investigate the grounds of the +dislike of an audience, who, perhaps, could at the very time have +given no good reason for their capricious condemnation of a play, not +worse than many others which they received with applause. The author, +in the dedication, hints at the "lameness of the action;" but, as the +poet and performers are nearly equally involved in the disgrace of a +condemned piece, it is a very natural desire on either side to assign +the cause of its failure to the imperfections of the other; of which +there is a ludicrous representation in a dialogue betwixt the player +and the poet in "Joseph Andrews." Another cause of its unfavourable +reception seems to have been, its second title of "Love in a Nunnery." +Dryden certainly could, last of any man, have been justly suspected of +an intention to ridicule the Duke of York and the Catholic religion; +yet, as he fell under the same censure for the "Spanish Friar," it +seems probable that such suspicions were actually entertained. The +play certainly contains, in the present instance, nothing to justify +them. In point of merit, "The Assignation" seems pretty much on a +level with Dryden's other comedies; and certainly the spectators, who +had received the blunders of Sir Martin Mar-all with such unbounded +applause, might have taken some interest in those of poor Benito. +Perhaps the absurd and vulgar scene, in which the prince pretends a +fit of the cholic, had some share in occasioning the fall of the +piece. This inelegant _jeu de theatre_ is severely ridiculed in the +"Rehearsal." + +To one person, the damnation of this play seems to have afforded +exquisite pleasure. This was Edward Ravenscroft, once a member of the +Middle Temple,--an ingenious gentleman, of whose taste it may be held +a satisfactory instance, that he deemed the tragedy of "Titus +Andronicus" too mild for representation, and generously added a few +more murders, rapes, and parricides, to that charnel-house of +horrors[1]. His turn for comedy being at least equal to his success in +the blood-stained buskin, Mr Ravenscroft translated and mangled +several of the more farcical French comedies, which he decorated with +the lustre of his own great name. Amongst others which he thus +appropriated, were the most extravagant and buffoon scenes in +Moliere's "_Bourgeois Gentilhomme_;" in which Monsieur Jourdain is, +with much absurd ceremony, created a Turkish Paladin; and where +Moliere took the opportunity to introduce an _entrée de ballet_, +danced and sung by the Mufti, dervises, and others, in eastern habits. +Ravenscroft's translation, entitled "The Citizen turned Gentleman," +was acted in 1672, and printed in the same year; the jargon of the +songs, like similar nonsense of our own day, seems to have been well +received on the stage. Dryden, who was not always above feeling +indignation at the bad taste and unjust preferences of the age, +attacked Ravenscroft in the prologue to "The Assignation," as he had +before, though less directly, in that of "Marriage a-la-Mode." Hence +the exuberant and unrepressed joy of that miserable scribbler broke +forth upon the damnation of Dryden's performance, in the following +passage of a prologue to another of his pilfered performances, called +"The Careless Lovers," acted, according to Langbaine, in the vacation +succeeding the fall of "The Assignation," in 1673: + + An author did, to please you, let his wit run, + Of late, much on a serving man and cittern; + And yet, you would not like the serenade,-- + Nay, and you damned his nuns in masquerade: + You did his Spanish sing-song too abhor; + _Ah! que locura con tanto rigor!_ + In fine, the whole by you so much was blamed, + To act their parts, the players were ashamed[2]. + Ah, how severe your malice was that day! + To damn, at once, the poet and his play[3]: + But why was your rage just at that time shown, + When what the author writ was all his own? + Till then, he borrowed from romance, and did translate[4]; + And those plays found a more indulgent fate. + +Ravenscroft, however, seems to have given the first offence; for, in +the prologue to "The Citizen turned Gentleman," licensed 9th August +1672, we find the following lines, obviously levelled at "The Conquest +of Granada," and other heroic dramas of our author: + + Then shall the knight, that had a knock in's cradle, + Such as Sir Martin and Sir Arthur Addle[5], + Be flocked unto, as the great heroes now + In plays of rhyme and noise, with wondrous show:-- + Then shall the house, to see these Hectors kill and slay, + That bravely fight out the whole plot of the play, + Be for at least six months full every day. + +Langbaine, who quotes the lines from the prologue to Ravenscroft's +"Careless Lovers," is of opinion, that he paid Dryden too +great a compliment in admitting the originality of "The Assignation," +and labours to shew, that the characters are imitated from +the "Romance Comique" of Scarron, and other novels of the +time. But Langbaine seems to have been unable to comprehend, +that originality consists in the mode of treating a subject, more +than in the subject itself. + +"The Assignation" was acted in 1672, and printed in 1673. + + +Footnotes: + +1. In the prologue to this beautified edition, Ravenscroft modestly + tells us: + + Like other poets, he'll not proudly scorn + To own, that he but winnowed Shakespeare's corn: + So far was he from robbing him of's treasure, + That he did add his own, to make full measure. + +2. This looks as if there had been some ground for Dryden's censure + upon the actors. + +3. A flat parody on the lines in Dryden's prologue, referring to + Mamamouchi: + + Grimace and habit sent you pleased away: + You damned the poet, but cried up the play. + +4. It is somewhat remarkable, that the censure contained in what is + above printed like verses, recoils upon the head of the author, who + never wrote a single original performance. Langbaine, the + persecutor of all plagiarism, though he did not know very well in + what it consisted, threatens to "pull off Ravenscroft's disguise, + and discover the politic plagiary that lurks under it. I know," + continues the biographer, "he has endeavoured to shew himself + master of the art of swift writing, and would persuade the world, + that what he writes is _extempore_ wit, and written _currente + calamo_. But I doubt not to shew, that though he would be thought + to imitate the silk-worm, that spins its web from its own bowels, + yet I shall make him appear like the leech, that lives upon the + blood of other men, drawn from the gums; and, when he is rubbed + with salt, spews it up again." + +5. Sir Martin Mar-all we are acquainted with. Sir Arthur Addle is a + similar character, in a play called "Sir Solomon, or, The Cautious + Coxcomb," attributed to one John Caryll. + + + + + TO + + MY MOST HONOURED FRIEND, + + SIR CHARLES SEDLEY, BART[1]. + + +SIR, + +The design of dedicating plays is as common and unjust, as that of +desiring seconds in a duel. It is engaging our friends, it may be, in +a senseless quarrel where they have much to venture, without any +concernment of their own[2]. I have declared thus much beforehand, to +prevent you from suspicion, that I intend to interest either your +judgment or your kindness, in defending the errors of this comedy. It +succeeded ill in the representation, against the opinion of many of +the best judges of our age, to whom you know I read it, ere it was +presented publicly. Whether the fault was in the play itself, or in +the lameness of the action, or in the number of its enemies, who came +resolved to damn it for the title, I will not now dispute. That would +be too like the little satisfaction which an unlucky gamester finds in +the relation of every cast by which he came to lose his money. I have +had formerly so much success, that the miscarriage of this play was +only my giving Fortune her revenge; I owed it her, and she was +indulgent that she exacted not the payment long before. I will +therefore deal more reasonably with you, than any poet has ever done +with any patron: I do not so much as oblige you for my sake, to pass +two ill hours in reading of my play. Think, if you please, that this +dedication is only an occasion I have taken, to do myself the greatest +honour imaginable with posterity; that is, to be recorded in the +number of those men whom you have favoured with your friendship and +esteem. For I am well assured, that, besides the present satisfaction +I have, it will gain me the greatest part of my reputation with after +ages, when they shall find me valuing myself on your kindness to me; I +may have reason to suspect my own credit with them, but I have none to +doubt of yours. And they who, perhaps, would forget me in my poems, +would remember me in this epistle. + +This was the course which has formerly been practised by the poets of +that nation, who were masters of the universe. Horace and Ovid, who +had little reason to distrust their immortality, yet took occasion to +speak with honour of Virgil, Varius, Tibullus, and Propertius, their +contemporaries; as if they sought, in the testimony of their +friendship, a farther evidence of their fame. For my own part, I, who +am the least amongst the poets, have yet the fortune to be honoured +with the best patron, and the best friend. For, (to omit some great +persons of our court, to whom I am many ways obliged, and who have +taken care of me even amidst the exigencies of a war[3]) I can make my +boast to have found a better Mæcenas in the person of my Lord +Treasurer Clifford[4], and a more elegant Tibullus in that of Sir +Charles Sedley. I have chosen that poet to whom I would resemble you, +not only because I think him at least equal, if not superior, to Ovid +in his elegies; nor because of his quality, for he was, you know, a +Roman knight, as well as Ovid; but for his candour, his wealth, his +way of living, and particularly because of this testimony which is +given him by Horace, which I have a thousand times in my mind applied +to you: + + _Non tu corpus eras sine pectore: Dii tibi formam, + Dii tibi divitias dederant, artemque fruendi. + Quid voveat dulci nutricula majus alumno, + Quam sapere, et fari possit quæ sentiat, et cui + Gratia, forma, valetudo contingat abunde; + Et mundus victus, non deficiente crumena?_ + +Certainly the poets of that age enjoyed much happiness in the +conversation and friendship of one another. They imitated the best way +of living, which was, to pursue an innocent and inoffensive pleasure, +that which one of the ancients called _eruditam voluptatem_. We have, +like them, our genial nights, where our discourse is neither too +serious nor too light, but always pleasant, and, for the most part, +instructive; the raillery, neither too sharp upon the present, nor too +censorious on the absent; and the cups only such as will raise the +conversation of the night, without disturbing the business of the +morrow[5]. And thus far not only the philosophers, but the fathers of +the church, have gone, without lessening their reputation of good +manners, or of piety. For this reason, I have often laughed at the +ignorant and ridiculous descriptions which some pedants have given of +the wits, as they are pleased to call them; which are a generation of +men as unknown to them, as the people of Tartary, or the Terra +Australia, are to us. And therefore as we draw giants and +anthropophagi in those vacancies of our maps, where we have not +travelled to discover better; so those wretches paint lewdness, +atheism, folly, ill-reasoning, and all manner of extravagancies +amongst us, for want of understanding what we are. Oftentimes it so +falls out, that they have a particular pique to some one amongst us, +and then they immediately interest heaven in their quarrel; as it is +an usual trick in courts, when one designs the ruin of his enemy, to +disguise his malice with some concernment of the kings; and to revenge +his own cause, with pretence of vindicating the honour of his master. +Such wits as they describe, I have never been so unfortunate as to +meet in your company; but have often heard much better reasoning at +your table, than I have encountered in their books. The wits they +describe, are the fops we banish: For blasphemy and atheism, if they +were neither sin nor ill manners, are subjects so very common, and +worn so threadbare, that people, who have sense, avoid them, for fear +of being suspected to have none. It calls the good name of their wit +in question as it does the credit of a citizen when his shop is filled +with trumperies and painted titles, instead of wares: We conclude them +bankrupt to all manner of understanding; and that to use blasphemy, is +a kind of applying pigeons to the soles of the feet; it proclaims +their fancy, as well as judgment, to be in a desperate condition. I am +sure, for your own particular, if any of these judges had once the +happiness to converse with you,--to hear the candour of your opinions; +how freely you commend that wit in others of which you have, so large +a portion yourself; how unapt you are to be censorious; with how much +easiness you speak so many things, and those so pointed, that no other +man is able to excel, or perhaps to reach by study;--they would, +instead of your accusers, become your proselytes. They would reverence +so much sense, and so much good nature in the same person; and come, +like the satyr, to warm themselves at that fire, of which they were +ignorantly afraid when they stood at a distance. But you have too +great a reputation to be wholly free from censure: it is a fine which +fortune sets upon all extraordinary persons, and from which you should +not wish to be delivered until you are dead. I have been used by my +critics much more severely, and have more reason to complain, because +I am deeper taxed for a less estate. I am, ridiculously enough, +accused to be a contemner of universities; that is, in other words, an +enemy of learning; without the foundation of which, I am sure, no man +can pretend to be a poet. And if this be not enough, I am made a +detractor from my predecessors, whom I confess to have been my masters +in the art. But this latter was the accusation of the best judge, and +almost the best poet, in the Latin tongue. You find Horace +complaining, that, for taxing some verses in Lucilius, he himself was +blamed by others, though his design was no other than mine now, to +improve the knowledge of poetry; and it was no defence to him, amongst +his enemies, any more than it is for me, that he praised Lucilius +where he deserved it; _paginâ laudatur eâdem_. It is for this reason I +will be no more mistaken for my good meaning: I know I honour Ben +Jonson more than my little critics, because, without vanity I may own, +I understand him better[6]. As for the errors they pretend to find in +me, I could easily show them, that the greatest part of them are +beauties; and for the rest, I could recriminate upon the best poets of +our nation, if I could resolve to accuse another of little faults, +whom, at the same time, I admire for greater excellencies. But I have +neither concernment enough upon me to write any thing in my own +defence, neither will I gratify the ambition of two wretched +scribblers, who desire nothing more than to be answered. I have not +wanted friends, even among strangers, who have defended me more +strongly, than my contemptible pedant could attack me[7]. For the +other, he is only like Fungoso in the play, who follows the fashion at +a distance, and adores the Fastidious Brisk of Oxford[8]. You can bear +me witness, that I have not consideration enough for either of them to +be angry. Let Mævius and Bavius admire each other; I wish to be hated +by them and their fellows, by the same reason for which I desire to be +loved by you. And I leave it to the world, whether their judgment of +my poetry ought to be preferred to yours; though they are as much +prejudiced by their malice, as I desire you should be led by your +kindness, to be partial to, + + SIR, + + Your most humble, + And most faithful servant, + JOHN DRYDEN. + + +Footnotes: + +1. Sir Charles Sedley, noted among "the mob of gentlemen who wrote + with ease," was so highly applauded for his taste and judgment, + that Charles said, "Nature had given him a patent to be Apollo's + viceroy." Some account has been given of this celebrated courtier, + in the introduction to the Essay on Dramatic Poetry. Dryden was at + this time particularly induced to appeal to the taste of the first + among the gay world, by the repeated censures which had been + launched against him from the groves of Academe. Mr Malone gives + the titles of three pamphlets which had appeared against Dryden. + 1. The Censure of the Rota, on Mr Dryden's Conquest of Granada, + printed at Oxford. 2. A Description of the Academy of the Athenian + Virtuoso, with a discourse held there in vindication of Mr Dryden's + Conquest of Granada, against the Author of the Censure of the Rota. + 3. A Friendly Vindication of Mr Dryden, from the Author of the + Censure of the Rota, printed at Cambridge. Thus assailed by the + grave and the learned, censured for the irregularities of his gay + patrons, which he countenanced although he did not partake, and + stigmatized as a detractor of his predecessors, and a defamer of + classical learning, it was natural for Dryden to appeal to the most + accomplished of those amongst whom he lived, and to whose taste he + was but too strongly compelled to adapt his productions. Sedley, + therefore, as a man of wit and gallantry, is called upon to support + our author against the censures of pedantic severity. Whatever may + be thought of the subject, the appeal is made with all Dryden's + spirit and elegance, and his description of the attic evenings + spent with Sedley and his gay associates, glosses over, and almost + justifies, their occasional irregularities. We have but too often + occasion to notice, with censure, the licentious manners of the + giddy court of Charles; let us not omit its merited commendation. + If the talents of the men of parts of that period were often + ill-directed, and ill-rewarded, let not us, from whom that + gratitude is justly due, forget that they were called forth and + stimulated to exertion, by the countenance and applause of the + great. We, at least, who enjoy the fruit of these exertions, ought + to rejoice, that the courtiers of Charles possessed the taste to + countenance and applaud the genius which was too often perverted + by the profligacy of their example, and left unrewarded amid their + selfish prodigality. + +2. At this period, seconds in a duel fought, as well as principals. + +3. The second Dutch war, then raging. + +4. To whom the tragedy of "Amboyna" is dedicated. + +5. It is impossible to avoid contrasting this beautiful account of + elegant dissipation with the noted freak of Sir Charles Sedley, to + whom it is addressed. In June 1663, being in company with Lord + Buckhurst and Sir Thomas Ogle, in a tavern in Bowstreet, and having + become furious with intoxication, they not only exposed themselves, + by committing the grossest indecencies in the balcony, in the sight + of the passengers; but, a mob being thus collected, Sedley stripped + himself naked, and proceeded to harangue them in the grossest and + most impious language. The indignation of the populace being + excited, they attempted to burst into the house, and a desperate + riot ensued, in which the orator and his companions had nearly paid + for their frolic with their lives. For this riot they were indicted + in the Court of Common Pleas, and heavily fined; Sedley in the sum + of L. 500. When the Lord Chief Justice, Sir Robert Hyde, to repress + his insolence, asked him if he had ever read the "Complete + Gentleman?" Sedley answered, that he had read more books than his + lordship; a repartee which exhibits more effrontery than wit. The + culprits employed Killigrew and another courtier to solicit a + mitigation of the fine; but, in the true spirit of court + friendship, they begged it for themselves, and extorted every + farthing. + +6. Our author here shortly repeats what he has said at more length in + his Defence of the Epilogue to the second part of the Conquest of + Granada. + +7. The pedant Mr Malone conjectures to be Matthew Clifford, Master of + the Charter-house, one of the Duke of Buckingham's colleagues in + writing "The Rehearsal." But the _pedant_ is obviously the same + with the Fastidious Brisk _of Oxford_, mentioned in the following + sentence, which can hardly apply to Clifford, who was educated at + Cambridge. One Leigh is said by Wood to have written the Censure of + the Rota; and as he was educated at Oxford and the book printed + there, he may be "the contemptible pedant," though his profession + was that of a player in the duke's company. + +8. Fungoso and Sir Fastidious Brisk are two characters in "Every Man + Out of his Humour;" the former of whom is represented as copying + the dress and manners of the latter. Dryden seems only to mean, + that one of those pamphleteers was the servile imitator of the + other. + + + + + PROLOGUE. + + + Prologues, like bells to churches, toll you in + With chiming verse, till the dull plays begin; + With this sad difference though, of pit and pew, + You damn the poet, but the priest damns you: + But priests can treat you at your own expence, + And gravely call you fools without offence. + Poets, poor devils, have ne'er your folly shown, + But, to their cost, you proved it was their own: + For, when a fop's presented on the stage, + Straight all the coxcombs in the town engage; + For his deliverance and revenge they join, + And grunt, like hogs, about their captive swine. + Your poets daily split upon this shelf,-- + You must have fools, yet none will have himself. + Or if, in kindness, you that leave would give, + No man could write you at that rate you live: + For some of you grow fops with so much haste, + Riot in nonsense, and commit such waste, + 'Twould ruin poets should they spend so fast. + He, who made this, observed what farces hit, + And durst not disoblige you now with wit. + But, gentlemen, you over-do the mode; + You must have fools out of the common road. + Th' unnatural strained buffoon is only taking; + No fop can please you now of God's own making. + Pardon our poet, if he speaks his mind; + You come to plays with your own follies lined: + Small fools fall on you, like small showers, in vain; + Your own oiled coats keep out all common rain. + You must have Mamamouchi[1], such a fop + As would appear a monster in a shop; + He'll fill your pit and boxes to the brim, + Where, rain'd in crowds, you see yourselves in him. + Sure there's some spell, our poet never knew, + In _Hullibabilah de_, and _Chu, chu, chu_; + But _Marababah sahem_[2] most did touch you; + That is, Oh how we love the Mamamouchi! + Grimace and habit sent you pleased away: + You damned the poet, and cried up the play. + This thought had made our author more uneasy, + But that he hopes I'm fool enough to please ye. + But here's my grief,--though nature, joined with art, + Have cut me out to act a fooling part, + Yet, to your praise, the few wits here will say, + 'Twas imitating you taught Haynes to play. + + +Footnotes: +1. See the introductory remarks on the "Citizen turned Gentleman," of + Ravenscroft, where the jest turns on Jorden's being created a + _Mamamouchi_, or Turkish paladin, as it is interpreted. + +2. _Trickman._ I told him she was woundrous beautiful. Then said he, + _Marababa sahem_, Ah how much in love am I! + + _Jorden._ Marababa sahem, means, how much in love am I? + + _Trick._ Yes. + + _Jorden._ I am beholden to you for telling me, for I ne'er could + have thought that Marababa sahem, should signify, Ah how much in + love am I. Ah this Turkish is an admirable language! + _Citizen turned Gentleman_, Act. IV. + + In the same piece, we are presented with a grand chorus of Turks + and Dervises, who sing, "_Hu la baba la chou ba la baba la da._" + + + + + DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. + + + _Duke of Mantua._ + _Prince_ FREDERICK, _his son._ + AURELIAN, _a Roman Gentleman._ + CAMILLO, _his friend._ + MARIO, _Governor of Rome._ + ASCANIO, _page of honour to the Prince._ + BENITO, _Servant to_ AURELIAN. + VALERIO, _confidant to the Duke._ + FABIO, _Servant to_ MARIO. + + SOPHRONIA, _Abbess of the Torr' di Specchì._ + LUCRETIA, _a Lady designed to be a Nun._ + HIPPOLITA, _a Nun._ + LAURA, } + VIOLETTA } _Sisters, nieces to_ MARIO. + FRONTONA, _lets Lodgings._ + + +_SCENE--Rome._ + + + + + THE + + ASSIGNATION; + + OR, + + LOVE IN A NUNNERY. + + +ACT I. + +SCENE I.--_A Room, a great glass placed._ + + _Enter_ BENITO, _with a guitar in his hand._ + +_Ben._ [_Bowing to the glass._] Save you, sweet signior Benito; by my +faith I am glad to see you look so bonnily to-day. Gad, sir, every +thing becomes you to a miracle: your peruke, your clothes, your hat, +your shoe-ties; and, gad, sir, let me tell you, you become every +thing; you walk with such a grace, and you bow so pliantly! + +_Aurelian._ [_Within._] Benito, where are you, sirrah? + +_Ben._ Sirrah! That my damned master should call a man of my +extraordinary endowments, sirrah! A man of my endowments? Gad, I ask +my own pardon, I mean a person of my endowments; for a man of my parts +and talents, though he be but a _valet de chambre_, is a person; and +let me tell my master--Gad, I frown too, as like a person as any +jack-gentleman of them all; but, gad, when I do not frown, I am an +absolute beauty, whatever this glass says to the contrary; and, if +this glass deny it, 'tis a base lying glass; so I'll tell it to its +face, and kick it down into the bargain. + +_Aur._ [_Within._] Why, Benito, how long shall we stay for you? + +_Ben._ I come, sir.--What the devil would he have? But, by his favour, +I'll first survey my dancing and my singing. [_He plays on his guitar, +and dances and sings to the glass._] I think that was not amiss: I +think so. Gad, I can dance [_Lays down the guitar._] and play no +longer, I am in such a rapture with myself. What a villanous fate have +I! With all these excellencies, and a profound wit, and yet to be a +serving-man! + + _Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + +_Aur._ Why, you slave, you dog, you son of twenty fathers, am I to be +served at this rate eternally? A pox of your conceited coxcomb! + +_Cam._ Nay, pr'ythee, Aurelian, be not angry. + +_Aur._ You do not know this rogue, as I do, Camillo. Now, by this +guitar, and that great looking-glass, I am certain how he has spent +his time. He courts himself every morning in that glass at least an +hour; there admires his own person, and his parts, and studies +postures and grimaces, to make himself yet more ridiculous than he was +born to be. + +_Cam._ You wrong him, sure. + +_Aur._ I do; for he is yet more fool than I can speak him. I never +sent him on a message, but he runs first to that glass, to practise +how he may become his errand. Speak, is this a lie, sirrah? + +_Ben._ I confess, I have some kindness for the mirror. + +_Aur._ The mirror! there's a touch of his poetry too; he could not +call it a glass. Then the rogue has the impudence to make sonnets, as +he calls them; and, which is greater impudence, he sings them too; +there's not a street in all Rome which he does not nightly disquiet +with his villanous serenade: with that guitar there, the younger +brother of a cittern, he frights away the watch; and for his violin, +it squeaks so lewdly, that Sir Tibert[1] in the gutter mistakes him +for his mistress. 'Tis a mere cat-call. + +_Cam._ Is this true, Benito? + +_Ben._ to _Cam._ [_Aside._] My master, sir, may say his pleasure; I +divert myself sometimes with hearing him. Alas, good gentleman, 'tis +not given to all persons to penetrate into men's parts and qualities; +but I look on you, sir, as a man of judgment, and therefore you shall +hear me play and sing. [_He takes up the guitar, and begins._ + +_Aur._ Why, you invincible sot you, will nothing mend you? Lay it +down, or-- + +_Ben._ to _Cam._ Do ye see, sir, this enemy to the muses? he will not +let me hold forth to you. [_Lays down the guitar._] O envy and +ignorance, whither will you!--But, gad, before I'll suffer my parts to +be kept in obscurity-- + +_Aur_, What will you do, rascal? + +_Ben._ I'll take up the guitar, and suffer heroically. + [_He plays,_ AUR. _kicks._ + +_Aur._ What? do you mutiny? + +_Ben._ Ay, do, kick till your toes ache; I'll be baffled in my music +by ne'er a foot in Christendom. + +_Aur._ I'll put you out of your tune, with a vengeance to you. + [_As_ AURELIAN _kicks harder,_ BENITO _sings faster, and sometimes + cries out._ + +_Cam._ holding _Aur._ Nay, then, 'tis time to stickle[2]. Hold, +Aurelian, pr'ythee spare Benito, you know we have occasion for him. + +_Aur._ I think that was well kicked. + +_Ben._ And I think that was well sung too. + +_Cam._ Enough, Aurelian. + +_Ben._ No, sir; let him proceed to discourage virtue and see what will +come on it. + +_Cam._ Now to our business. But we must first instruct Benito. + +_Aur._ Be ruled by me, and do not trust him. I prophesy he'll spoil +the whole affair; he has a worm in his head as long as a conger, a +brain so barren of all sense, and yet so fruitful of foolish plots, +that if he does not all things his own way, yet at least he'll ever be +mingling his designs with yours, and go halves with you; so that, what +with his ignorance, what with his plotting, he'll be sure to ruin you +with an intention to serve you. For my part, I had turned him off long +since, but that my wise father commanded the contrary. + +_Cam._ Still you speak, as if what we did were choice, and not +necessity. You know their uncle is suspicious of me, and consequently +jealous of all my servants; but if we employ yours, who is not +suspected, because you are a stranger, I doubt not to get an +assignation with the younger sister. + +_Aur._ Well, use your own way, Camillo: but if it ever succeed with +his management-- + +_Cam._ You must understand then, Benito, that this old Signior Mario +has two nieces, with one of which I am desperately in love, and-- + +_Ben._ [_Aside to him._] I understand you already, sir, and you desire +love reciprocal. Leave your business in my hands; and, if it succeed +not, think me no wiser than my master. + +_Cam._ Pray take me with you. These sisters are great beauties, and +vast fortunes; but, by a clause in their father's will, if they marry +without their uncle's consent, are to forfeit all. Their uncle, who is +covetous and base to the last degree, takes advantage of this clause; +and, under pretence of not finding fit matches for them, denies his +consent to all who love them. + +_Ben._ Denies them marriage! Very good, sir. + +_Cam._ More than this, he refuses access to any suitor, and immures +them in a mean apartment on the garden side, where he barbarously +debars them from all human society. + +_Ben._ Uses them most barbarously! Still better and better. + +_Cam._ The younger of these sisters, Violetta, I have seen often in +the garden, from the balcony in this chamber, which looks into it; +have divers times shot tickets on the point of an arrow, which she has +taken; and, by the signs she made me, I find they were not ill +received. + +_Ben._ I'll tell you now, just such an amour as this had I once with a +young lady, that-- + +_Aur._ Quote yourself again, you rogue, and my feet shall renew their +acquaintance with your buttocks. + +_Cam._ Dear Benito, take care to convey this ticket to Violetta; I saw +her just now go by to the next chapel: be sure to stand ready to give +her holy water, and slip the ticket into the hand of her woman +Beatrix; and take care the elder sister, Laura, sees you not, for she +knows nothing of our amour. + +_Ben._ A word to the wise. Have you no service to Laura? [_To_ AUR. + +_Aur._ None that I shall trouble you withal; I'll see first what +returns you make from this voyage, before I put in my venture with +you. Away; begone, Mr Mercury. + +_Ben._ I fly, Mr Jupiter. [_Exit._ + +_Aur._ This lady, Laura, I have seen from your balcony, and was seen +by her. Methought, too, she looked with a languishing eye upon me, as +who should say, Are you a man, and have no pity for a poor distressed +virgin? For my part, I never found so much disposition in myself to +love any woman at first sight. Handsome she is; of that I am certain. + +_Cam._ And has wit, I dare assure you; but I have not heard she has +admitted of any gallantry. + +_Aur._ Her hour is not come yet; she has not met with a man to love; +when that happens, (as I am resolved to push my fortune) you shall see +that, as her love warms, her virtue will melt down, and dissolve in +it; for there's no such bawd to a woman, as her own wit is. + +_Cam._ I look upon the assignation as certain; will you promise me to +go? You and Benito shall walk in the garden, while I search the nymph +within the shade. One thing I had forgot to tell you, that our general +of the church, the Duke of Mantua, and the prince his son, are just +approaching the gates of Rome. Will you go see the ceremony of their +entrance? + +_Aur._ With all my heart. They say he has behaved himself gallantly +against the French, at their return from Naples. Besides, I have a +particular knowledge of young prince Frederick, ever since he was last +at our Venetian carnivals. + +_Cam._ Away, then, quickly; lest we miss the solemnity. [_Exeunt._ + + _Enter_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA, _striving about a letter, which_ + LAURA _holds._ + +_Vio._ Let it go, I say. + +_Lau._ I say, let you go. + +_Vio._ Nay, sweet sister Laura. + +_Lau._ Nay, dear Violetta, it is in vain to contend; I am resolved +I'll see it. [_Plucks the paper from_ VIOLETTA. + +_Vio._ But I am resolved you shall not read it. I know not what +authority this is which you assume, or what privilege a year or two +can give you, to use this sovereignty over me. + +_Lau._ Do you rebel, young gentlewoman? I'll make you know I have a +double right over you. One, as I have more years, and the other, as I +have more wit. + +_Vio._ Though I am not all air and fire, as you are, yet that little +wit I have will serve to conduct my affairs without a governess. + +_Lau._ No, gentlewoman, but it shall not. Are you fit, at fifteen, to +be trusted with a maidenhead? It is as much as your betters can manage +at full twenty. + + _For 'tis of a nature so subtile, + That, if it's not luted with care, + The spirit will work through the bottle, + And vanish away into air. + + To keep it, there nothing so hard is, + 'Twill go betwixt waking and sleeping; + The simple too weak for a guard is, + And no wit would be plagued with the keeping._ + +_Vio._ For aught I see, you are as little to be trusted with your +madness, as I with my simplicity; and, therefore, pray restore my +letter. + +_Lau._ [_Reading it._] What's here? An humble petition for a private +meeting? Are you twittering at that sport already, mistress novice? + +_Vio._ How! I a novice at ripe fifteen? I would have you to know, that +I have killed my man before I was fourteen, and now am ready for +another execution. + +_Lau._ A very forward rose-bud: You open apace, gentlewoman. I find +indeed your desires are quick enough; but where will you have cunning +to carry on your business with decency and secrecy? Secrecy, I say, +which is a main part of chastity in our sex. Where wit, to be sensible +of the delicacies of love? the tenderness of a farewell-sigh for an +absence? the joy of a return? the zeal of a pressing hand? the +sweetness of little quarrels, caused and cured by the excess of love? +and, in short, the pleasing disquiets of the soul, always restless, +and wandering up and down in a paradise of thought, of its own making? + +_Vio._ If I understood not thus much before, I find you are an +excellent instructor; and that argues you have had a feeling of the +cause in your time too, sister. + +_Lau._ What have I confessed before I was aware! She'll find out my +inclination to that stranger, whom I have only seen, and to whom I +have never spoken--[_Aside._] No, good Violetta, I never was in love; +all my experience is from plays and romances. But, who is this man, to +whom you have promised an assignation? + +_Vio._ You'll tell my uncle. + +_Lau._ I hate my uncle more than you do. + +_Vio._ You know the man, 'tis signior Camillo: His birth and fortunes +are equal to what I can expect; and he tells me his intentions are +honourable. + +_Lau._ Have I not seen him lately in his balcony, which looks into our +garden, with another handsome gentleman in his company, who seems a +stranger? + +_Vio._ They are the same. Do you think it a reasonable thing, dear +Laura, that my uncle should keep us so strictly, that we must be +beholden to hearsay, to know a young gallant is in the next house to +us? + +_Lau._ 'Tis hard, indeed, to be mewed like hawks, and never manned: To +be locked in like nuns here. + +_Vio._ They, that look for nun's flesh in me, shall be mistaken. + +_Lau._ Well, what answer have you returned to this letter? + +_Vio._ That I would meet him at eight this evening, in the close walk +in the garden, attended only by Beatrix, my woman. + +_Lau._ Who comes with him? + +_Vio._ Only his friend's man, Benito; the same who brought me the +letter which you took from me. + +_Lau._ Stay, let me think a little. Does Camillo, or this Benito, know +your maid Beatrix? + +_Vio._ They have never talked with her; but only seen her. + +_Lau._ 'Tis concluded then. You shall meet your servant, but I'll be +your Beatrix: I'll go instead of her, and counterfeit your +waiting-woman; in the dark I may easily pass for her. By this means I +shall be present to instruct you, for you are yet a callow maid: I +must teach you to peck a little; you may come to prey for yourself in +time. + +_Vio._ A little teaching will serve my turn: If the old one left me to +myself, I could go near to get my living. + +_Lau._ I find you are eager, and baiting to be gone already, and I'll +not hinder you when your hour approaches. In the mean time, go in, and +sigh, and think fondly and ignorantly of your approaching pleasures: + + Love, in young hearts, is like the must of wine; + 'Tis sweetest then; but elder 'tis more fine. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT II. + +SCENE I.--_The front of a Nunnery._ + + _Prince_ FREDERICK, AURELIAN, CAMILLO, _and_ ASCANIO, _the Prince's + Page._ + +_Fred._ My father's ancient, and may repose himself, if he pleases, +after the ceremony of his entrance; but we, who are younger, should +think it a sin to spend any part of day-light in a chamber. What are +your ways of living here? + +_Cam._ Why, sir, we pass our time, either in conversation alone, or in +love alone, or in love and conversation together. + +_Fred._ Come, explain, explain, my counsel learned in the laws of +living. + +_Cam._ For conversation alone; that's either in going to court, with a +face of business, and there discoursing of the affairs of Europe, of +which Rome, you know, is the public mart; or, at best, meeting the +virtuosi, and there wearying one another with rehearsing our own works +in prose and poetry. + +_Fred._ Away with that dry method, I will have none on't. To the next. + +_Cam._ Love alone, is either plain wenching, where every courtezan is +your mistress, and every man your rival; or else, what's worse, plain +whining after one woman: that is, walking before her door by day, and +haunting her street by night, with guitars, dark-lanthorns, and +rondaches[3]. + +_Aur._ Which, I take it, is, or will he our case, Camillo. + +_Fred._ Neither of these will fit my humour: If your third prove not +more pleasant, I shall stick to the old Almain recreation; the divine +bottle, and the bounteous glass, that tuned up old Horace to his odes. + +_Aur._ You shall need to have no recourse to that; for love and +conversation will do your business: that is, sir, a most delicious +courtezan,--I do not mean down-right punk,--but punk of more than +ordinary sense in conversation; punk in ragou, punk, who plays on the +lute, and sings; and, to sum up all, punk, who cooks and dresses up +herself, with poignant sauce, to become a new dish every time she is +served up to you. + +_Fred._ This I believe, Aurelian, is your method of living, you talk +of it so savourily. + +_Aur._ There is yet another more insipid sort of love and +conversation: As, for example, look you there, sir; the courtship of +our nuns. [_Pointing to the Nunnery._] They talk prettily; but, a pox +on them, they raise our appetites, and then starve us. They are as +dangerous as cold fruits without wine, and are never to be used but +where there are abundance of wenches in readiness, to qualify them. + +_Cam._ But yet they are ever at hand, and easy to come by; and if +you'll believe an experienced sinner, easiness in love is more than +half the pleasure of it. + +_Fred._ This way of chatting pleases me; for debauchery, I hate it; +and to love is not in my nature, except it be my friends. Pray, what +do you call that nunnery? + +_Cam._ 'Tis a house of Benedictines, called the _Torre di Specchi_, +where only ladies of the best quality are professed. + [LUCRETIA _and_ HIPPOLITA _appear at the grate._ + +_Aur._ Look you yonder, sir, are two of the pretty magpies in white +and black. If you will lull yourself into a Platonic dream, you may; +but consider your sport will be dull when you play without stakes. + +_Fred._ No matter, I'll fool away an hour of courtship; for I never +was engaged in a serious love, nor I believe can be. Farewell, +gentlemen; at this time I shall dispense with your attendance;--nay, +without ceremony, because I would be incognito. + +_Cam._ Come then, Aurelian, to our own affairs. + [_Exeunt_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + + _The Prince and_ ASCANIO _approach._ + +_Fred._ [_To_ LUCRETIA.] For what crime, fair creature, were you +condemned to this perpetual prison? + +_Luc._ For chastity and devotion, and two or three such melancholy +virtues: They first brought me hither, and must now keep me company. + +_Fred._ I should rather have guessed it had been murder, and that you +are veiled for fear of doing more mischief with those eyes; for, +indeed, they are too sharp to be trusted out of the scabbard. + +_Luc._ Cease, I beseech you, to accuse my eyes, till they have done +some execution on your heart. + +_Fred._ But I am out of reach, perhaps. + +_Luc._ Trust not to that; they may shoot at a distance, though they +cannot strike you near at hand. + +_Fred._ But if they should kill, you are ne'er the better: There's a +grate betwixt us, and you cannot fetch in the dead quarry. + +_Luc._ Provided we destroy the enemy, we do not value their dead +bodies: But you, perhaps, are in your first error, and think we are +rather captives than warriors; that we come like prisoners to the +grate, to beg the charity of passengers for their love. + +_Fred._ [_To_ ASCANIO.] Enquire, as dextrously as you can, what is the +name and quality of this charming creature. + +_Luc._ [_To_ HIPPOLITA.] Be sure, if the page approaches you, to get +out of him his master's name. + [_The Prince and_ LUCRETIA _seem to talk._ + +_Hip._ [_To_ ASCANIO.] By that short whisper, which I observed you +took with your master, I imagine, Mr Page, you come to ask a certain +question of me. + +_Asca._ By this thy question, and by that whisper with thy lady, (O +thou nymph of devotion!) I find I am to impart a secret, and not to +ask one: Therefore, either confess thou art yet a mere woman under +that veil, and, by consequence, most horribly inquisitive, or thou +shalt lose thy longing, and know nothing of my master. + +_Hip._ By my virginity, you shall tell first. + +_Asca._ You'll break your oath, on purpose to make the forfeit. + +_Hip._ Your master is called-- + +_Asca._ Your lady is ycleped-- + +_Hip._ For decency, in all matters of love, the man should offer +first, you know. + +_Asca._ That needs not, when the damsel is so willing. + +_Hip._ But I have sworn not to discover first, that her name is madam +Lucretia; fair, as you see, to a miracle, and of a most charming +conversation; of royal blood, and niece to his holiness; and, if she +were not espoused to heaven, a mistress for a sovereign prince. + +_Asca._ After these encomiums, 'twere vain for me to praise my master: +He is only poor prince Frederick, otherwise called the prince of +Mantua; liberal, and valiant, discreet and handsome, and, in my simple +judgment, a fitter servant for your lady, than his old father, who is +a sovereign. + +_Hip._ Dare you make all this good, you have said of your master? + +_Asca._ Yes, and as much more of myself to you. + +_Hip._ I defy you upon't, as my lady's second. + +_Asca._ As my master's, I accept it. The time? + +_Hip._ Six this evening. + +_Asca._ The place? + +_Hip._ At this grate. + +_Asca._ The weapons? + +_Hip._ Hands, and it may be lips. + +_Asca._ 'Tis enough: Expect to hear from me. + [_They withdraw, and whisper to their Principals. + After the whisper._ + +_Fred._ [_To_ LUCRETIA.] Madam, I am glad I know my enemy; for since +it is impossible to see, and not admire you, the name of Lucretia is +the best excuse for my defeat. + +_Luc._ Persons, like prince Frederick, ought not to assault religious +houses, or to pursue chastity and virtue to their last retreat. + +_Fred._ A monastery is no retreat for chastity; 'tis only a hiding +place for bad faces, where they are thrust in crowds together, like +heaps of rubbish out of the way, that the world may not be peopled +with deformed persons: And that such, who are out of play themselves, +may pray for a blessing on their endeavours, who are getting handsome +children, and carrying on the work for public benefit. + +_Luc._ Then you would put off heaven with your leavings, and use it +like them, who play at cards alone; take the courts for yourselves, +and give the refuse to the gentlemen. + +_Fred._ You mistake me, madam; I would so contrive it, that heaven and +we might be served at once. We have occasion for wit and beauty; now +piety and ugliness will do as well for heaven: that plays at one game, +and we at another; and therefore heaven may make its hand with the +same cards that we put out. + +_Luc._ I could easily convince you, if the argument concerned me; hut +I am one of those, whom, for want of wit and beauty, you have +condemned to religion; and therefore am your humble servant, to pray +for your handsome wife and children. + +_Fred._ Heaven forbid, madam, that I should condemn you, or indeed any +handsome woman, to be religious! No, madam; the occasions of the world +are great and urgent for such as you; and, for my part, I am of +opinion, that it is as great a sin for a beauty to enter into a +nunnery, as for an ugly woman to stay out of it. + +_Luc._ The cares of the world are not yet upon you; but as soon as +ever you come to be afflicted with sickness, or visited with a wife, +you'll be content I should pray for you. + +_Fred._ Any where rather than in a cloyster; for, truly, I suppose, +all your prayers there will be how to get out of it; and, upon that +supposition, madam, I am come to offer you my service for your +redemption. Come, faith, be persuaded, the church shall lose nothing +by it: I'll take you out, and put in two or three crooked apostles in +your place. [_Bell rings within._ + +_Luc._ Hark, the bell rings; I must leave you: 'tis a summons to our +devotion. + +_Fred._ Will you leave me for your prayers, madam? You may have enough +of them at any time, but remember you cannot have a man so easily. + +_Luc._ Well, I'll say my beads for you, and that's but charity; for I +believe I leave you in a most deplorable condition. [_Exeunt Women._ + +_Fred._ Not deplorable neither, but a little altered: If I could be in +love, as I am sure I cannot, it should be with her, for I like her +conversation strangely. + +_Asca._ Then, as young as I am, sir, I am beforehand with you; for I +am in love already. I would fain make the first proof of my manhood +upon a nun: I find I have a mighty grudging to holy flesh. + +_Fred._ I'll ply Lucretia again, as soon as ever her devotion's over. +Methinks these nuns divide their time most admirably; from love to +prayers, from prayers to love; that is, just so much sin, just so much +godliness. + +_Asca._ Then I can claim that sister's love by merit. Half man, half +boy; for her half flesh, half spirit. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_A Street._ + + AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + +_Aur._ I'll proceed no farther, if Benito goes: I know his folly will +produce some mischief. + +_Cam._ But Violetta desired me, in her note, to bring him, on purpose +to pass the time with her woman, Beatrix. + +_Aur._ That objection's easily removed: I'll supply Benito's place; +the darkness will prevent discovery; and, for my discourse, I'll +imitate the half wit and patched breeding of a _valet de chambre._ + +_Cam._ But how shall we get rid of him? + +_Aur._ Let me alone for that. + + _Enter_ BENITO. + +_Ben._ Come, are we ready, gallants? The clock's upon the stroke of +eight. + +_Aur._ But we have altered our resolution; we go another way to-night. + +_Ben._ I hope you have not broke my assignation? + +_Aur._ Why do you hope so? + +_Ben._ Because my reputation is engaged in't: I've stipulated, upon +mine honour, that you shall come. + +_Aur._ I shall beat you, if you follow me. Go, sirrah, and adjourn to +the great looking-glass, and let me hear no more from you till +to-morrow morning. + +_Ben._ Sir, my fidelity, and, if I may be so vain, my discretion, may +stand you in some stead. + +_Aur._ Well, come along then; they are brave fellows, who have +challenged us; you shall have fighting enough, sir. + +_Ben._ How, sir, fighting? + +_Aur._ You may escape with the loss of a leg, or an arm, or some such +transitory limb. + +_Ben._ No, sir; I have that absolute obedience to your commands, that +I will bridle my courage, and stay at home. [_Exit._ + +_Cam._ You took the only way to be rid of him. There's the wall; +behind yon pane of it we'll set up the ladder. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_A Night-piece of a Garden._ + + _Enter_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Vio._ Remember your waiting-woman's part, Laura. + +_Lau._ I warrant you, I'll wait on you by night, as well as I governed +you by day. + +_Vio._ Hark, I hear footsteps; and now, methinks, I see something +approaching us. + +_Lau._ They are certainly the men whom we expect. + + _Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + +_Cam._ I hear womens' voices. + +_Aur._ We are right, I warrant you. + +_Cam._ Violetta, my love! + +_Vio._ My dear Camillo! + +_Cam._ Speak those words again; my own name never sounded so sweetly +to me, as when you spoke it, and made me happy by adding _dear_ to it. + +_Vio._ Speak softly then; I have stolen these few minutes from my +watchful uncle and my sister, and they are as full of danger as they +are of love. Something within me checks me too, and says, I was too +forward in venturing thus to meet you. + +_Cam._ You are too fearful rather; and fear's the greatest enemy to +love. + +_Vio._ But night will hide my blushes, when I tell you, I love you +much, or I had never trusted my virtue and my person in your hands. + +_Cam._ The one is sacred, and the other safe; but this auspicious +minute is our first of near converse. May I not hope that favour, +which strangers, in civility, may claim, even from the most reserved? + [_Kisses her hand._ + +_Vio._ I fear you'll censure me. + +_Cam._ Yes, as the blest above tax heaven for making them so happy. + [_They walk further off._ + +_Aur._ [_Stepping towards_ LAURA.] Damsel of darkness, advance, and +meet my flames! + +_Lau._ [_Stepping forward._] Right trusty valet, heard, but yet +unseen, I have advanced one step on reputation. + +_Aur._ Now, by laudable custom, I am to love thee vehemently. + +_Lau._ We should do well to see each other first: You know 'tis ill +taking money without light. + +_Aur._ O, but the coin of love is known by the weight only, and you +may feel it in the dark: Besides, you know 'tis prince-like to love +without seeing. + +_Lau._ But then you may be served as princes are sometimes. + +_Aur._ Let us make haste, however, and despatch a little love out of +the way: We may do it now with ease, and save ourselves a great deal +of trouble, if we take it in time, before it grows too fast upon our +hands. + +_Lau._ Fye, no; let us love discreetly: we must manage our passion, +and not love all our love out at one meeting, but leave some for +another time. + +_Aur._ I am for applying the plaster while the wound is green; 'twill +heal the better. [_Takes her by the hand._ + +_Lau._ Let go my hand! What crime has the poor wretch committed, that +you press it thus? I remember no mischief it has done you. + +_Aur._ O, 'tis a heinous malefactor, and is pressed by law, because it +will confess nothing. Come, withdraw a little farther, we have urgent +business with one another. + +_Lau._ 'Twere a shame to quit my ground upon the first charge; yet if +you please to take a truce a little, I will consent to go behind the +lovers, and listen with you. + +_Aur._ I wonder you deferred the proposition so long. I were neither +true valet, nor you true woman, if we could not eves-drop. + [_They retire behind the other two, who come forward + upon the Stage._ + +_Cam._ [_Kissing_ VIOLETTA'S _hand._] Give me another yet, and then-- + +_Vio._ And then will you be satisfied? + +_Cam._ And then I'll ask a thousand more, and ne'er be satisfied. +Kisses are but thin nourishment; they are too soon digested, and +hungry love craves more. + +_Vio._ You feed a wolf within you. + +_Cam._ Then feast my love with a more solid diet. He makes us now a +miser's feast, and we forbear to take our fill. The silent night, and +all these downy hours, were made for lovers: Gently they tread, and +softly measure time, that no rude noise may fright the tender maid, +from giving all her soul to melting joys. + +_Vio._ You do not love me; if you did, you would not +Thus urge your satisfaction in my shame; +At best, I see you would not love me long, +For they, who plunder, do not mean to stay. + +_Cam._ I haste to take possession of my own. + +_Vio._ Ere heaven and holy vows have made it so? + +_Cam._ Then witness, heaven, and all these twinkling stars-- + +_Vio._ Hold, hold, you are distempered with your love; +Time, place, and strong desires, now swear, not you. + +_Cam._ Is not love love, without a priest and altars? +The temples are inanimate, and know not +What vows are made in them; the priest stands ready +For his hire, and cares not what hearts he couples; +Love alone is marriage. + +_Vio._ I never will receive these midnight vows: +But when I come hereafter to your arms, +I'll bring you a sincere, full, perfect bliss; +Then you will thank me that I kept it so, +And trust my faith hereafter. + +_Lau._ There is your destiny, lover mine: I am to be honest by +infection; my lady will none, you see. + +_Aur._ Truth is, they are a lost couple, unless they learn grace by +our example. Come, shall we begin first, and shame them both? + [_Takes her by the hand again._ + +_Lau._ You will never be warned of this hand, Benito. + +_Aur._ Oh, it is so soft, as it were made on purpose to take hearts, +and handle them without hurting! These taper fingers too, and even +joints so supple, that methinks I mould them as they pass through +mine: nay, in my conscience, though it be nonsense to say it, your +hand feels white too. + +_Lau._ Methinks yours is not very hard, for a serving-man's. But +where, in the name of wonder, have you learned to talk so courtly? You +are a strange _valet de chambre_. + +_Aur._ And you are as strange a waiting-woman: You have so stabbed me +with your repartees to-night, that I should be glad to change the +weapon, to be revenged on you. + +_Lau._ These, I suppose, are fragments, which you learned from your +wild master, Aurelian: many a poor woman has passed through his hands +with these very words. You treat me just like a serving-man, with the +cold meat which comes from your master's table. + +_Aur._ You could never have suspected me for using my master's wit, if +you had not been guilty of purloining from your lady. I am told, that +Laura, your mistress's sister, has wit enough to confound a hundred +Aurelians. + +_Lau._ I shall do your commendations to Laura for your compliment. + +_Aur._ And I shall not fair to revenge myself, by informing Aurelian +of yours. + + _Enter_ BENITO _with a Guitar._ + +_Ben._ The poor souls shall not lose by the bargain, though my foolish +gadding masters have disappointed them. That ladder of ropes was +doubtless left there by the young lady in hope of them. + +_Vio._ Hark, I hear a noise in the garden. + +_Lau._ I fear we are betrayed. + +_Cam._ Fear nothing, madam, but stand close. + +_Ben._ Now, Benito, is the time to hold forth thy talent, and to set +up for thyself. Yes, ladies, you shall be serenaded, and when I have +displayed my gifts, I'll retire in triumph over the wall, and hug +myself for the adventure. [_He fums on the Guitar._ + +_Vio._ Let us make haste, sister, and get into covert; this music will +raise the house upon us immediately. + +_Lau._ Alas, we cannot; the damn'd musician stands just in the door +where we should pass. + +_Ben._ singing. + _Eveillez vous, belles endormies; + Eveillez vous: car il est jour: + Mettez la tête a la fenestre, + Vous entendrez parler d'amour._ + +_Aur._ [_aside to_ CAM.] Camillo, this is my incorrigible rogue; and I +dare not call him, Benito, for fear of discovering myself not to be +Benito. + +_Cam._ The alarm is already given through the house. Ladies, you must +be quick: Secure yourselves and leave us to shift. [_Exeunt Women._ + +_Within._ This way, this way. + +_Aur._ I hear them coming; and, as ill luck will have it, just by that +quarter where our ladder is placed. + +_Cam._ Let us hide in the dark walk till they are past. + +_Aur._ But then Benito will be caught, and, being known to be my man, +will betray us. + +_Ben._ I hear some in the garden: Sure they are the ladies, that are +taken with my melody. To it again, Benito; this time I will absolutely +enchant them. [_Fums again._ + +_Aur_: He is at it again. Why, Benito, are you mad? + +_Ben._ Ah, madam! are you there? This is such a favour to your poor +unworthy servant. [_Sings._ + + _But still between kissing Amyntas did say, + Fair Phillis, look up, and you'll turn night to day._ + +_Aur._ Come away, you insufferable rascal; the house is up, and will +be upon us immediately. + +_Ben._ O gemini, is it you, sir? + +_Within._ This way; follow, follow. + +_Aur._ Leave your scraping and croaking, and step with us into this +arbour. + +_Ben._ Scraping and croaking! 'Sfoot, sir, either grant I sing and +play to a miracle, or I'll justify my music, though I am caught, and +hanged for it. + + _Enter_ MARIO, _and Servants._ + +_Mar._ Where is this serenading rascal? If I find him, I'll make him +an example to all midnight caterwaulers, of which this fidler is the +loudest. + +_Ben._ O that I durst but play my tune out, to convince him! Soul of +harmony! Is this lewd? [_Plays and sings softly._ + +_Cam._ Peace, dear Benito: We must flatter him. + +_Ben._ [_singing softly._] _Mettez le tête:_ The notes which follow +are so sweet, sir, I must sing them, though it be my ruin--_Parler +d'amour._ [LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA _in the Balcony._ + +_Lau._ Yes, we are safe, sister; but they are yet in danger. + +_Vio._ They are just upon them. + +_Lau._ We must do something: Help, help! thieves, thieves! we shall be +murdered. + +_Mar._ Where? Where are they? + +_Lau._ Here, sir, at our chamber-door, and we are run into the balcony +for shelter: Dear uncle, come and help us. + +_Mar._ Back again quickly: I durst have sworn they had been in the +garden. 'Tis an _ignis fatuus_, I think, that leads us from one place +to another. [_Exit_ MARIO, _and Servants._ + +_Vio._ They are gone. My dear Camillo, make haste, and preserve +yourself. + +_Cam._ May our next meeting prove more propitious! + +_Aur._ [_To_ BENTIO.] Come, sirrah, I shall make you sing another note +when you are at home. + +_Ben._ Such another word, and I'll sing again. + +_Aur._ Set the ladder, and mount first, you rogue. + +_Ben._ Mount first yourself, and fear not my delaying. +If I am caught, they'll spare me for my playing. + [_Sings as he goes off._ + _Vouz entendrez parler d'amour._ [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT III. + +SCENE I.--_The Front of the Nunnery._ + + ASCANIO, _and_ HIPPOLITA, _at the Grate._ + +_Hip._ I see you have kept touch, brother. + +_Asca._ As a man of honour ought, sister, when he is challenged. And +now, according to the laws of duel, the next thing is to strip, and, +instead of seconds, to search one another. + +_Hip._ We will strip our hands, if you please, brother; for they are +the only weapons we must use. + +_Asca._ That were to invite me to my loss, sister; I could have made a +full meal in the world, and you would have me take up with hungry +commons in the cloyster. Pray mend my fare, or I am gone. + +_Hip._ O, brother, a hand in a cloyster is fare like flesh in Spain; +'tis delicate, because 'tis scarce. You may be satisfied with a hand, +as well as I am pleased with the courtship of a boy. + +_Asca._ You may begin with me, sister, as Milo did; by carrying a calf +first, you may learn to carry an ox hereafter. In the mean time +produce your hand, I understand nun's flesh better than you imagine: +Give it me, you shall see how I will worry it. [_She gives her hand._] +Now could not we thrust out our lips, and contrive a kiss too? + +_Hip._ Yes, we may; but I have had the experience of it: It will be +but half flesh, half iron. + +_Asca._ Let's try, however. + +_Hip._ Hold, Lucretia's here. + +_Asca._ Nay, If you come with odds upon me, 'tis time to call seconds. + [ASCANIO _hems._ + + _The Prince and_ LUCRETIA _appear._ + +_Luc._ Sir, though your song was pleasant, yet there was one thing +amiss in it,--that was, your rallying of religion. + +_Fred._ Do you speak well of my friend Love, and I'll try to speak +well of your friend Devotion. + +_Luc._ I can never speak well of love: 'Twas to avoid it that I +entered here. + +_Fred._ Then, madam, you have met your man; for, to confess the truth +to you, I have but counterfeited love, to try you; for I never yet +could love any woman: and, since I have seen you, and do not, I am +certain now I shall 'scape for ever. + +_Luc._ You are the best man in the world, if you continue this +resolution. Pray, then, let us vow solemnly these two things: the +first, to esteem each other better than we do all the world besides; +the next, never to change our amity to love. + +_Fred._ Agreed, madam. Shall I kiss your hand on it? + +_Luc._ That is too like a lover; or if it were not, the narrowness of +the grate will excuse the ceremony. + +_Hip._ No, but it will not, to my knowledge: I have tried every bar +many a fair time over; and at last have found out one, where a hand +may get through, and be gallanted. + +_Luc._ [_giving her hand._] There, sir, 'tis a true one. + +_Fred._ [_kissing it._] This, then, is a seal to our perpetual +friendship, and defiance to all love. + +_Luc._ That seducer of virtue. + +_Fred._ That disturber of quiet. + +_Luc._ That madness of youth. + +_Fred._ That dotage of old age. + +_Luc._ That enemy to good humour. + +_Fred._ And, to conclude all, that reason of all unreasonable actions. + +_Asca._ This doctrine is abominable; do not believe it, sister. + +_Hip._ No; if I do, brother, may I never have comfort from sweet youth +at my extremity. + +_Luc._ But remember one article of our friendship, that though we +banish love, we do not mirth, nor gallantly; for I declare, I am for +all extravagancies, but just loving. + +_Fred._ Just my own humour; for I hate gravity and melancholy next to +love. + +_Asca._ Now it comes into my head, the duke of Mantua makes an +entertainment to night in masquerade: If you love extravagancy so +well, madam, I'll put you into the head of one; lay by your nunship +for an hour or two, and come amongst us in disguise. + +_Fred._ My boy is in the right, madam. Will you venture? I'll furnish +you with masking-habits. + +_Hip._ O my dear sister, never refuse it; I keep the keys, you know: +I'll warrant you we will return before we are missed. I do so long to +have one fling into the sweet world again, before I die. Hang it, at +worst, it is but one sin more, and then we will repent for all +together. + +_Asca._ But if I catch you in the world, sister, I'll make you have a +better opinion of the flesh and the devil for ever after. + +_Luc._ If it were known, I were lost for ever. + +_Fred._ How should it be known? You have her on your side, there, that +keeps the keys: And, put the worst, that you are taken in the world, +the world is a good world to stay in; and there are certain occasions +of waking in a morning, that may be more pleasant to you than your +matins. + +_Luc._ Fye, friend, these extravagancies are a breach of articles in +our friendship. But well, for once, I'll venture to go out: Dancing +and singing are but petty transgressions. + +_Asca._ My lord, here is company approaching; we shall be discovered. + +_Fred._ Adieu, then, _jusqu' a revoir_; Ascanio shall be with you +immediately, to conduct you. + +_Asca._ How will you disguise, sister? Will you be a man or a woman? + +_Hip._ A woman, brother page, for life: I should have the strangest +thoughts if I once wore breeches. + +_Asca._ A woman, say you? Here is my hand, if I meet you in place +convenient, I'll do my best to make you one. [_Exeunt._ + + _Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + +_Cam._ But why thus melancholy, with hat pulled down, and the hand on +the region of the heart, just the reverse of my friend Aurelian, of +happy memory? + +_Aur._ Faith, Camillo, I am ashamed of it, but cannot help it. + +_Cam._ But to be in love with a waiting-woman! with an eater of +fragments, a simperer at lower end of a table, with mighty golls, +rough-grained, and red with starching, those discouragers and abaters +of elevated love! + +_Aur._ I could love deformity itself, with that good humour. She, who +is armed with gaiety and wit, needs no other weapon to conquer me. + +_Cam._ We lovers are the great creators of wit in our mistresses. For +Beatrix, she is a mere utterer of yes and no, and has no more sense +than what will just dignify her to be an arrant waiting-woman; that +is, to lie for her lady, and take your money. + +_Aur._ It may be, then, I found her in the exaltation of her wit; for +certainly women have their good and ill days of talking, as they have +of looking. + +_Cam._ But, however, she has done you the courtesy to drive out Laura; +and so one poison has expelled the other. + +_Aur._ Troth, not absolutely neither; for I dote on Laura's beauty, +and on Beatrix's wit: I am wounded with a forked arrow, which will not +easily be got out. + +_Cam._ Not to lose time in fruitless complaints, let us pursue our new +contrivance, that you may see your two mistresses, and I my one. + +_Aur._ That will not now be difficult: This plot's so laid, that I +defy the devil to make it miss. The woman of the house, by which they +are to pass to church, is bribed; the ladies are by her acquainted +with the design; and we need only to be there before them, and expect +the prey, which will undoubtedly fall into the net. + +_Cam._ Your man is made safe, I hope, from doing us any mischief? + +_Aur._ He has disposed of himself, I thank him, for an hour or two: +The fop would make me believe, that an unknown lady is in love with +him, and has made him an assignation. + +_Cam._ If he should succeed now, I should have the worse opinion of +the sex for his sake. + +_Aur._ Never doubt but he will succeed: Your brisk fool, that can make +a leg, is ever a fine gentleman among the ladies, because he is just +of their talent, and they understand him better than a wit. + +_Cam._ Peace, the ladies are coming this way to the chapel, and their +jailor with them: Let them go by without saluting, to avoid suspicion; +and let us go off to prepare our engine. + + _Enter_ MARIO, LAURA, _and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Aur._ I must have a look before we go. Ah, you little divine rogue! +I'll be with you immediately. [_Exeunt_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + +_Vio._ Look you, sister, there are our friends, but take no notice. + +_Lau._ I saw them. Was not that Aurelian with Camillo? + +_Vio._ Yes. + +_Lau._ I like him strangely. If his person were joined with Benito's +wit, I know not what would become of my poor heart. + + _Enter_ FABIO, _and whispers with_ MARIO. + +_Mar._ Stay, nieces, I'll but speak a word with Fabio, and go with you +immediately. + +_Vio._ I see, sister, you are infinitely taken with Benito's wit; but +I have heard he is a very conceited coxcomb. + +_Lau._ They, who told you so, were horribly mistaken. You shall be +judge yourself, Violetta; for, to confess frankly to you, I have made +him a kind of an appointment. + +_Vio._ How! have you made an assignation to Benito? A serving-man! a +trencher-carrying rascal! + +_Lau._ Good words, Violetta! I only sent to him from an unknown lady +near this chapel, that I might view him in passing by, and see if his +person were answerable to his conversation. + +_Vio._ But how will you get rid of my uncle? + +_Lau._ You see my project; his man Fabio is bribed by me, to hold him +in discourse. + + _Enter_ BENITO, _looking about him._ + +_Vio._ In my conscience this is he. Lord, what a monster of a man is +there! with such a workiday rough-hewn face too! for, faith, heaven +has not bestowed the finishing upon it. + +_Lau._ It is impossible this should be Benito; yet he stalks this way. +From such a piece of animated timber, sweet heaven deliver me! + +_Ben._ [_Aside._] This must of necessity be the lady who is in love +with me. See, how she surveys my person! certainly one wit knows +another by instinct. By that old gentleman, it should be the lady +Laura too. Hum! Benito, thou art made for ever. + +_Lau._ He has the most unpromising face, for a wit, I ever saw; and +yet he had need have a very good one, to make amends for his face. I +am half cured of him already. + +_Ben._ What means all this surveying, madam? You bristle up to me, and +wheel about me, like a turkey-cock that is making love: Faith, how do +you like my person, ha? + +_Lau._ I dare not praise it, for fear of the old compliment, that you +should tell me, it is at my service. But, pray, is your name Benito? + +_Ben._ Signior Benito, at your service, madam. + +_Lau._ And have you no brother, or any other of your name; one that is +a wit, attending on signior Aurelian? + +_Ben._ No, I can assure your ladyship; I myself am the only wit, who +does him the honour,--not to attend him, but--to bear him company. + +_Lau._ But sure it was another you, that waited on Camillo in the +garden, last night? + +_Ben._ It was no other me, but me signior Benito. + +_Lau._ 'Tis impossible. + +_Ben._ 'Tis most certain. + +_Lau._ Then I would advise you to go thither again, and look for the +wit which you have left there, for you have brought very little along +with you. Your voice, methinks, too, is much altered. + +_Ben._ Only a little overstrained, or so, with singing. + +_Lau._ How slept you, after your adventure? + +_Ben._ Faith, lady, I could not sleep one wink, for dreaming of you. + +_Lau._ Not sleep for dreaming? When the place falls, you shall be +bull-master-general at court. + +Ben. _Et tu, Brute!_ Do you mistake me for a fool too? Then, I find +there's one more of that opinion besides my master. + +_Vio._ Sister, look to yourself, my uncle is returning. + +_Lau._ I am glad on't: He has done my business: He has absolutely +cured me. Lord, that I could be so mistaken! + +_Vio._ I told you what he was. + +_Lau._ He was quite another thing last night: Never was man so altered +in four-and-twenty hours. A pure clown, mere elementary earth, without +the least spark of soul in him! + +_Ben._ But, tell me truly, are not you in love with me? Confess the +truth: I love plain-dealing: You shall not find me refractory. + +_Lau._ Away, thou animal! I have found thee out for a high and mighty +fool, and so I leave thee. + +_Mar._ Come, now I am ready for you; as little devotion, and as much +good huswifery as you please. Take example by me: I assure you, nobody +debauches me to church, except it be in your company. [_Exeunt._ + + _Manet_ BENITO. + +_Ben._ I am undone for ever; What shall I do with myself? I'll run +into some desart, and there I'll hide my opprobrious head. No, hang +it, I wont neither; all wits have their failings sometimes, and have +the fortune to be thought fools once in their lives. Sure this is but +a copy of her countenance; for my heart is true to me, and whispers to +me, she loves me still. Well, I'll trust in my own merits, and be +confident. [_A noise of throwing down water within._ + + _Enter_ MARIO, FABIO, LAURA, _and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Lau._ [_Shaking her clothes._] O, sir, I am wet quite through my +clothes, and am not able to endure it. + +_Vio._ Was there ever such an insolence? + +_Mar._ Send in to see who lives there: I'll make an example of them. + + _Enter_ FRONTONA. + +_Fab._ Here is the woman of the house herself, sir. + +_Fron._ Sir, I submit, most willingly, to any punishment you shall +inflict upon me: For, though I intended nothing of an affront to these +sweet ladies, yet I can never forgive myself the misfortune, of which +I was the innocent occasion. + +_Vio._ O, I am ready to faint away! + +_Fron._ Alas, poor sweet lady, she's young and tender, sir. I beseech +you, give me leave to repair my offence, with offering myself, and +poor house, for her accommodation. + +_Ben._ I know that woman: There's some villanous plot in this, I'll +lay my life on't. Now, Benito, cast about for thy credit, and recover +all again. + +_Mar._ Go into the coach, nieces, and bid the coachman drive apace. As +for you, mistress, your smooth tongue shall not excuse you. + +_Lau._ By your favour, sir, I'll accept of the gentlewoman's civility; +I cannot stir a step farther. + +_Fron._ Come in, sweet buds of beauty, you shall have a fire in an +inner chamber; and if you please to repose yourself a while, sir, in +another room, they shall come out, and wait on you immediately. + +_Mar._ Well, it must be so. + +_Fron_. [_Whispering the Ladies._] Your friends are ready in the +garden, and will be with you as soon as we have shaken off your uncle. + +_Ben._ A cheat, a cheat! a rank one! I smell it, old sir, I smell it. + +_Mar._ What's the matter with the fellow? Is he distracted? + +_Ben._ No, 'tis you are more likely to be distracted but that there +goes some wit to the being mad; and you have not the least grain of +wit, to be gulled thus grossly. + +_Fron._ What does the fellow mean? + +_Ben._ The fellow means to detect your villany, and to recover his +lost reputation of a wit. + +_Fron._ Why, friend, what villany? I hope my house is a civil house. + +_Ben._ Yes, a very civil one; for my master lay in of his last clap +there, and was treated very civilly, to my knowledge. + +_Mar._ How's this, how's this? + +_Fron._ Come, you are a dirty fellow, and I am known to be a person +that-- + +_Ben._ Yes, you are known to be a person that-- + +_Fron._ Speak your worst of me; what person am I known to be? + +_Ben._ Why, if you will have it, you are little better than a +procuress: You carry messages betwixt party and party:--And, in one +word, sir, she's as arrant a fruit-woman as any is about Rome. + +_Mar._ Nay, if she be a fruit-woman, my nieces shall not enter her +doors. + +_Ben._ You had best let them enter, you do not know how they may +fructify in her house: For I heard her, with these ears, whisper to +them, that their friends were within call. + +_Mar._ This is palpable, this is manifest; I shall remember you, lady +fruiterer; I shall have your baskets searched when you bring oranges +again.--Come away, nieces; and thanks, honest fellow, for thy +discovery. [_Exeunt_ MARIO _and Women._ + +Ben. _Hah couragio! Il diavolo e morto:_ Now, I think I have tickled +it; this discovery has reinstated me into the empire of my wit again. +Now, in the pomp of this achievement, will I present myself before +madam Laura, with a--Behold, madam, the happy restoration of Benito! + + _Enter_ AURELIAN, CAMILLO, _and_ FRONTONA, _over-hearing him,_ + +Oh, now, that I had the mirror, to behold myself in the fulness of my +glory! and, oh, that the domineering fop, my master, were in presence, +that I might triumph over him! that I might even contemn the wretched +wight, the mortal of a grovelling soul, and of a debased +understanding. [_He looks about him, and sees his master._] How the +devil came these three together? Nothing vexes me, but that I must +stand bare to him, after such an enterprise as this is. + +_Aur._ Nay, put on, put on again, sweet sir; why should you be +uncovered before the fop your master, the wretched wight, the mortal +of a grovelling soul? + +_Ben._ Ay, sir, you may make bold with yourself at your own pleasure: +But, for all that, a little bidding would make me take your counsel, +and be covered, as affairs go now. + +_Aur._ If it be lawful for a man of a debased understanding to confer +with such an exalted wit, pray what was that glorious achievement, +which wrapt you into such an ecstasy? + +_Ben._ 'Tis a sign you know well how matters go, by your asking me so +impertinent a question. + +_Aur._ [_Putting off his hat to him._] Sir, I beg of you, as your most +humble master, to be satisfied. + +_Ben._ Your servant, sir; at present I am not at leisure for +conference. But hark you, sir, by the way of friendly advice, one +word: Henceforward, tell me no more of the adventure of the garden, +nor of the great looking-glass. + +_Aur._ You mean the mirror. + +_Ben._ Yes, the mirror; tell me no more of that, except you could +behold in it a better, a more discreet, or a more able face for +stratagem, than I can, when I look there. + +_Aur._ But, to the business; What is this famous enterprise? + +_Ben._ Be satisfied, without troubling me farther, the business is +done, the rogues are defeated, and your mistress is secured: If you +would know more, demand it of that criminal [_Pointing to_ FRON.], and +ask her, how she dares appear before you, after such a signal +treachery, or before me, after such an overthrow? + +_Fron._ I know nothing, but only that, by your master's order, I was +to receive the two ladies into my house, and you prevented it. + +_Ben._ By my master's order? I'll never believe it. This is your +stratagem, to free yourself, and deprive me of my reward. + +_Cam._ I'll witness what she says is true. + +_Ben._ I am deaf to all asseverations, that make against my honour. + +_Aur._ I'll swear it then. We two were the two rogues, and you the +discoverer of our villany. + +_Ben._ Then, woe, woe, to poor Benito! I find my abundance of wit has +ruined me. + +_Aur._ But come a little nearer: I would not receive a good office +from a servant, but I would reward him for his diligence. + +_Ben._ Virtue, sir, is its own reward: I expect none from you. + +_Aur._ Since it is so, sir, you shall lose no further time in my +service: Henceforward, pray know me for your humble servant; for your +master I am resolved to be no longer. + +_Ben._ Nay, rather than so, sir, I beseech you let a good, honest, +sufficient beating atone the difference. + +_Aur._ 'Tis in vain. + +_Ben._ I am loth to leave you without a guide. + +_Aur._ He's at it again! do you hear, Camillo? + +_Cam._ Pr'ythee, Aurelian, be mollified, and beat him. + +_Fron._ Pray, sir, hear reason, and lay it on, for my sake. + +_Aur._ I am obdurate. + +_Cam._ But what will your father say, if you part with him? + +_Aur._ I care not. + +_Ben._ Well, sir, since you are so peremptory, remember I have offered +you satisfaction, and so long my conscience is at ease. What a devil, +before I'll offer myself twice to be beaten, by any master in +Christendom, I'll starve, and that is my resolution; and so your +servant that was, sir. [_Exit._ + +_Aur._ I am glad I am rid of him; he was my evil genius, and was +always appearing to me, to blast my undertakings: Let me send him +never so far off, the devil would be sure to put him in my way, when I +had any thing to execute. Come, Camillo, now we have changed the dice, +it may be we shall have better fortune. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II. + + _Enter the Duke of Mantua in masquerade,_ FREDERICK, VALERIO, _and + others. On the other side, enter_ LUCRETIA, HIPPOLITA, _and_ + ASCANIO. + +_Luc._ [_To_ ASCA.] The prince I know already, by your description of +his masking habit; but, which is the duke, his father? + +_Asca._ He whom you see talking with the prince, and looking this way. +I believe he has observed us. + +_Luc._ If he has not, I am resolved we'll make ourselves as remarkable +as we can: I'll exercise my talent of dancing. + +_Hip._ And I mine of singing. + +_Duke._ [_To_ FRED.] Do you know the company which came in last? + +_Fred._ I cannot possibly imagine who they are.--At least I will not +tell you. [_Aside._ + +_Duke._ There's something very uncommon in the air of one of them. + +_Fred._ Please you, sir, I'll discourse with her, and see if I can +satisfy your highness. + +_Duke._ Stay, there's a dance beginning, and she seems as if she would +make one. + + SONG AND DANCE. + + _Long betwixt love and fear Phyllis, tormented, + Shunned her own wish, yet at last she consented: + But loth that day should her blushes discover, + Come, gentle night, she said, + Come quickly to my aid, + And a poor shamefaced maid + Hide from her lover._ + + _Now cold as ice I am, now hot as fire, + I dare not tell myself my own desire; + But let day fly away, and let night haste her: + Grant, ye kind powers above, + Slow hours to parting love; + But when to bless we move, + Bid them fly faster._ + + _How sweet it is to love, when I discover + That fire, which burns my heart, warming my lover! + 'Tis pity love so true should be mistaken: + But if this night he be + False or unkind to me, + Let me die, ere I see + That I'm forsaken._ + +_Duke_ [_After the dance._] My curiosity redoubles; I must needs hail +that unknown vessel, and enquire whither she's bound, and what freight +she carries. + +_Fred._ She's not worth your trouble, sir: She'll either prove some +common courtezan in disguise, or, at best, some homely person of +honour, that only dances well enough to invite a sight of herself, and +would look ill enough to fright you. + +_Duke._ That's maliciously said; all I see of her is charming, and I +have reason to think her face is of the same piece; at least I'll try +my fortune. + +_Fred._ What an unlucky accident is this! If my father should discover +her, she's ruined: If he does not, yet I have lost her conversation +to-night. + + _Duke approaches_ LUCRETIA. + +_Asca._ 'Tis the duke himself, who comes to court you. + +_Luc._ Peace, I'll fit him; for I have been informed, to the least +tittle, of his actions since he came to town. + +_Duke._ [_To_ Luc.] Madam, the duke of Mantua, whom you must needs +imagine to be in this company, has sent me to you, to know what kind +of face there is belonging to that excellent shape, and to those +charming motions, which he observed so lately in your dancing. + +_Luc._ Tell his highness, if you please, that there is a face within +the mask, so very deformed, that, if it were discovered, it would +prove the worst visor of the two; and that, of all men, he ought not +to desire it should be exposed, because then something would be found +amiss in an entertainment, which he has made so splendid and +magnificent. + +_Duke._ The duke, I am sure, would be very proud of your compliment, +but it would leave him more unsatisfied than before; for, he will find +in it so much of gallantry, as, being added to your other graces, will +move him to a strange temptation of knowing you. + +_Luc._ I should still have the same reason to refuse him; for 'twere a +madness, when I had charmed him by my motion and converse, to hazard +the loss of that conquest by my eyes. + +_Duke._ I am on fire 'till I discover her. [_Aside._]--At least, +madam, tell me of what family you are. + +_Luc._ Will you be satisfied, if I tell you I am of the Colonne? You +have seen Julia of that house? + +_Duke._ Then you are she. + +_Luc._ Have I not her stature most exactly? + +_Duke._ As near as I remember. + +_Luc._ But, by your favour, I have nothing of her shape; for, if I may +be so vain to praise myself, she's a little thicker in the shoulders, +and, besides, she moves ungracefully. + +_Duke._ Then you are not she again. + +_Luc._ No, not she: But you have forgotten Emilia of the Ursini, whom +the duke saluted yesterday at her balcony, when he entered. Her air +and motion-- + +_Duke._ Are the very same with yours. Now I am sure I know you. + +_Luc._ But there's too little of her to make a beauty: My stature is +more advantageous. + +_Duke._ You have cozened me again. + +_Luc._ Well, I find at last I must confess myself: What think you of +Eugenia Beata? The duke seemed to be infinitely pleased last night, +when my brother presented me to him at the Belvidere. + +_Duke._ Now I am certain you are she, for you have both her stature +and her motion. + +_Luc._ But, if you remember yourself a little better, there's some +small difference in our wit; for she has indeed the air and beauty of +a Roman lady, but all the dulness of a Dutch woman. + +_Duke._ I see, madam, you are resolved to conceal yourself, and I am +as fully resolved to know you. + +_Luc._ See which of our resolutions will take place. + +_Duke._ I come from the duke, and can assure you, he is of an humour +to be obeyed. + +_Luc._ And I am of an humour not to obey him. But why should he be so +curious? + +_Duke._ If you would have my opinion, I believe he is in love with +you. + +_Luc._ Without seeing me? + +_Duke._ Without seeing all of you: Love is love, let it wound us from +what part it please; and if he have enough from your shape and +conversation, his business is done, the more compendiously, without +the face. + +_Luc._ But the duke cannot be taken with my conversation, for he never +heard me speak. + +_Duke._ [_Aside._] 'Slife, I shall discover myself.--Yes madam, he +stood by _incognito_, and heard me speak with you: But-- + +_Luc._ I wish he had trusted to his own courtship, and spoke himself; +for it gives us a bad impression of a prince's wit, when we see fools +in favour about his person. + +_Duke._ Whatever I am, I have it in commission from him to tell you, +he's in love with you. + +_Luc._ The good old gentleman may dote, if he so pleases; but love, +and fifty years old, are stark nonsense. + +_Duke._ But some men, you know, are green at fifty. + +_Luc._ Yes, in their understandings. + +_Duke._ You speak with great contempt of a prince, who has some +reputation in the world. + +_Luc._ No; 'tis you that speak with contempt of him, by saying he is +in love at such an age. + +_Duke._ Then, madam, 'tis necessary you should know him better for his +reputation; and that shall be, though he violate the laws of +masquerade, and force you. + +_Fred._ I suspected this from his violent temper. [_Aside._] Sir, the +emperor's ambassador is here in masquerade, and I believe this to be +his lady: It were well if you inquired of him, before you forced her +to discover. + +_Duke._ Which is the ambassador? + +_Fred._ That farthermost. [_Duke retires farther._ + +_Fred._ to _Luc._ Take your opportunity to escape, while his back is +turned, or you are ruined. Ascanio, wait on her. + +_Luc._ I am so frighted, I cannot stay to thank you. + [_Exeunt_ LUC. ASCA. _and_ HIP. + +_Duke_ to _Fred._ 'Tis a mistake, the ambassador knows nothing of her: +I'm resolved I'll know it of herself, ere she shall depart.--Ha! Where +is she? I left her here. + +_Fred._ [_Aside._] Out of your reach, father mine, I hope. + +_Duke._ She has either shifted places, or else slipped out of the +assembly. + +_Fred._ I have looked round: She must be gone, sir. + +_Duke._ She must not be gone, sir. Search for her every where: I will +have her. + +_Fred._ Has she offended your highness? + +_Duke._ Peace, with your impertinent questions. Come hither, Valerio. + +_Val._ Sir? + +_Duke._ O, Valerio, I am desperately in love: That lady, with whom you +saw me talking, has--But I lose time; she's gone; haste after her,-- +find her,--bring her back to me. + +_Val._ If it be possible. + +_Duke._ It must be possible; the quiet of my life depends upon it. + +_Val._ Which way took she? + +_Duke._ Go any way,--every way; ask no questions: I know no more, but +that she must,--must be had. [_Exit_ VALERIO. + +_Fred._ Sir, the assembly will observe, that-- + +_Duke._ Damn the assembly; 'tis a dull insignificant crowd, now she is +not here: Break it up, I'll stay no longer. + +_Fred._ [_Aside._] I hope she's safe, and then this fantastic love of +my father's will make us sport to-momorrow. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III. + + _Enter_ LUCRETIA, ASCANIO, _and_ HIPPOLITA. + +_Luc._ Now that we are safe at the gate of our convent, methinks the +adventure was not unpleasant. + +_Hip._ And now that I am out of danger, brother, I may tell you what a +novice you are in love, to tempt a young sister into the wide world, +and not to show her the difference betwixt that and her cloister. I +find I may venture safely with you another time. + +_Asca._ O, sister, you play the brazen-head with me,--you give me +warning when time's past. But that was no fit opportunity: I hate to +snatch a morsel of love, and so away. I am for a set-meal, where I may +enjoy my full gust; but, when I once fall on, you shall find me a +brave man upon occasion. + +_Luc._ 'Tis time we were in our cells. Quick, Hippolita; where's the +key? + +_Hip._ Here, in my pocket--No, 'tis in my other pocket:--Ha, 'tis not +there neither. I am sure I put it in one of them. + +_Luc._ What should we do, if it should be lost now? + +_Hip._ I have searched myself all over, and cannot find it. + +_Asca._ A woman can never search herself all over; let me search you, +sister. + +_Luc._ Is this a time for raillery? Oh, sweet heaven! speak comfort +quickly; have you found it? [_Here_ ASCANIO _slips away._ + +_Hip._ Speak you comfort, madam, and tell me you have it, for I am too +sure that I have none on't. + +_Luc._ O, unfortunate that we are! day's breaking; the handicrafts' +shops begin to open. [_Clock strikes._ + +_Hip._ The clock strikes two: Within this half hour we shall be called +up to our devotions. Now, good Ascanio--Alas, he's gone too! we are +left miserable and forlorn. + +_Luc._ We have not so much as one place in the town for a retreat. + +_Hip._ O, for a miracle in our time of need! that some kind +good-natured saint would take us up, and heave us over the wall into +our cells. + +_Luc._ Dear sister, pray, for I cannot: I have been so sinful in +leaving my cloister for the world, that I am ashamed to trouble my +friends above to help me. + +_Hip._ Alas, sister, with what face can I pray then! Yours were but +little vanities, but I have sinned swingingly against my vow; yes, +indeed, sister, I have been very wicked,--for I wished the ball might +be kept perpetually in our cloister, and that half the handsome nuns +in it might be turned to men, for the sake of the other. + +_Luc._ Well, if I were free from this disgrace, I would never more set +foot beyond the cloister, for the sake of any man. + +_Hip._ And here I vow, if I get safe within my cell, I will not think +of man again these seven years. + + _Re-enter_ ASCANIO. + +_Asca._ Hold, Hippolita, and make no more rash vows: If you do, as I +live, you shall not have the key. + +_Hip._ The key! why, have you it, brother? + +_Luc._ He does but mock us. I know you have it not, Ascanio. + +Asca. _Ecce signum;_ here it is for you. + +_Hip._ O, sweet brother, let me kiss you. + +_Asca._ Hands off, sweet sister, you must not be forsworn; you vowed +you would not think of a man these seven years. + +_Hip._ Aye, brother, but I was not so hasty but I had wit enough to +cozen the saint to whom I vowed; for you are but a boy, brother, and +will not be a man these seven years. + +_Luc._ But where did you find the key, Ascanio? + +_Asca._ To confess the truth, madam, I stole it out of Hippolita's +pocket, to take the print of it in wax; for I'll suppose you'll give +my master leave to wait on you in the nunnery-garden, after your +abbess has walked the rounds. + +_Luc._ Well, well, good-morrow. When you have slept, come to the grate +for a letter to your lord. Now will I have the headach, or the megrim, +or some excuse; for I'm resolved I'll not rise to prayers. + +_Hip._ Pray, brother, take care of our masking-habits, that they may +be forthcoming another time. + +_Asca._ Sleep, sleep, and dream of me, sister: I'll make it good, if +you dream not too unreasonably. + +_Luc._ Thus dangers in our love make joys more dear; +And pleasure's sweetest when 'tis mixed with fear. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT IV. + +SCENE I.--_A Dressing-chamber._ + + _The Masking-habits of_ LUCRETIA _and_ HIPPOLITA _laid in a + Chair.--Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ ASCANIO. + +_Fred._ I never thought I should have loved her. Is't come to this, +after all my boastings and declarations against it? Sure I loved her +before, and did not know it, till I feared to lose her: There's the +reason. I had never desired her, if my father had not. This is just +the longing of a woman: She never finds the appetite in herself, till +she sees the meat on another's plate. I'm glad, however, you took the +impression of the key; but 'twas not well to fright them. + +_Asca._ Sir, I could not help it; but here's the effect on't: the +workman sat up all night to make it. [_Gives a key._ + +_Fred._ This key will admit me into the seraglio of the godly. The +monastery has begun the war, in sallying out upon the world; and +therefore 'tis but just that the world should make reprisals on the +monastery. + +_Asca._ Alas, sir, you and Lucretia do but skirmish; 'tis I and +Hippolita that make the war: 'Tis true, opportunity has been wanting +for a battle, but the forces have been stoutly drawn up on both sides. +As for your concernment, I come just now from the monastery; and have +orders from your Platonic mistress to tell you, she expects you this +evening in the garden of the nunnery; withal, she delivered me this +letter for you. + +_Fred._ Give it me. + +_Asca._ O, sir, the duke your father! + [_The Prince takes the letter, and, thinking to + put it up hastily, drops it._ + + _Enter Duke._ + +_Duke._ Now, Frederick, not abroad yet? + +_Fred._ Your last night's entertainment left me so weary, sir, that I +overslept myself this morning. + +_Duke._ I rather envy you than blame you: Our sleep is certainly the +most pleasant portion of our lives. For my own part, I spent the night +waking and restless. + +_Fred._ Has any thing of moment happened to discompose your highness? + +_Duke._ I'll confess my follies to you: I am in love with a lady I saw +last night in masquerade. + +_Fred._ 'Tis strange she should conceal herself. + +_Duke._ She has, from my best search; yet I took exact notice of her +masking habit, and described it to those whom I employed to find her. + +_Fred._ [_Aside._] 'Sdeath, it lies there unremoved, and, if he turns +himself, full in his eye. Now, now, 'twill be discovered. + +_Duke._ For 'twas extremely remarkable. I remember very well, 'twas a +loose long robe, streaked black and white, girt with a large silver +ribband, and the vizor was a Moor's face. + +_Fred._ [_Running to the chair where the habits are sits down._] Sir, +I beg pardon of your highness for this rudeness; I am--O, Oh!-- + +_Duke._ What's the matter? + +_Fred._ I am taken so extremely ill o' the sudden, that I am forced to +sit before you. + +_Duke._ Alas, what's your distemper? + +_Fred._ A most violent griping, which pulls me together on a heap. + +_Duke._ Some cold, I fear, you took last night. [_Runs to the door._] +Who waits there? Call physicians to the prince. + +_Fred._ Ascanio, remove these quickly. + [ASCANIO _takes away the habits, and Exit._ + +_Duke._ [_Returning._] How do you find yourself? + +_Fred._ [_Arising._] Much better, sir: That which pained me is +removed. As it came unexpectedly, so it went as suddenly. + + _Enter_ VALERIO. + +_Duke._ The air, perhaps, will do you good. If you have health, you +may see those troops drawn out, which I design for Milan. + +_Fred._ Shall I wait your highness? + +_Duke._ No, leave me here with Valerio; I have a little business, +which dispatched, I'll follow you immediately.--Well, what success, +Valerio? [_Exit_ FREDERICK. + +_Val._ Our endeavours are in vain, sir; there has been inquiry made +about all the palaces in Rome, and neither of the masking habits can +be discovered. + +_Duke._ Yet it must be a woman of quality. What paper's that at my +foot? + +_Val._ [_Taking up the letter._] 'Tis sealed, sir, and directed to the +prince. + +_Duke._ [_Taking the letter._] 'Tis a woman's, hand. Has he got a +mistress in town so soon? I am resolved to open it, though I do not +approve my own curiosity. [_Opens and reads it._ + +_Now my fear is over, I can laugh at my last night's adventure. I find +that at fifty all men grow incorrigible, and lovers especially; for, +certainly, never any creature could be worse treated than your +father;_ [How's this, Valerio? I am amazed.] _and yet the good, old, +out-of-fashion gentleman heard himself rallied and bore it with all +the patience of a Christian prince._ [Now, 'tis plain, the lady in +masquerade is a mistress of my son's, and the undutiful wretch was in +the plot to abuse me.] _Ascanio will tell you the latter part of our +misfortune, how hardly we got into the cloister._ [A nun, too! Oh, the +devil!] _When we meet next, pray provide to laugh heartily; for there +is subject sufficient for a plentiful fit, and fop enough to spare for +another time._ + LUCRETIA. + +_Val._ Lucretia! now the mystery is unfolded. + +_Duke._ Do you know her? + +_Val._ When I was last at Rome I saw her often; she is near kinswoman +to the present Pope; and, before he placed her in this nunnery of +Benedictines, was the most celebrated beauty of the town. + +_Duke._ I know I ought to hate this woman, because she has affronted +me thus grossly; but yet, I cannot help it, I must love her. + +_Val._ But, sir, you come on too much disadvantage to be your son's +rival. + +_Duke._ I am deaf to all considerations: Pr'ythee do not think of +giving a madman counsel. Pity me, and cure me, if thou canst; but +remember, there's but one infallible medicine,--that's enjoyment. + +_Val._ I had forgot to tell you, sir, that the governor, Don Mario, is +without, to wait on you. + +_Duke._ Desire him to come in. + + _Enter Don_ MARIO. + +_Mar._ I am come, sir, to beg a favour from your highness; and 'tis on +the behalf of my sister Sophronia, abbess of the Torr' di Specchi. + +_Val._ Sir, she's abbess of that very monastery where your mistress is +inclosed. [_Aside to the Duke._ + +_Duke._ I should be glad to serve any relation of yours, Don Mario. + +_Mar._ Her request is, that you would be pleased to grace her chapel +this afternoon. There will be music, and some little ceremony, in the +reception of my two nieces, who are to be placed on pension there. + +_Duke._ Your nieces, I hear, are fair, and great fortunes. + +_Mar._ Great vexations, I'm sure they are; being daily haunted by a +company of wild fellows, who buzz about my house like flies. + +_Duke._ Your design seems reasonable: women in hot countries are like +oranges in cold; to preserve them, they must be perpetually housed. +I'll bear you company to the monastery.--Come, Valerio; this +opportunity is happy beyond our expectation. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II. + + _Enter_ CAMILLO _and_ AURELIAN. + +_Cam._ He has smarted sufficiently for this offence. Pr'ythee, dear +Aurelian, forgive him. He waits without, and appears penitent; I'll be +responsible for his future carriage. + +_Aur._ For your sake, then, I receive him into grace. + +_Cam._ [_At the door._] Benito, you may appear; your peace is made. + + _Enter_ BENITO. + +_Aur._ But it must be upon conditions. + +_Ben._ Any conditions, that are reasonable; for, as I am a wit, sir, I +have not eaten-- + +_Aur._ You are in the path of perdition already; that's the principal +of our conditions, you are to be a wit no more. + +_Ben._ Pray, sir, if it be possible, let me be a little wit still. + +_Aur._ No, sir; you can make a leg, and dance; those are no talents of +a wit: you are cut out for a brisk fool, and can be no other. + +_Ben._ Pray, sir, let me think I am a wit, or my heart will break. + +_Cam._ That you will naturally do, as you are a fool. + +_Aur._ Then no farther meddling with adventures, or contrivances of +your own; they are all belonging to the territories of wit, from +whence you are banished. + +_Ben._ But what if my imagination should really furnish me with some-- + +_Aur._ Not a plot, I hope? + +_Ben._ No, sir, no plot; but some expedient then, to mollify the word, +when your invention has failed you? + +_Aur._ Think it a temptation of the devil, and believe it not. + +_Ben._ Then farewell all the happiness of my life. + +_Cam._ You know your doom, Benito; and now you may take your choice, +whether you will renounce wit, or eating. + +_Ben._ Well, sir, I must continue my body, at what rate soever; and +the rather, because now there's no farther need of me in your +adventures; for I was assured by Beatrix, this morning, that her two +mistresses are to be put in pension, in the nunnery of Benedictines, +this afternoon. + +_Cam._ Then I am miserable. + +_Aur._ And you have deferred the telling it, till it is past time to +study for prevention. + +_Cam._ Let us run thither immediately, and either perish in't, or free +them. You'll assist me with your sword? + +_Aur._ Yes, if I cannot do it to more purpose with my counsel. Let us +first play the fairest of our game; 'tis time enough to snatch when we +have lost it. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_A Chapel._ + + _The_ DUKE, VALERIO, _Attendants. At the other door,_ LAURA, + VIOLETTA, BEATRIX, MARIO. _Instrumental and vocal music; in the time + of which, enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. _After the music, enter_ + SOPHRONIA, LUCRETIA, HIPPOLITA, _and other Nuns._ + +_Duke._ [_To_ VALERIO, _who had whispered to him._] I needed not those +marks to know her. She's one continued excellence; she's all over +miracle. + +_Soph._ [_To the_ DUKE.] We know, sir, we are not capable by our +entertainment, of adding any thing to your pleasures; and therefore we +must attribute this favour of your presence, to your piety and +devotion. + +_Duke._ You have treated me with harmony so excellent, that I believed +myself among a choir of angels; especially when I beheld so fair a +troop behind you. + +_Soph._ Their beauty, sir, is wholly dedicated to heaven, and is no +way ambitious of a commendation, which, from your mouth, might raise a +pride in any other of the sex. + +_Cam._ I am impatient, and can bear no longer. Let what will happen-- + +_Aur._ Do you not see your ruin inevitable? Draw in a holy place! and +in the presence of the Duke! + +_Mar._ I do not like Camillo's being here: I must cut short the +ceremony. [_Whispers_ SOPHRONIA. + +_Soph._ [_To_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA.] Come, fair cousins, we hope to +make the cloisteral life so pleasing, that it may be an inducement to +you to quit the wicked world for ever. + +_Vio._ [_Passing by_ CAMILLO.] Take that, and read it at your leisure. + [_Conveys a note into his hand._ + +_Cam._ A ticket, as I live, Aurelian. + +_Aur._ Steal off, and be thankful: if that be my Beatrix with Laura, +she's most confoundedly ugly. If ever we had come to love-work, and a +candle had been brought us, I had fallen back from that face, like a +buck-rabbit in coupling. [_Exeunt_ CAMILLO _and_ AURELIAN. + +_Soph._ Daughters, the time of our devotion calls us.--All happiness +to your highness. + +_Luc._ [_To_ HIPPOLITA.] Little thinks my venerable old love there, +that his mistress in masquerade is so near him. Now do I even long to +abuse that fop-gravity again. + +_Hip._ Methinks, he looks on us. + +_Luc._ Farewell, poor love; I am she, I am, for all my demure looks, +that treated thee so inhumanly last night. + [_She is going off, after_ SOPHRONIA. + +_Duke._ [_following her._] Stay, lady; I would speak with you. + +_Luc._ Ah! [_Shrieking._ + +_Soph._ How now, daughter? What's the meaning of that indecent noise +you make? + +_Luc._ [_Aside._] If I speak to him, he will discover my voice, and +then I am ruined. + +_Duke._ If your name be Lucretia, I have some business of concernment +with you. + +_Luc._ [_To_ SOPHRONIA.] Dear madam, for heaven's sake make haste into +the cloister; the duke pursues me on some ill design. + +_Soph._ [_To the_ DUKE.] 'Tis not permitted, sir, for maids, once +entered into religion, to hold discourses here of worldly things. + +_Duke._ But my discourses are not worldly, madam; +I had a vision in the dead of night, +Which shewed me this fair virgin in my sleep, +And told me, that from her I should be taught +Where to bestow large alms, and great endowments, +On some near monastery. + +_Soph._ Stay, Lucretia; +The holy vision's will must be obeyed. [_Exeunt_ SOPHRONIA _and Nuns._ + +_Luc._ [_Aside._] He does not know me, sure; and yet I fear religion +is the least of his business with me. + +_Duke._ I see, madam, beauty will be beauty in any habit; +Though, I confess, the splendour of a court +Were a much fitter scene for yours, than is +A cloistered privacy. + +_Luc._ [_counterfeiting her voice._] +The world has no temptations for a mind +So fixed and raised above it; +This humble cell contains and bounds my wishes: +My charity gives you my prayers, and that's +All my converse with human kind. + +_Duke._ Since when, madam, have the world and you been upon these +equal terms of hostility? Time was, you have been better friends. + +_Luc._ No doubt I have been vain, and sinful; but the remembrance of +those days cannot be pleasant to me now, and therefore, if you please, +do not refresh their memory. + +_Duke._ Their memory! you speak as if they were ages past. + +_Luc._ You think me still what I was once--a vain, fond, giddy +creature: I see, sir, whither your discourses tend, and therefore take +my leave. + +_Duke._ Yes, madam, I know you see whither my discourses tend, and +therefore 'twill not be convenient that you should take your leave. +Disguise yourself no farther; you are known, as well as you knew me in +masquerade. + +_Luc._ I am not used enough to the world to interpret riddles; +therefore, once more, heaven keep you. + +_Duke._ This will not do; your voice, your mien, your stature, betray +you for the same I saw last night: you know the time and place. + +_Luc._ You were not in this chapel, and I am bound by vow to stir no +farther. + +_Duke._ But you had too much wit to keep that vow. + +_Luc._ If you persist, sir, in this raving madness, I can bring +witness of my innocence. [_Is going._ + +_Duke._ To save that labour, see if you know that hand, and let that +justify you. [_Shows her letter._ + +_Luc._ What do I see! my ruin is inevitable. + +_Duke._ You know you merit it: +You used me ill, and now are in my power. + +_Luc._ But you, I hope, are much too noble to +Destroy the fame of a poor silly woman? + +_Duke._ Then, in few words,--for I am bred a soldier, +And must speak plain,--it is your love I ask; +If you deny, this letter is produced; +You know the consequence. + +_Luc._ I hope I do not; +For though there are appearances against me, +Enough to give you hope I durst not shun you, +Yet, could you see my heart, 'tis a white virgin-tablet, +On which no characters of earthly love +Were ever writ: And, 'twixt the prince and me, +If there were any criminal affection, +May heaven this minute-- + +_Duke._ Swear not; I believe you: +For, could I think my son had e'er enjoyed you, +I should not be his rival. Since he has not, +I may have so much kindness for myself, +To wish that happiness. + +_Luc._ You ask me what I must not grant, +Nor, if I loved you, would: you know my vow of chastity. + +_Duke._ Yet again that senseless argument? +The vows of chastity can ne'er be broken, +Where vows of secrecy are kept. Those I'll swear with you. +But 'tis enough at present, you know my resolution. +I would persuade, not force, you to my love; +And to that end I give you this night's respite. +Consider all, that you may fear or hope; +And think that on your grant, or your denial, +Depends a double welfare, yours and mine. [_Exit._ + +_Luc._ A double ruin, rather, if I grant; +For what can I expect from such a father, +When such a son betrays me! Could I think, +Of all mankind, that Frederick would be base? +And, with the vanity of vulgar souls, +Betray a virgin's fame? One, who esteemed him, +And I much fear did more than barely so-- + +But I dare note examine myself farther, for fear of confessing to my +own thoughts, a tenderness of which he is unworthy. + + _Enter_ HIPPOLITA. + +_Hip._ I watched till your old gallant was gone, to bring you news of +your young one. A mischief on these old dry lovers! they are good for +nothing but tedious talking; well, yonder's the prince at the grate; I +hope I need say no more to you. + +_Luc._ I'll come when I've recovered myself a little. I am a wretched +creature, Hippolita! the letter I writ to the prince-- + +_Hip._ I know it,--is fallen into his father's hands by accident. He's +as wretched as you too. Well, well, it shall be my part to bring you +together; and then, if two young people, that have opportunity, can be +wretched and melancholy--I'll go before, and meet Ascanio. [_Exit._ + +_Luc._ I am half unwilling to go, because I must be accessary to her +assignation with Ascanio; but, for once, I'll meet the prince in the +garden-walk: I am glad, however, that he is less criminal than I +thought him. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE IV.--_The Nunnery-Garden._ + + HIPPOLITA, ASCANIO, _meeting_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Hip._ I hear some walking this way.--Who goes there? + +_Lau._ We are the two new pensioners, Laura and Violetta. + +_Hip._ Go in, to your devotion: These undue hours of walking savour +too much of worldly thoughts. + +_Lau._ Let us retire to the arbour, where, by this time, I believe, +our friends are.--Good-night, sister. + +_Hip._ Good angels guard you. [_Exeunt_ LAU. _and_ VIO.] Now, brother, +the coast is clear, and we have the garden to ourselves. Do you +remember how you threatened me? But that's all one, how good soever +the opportunity may be, so long as we two resolve to be virtuous. + +_Asca._ Speak for yourself, sister, for I am wickedly inclined. Yet, I +confess, I have some remorse when I consider you are in religion. + +_Hip._ We should do very well to consider that, both of us; for, +indeed, what should young people do, but think of goodness and +religion; especially when they love one another, and are alone too, +brother? + +_Asca._ A curse on't! here comes my lord, and Lucretia. We might have +accomplished all, and been repenting by this time; yet who the devil +would have thought they should have come so soon--Ah! + [_Sets his teeth._ + +_Hip._ Who the devil would have put it to the venture? This is always +the fault of you raw pages: You, that are too young, never use an +opportunity; and we, that are elder, can seldom get one.--Ah! + [_Sets her teeth._ + + _Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ LUCRETIA. + +_Luc._ I believe, indeed, it troubled you to lose that letter. + +_Fred._ So much, madam, that I can never forgive myself that +negligence. + +_Luc._ Call it not so, 'twas but a casuality, though, I confess, the +consequence is dangerous; and therefore have not both of us reason to +defy love, when we see a little gallantry is able to produce so much +mischief? + +_Fred._ [_Aside._] Now cannot I, for my heart, bring out one word +against this love. + +_Luc._ Come, you are mute upon a subject, that is both easy and +pleasant. A man in love is so ridiculous a creature-- + +_Fred._ Especially to those that are not. + +_Luc._ True; for to those that are, he cannot be so: They are like the +citizens of Bethlehem, who never find out one another's madness, +because they are all tainted. But for such ancient fops, as, with +reverence, your father is, what reason can they have to be in love? + +_Fred._ Nay, your old fop's unpardonable, that's certain. But-- + +_Luc._ But what? Come, laugh at him. + +_Fred._ But I consider he is my father, I can't laugh at him. + +_Luc._ But, if it were another, we should see how you would insult +over him. + +_Fred._ Ay, if it were another--And yet I don't know neither, 'tis no +part of good nature to insult: A man may be overtaken with a passion, +or so; I know it by myself. + +_Luc._ How, by yourself! You are not in love, I hope?--Oh that he +would confess first now! [_Aside._ + +_Fred._ But, if I were, I should be loth to be laughed at. + +_Luc._ Since you are not in love, you may the better counsel me: What +shall we do with this same troublesome father of yours? + +_Fred._ Any thing, but love him. + +_Luc._ But you know he has me at a bay; my letter is in his +possession, and he may produce it to my ruin: Therefore, if I did +allow him some little favour, to mollify him-- + +_Fred._ How, madam? Would you allow him favours? I can never consent +to it: Not the least look or smile; they are all too precious, though +they were to save his life. + +_Luc._ What, not your father? Oh that he would confess he loved me +first! [_Aside._ + +_Fred._ What have I done? I shall betray myself, and confess my love +to be laughed at, by this hard-hearted woman. [_Aside._] 'Tis true, +madam, I had forgot; he is, indeed, my father, and therefore you may +use him as kindly as you please. + +_Luc._ He's insensible: Now he enrages me. [_Aside._] What if he +proposes to marry me? I am not yet professed, and 'twould be much to +my advantage. + +_Fred._ Marry you! I had rather die a thousand deaths, than suffer it. + +_Luc._ This begins to please me. [_Aside._ +But why should you be so much my enemy? + +_Fred._ Your enemy, madam! Why, do you desire it? + +_Luc._ Perhaps I do. + +_Fred._ Do it, madam, since it pleases you so well. + +_Luc._ But you had rather die, than suffer it. + +_Fred._ No, I have changed my mind: I'll live, and not be concerned at +it. + +_Luc._ Do you contradict yourself so soon? Then know, sir, I did +intend to do it; and I am glad you have given me advice so agreeable +to my inclinations. + +_Fred._ Heaven! that you should not find it out! I delivered your +letter on purpose to my father, and 'twas my business, now, to come +and mediate for him. + +_Luc._ Pray, then, carry him the news of his good success. Adieu, +sweet prince! + +_Fred._ Adieu, dear madam. + +_Asca._ Hey day! what will this come to? They have cozened one another +into a quarrel; just like friends in fencing, a chance thrust comes, +and then they fall to it in earnest. + +_Hip._ You and I, brother, shall never meet upon even terms, if this +be not pieced.--Face about, madam; turn quickly to your man, or, by +all that's virtuous, I'll call the abbess. + +_Asca._ I must not be so bold with you, sir; but, if you please, you +may turn towards the lady: and, I suppose, you would be glad I durst +speak to you with more authority, to save the credit of your +willingness. + +_Fred._ Well, I'll shew her I dare stay, if it be but to confront her +malice. + +_Luc._ I am sure I have done nothing to be ashamed of, that I should +need to run away. + +_Asca._ Pray give me leave, sir, to ask you but one question; Why were +you so unwilling that she should be married to your father? + +_Fred._ Because then her friendship must wholly cease. + +_Asca._ But you may have her friendship, when she is married to him. + +_Fred._ What! when another has enjoyed her? + +Asca. _Victoria, Victoria_! he loves you, madam; let him deny it, if +he can. + +_Luc._ Fye, fye, loves me, Ascanio! I hope he would not forswear +himself, when he has railed so much against it. + +_Fred._ I hope I may love your mind, madam; I may love spiritually. + +_Hip._ That's enough, that's enough: Let him love the mind without the +body, if he can. + +_Asca._ Ay, ay, when the love is once come so far, that spiritual mind +will never leave pulling, and pulling, till it has drawn the beastly +body after it. + +_Fred._ Well, madam, since I must confess it,--though I expect to be +laughed at, after my railing against love,--I do love you all over, +both soul and body. + +_Asca._ Lord, sir, what a tigress have you provoked! you may see she +takes it to the death, that you have made this declaration. + +_Hip._ I thought where all her anger was: Why do you not rail, madam? +Why do you not banish him? the prince expects it; he has dealt +honestly, he has told you his mind, and you may make your worst on't. + +_Luc._ Because he does expect it, I am resolved, I'll neither satisfy +him nor you: I will neither rail nor laugh: Let him make his worst of +that, now. + +_Fred._ If I understand you right, madam, I am happy beyond either my +deserts or expectation. + +_Luc._ You may give my words what interpretation you please, sir; I +shall not envy you their meaning in the kindest sense. But we are near +the jessamine walk, there we may talk with greater freedom, because +'tis farther from the house. + +_Fred._ I wait you, madam. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE V. + + AURELIAN, _with a dark lanthorn._ CAMILLO _and_ BENITO. + +_Cam._ So, we are safe got over into the nunnery-garden; for what's to +come, trust love and fortune. + +_Aur._ This must needs be the walk she mentioned; yet, to be sure, +I'll hold the lanthorn while you read the ticket. + +_Cam._ [Reads.] _I prepared this ticket, hoping to see you in the +chapel: Come this evening over the garden wall, on the right hand, +next the Tiber._ + +_Aur._ We are right, I see. + +Cam. _Bring only your discreet Benito with you, and I will meet you +attended by my faithful Beatrix._ + VIOLETTA. + +_Ben._ Discreet Benito! Did you hear, sir? + +_Aur._ Mortify thyself for that vain thought; and, without enquiring +into the mystery of these words, which I assure thee were not meant to +thee, plant thyself by that ladder without motion, to secure our +retreat; and be sure to make no noise. + +_Ben._ But, sir, in case that-- + +_Aur._ Honest Benito, no more questions: _Basta_ is the word. +Remember, thou art only taken with us, because thou hast a certain +evil dæmon, who conducts thy actions, and would have been sure, by +some damned accident or other, to have brought thee hither to disturb +us. + +_Cam._ I hear whispering not far from us, and I think 'tis Violetta's +voice. + +_Aur._ [_To_ BEN.] Retire to your post; avoid, good Satan. + [_Exit_ BEN. + + _Enter_ LAURA, _with a dark lanthorn hid, and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Cam._ Ours is the honour of the field, madam; we are here before you. + +_Vio._ Softly, dear friend; I think I hear some walking in the garden. + +_Cam._ Rather, let us take this opportunity for your escape from +hence; all things are here in readiness. + +_Vio._ This is the second time we ever have met; let us discourse, and +know each other better first; that's the way to make sure of some love +beforehand; for, as the world goes, we know not how little we may have +when we are married. + +_Cam._ Losses of opportunity are fatal in war, you know, and love's a +kind of warfare. + +_Vio._ I shall keep you yet a while from close fighting. + +_Cam._ But, do you know what an hour in love is worth? 'Tis more +precious than an age of ordinary life; 'tis the very quintessence and +extract of it. + +_Vio._ I do not like your chemical preparation of love; yours is all +spirit, and will fly too soon; I must see it fixed, before I trust +you. But we are near the arbour: Now our out-guards are set, let us +retire a little, if you please; there we may walk more freely. + [_Exit._ + +_Aur._ [_To_ LAU.] My lady's woman, methinks you are very reserved +to-night: Pray, advance into the lists; though I have seen your +countenance by day, I can endure to hear you talk by night. Be +cunning, and set your wit to show, which is your best commodity: It +will help the better to put off that drug, your face. + +_Lau._ The coarsest ware will serve such customers as you are: Let it +suffice, Mr Serving-man, that I have seen you too. Your face is the +original of the ugliest vizors about town; and for wit, I would advise +you to speak reverently of it, as a thing you are never like to +understand. + +_Aur._ Sure, Beatrix, you came lately from looking in your glass, and +that has given you a bad opinion of all faces; but since when am I +become so notorious a fool? + +_Lau._ Since yesterday; for t'other night you talked like a man of +sense: I think your wit comes to you, as the sight of owls does, only +in the dark. + +_Aur._ Why, when did you discourse by day with me? + +_Lau._ You have a short memory. This afternoon in the great street. Do +you remember when you talked with Laura? + +_Aur._ But what was that to Beatrix? + +_Lau._ [_Aside._] 'Slife, I had forgot that I am Beatrix. But pray, +when did you find me out to be so ugly? + +_Aur._ This afternoon, in the chapel. + +_Lau._ That cannot be; for I well remember you were not there, Benito: +I saw none but Camillo, and his friend, the handsome stranger. + +_Aur._ [_Aside_] Curse on't, I have betrayed myself. + +_Lau._ I find you are an impostor: you are not the same Benito: your +language has nothing of the serving-man. + +_Aur._ And yours, methinks, has not much of the waiting-woman. + +_Lau._ My lady is abused, and betrayed by you: But I am resolved, I'll +discover who you are. [_Holds out a lanthorn to him._] How! the +stranger? + +_Aur._ Nay, madam, if you are good at that, I'll match you there too. +[_Holds out his lanthorn._] O prodigy! Is Beatrix turned to Laura? + +_Lau._ Now the question is, which of us two is the greatest cheat? + +_Aur._ That's hardly to be tried, at so short warning: Let's marry one +another, and then, twenty to one, in a twelvemonth we shall know. + +_Lau._ Marry! Are you at that so soon, signior? Benito and Beatrix, I +confess, had some acquaintance; but Aurelian and Laura are mere +strangers. + +_Aur._ That ground I have gotten as Benito, I am resolved I'll keep as +Aurelian. If you will take state upon you, I have treated you with +ceremony already; for I have wooed you by proxy. + +_Lau._ But you would not be contented to bed me so; or give me leave +to put the sword betwixt us. + +_Aur._ Yes, upon condition you'll remove it. + +_Lau._ Pray let our friends be judge of it; if you please, we'll find +them in the arbour. + +_Aur._ Content; I am then sure of the verdict, because the jury is +bribed already. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE VI. + + BENITO _meeting_ FREDERICK, ASCANIO, LUCRETIA, _and_ HIPPOLITA. + +_Ben._ Knowing my own merits, as I do, 'tis not impossible, but some +of these harlotry nuns may love me. Oh, here's my master! now if I +could but put this into civil terms, so as to ask his leave, and not +displease him-- + +_Asca._ I hear one talking, sir, just by us. + +_Ben._ I am stolen from my post, sir, but for one minute only, to +demand permission of you, since it is not in our articles, that if any +of these nuns should cast an eye, or so-- + +_Fred._ 'Slife, we are betrayed; but I'll make this rascal sure. + [_Draws and runs at him._ + +_Ben._ Help! murder, murder! [_Runs off._ + + _Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO; LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA _after them._ + +_Aur._ That was Benito's voice: We are ruined. + +_Cam._ O, here they are, we must make our way. + [AUR. _and the Prince make a pass or two confusedly, + and fight off the stage. The Women shriek._ + +_Asca._ Never fear, ladies.--Come on, sir; I am your man. + +_Cam._ [_Stepping back._] This is the prince's page, I know his +voice.--Ascanio? + +_Asca._ Signior Camillo? + +_Cam._ If the prince be here, 'tis Aurelian is engaged with him. Let +us run in quickly, and prevent the mischief. + [_All go off. A little clashing within. After + which they all re-enter._ + +_Fred._ [_To_ AUR.] I hope you are not wounded. + +_Aur._ No, sir; but infinitely grieved, that-- + +_Fred._ No more; 'twas a mistake: But which way can we escape? the +abbess is coming; I see the lights. + +_Luc._ You cannot go by the gate, then. Ah me, unfortunate! + +_Cam._ But over the wall you may: We have a ladder ready.--Adieu, +ladies.--Curse on this ill luck, when we had just persuaded them to go +with us! + +_Fred._ Farewell, sweet Lucretia. + +_Lau._ Good-night, Aurelian. + +_Aur._ Ay, it might have proved a good one: Faith, shall I stay yet, +and make it one, in spite of the abbess, and all her works? + +_Lau._ The abbess is just here; you will be +Caught in the spiritual trap, if you should tarry. + +_Aur._ That will be time enough, when we two marry. + [_Exeunt severally._ + + +ACT V. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ SOPHRONIA, LUCRETIA, LAURA, _and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Soph._ By this, then, it appears you all are guilty; +Only your ignorance of each others crimes +Caused first that tumult, and this discovery. +Good heavens, that I should live to see this day! +Methinks these holy walls, the cells, the cloisters, +Should all have struck a secret horror on you: +And when, with unchaste thoughts, +You trod these lonely walks, you should have looked, +The venerable ghost of our first foundress +Should, with spread arms, have met you in her shroud, +And frighted you from sin. + +_Luc._ Alas! you need not aggravate our crimes; +We know them to be great beyond excuse, +And have no hope, but only from your mercy. + +_Lau._ Love is, indeed, no plea within these walls; +But, since we brought it hither, and were forced, +Not led by our own choice, to this strict life-- + +_Vio._ Too hard for our soft youth, and bands of love, +Which we before had knit-- + +_Lau._ Pity your blood, +Which runs within our veins; and since heav'n puts it +In your sole power to ruin or to save, +Protect us from the sordid avarice +Of our domestic tyrant, who deserves not +That we should call him uncle, or your brother. + +_Soph._ If, as I might, with justice I should punish, +No penance could be rigorous enough; +But I am willing to be more indulgent. +None of you are professed: And, since I see +You are not fit for higher happiness, +You may have what you think the world can give you. + +_Luc._ Let us adore you, madam! + +_Soph._ You, Lucretia, +I shall advise within. + +_Vio._ But for us, madam? + +_Soph._ For you, dear nieces, I have long considered +The injuries you suffer from my brother, +And I rejoice it is in me to help you: +I will endeavour, from this very hour, +To put you both into your lovers' hands, +Who, by your own confession, have deserved you; +But so as (though 'tis done by my connivance) +It shall not seem to be with my consent. + +_Lau._ You do an act of noble charity, +And may just heaven reward it! + + _Enter_ HIPPOLITA, _and whispers_ LUCRETIA. + +_Soph._ Oh, you're a faithful portress of a cloister! +What is't you whisper to Lucretia? +On your obedience tell me. + +_Luc._ Since you must know, madam, +I have received a courtship from the prince +Of Mantua. The rest Hippolita may speak. + +_Hip._ His page, Ascanio, is at the grate, +To know, from him, how you had scaped this danger; +And brings with him those habits-- + +_Soph._ I find that here has been a long commerce. What habits? + +_Luc._ I blush to tell you, madam; they were masking habits, in which +we went abroad. + +_Soph._ O strange impiety! Well, I conclude +You are no longer for religious clothing; +You would infect our order. + +_Luc._ [_Kneeling._] Madam, you promised us forgiveness. + +_Soph._ I have done; for 'tis indeed too late to chide. + +_Hip._ With Ascanio there are two gentlemen; Aurelian and Camillo, I +think they call themselves, who came to me, recommended from the +prince, and desired to speak with Laura and Violetta. + +_Soph._ I think they are your lovers, nieces. + +_Vio._ Madam, they are. + +_Hip._ But, for fear of discovery from your uncle, Mario, whose house, +you know, joins to the monastery, are both in masquerade. + +_Soph._ This opportunity must not be lost. [_To_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA. +You two shall take the masking habits instantly, +And, in them, scape your jealous uncle's eyes. +When you are happy, make me so, by hearing your success. + [_Kisses them. Exeunt_ LAU. _and_ VIO. + +_Luc._ A sudden thought is sprung within my mind, +Which, by the same indulgence you have shown, +May make me happy too. I have not time +To tell you now, for fear I lose this opportunity. +When I return from speaking with Ascanio, +I shall declare the secrets of my love, +And crave your farther help. + +_Soph._ In all that virtue will permit, you shall not fail to find it. + [_Exit_ LUCRETIA. + +_Hip._ Madam, the foolish fellow, whom we took, grows troublesome; +what shall we do with him? + +_Soph._ Send for the magistrate; he must be punished-- +Yet, hold; that would betray the other secret. +Let him be strait turned out, on this condition, +That he presume not ever to disclose +He was within these walls. I'll speak with him. +Come, and attend me to him. [_Exit_ SOPHRONIA. + +_Hip._ You fit to be an abbess! We, that live out of the world, +should, at least, have the common sense of those that live far from +town; if a pedlar comes by them once a year, they will not let him go, +without providing themselves with what they want. + [_Exit after_ SOPHRONIA. + + +SCENE II.--_The Street._ + + _Enter_ AURELIAN, CAMILLO, LAURA, VIOLETTA; _all in Masking-habits._ + +_Cam._ This generosity of the abbess is never to be forgot; and it is +the more to be esteemed, because it was the less to be expected. + +_Vio._ At length, my Camillo, I see myself safe within your arms; and +yet, methinks, I can never be enough secure of you; for now, I have +nothing else to fear, I am afraid of you; I fear your constancy. They +say possession is so dangerous to lovers, that more of them die of +surfeits than of fasting. + +_Lau._ You'll be rambling too, Aurelian; I do not doubt it, if I would +let you; but I'll take care to be as little a wife, and as much a +mistress to you, as is possible: I'll be sure to be always pleasant, +and never suffer you to be cloyed. + +_Aur._ You are certainly in the right: Pleasantness of humour makes a +wife last in the sweetmeat, when it will no longer in the fruit. But, +pray, let's make haste to the next honest priest that can say grace to +us, and take our appetites while they are coming. + +_Cam._ That way leads to the Austin-Friars; there lives a father of my +acquaintance. + +_Lau._ I have heard of him; he has a mighty stroke at matrimonies, and +mumbles them over as fast, as if he were teaching us to forget them +all the while. + + _Enter_ BENITO, _and overhears the last speech._ + +_Ben._ _Cappari_; that is the voice of madam Laura. Now, Benito, is +the time to repair the lost honour of thy wit, and to blot out the +last adventure of the nunnery. + +_Vio._ That way I hear company; let us go about by this other street, +and shun them. + +_Ben._ That voice I know too; 'tis the younger sister's, Violetta's, +Now have these two most treacherously conveyed themselves out of the +nunnery, for my master and Camillo, and given up their persons to +those lewd rascals in masquerade; but I'll prevent them. Help there! +thieves and ravishers! villainous maskers! stop, robbers! stop, +ravishers! + +_Cam._ We are pursued that way, let's take this street. + +_Lau._ Save yourselves, and leave us. + +_Cam._ We'll rather die, than leave you. + + _Enter, at several doors, Duke of_ MANTUA _and Guards, and Don_ + MARIO _and Servants, with Torches._ + +_Aur._ So, now the way is shut up on both sides. We'll die merrily, +however:--have at the fairest. + [AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO _fall upon the Duke's + Guards, and are seized behind by_ MARIO'S + _Servants. At the drawing of Swords,_ BENITO + _runs off._ + +_Duke._ Are these insolencies usually committed in Rome by night? It +has the fame of a well-governed city; and methinks, Don Mario, it does +somewhat reflect on you to suffer these disorders. + +_Mar._ They are not to be hindered in the Carnival: You see, sir, they +have assumed the privilege of maskers. + +_Lau._ [_To_ AUR.] If my uncle know us, we are ruined; therefore be +sure you do not speak. + +_Duke._ How then can we be satisfied this was not a device of masking, +rather than a design of ravishing? + +_Mar._ Their accuser is fled, I saw him run at the beginning of the +scuffle; but I'll examine the ladies. + +_Vio._ Now we are lost. [_Duke coming near_ LAURA, _takes notice + of her habit._ + +_Duke._ [_Aside._] 'Tis the same, 'tis the same; I know Lucretia by +her habit: I'm sure I am not mistaken.--Now, sir, you may cease your +examination, I know the ladies. + +_Aur._ [_To_ CAM.] How the devil does he know them? + +_Cam._ 'Tis alike to us; they are lost both ways. + +_Duke._ [_Taking_ LAURA _aside._] Madam, you may confess yourself to +me. Whatever your design was in leaving the nunnery, your reputation +shall be safe. I'll not discover you, provided you grant me the +happiness I last requested. + +_Lau._ I know not, sir, how you could possibly come to know me, or of +my design in quitting the nunnery; but this I know, that my sister and +myself are both unfortunate, except your highness be pleased to +protect us from our uncle; at least, not to discover us. + +_Duke._ His holiness, your uncle, shall never be acquainted with your +flight, on condition you will wholly renounce my son, and give +yourself to me. + +_Lau._ Alas, sir, for whom do you mistake me? + +_Duke._ I mistake you not, madam: I know you for Lucretia. You forget +that your disguise betrays you. + +_Lau._ Then, sir, I perceive I must disabuse you: If you please to +withdraw a little, that I may not be seen by others, I will pull off +my mask, and discover to you, that Lucretia and I have no resemblance, +but only in our misfortunes. + +_Duke._ 'Tis in vain, madam, this dissembling: I protest, if you pull +off your mask, I will hide my face, and not look upon you, to convince +you that I know you. + + _Enter_ BENITO. + +_Ben._ So, now the fray is over, a man may appear again with +safety.--Oh, the rogues are caught, I see, and the damsels delivered. +This was the effect of my valour at the second hand. + +_Aur._ Look, look, Camillo! it was my perpetual fool that caused all +this; and now he stands yonder, laughing at his mischief, as the devil +is pictured, grinning behind the witch upon the gallows. + +_Ben._ [_To_ MARIO.] I see, sir, you have got your women, and I am +glad on't: I took them just flying from the nunnery. + +_Duke._ [_To_ LAU.] You see that fellow knows you too. + +_Mar._ Were these women flying from a nunnery? + +_Ben._ These women? heyday! then, it seems, you do not know they are +your nieces. + +_Duke._ His nieces, say you? Take heed, fellow, you shall he punished +severely, if you mistake. + +_Cam._ Speak to Benito in time, Aurelian. + +_Aur._ The devil's in him; he's running down-hill full speed, and +there's no stopping him. + +_Mar._ My nieces? + +_Ben._ Your nieces? Why, do you doubt it? I praise heaven I never met +but with two half-wits in my life, and my master's one of them; I will +not name the other at this time. + +_Duke._ I say, they are not they. + +_Ben._ I am sure they are Laura and Violetta; and that those two +rogues were running away with them, and that, I believe, with their +consent. + +_Vio._ Sister, 'tis in vain to deny ourselves; you see our ill fortune +pursues us unavoidably. [_Turning up her mask._] Yes, sir, we are +Laura and Violetta, whom you have made unhappy by your tyranny. + +_Lau._ [_Turning up her mask._] And these two gentlemen are no +ravishers, but-- + +_Ben._ How, no ravishers? Yes, to my knowledge they are--[_As he +speaks,_ AURELIAN _pulls off his mask._] No ravishers, as madam Laura +was saying; but two as honest gentlemen as e'er broke bread. My own +dear master, and so forth! [_Runs to_ AUR. _who thrusts him back._ + + _Enter_ VALERIO, _and whispers the Duke, giving him a paper; which + he reads, and seems pleased._ + +_Mar._ Aurelian and Camillo! I'll see you in safe custody; and, for +these fugitives, go, carry them to my sister, and desire her to have a +better care of her kinswomen. + +_Vio._ We shall live yet to make you refund our portions. Farewell, +Camillo; comfort yourself; remember there's but a wall betwixt us. + +_Lau._ And I'll cut through that wall with vinegar, but I'll come to +you, Aurelian. + +_Aur._ I'll cut through the grates with aquafortis, but I'll meet you. +Think of these things, and despair, and die, old gentleman. + [AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO _are carried off on + one side, and_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA _on + the other._ + +_Ben._ All things go cross to men of sense: Would I had been born with +the brains of a shop-keeper, that I might have thriven without knowing +why I did so. Now, must I follow my master to the prison, and, like an +ignorant customer that comes to buy, must offer him my backside, tell +him I trust to his honesty, and desire him to please himself, and so +be satisfied. [_Exit._ + +_Duke._ [_To_ VAL.] I am overjoyed; I'll see her immediately: Now my +business with Don Mario is at an end, I need not desire his company to +introduce me to the abbess; this assignation from Lucretia shows me a +nearer way.--Noble Don Mario, it was my business, when this accident +happened in the street, to have made you a visit; but now I am +prevented by an occasion which calls me another way. + +_Mar._ I receive the intention of that honour as the greatest +happiness that could befal me: In the meantime, if my attendance-- + +_Duke._ By no means, sir, I must of necessity go in private; and +therefore, if you please, you shall omit the ceremony. + +_Mar._ A happy even to your highness.--Now will I go to my sister, the +abbess, before I sleep, and desire her to take more care of her flock, +or, for all our relation, I shall make complaint, and endeavour to +ease her of her charge. [_Exit._ + +_Duke._ So, now we are alone, what said Lucretia? + +_Val._ When first I pressed her to this assignation, +She spoke like one in doubt what she should do; +She demurred much upon the decency of it, +And somewhat too she seemed to urge, of her +Engagement to the prince: In short, sir, +I perceived her wavering, and closed with the opportunity. + +_Duke._ O, when women are once irresolute, betwixt the former love and +the new one, they are sure to come over to the latter. The wind, their +nearest likeness, seldom chops about to return into the old corner. + +_Val._ In conclusion, she consented to the interview; and for the +rest, I urged it not, for I suppose she will hear reason sooner from +your mouth than mine. + +_Duke._ Her letter is of the same tenor with her discourse, full of +doubts and doubles; like a hunted hare when she is near tired. The +garden, you say, is the place appointed? + +_Val._ It is, sir; and the next half hour the time. But, sir, I fear +the prince your son will never bear the loss of her with patience. + +_Duke._ 'Tis no matter; let the young gallant storm to-night, +to-morrow he departs from Rome. + +_Val._ That, sir, will be severe. + +_Duke._ He has already received my commands to travel into Germany. I +know it stung him to the quick, but he's too dangerous a rival: the +soldiers love him too; when he's absent they will respect me more. But +I defer my happiness too long; dismiss my guards there. + [_Exeunt Guards._ + + The pleasures of old age brook no delay; + Seldom they come, and soon they fly away. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III. + + _Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ ASCANIO. + +_Fred._ 'Tis true, he is my father; but when nature +Is dead in him, why should it live in me? +What have I done that I am banished Rome, +The world's delight, and my soul's joy, Lucretia, +And sent to reel with midnight beasts in Almain! +I cannot, will not, bear it. + +_Asca._ I'm sure you need not, sir; the army is all yours; they wish a +youthful monarch, and will resent your injuries. + +_Fred._ Heaven forbid it! and yet I cannot lose Lucretia. +There's something I would do, and yet would shun +The ill, that must attend it. + +_Asca._ You must resolve, for the time presses. She told me, this +hour, she had sent for your father: what she means I know not, for she +seemed doubtful, and would not tell me her intention. + +_Fred._ If she be false--yet, why should I suspect her? Yet why should +I not? She's a woman; that includes ambition and inconstancy; then, +she's tempted high: 'twere unreasonable to expect she should be +faithful: Well, something I have resolved, and will about it +instantly; and if my friends prove faithful, I shall prevent the +worst. + + _Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO, _guarded._ + +Aurelian and Camillo? How came you thus attended? + +_Cam._ You may guess at the occasion, sir; pursuing the adventure +which brought us to meet you in the garden, we were taken by Don +Mario. + +_Aur._ And, as the devil would have it, when both we and our +mistresses were in expectation of a more pleasing lodging. + +_Fred._ Faith, that's very hard, when a man has charged and primed, +and taken aim, to be hindered of his shoot.--Soldiers, release these +gentlemen, I'll answer it. + +_Cap._ Sir, we dare not disobey our orders. + +_Fred._ I'll stand betwixt you and danger. In the mean time take this, +as an acknowledgment of the kindness you do me. + +_Cap._ Ay, marry, there's rhetoric in gold: who can deny these +arguments: Sir, you may dispose of our prisoners as you please; we'll +use your name, if we are called in question. + +_Fred._ Do so. Goodnight, good soldiers. [_Exeunt soldiers._] Now, +gentlemen, no thanks; you'll find occasion instantly to reimburse me +of my kindness. + +_Cam._ Nothing but want of liberty could have hindered us from serving +you. + +_Fred._ Meet me within this half hour, at our monastery; and if, in +the mean time, you can pick up a dozen of good fellows, who dare +venture their lives bravely, bring them with you. + +_Aur._ I hope the cause is bad too, otherwise we shall not deserve +your thanks. May it be for demolishing that cursed monastery! + +_Fred._ Come, Ascanio, follow me. [_Exeunt severally._ + + +SCENE IV.--_The Nunnery Garden._ + + _Enter_ DUKE _and_ LUCRETIA. + +_Luc._ In making this appointment, +I go too far, for one of my profession; +But I have a divining soul within me, +Which tells me, trust reposed in noble natures +Obliges them the more. + +_Duke._ I come to be commanded, not to govern: +Those few soft words, you sent me, have quite altered +My rugged nature; if it still be violent, +'Tis only fierce and eager to obey you; +Like some impetuous flood, which, mastered once, +With double force bends backward. +The place of treaty shows you strongest here; +For still the vanquished sues for peace abroad, +While the proud victor makes his terms at home. + +_Luc._ That peace, I see, will not be hard to make, +When either side shows confidence of noble dealing +From the other. + +_Duke._ And this, sure, is our case, since both are met alone. + +_Luc._ 'Tis mine, sir, more than yours. +To meet you single, shows I trust your virtue; +But you appear distrustful of my love. + +_Duke._ You wrong me much; I am not. + +_Luc._ Excuse me, sir, you keep a curb upon me; +You awe me with a letter, which you hold +As hostage of my love; and hostages +Are ne'er required but from suspected faith. + +_Duke._ We are not yet in terms of perfect peace; +Whene'er you please to seal the articles, +Your pledge shall be restored. + +_Luc._ That were the way to keep us still at distance; +For what we fear, we cannot truly love. + +_Duke._ But how can I be then secure, that, when +Your fear is o'er, your love will still continue? + +_Luc._ Make trial of my gratitude; you'll find +I can acknowledge kindness. + +_Duke._ But that were to forego the faster hold, +To take a loose, and weaker. +Would you not judge him mad, who held a lion +In chains of steel, and changed them for a twine? + +_Luc._ But love is soft, +Not of the lion's nature, but the dove's; +An iron chain would hang too heavy on a tender neck. + +_Duke._ Since on one side there must be confidence, +Why may not I expect, as well as you, +To have it plac'd in me? Repose your trust +Upon my royal word. + +_Luc._ As 'tis the privilege of womankind, +That men should court our love, +And make the first advances; so it follows, +That you should first oblige; for 'tis our weakness +Gives us more cause of fear, and therefore you, +Who are the stronger sex, should first secure it. + +_Duke._ But, madam, as you talk of fear from me, +I may as well suspect design from you. + +_Luc._ Design! of giving you my love more freely; +Of making you a title to my heart, +Where you by force would reign. + +_Duke._ O that I could believe you! But your words +Are not enough disorder'd for true love; +They are not plain, and hearty, as are mine; +But full of art, and close insinuation: +You promise all, but give me not one proof +Of love before; not the least earnest of it. + +_Luc._ And what is then this midnight conversation? +These silent hours divided from my sleep? +Nay, more, stolen from my prayers with sacrilege, +And here transferred to you? This guilty hand, +Which should be used in dropping holy beads, +But now bequeathed to yours? This heaving heart, +Which only should be throbbing for my sins, +But which now beats uneven time for you? +These are my arts! and these are my designs! + +_Duke._ I love you more, Lucretia, than my soul; +Nay, than yours too; for I would venture both, +That I might now enjoy you; and if what +You ask me, did not make me fear to lose you, +Though it were even my life, you should not be denied it. + +_Luc._ Then I will ask no more. +Keep still my letter, to upbraid me with it: +To say, when I am sullied with your lust, +And fit to be forsaken,--Go, Lucretia, +To your first love; for this, for this, I leave you. + +_Duke._ Oh, madam, never think that day can come! + +_Luc._ It must, it will; I read it in your looks; +You will betray me, when I'm once engaged. + +_Duke._ If not my faith, your beauty will secure you. + +_Luc._ My beauty is a flower upon the stalk, +Goodly to see; but, gathered for the scent, +And once with eagerness pressed to your nostrils, +The sweets drawn out, 'tis thrown with scorn away. +But I am glad I find you out so soon; +I simply loved, and meant (with shame I own it) +To trust my virgin honour in your hands. +I asked not wealth for hire; and, but by chance, +(I wonder that I thought on't) begged one trial, +And, but for form, to have pretence to yield, +And that you have denied me. Farewell! I could +Have loved you, and yet, perhaps, I-- + +_Duke._ O speak, speak out, and do not drown that word; +It seemed as if it would have been a kind one; +And yours are much too precious to be lost. + +_Luc._ Perhaps--I cannot yet leave loving you. +There 'twas. But I recalled it in my mind, +And made it false before I gave it air. +Once more, farewell--I wo'not,-- +Now I can say I wo'not, wo'not love you. [_Going._ + +_Duke._ You shall; and this shall be the seal of my affection. + [_Gives the letter._ +There take it, my Lucretia: I give it with more joy, +Than I with grief received it. + +_Luc._ Good night; I'll thank you for't some other time. + +_Duke._ You'll not abuse my love? + +_Luc._ No; but secure my honour. + +_Duke._ I'll force it from your hands. [LUCRETIA _runs._ + +_Luc._ Help, help, or I am ravished! help, for heaven's sake! + + HIPPOLITA, LAURA, _and_ VIOLETTA, _within, at several places._ + +_Within._ Help, help Lucretia! they bear away Lucretia by force. + +_Duke._ I think there's a devil in every corner. + + _Enter_ VALERIO. + +_Val._ Sir, the design was laid on purpose for you, and all the women +placed to cry. Make haste away; avoid the shame, for heaven's sake. + +_Duke._ [_going._] O, I could fire this monastery! + + _Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ ASCANIO. + + [FREDERICK, _entering, speaks as to some behind him._] + +_Fred._ Pain of your lives, let none of you presume to enter but +myself. + +_Duke._ My son!--O, I could burst with spite, and die with shame, to +be thus apprehended! this is the baseness and cowardice of guilt: an +army now were not so dreadful to me as that son, o'er whom the right +of nature gives me power. + +_Fred._ Sir, I am come-- + +_Duke._ To laugh at first, and then to blaze abroad, +The weakness and the follies of your father. + +_Val._ Sir, he has men in arms attending him. + +_Duke._ I know my doom then. You have taken a popular occasion; I am +now a ravisher of chastity, fit to be made prisoner first, and then +deposed. + +_Fred._ You will not hear me, sir. + +_Duke._ No, I confess I have deserved my fate; +For, what had these grey hairs to do with love? +Or, if the unseemly folly would possess me, +Why should I chuse to make my son my rival? + +_Fred._ Sir, you may add, you banished me from Rome, +And, from the light of it, Lucretia's eyes. + +_Duke._ Nay, if thou aggravat'st my crimes, thou giv'st +Me right to justify them: thou doubly art my slave, +Both son and subject. I can do thee no wrong, +Nor hast thou right to arraign or punish me: +But thou inquir'st into thy father's years; +Thy swift ambition could not stay my death, +But must ride post to empire. Lead me now; +Thy crimes have made me guiltless to myself, +And given me face to bear the public scorn. +You have a guard without? + +_Fred._ I have some friends. + +_Duke._ Speak plainly your intent. +I love not a sophisticated truth, +With an allay of lie in't. + +_Fred._ [_Kneeling._] +This is not, sir, the posture of a rebel, +But of a suppliant; if the name of son +Be too much honour to me. +What first I purpos'd, I scarce know myself. +Love, anger, and revenge, then rolled within me, +And yet, even then, I was not hurried farther +Than to preserve my own. + +_Duke._ Your own! What mean you? + +_Fred._ My love, and my Lucretia, which I thought, +In my then boiling passion, you pursued +With some injustice, and much violence; +This led me to repel that force by force. +'Twas easy to surprise you, when I knew +Of your intended visit. + +_Duke._ Thank my folly. + +_Fred._ But reason now has reassumed its place, +And makes me see how black a crime it is +To use a force upon my prince and father. + +_Duke._ You give me hope you will resign Lucretia. + +_Fred._ Ah no; I never can resign her to you: +But, sir, I can my life; which, on my knees, +I tender, as the atoning sacrifice: +Or if your hand (because you are a father) +Be loth to take away that life you gave, +I will redeem your crime, by making it +My own: So you shall still be innocent, and I +Die blessed, and unindebted for my being. + +_Duke._ O Frederick, you are too much a son, [_Embracing him._ +And I too little am a father: you, +And you alone, have merited Lucretia; +'Tis now my only grief, +I can do nothing to requite this virtue: +For to restore her to you, +Is not an act of generosity, +But a scant, niggard justice; yet I love her +So much, that even this little, which I do, +Is like the bounty of an usurer; +High to be priz'd from me, +Because 'tis drawn from such a wretched mind. + +_Fred._ You give me now a second, better life; [_Kissing his hand._ +But,--that the gift may be more easy to you,-- +Consider, sir, Lucretia did not love you,-- +I fear to say, ne'er would. + +_Duke._ You do well to help me to o'ercome that difficulty: +I'll weigh that, too, hereafter. For a love, +So violent as mine, will ask long time, +And much of reason, to effect the cure. +My present care shall be to make you happy; +For that will make my wish impossible, +And then the remedies will be more easy. + + _Enter_ SOPHRONIA, LUCRETIA, VIOLETTA, LAURA, HIPPOLITA. + +_Soph._ I have, with joy, o'erheard this happy change, +And come with blessings to applaud your conquest +Over the greatest of mankind, yourself. + +_Duke._ I hope 'twill be a full and lasting one. + +_Luc._ Thus, let me kneel, and pay my thanks and duty, [_Kneeling._ +Both to my prince and father. + +_Duke._ Rise, rise, too charming maid, for yet I cannot +Call you my daughter: that first name, Lucretia, +Hangs on my lips, and would be still pronounced. +Look not too kindly on me; one sweet glance, +Perhaps, would ruin both: therefore, I'll go +And try to get new strength to bear your eyes. +'Till then, farewell. Be sure you love my Frederick, +And do not hate his father. [_Exeunt Duke and_ VALERIO. + +_Fred._ [_At the door._] Now, friends, you may appear. + + _Enter_ AURELIAN, CAMILLO, BENITO. + +Your pardon, madam, that we thus intrude +On holy ground: yourself best know it could not +Be avoided, and it shall be my care it be excused. + +_Soph._ Though sovereign princes bear a privilege +Of entering when they please within our walls, +In others 'tis a crime past dispensation; +And therefore, to avoid a public scandal, +Be pleased, sir, to retire, and quit this garden. + +_Aur._ We shall obey you, madam; but that we may do it with less +regret, we hope you will give these ladies leave to accompany us. + +_Soph._ They shall. +And, nieces, for myself, I only ask you +To justify my conduct to the world, +That none may think I have betrayed a trust, +But freed you from a tyranny. + +_Lau._ Our duty binds us to acknowledge it. + +_Cam._ And our gratitude to witness it. + +_Vio._ With a holy and lasting remembrance of your favour. + +_Fred._ And it shall be my care, either by reason to bend your uncle's +will, or, by my father's interest, to force your dowry from his hands. + +_Ben._ [_To_ AUR.] Pray, sir, let us make haste over these walls +again; these gardens are unlucky to me; I have lost my reputation of +music in one of them, and of wit in the other. + +_Aur._ [_To_ LAU.] Now, Laura, you may take your choice betwixt the +two Benito's, and consider whether you had rather he should serenade +you in the garden, or I in bed to-night. + +_Lau._ You may be sure I shall give sentence for Benito; for the +effect of your serenading would be to make me pay the music nine +months hence. + +_Hip._ [_To_ ASCA.] You see, brother, here's a general gaol-delivery: +there has been a great deal of bustle and disturbance in the cloister +to-night; enough to distract a soul which is given up, like me, to +contemplation: and therefore, if you think fit, I could even be +content to retire, with you, into the world; and, by way of penance, +to marry you; which, as husbands and wives go now, is a greater +mortification than a nunnery. + +_Asca._ No, sister; if you love me, keep to your monastery: I'll come +now and then to the grate, and beg you a recreation. But I know myself +so well, that if I had you one twelvemonth in the world, I should run +myself into a cloister, to be rid of you. + +_Soph._ Nieces, once more farewell. Adieu, Lucretia: +My wishes and my prayers attend you all. + +_Luc._ to _Fred._ I am so fearful, +That, though I gladly run to your embraces, +Yet, venturing in the world a second time, +Methinks I put to sea in a rough storm, +With shipwrecks round about me. + +_Fred._ My dear, be kinder to yourself and me, +And let not fear fright back our coming joys; +For we, at length, stand reconciled to fate: +And now to fear, when to such bliss we move, +Were not to doubt our fortune, but our love. [_Exeunt._ + + + EPILOGUE. + + Some have expected, from our bills to-day, + To find a satire in our poet's play. + The zealous route from Coleman-street did run, + To see the story of the Friar and Nun; + Or tales, yet more ridiculous to hear, + Vouched by their vicar of ten pounds a-year,-- + Of Nuns, who did against temptation pray, + And discipline laid on the pleasant way: + Or that, to please the malice of the town, } + Our poet should in some close cell have shown } + Some sister, playing at content alone: } + This they did hope; the other side did fear; + And both, you see, alike are cozened here. + Some thought the title of our play to blame; + They liked the thing, but yet abhorred the name: + Like modest punks, who all you ask afford, + But, for the world, they would not name that word. + Yet, if you'll credit what I heard him say, + Our poet meant no scandal in his play; + His Nuns are good, which on the stage are shown, + And, sure, behind our scenes you'll look for none. + + +Footnotes: +1. A common name for a cat, being that by which the representative of + the feline race is distinguished in the History of Reynard the Fox. + See Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet._ + +2. _Stickle._ To interfere. + +3. _Rondaches._ Targets or bucklers. These were a part of the + equipment of a serenader. See that of Quevedo's Night Adventurer. + + + * * * * * + + + END OF THE FOURTH VOLUME. + + + EDINBURGH: + + Printed by James Ballantyne. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works Of John Dryden, Volume 4 (of +18), by John Dryden + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN *** + +***** This file should be named 15349-8.txt or 15349-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/3/4/15349/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Works Of John Dryden, Volume 4 (of 18) + Almanzor And Almahide, Marriage-a-la-Mode, The Assignation + +Author: John Dryden + +Commentator: Walter Scott + + +Release Date: March 13, 2005 [EBook #15349] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="ctr"><br />THE</p> +<h1 class="nomarg">WORKS</h1> +<p class="ctr">OF</p> +<h2 class="nomarg">JOHN DRYDEN,</h2> +<p class="ctr">NOW FIRST COLLECTED</p> +<h3 class="nomarg"><i>IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES.</i></h3> + +<p class="ctr"><br />ILLUSTRATED</p> +<h3 class="nomarg">WITH NOTES,</h3> +<p class="ctr">HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY,</p> +<p class="ctr">AND</p> +<h3 class="nomarg">A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR,</h3> +<p class="ctr">BY</p> +<h3 class="nomarg">WALTER SCOTT, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span></h3> + +<h3>VOL. IV.</h3> +<h3>LONDON:</h3> +<p class="ctr">PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET,<br /> +BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH.</p> + +<h3>1808.</h3> +<hr class="large" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<p class="ctr">OF</p> +<h3 class="nomarg">VOLUME FOURTH.</h3> + +<div><ul class="toc"> +<li><a href="#page_001">Almanzor and Almahide, or the Conquest of Granada +by the Spaniards, a Tragedy, Part First</a></li> +<li><ul class="toc"> +<li><a href="#page_009">Epistle Dedicatory to the Duke of York</a></li> +<li><a href="#page_016">Of Heroic Plays, an Essay</a></li> +<li><a href="#page_030">[Part I]</a></li> +<li><a href="#page_111">Part II</a></li> +<li><a href="#page_211">Defence of the Epilogue; or an Essay +on the Dramatic Poetry of the last Age</a></li> +</ul></li> + +<li style="margin-top: 1em;"><a href="#page_231">Marriage-a-la-Mode, a Comedy</a></li> +<li><ul class="toc"> +<li><a href="#page_235">Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Rochester</a></li> +<li><a href="#page_241">[Text of the Play]</a></li> +</ul></li> + +<li style="margin-top: 1em;"><a href="#page_343">The Assignation, or Love in a Nunnery, a Comedy</a></li> +<li><ul class="toc"> +<li><a href="#page_348">Epistle Dedicatory to Sir Charles Sedley, Bart.</a></li> +<li><a href="#page_356">[Text of the Play]</a></li> +</ul></li> +</ul></div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></div> + +<h2 class="chap">ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE:</h2> +<p class="ctr">OR, THE</p> +<h3 class="nomarg">CONQUEST OF GRANADA</h3> +<p class="ctr">BY THE</p> +<h3 class="nomarg"><i>SPANIARDS.</i></h3> + +<h3>A TRAGEDY.</h3> + +<div class="ctr"> +<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram"> +<tr><td><p class="epigram">—<i>Major rerum mihi nascitur ordo;<br /> +Majus opus moveo.</i></p> +<p class="citation smcap">Virg. Æneid.</p></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_003"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA.</h3> + +<p>This play,—for the two parts only constitute an entire drama +betwixt them,—seems to have been a favourite with Dryden, as well +as with the public. In the Essay upon Heroic Plays, as well as in +the dedication, the character of Almanzor is dwelt upon with that +degree of complacency which an author experiences in analyzing +a successful effort of his genius. Unquestionably the gross improbability +of a hero, by his single arm, turning the tide of battle as +he lists, did not appear so shocking in the age of Dryden, as in +ours. There is no doubt, that, while personal strength and prowess +were of more consequence than military skill and conduct, the +feats of a single man were sometimes sufficient to determine the +fate of an engagement, more especially when exerted by a knight, +sheathed in complete mail, against the heartless and half-armed +mass, which constituted the feudal infantry. Those, who have +perused Barbour's History of Robert Bruce, Geoffrey de Vinsauf's +account of the wars of Richard Cœur de Lion, or even the +battles detailed by Froissart and Joinville, are familiar with instances +of breaches defended, and battles decided, by the prowess +of a single arm. The leader of a feudal army was expected +by his followers not only to point out the path to victory but +to lead the way in person. It is true, that the military art had +been changed in this particular long before the days of Dryden. +Complete armour was generally laid aside; fire-arms had superseded +the use of the lance and battle-axe; and, above all, the universal +institution of standing armies had given discipline and military +skill their natural and decisive superiority over untaught +strength, and enthusiastic valour. But the memory of what had +been, was still familiar to the popular mind, and preserved not +only by numerous legends and traditions, but also by the cast of +the fashionable works of fiction. It is, indeed, curious to remark, +how many minute remnants of a system of ancient manners can be +traced long after it has become totally obsolete. Even down to +the eighteenth century, the portrait of every soldier of rank was +attired in complete armour, though, perhaps, he never saw a suit +of mail excepting in the Tower of London; and on the same principle +of prescriptive custom, Addison was the first poet who ventured +to celebrate a victorious general for skill and conduct, instead +of such feats as are appropriated to Guy of Warwick, or +<span class="pgnm" id="page_004"></span> +Bevis of Hampton. The fashion of attributing mighty effects +to individual valour being thus prevalent, even in circumstances +when every one knew the supposition to be entirely gratuitous, +the same principle, with much greater propriety, continued +to be applied in works of fiction, where the scene was usually carried +back to times in which the personal strength of a champion really +had some efficacy. It must be owned, however, that the authors of +the French romances carried the influence of individual strength and +courage beyond all bounds of modesty and reason. In the Grand +Cyrus, Artamenes, upon a moderate computation, exterminates +with his own hand, in the course of the work, at least a hundred +thousand fighting men. These monstrous fictions, however, constituted +the amusement of the young and the gay<a class="ftnt" href="#Alman_1-1">[1]</a>, in the age of +Charles II., and from one of these very books Dryden admits his having +drawn, at least in part, the character of his Moorish warrior. +The public was, therefore, every way familiarised with such chivalrous +exploits as those of Almanzor; and if they did not altogether +command the belief, at least they did not revolt the imagination, of +an audience: And this must certainly be admitted as a fair apology +for the extravagance of his heroic achievements.</p> + +<p>But, it is not only the actual effects of Almanzor's valour, which +appear to us unnatural, but also the extraordinary principles and +motives by which those exertions are guided. Here also, we must +look back to the Gothic romances, and to those of Scudery +and Calprenede. In fact, the extravagance of sentiment is no +less necessary than the extravagance of achievement to constitute +a true knight errant; and such is Almanzor. Honour and +love were the sole deities worshipped by this extraordinary race, +who, though their memory and manners are preserved chiefly in +works of fiction, did once exist in real life, and actually conducted +armies, and governed kingdoms, upon principles as strained and hyperbolical +as those of the Moorish champion. If Almanzor, at the +command of his mistress, aids his hated rival to the destruction of +his own hopes, he only discharges the duty of a good knight, who +was bound to sacrifice himself, and all his hopes and wishes, at +the slightest command of her, to whom he had vowed his service, +and who, in the language of chivalry, was to him as the soul is to +the body. The reader may recollect the memorable invasion of +<span class="pgnm" id="page_005"></span> +England by James IV. of Scotland, in which he hazarded and actually +lost his own life, and the flower of his nobility, because the +queen of France, who called him her knight, had commanded him +to march three miles on English ground for her sake.</p> + +<p>Less can be said to justify the extravagant language in which +Almanzor threatens his enemies, and vaunts his own importance. +This is not common in the heroes of romance, who are usually +as remarkable for their modesty of language as for their prowess; +and still more seldom does, in real life, a vain-glorious boaster vindicate +by his actions the threats of his tongue. It is true, that +men of a fervent and glowing character are apt to strain their +speech beyond the modesty of ordinary conversation, and display, +in their language, the fire which glows in their bosoms; but the +subject of their effusions is usually connected not with their own +personal qualities, or feats, but with some extraneous object of +their pursuit, or admiration. Thus, the burst of Hotspur concerning +the pursuit of honour paints his enthusiastic character; but +it would be hard to point out a passage indicating that exuberant +confidence in his own prowess, and contempt of every one else, so +liberally exhibited by Almanzor. Instances of this defect are but +too thickly sown through the piece; for example the following rant.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>If from thy hands alone my death can be,</p> +<p>I am immortal, and a God to thee.</p> +<p>If I would kill thee now, thy fate's so low,</p> +<p>That I must stoop ere I can give the blow.</p> +<p>But mine is fixed so far above thy crown,</p> +<p>That all thy men,</p> +<p>Piled on thy back, can never pull it down.</p> +<p>But, at my ease, thy destiny I send,</p> +<p>By ceasing from this hour to be thy friend.</p> +<p>Like heaven, I need but only to stand still;</p> +<p>And, not concurring to thy life, I kill.</p> +<p>Thou canst no title to my duty bring;</p> +<p>I am not thy subject, and my soul's thy king.</p> +<p>Farewell! When I am gone,</p> +<p>There's not a star of thine dare stay with thee:</p> +<p>I'll whistle thy tame fortune after me;</p> +<p>And whirl fate with me wheresoe'er I fly,</p> +<p>As winds drive storms before them in the sky.</p> +</div> + +<p>This curious passage did not escape the malicious criticism of +Settle, who, besides noticing the extravagant egotism of the hero, +questions, with some probability, whether Abdalla would have chosen +to scale Almanzor's fate, at the risque of the personal consequences +of having all his men piled on his own back. In the same +scene, Almanzor is so unreasonable as to tell his rival,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>—Thou shalt not dare</p> +<p>To be so impudent as to despair.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pgnm" id="page_006"></span> +And again,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>What are ten thousand subjects, such as they?</p> +<p>If I am scorned, I'll take myself away.</p> +</div> + +<p>Dryden's apology for these extravagancies seems to be, that +Almanzor is in a passion. But, although talking nonsense is a +common effect of passion, it seems hardly one of those consequences +adapted to shew forth the character of a hero in theatrical +representation.</p> + +<p>It must be owned, however, that although the part of Almanzor +contains these and other bombastic passages, there are many +also which convey what the poet desired to represent—the aspirations +of a mind so heroic as almost to surmount the bonds of society +and even the very laws of the universe, leaving us often in +doubt whether the vehemence of the wish does not even disguise the +impossibility of its accomplishment.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Good heaven! thy book of fate before me lay,</p> +<p>But to tear out the journal of this day.</p> +<p>Or, if the order of the world below</p> +<p>Will not the gap of one whole day allow,</p> +<p>Give me that minute when she made her vow.</p> +<p>That minute, even the happy from their bliss might give,</p> +<p>And those, who live in grief, a shorter time would live.</p> +<p>So small a link, if broke, the eternal chain</p> +<p>Would, like divided waters, join again.</p> +<p>It wonnot be; the fugitive is gone,</p> +<p>Pressed by the crowd of following minutes on:</p> +<p>That precious moment's out of nature fled,</p> +<p>And in the heap of common rubbish laid,</p> +<p>Of things that once have been, and now decayed.</p> +</div> + +<p>In the less inflated parts, the ideas are usually as just, as ingenious +and beautiful; for example.</p> + +<div class="poem"><table summary="No; there is a necessity in fate."> +<tr><td><p>No; there is a necessity in fate.</p> +<p>Why still the brave bold man is fortunate;</p> +<p>He keeps his object ever full in sight,</p> +<p>And that assurance holds him firm and right.</p> +<p>True, 'tis a narrow path that leads to bliss,</p> +<p>But right before there is no precipice;</p> +<p>Fear makes men look aside, and then their footing miss.</p></td> +<td><p><br /><br /><br /><br /> +}<br /> +}<br /> +}<br /></p></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>The character of Almanzor is well known as the original of +Drawcansir, in "The Rehearsal," into whose mouth parodies of some +of Dryden's most extravagant flights have been put by the duke of +Buckingham. Shaftesbury also, whose family had smarted under +<span class="pgnm" id="page_007"></span> +Dryden's satire, attempts to trace the applause bestowed on the +"Conquest of Granada" to what he calls "the correspondence +and relation between our <i>Royal Theatre</i> and popular <i>Circus</i>, or +<i>Bear-Garden</i>. For, in the former of these assemblys, 'tis undeniable +that, at least, the two upper regions, or galleries, contain such +spectators as indifferently frequent each place of sport. So that +'tis no wonder we hear such applause resounded on the victories +of an <i>Almanzor</i>, when the same parties had possibly no later than +the day before bestowed their applause as freely on the victorious +<i>Butcher</i>, the hero of another stage." <i>Miscellaneous Reflections. +Miscell. 5.</i></p> + +<p>The other personages of the drama sink into Lilliputians, beside +the gigantic Almanzor, although the under plot of the loves of +Ozmyn and Benzayda is beautiful in itself, and ingeniously managed. +The virtuous Almahide is a fit object for the adoration of +Almanzor; but her husband is a poor pageant of royalty. As +for Lyndaraxa, her repeated and unparalleled treachery can only be +justified by the extreme imbecility of her lovers.</p> + +<p>The plot of the play is, in part, taken from history. During +the last years of its existence, Granada, the poor remnant of the +Moorish empire in Spain, was torn to pieces with intestine discord, +and assailed without by the sword of the Christians. The history +of the civil wars of Granada, affirmed to be translated into Spanish +from the Arabian, gives a romantic, but not altogether fabulous +account of their discord. But a romance in the French taste, +called Almahide, seems to have been the chief source from which +our author drew his plot.</p> + +<p>In the conduct of the story there is much brilliancy of event. +The reader, or spectator, is never allowed to repose on the scene +before him; and although the changes of fortune are too rapid to +be either probable, or altogether pleasing, yet they arrest the attention +by their splendour and importance, and interest us in spite +of our more sober judgment. The introduction of the ghost of +Almanzor's mother seems to have been intended to shew how the +hero could support even an interview with an inhabitant of the +other world. At least, the professed purpose of her coming +might have been safely trusted to the virtue of Almahide, and +her power over her lover. It afforded an opportunity, however, +to throw in some fine poetry, of which Dryden has not +failed to avail himself. Were it not a peculiar attribute of the +heroic drama, it might be mentioned as a defect, that during the +siege of the last possession of the Spanish Moors, by an enemy +hated for his religion, and for his success, the principle of patriotism +is hardly once alluded to through the whole piece. The fate, or +the wishes, of Almahide, Lyndaraxa, and Benzayda, are all that interest +<span class="pgnm" id="page_008"></span> +the Moorish warriors around them, as if the Christian was not +thundering at their gates, to exterminate at once their nation and +religion. Indeed, so essentially necessary are the encouragements +of beauty to military achievement, that we find queen Isabella ordering +to the field of battle a <i>corps de reserve</i> of her maids of honour +to animate the fighting warriors with their smiles, and counteract +the powerful charms of the Moorish damsels. Nor is it an +inferior fault, that, although the characters are called Moors, there +is scarce any expression, or allusion, which can fix the reader's +attention upon their locality, except an occasional interjection to +Alha, or Mahomet.</p> + +<p>If, however, the reader can abstract his mind from the qualities +now deemed essential to a play, and consider the Conquest of Granada +as a piece of romantic poetry, there are few compositions in +the English language, which convey a more lively and favourable +display of the magnificence of fable, of language, and of action, +proper to that style of composition. Amid the splendid ornaments +of the structure we lose sight of occasional disproportion +and incongruity; and, at an early age particularly, there are few +poems which make a more deep impression upon the imagination, +than the Conquest of Granada.</p> + +<p>The two parts of this drama were brought out in the same season, +probably in winter, 1669, or spring, 1670. They were received +with such applause, that Langbaine conceives their success to have +been the occasion of Dryden's undervaluing his predecessors in +dramatic writing. The Conquest of Granada was not printed till +1672.</p> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnote:</p> +<ol> +<li> <a name="Alman_1-1" id="Alman_1-1"></a>There is something ludicrous in the idea of a beauty, or a gallant, of that +gay and licentious court poring over a work of five or six folio volumes by way +of amusement; but such was the taste of the age, that Fynes Morison, in his precepts +to travellers, can "think no book better for his pupils' discourse than +Amadis of Gaule; for the knights errant and the ladies of court do therein +exchange courtly speeches."</li> +</ol> +</div> + +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_009" id="page_009"></a></div> + + +<h3 class="chap">TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE<a class="ftnt" href="#Alman_2-1">[1]</a>.</h3> + +<p class="smcap noind">Sir,</p> + +<p>Heroic poesy has always been sacred to princes, +and to heroes. Thus Virgil inscribed his Æneids to +Augustus Cæsar; and of latter ages, Tasso and +Ariosto dedicated their poems to the house of Este. +It is indeed but justice, that the most excellent +and most profitable kind of writing should be addressed +by poets to such persons, whose characters +have, for the most part, been the guides and patterns +of their imitation; and poets, while they +imitate, instruct. The feigned hero inflames the +true; and the dead virtue animates the living. +Since, therefore, the world is governed by precept +and example, and both these can only have influence +from those persons who are above us; that +kind of poesy, which excites to virtue the greatest +men, is of the greatest use to human kind.</p> + +<p><span class="pgnm" id="page_010"></span> +It is from this consideration, that I have presumed +to dedicate to your royal highness these faint +representations of your own worth and valour in +heroick poetry: Or, to speak more properly, not to +dedicate, but to restore to you those ideas, which +in the more perfect part of my characters I have taken +from you. Heroes may lawfully be delighted +with their own praises, both as they are farther incitements +to their virtue, and as they are the highest +returns which mankind can make them for it.</p> + +<p>And certainly, if ever nation were obliged, either +by the conduct, the personal<a class="ftnt" href="#Alman_2-2">[2]</a> valour, or the good +fortune of a leader, the English are acknowledging, +in all of them, to your royal highness. Your whole +life has been a continued series of heroick actions; +which you began so early, that you were no sooner +named in the world, but it was with praise and admiration. +Even the first blossoms of your youth +paid us all that could be expected from a ripening +manhood. While you practised but the rudiments +of war, you out-went all other captains; and have +since found none to surpass, but yourself alone. +The opening of your glory was like that of light: +You shone to us from afar; and disclosed your +first beams on distant nations: Yet so, that the lustre +of them was spread abroad, and reflected brightly +on your native country. You were then an honour +<span class="pgnm" id="page_011"></span> +to it, when it was a reproach to itself. When +the fortunate usurper sent his arms to Flanders, +many of the adverse party were vanquished by your +fame, ere they tried your valour.<a class="ftnt" href="#Alman_2-3">[3]</a> The report of +it drew over to your ensigns whole troops and companies +of converted rebels, and made them forsake +successful wickedness, to follow an oppressed and +exiled virtue. Your reputation waged war with the +enemies of your royal family, even within their +trenches; and the more obstinate, or more guilty +of them, were forced to be spies over those whom +they commanded, lest the name of York should disband +that army, in whose fate it was to defeat the +Spaniards, and force Dunkirk to surrender. Yet, +those victorious forces of the rebels were not able +to sustain your arms. Where you charged in person +you were a conqueror. It is true, they afterwards +recovered courage; and wrested that victory +from others which they had lost to you; and it +was a greater action for them to rally, than it was +to overcome. Thus, by the presence of your royal +highness, the English on both sides remained victorious +and that army, which was broken by your +valour, became a terror to those for whom they conquered. +Then it was, that at the cost of other nations +you informed and cultivated that valour, which +was to defend your native country, and to vindicate +its honour from the insolence of our encroaching +neighbours. When the Hollanders, not contented +to withdraw themselves from the obedience which +they owed their lawful sovereign, affronted those by +<span class="pgnm" id="page_012"></span> +whose charity they were first protected; and, being +swelled up to a pre-eminence of trade, by a supine +negligence on our side, and a sordid parsimony +on their own, dared to dispute the sovereignty of +the seas, the eyes of three nations were then cast +upon you; and by the joint suffrage of king and +people, you were chosen to revenge their common +injuries; to which, though you had an undoubted +title by your birth, you had a greater by your courage. +Neither did the success deceive our hopes +and expectations: The most glorious victory which +was gained by our navy in that war, was in the first +engagement; wherein, even by the confession of +our enemies, who ever palliate their own losses, and +diminish our advantages, your absolute triumph was +acknowledged: You conquered at the Hague, as +entirely as at London; and the return of a shattered +fleet, without an admiral, left not the most +impudent among them the least pretence for a false +bonfire, or a dissembled day of public thanksgiving. +All our achievements against them afterwards, +though we sometimes conquered, and were never +overcome, were but a copy of that victory, and they +still fell short of their original: somewhat of fortune +was ever wanting, to fill up the title of so absolute +a defeat; or perhaps the guardian angel of +our nation was not enough concerned when you +were absent, and would not employ his utmost vigour +for a less important stake, than the life and +honour of a royal admiral.</p> + +<p>And if, since that memorable day,<a class="ftnt" href="#Alman_2-4">[4]</a> you have had +leisure to enjoy in peace the fruits of so glorious a +<span class="pgnm" id="page_013"></span> +reputation; it was occasion only has been wanting +to your courage, for that can never be wanting to +occasion. The same ardour still incites you to heroick +actions, and the same concernment for all the +interests of your king and brother continues to give +you restless nights, and a generous emulation for +your own glory. You are still meditating on new +labours for yourself, and new triumphs for the nation; +and when our former enemies again provoke +us, you will again solicit fate to provide you another +navy to overcome, and another admiral to be slain. +You will then lead forth a nation eager to revenge +their past injuries; and, like the Romans, inexorable +to peace, till they have fully vanquished. Let +our enemies make their boast of a surprise,<a class="ftnt" href="#Alman_2-5">[5]</a> as the +Samnities did of a successful stratagem; but the +<i>Furcæ Caudinæ</i> will never be forgiven till they are +revenged. I have always observed in your royal +highness an extreme concernment for the honour +of your country; it is a passion common to you with +a brother, the most excellent of kings; and in your +two persons are eminent the characters which Homer +has given us of heroick virtue; the commanding +part in Agamemnon, and the executive in Achilles. +And I doubt not from both your actions, +but to have abundant matter to fill the annals of a +glorious reign, and to perform the part of a just historian +to my royal master, without intermixing with +it any thing of the poet.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, while your royal highness is +preparing fresh employments for our pens, I have +been examining my own forces, and making trial of +myself, how I shall be able to transmit you to posterity. +<span class="pgnm" id="page_014"></span> +I have formed a hero, I confess, not absolutely +perfect, but of an excessive and over-boiling +courage; but Homer and Tasso are my precedents. +Both the Greek and the Italian poet had +well considered, that a tame hero, who never transgresses +the bounds of moral virtue, would shine but +dimly in an epic poem; the strictness of those rules +might well give precepts to the reader, but would +administer little of occasion to the writer. But a +character of an eccentrick virtue is the more exact +image of human life, because he is not wholly +exempted from its frailties; such a person is Almanzor, +whom I present, with all humility, to the +patronage of your royal highness. I designed in +him a roughness of character, impatient of injuries, +and a confidence of himself, almost approaching to +an arrogance. But these errors are incident only to +great spirits; they are moles and dimples, which +hinder not a face from being beautiful, though that +beauty be not regular; they are of the number of +those amiable imperfections which we see in mistresses, +and which we pass over without a strict +examination, when they are accompanied with +greater graces. And such in Almanzor are a frank +and noble openness of nature, an easiness to forgive +his conquered enemies, and to protect them in distress; +and, above all, an inviolable faith in his affection.</p> + +<p>This, sir, I have briefly shadowed to your royal +highness, that you may not be ashamed of that +hero, whose protection you undertake. Neither +would I dedicate him to so illustrious a name, if I +were conscious to myself that he did or said any +thing which was wholly unworthy of it. However, +since it is not just that your royal highness should +defend or own what possibly may be my error, I +bring before you this accused Almanzor in the nature +<span class="pgnm" id="page_015"></span> +of a suspected criminal. By the suffrage +of the most and best he already is acquitted; +and by the sentence of some, condemned. But as +I have no reason to stand to the award of my enemies, +so neither dare I trust the partiality of my +friends: I make my last appeal to your royal highness, +as to a sovereign tribunal. Heroes should only +be judged by heroes; because they only are capable +of measuring great and heroick actions by the +rule and standard of their own. If Almanzor has +failed in any point of honour, I must therein acknowledge +that he deviates from your royal highness, +who are the pattern of it. But if at any time +he fulfils the parts of personal valour, and of conduct, +of a soldier, and of a general; or, if I could +yet give him a character more advantageous than +what he has, of the most unshaken friend, the greatest +of subjects, and the best of masters, I should +then draw to all the world a true resemblance of your +worth and virtues; at least, as far as they are capable +of being copied by the mean abilities of,</p> + +<p class="sig i1 smcap">Sir,</p> +<p class="sig i2">Your royal highness's</p> +<p class="sig i3">Most humble, and</p> +<p class="sig i4">Most obedient servant,</p> +<p class="sig i5 smcap">John Dryden.</p> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnotes:</p><ol> +<li><a name="Alman_2-1" id="Alman_2-1"></a>James Duke of York, afterwards James II.</li> +<li><a name="Alman_2-2" id="Alman_2-2"></a>Although the valour of the unfortunate James II. seems to +have sunk with his good fortune, there is no reason to question his +having merited the compliment in the text. The Duke of Buckingham, +in his memoirs, has borne witness to the intrepidity with +which he encountered the dangers of his desperate naval actions +with the Dutch. Captain Carlton, who was also an eye-witness of +his deportment on that occasion, says, that while the balls were +flying thickly around, the Duke of York was wont to rub his +hands, and exclaim chearfully to his captain, "Spragge, Spragge, +they follow us fast."</li> +<li><a name="Alman_2-3" id="Alman_2-3"></a>When General Lockhart commanded the troops of the Protector +in Flanders, the Duke of York was a volunteer in the Spanish +army, and was present at the defeat, which the latter received before +Dunkirk, 17th of June, 1658.</li> +<li><a name="Alman_2-4" id="Alman_2-4"></a>The defeat of the Dutch off Harwich, 3d June, 1665, in +which their Admiral, Obdam, was blown up, eighteen of their ships +taken, and fourteen destroyed.</li> +<li><a name="Alman_2-5" id="Alman_2-5"></a>The author seems to refer to the burning of the English ships +at Chatham, by the Dutch Admiral De Ruyter.</li> +</ol></div> + +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_016" id="page_016"></a></div> + + +<h3 class="chap">OF HEROIC PLAYS.</h3> + +<h4 class="ctr">AN ESSAY.</h4> + + +<p>Whether heroic verse ought to be admitted into +serious plays, is not now to be disputed: it is already +in possession of the stage, and I dare confidently +affirm, that very few tragedies, in this age, shall be +received without it. All the arguments which are +formed against it, can amount to no more than this, +that it is not so near conversation as prose, and +therefore not so natural. But it is very clear to all +who understand poetry, that serious plays ought +not to imitate conversation too nearly. If nothing +were to be raised above that level, the foundation +of poetry would be destroyed. And if you once +admit of a latitude, that thoughts may be exalted, +and that images and actions may be raised above +the life, and described in measure without rhyme, +that leads you insensibly from your own principles +to mine: you are already so far onward of your +way, that you have forsaken the imitation of ordinary +converse. You are gone beyond it; and to +continue where you are, is to lodge in the open +<span class="pgnm" id="page_017"></span> +fields, betwixt two inns. You have lost that which +you call natural, and have not acquired the last +perfection of art. But it was only custom which +cozened us so long; we thought, because Shakespeare +and Fletcher went no farther, that there the +pillars of poetry were to be erected; that, because +they excellently described passion without rhime, +therefore rhime was not capable of describing it. +But time has now convinced most men of that error. +It is indeed so difficult to write verse, that +the adversaries of it have a good plea against many, +who undertook that task, without being formed by +art or nature for it. Yet, even they who have written +worst in it, would have written worse without +it: They have cozened many with their sound, who +never took the pains to examine their sense. In fine, +they have succeeded; though, it is true, they have +more dishonoured rhime by their good success, than +they have done by their ill. But I am willing to +let fall this argument: It is free for every man to +write, or not to write, in verse, as he judges it to +be, or not to be, his talent; or as he imagines the +audience will receive it.</p> + +<p>For heroic plays, in which only I have used it +without the mixture of prose, the first light we had +of them, on the English theatre, was from the late +Sir William D'Avenant. It being forbidden him in +the rebellious times to act tragedies and comedies, +because they contained some matter of scandal to +those good people, who could more easily dispossess +their lawful sovereign, than endure a wanton jest, +he was forced to turn his thoughts another way, +and to introduce the examples of moral virtue, writ +in verse, and performed in recitative music. The +original of this music, and of the scenes which +adorned his work, he had from the Italian operas; +but he heightened his characters, as I may probably +<span class="pgnm" id="page_018"></span> +imagine, from the example of Corneille and +some French poets. In this condition did this part +of poetry remain at his majesty's return; when, +growing bolder, as being now owned by a public +authority, he reviewed his "Siege of Rhodes," and +caused it be acted as a just drama. But as few +men have the happiness to begin and finish any +new project, so neither did he live to make his design +perfect: There wanted the fulness of a plot, +and the variety of characters to form it as it ought; +and, perhaps, something might have been added to +the beauty of the style. All which he would have +performed with more exactness, had he pleased to +have given us another work of the same nature. +For myself and others, who come after him, we +are bound, with all veneration to his memory, to +acknowledge what advantage we received from that +excellent groundwork which he laid: And, since it +is an easy thing to add to what already is invented, +we ought all of us, without envy to him, or partiality +to ourselves, to yield him the precedence in +it.</p> + +<p>Having done him this justice, as my guide, I +may do myself so much, as to give an account of +what I have performed after him. I observed then, +as I said, what was wanting to the perfection of his +"Siege of Rhodes;" which was design, and variety +of characters. And in the midst of this consideration +by mere accident, I opened the next book +that lay by me, which was "Ariosto," in Italian; +and the very first two lines of that poem gave me +light to all I could desire;</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p><i>Le donne, i cavalier, l'arme, gli amori,</i></p> +<p><i>Le cortesie, l'audaci imprese io canto,</i> &c.</p> +</div> + +<p>For the very next reflection which I made was this, +that an heroic play ought to be an imitation, in +<span class="pgnm" id="page_019"></span> +little, of an heroic poem; and, consequently, that +love and valour ought to be the subject of it. Both +these Sir William D'Avenant had begun to shadow; +but it was so, as first discoverers draw their maps, +with headlands, and promontories, and some few +outlines of somewhat taken at a distance, and which +the designer saw not clearly. The common drama +obliged him to a plot well formed and pleasant, or, +as the ancients call it, one entire and great action. +But this he afforded not himself in a story, which +he neither filled with persons, nor beautified with +characters, nor varied with accidents. The laws of +an heroic poem did not dispense with those of the +other, but raised them to a greater height, and indulged +him a farther liberty of fancy, and of drawing +all things as far above the ordinary proportion +of the stage, as that is beyond the common words +and actions of human life; and, therefore, in the +scanting of his images and design, he complied not +enough with the greatness and majesty of an heroic +poem.</p> + +<p>I am sorry I cannot discover my opinion of this +kind of writing, without dissenting much from his, +whose memory I love and honour. But I will do +it with the same respect to him, as if he were now +alive, and overlooking my paper while I write. His +judgment of an heroic poem was this: "That it +ought to be dressed in a more familiar and easy +shape; more fitted to the common actions and passions +of human life; and, in short, more like a glass +of nature, shewing us ourselves in our ordinary habits +and figuring a more practicable virtue to us, +than was done by the ancients or moderns." Thus +he takes the image of an heroic poem from the +drama, or stage poetry; and accordingly intended +to divide it into five books, representing the same +<span class="pgnm" id="page_020"></span> +number of acts; and every book into several cantos, +imitating the scenes which compose our acts.</p> + +<p>But this, I think, is rather a play in narration, as +I may call it, than an heroic poem. If at least you +will not prefer the opinion of a single man to the +practice of the most excellent authors, both of ancient +and latter ages. I am no admirer of quotations; +but you shall hear, if you please, one of the +ancients delivering his judgment on this question; +it is Petronius Arbiter, the most elegant, and one of +the most judicious authors of the Latin tongue; +who, after he had given many admirable rules for +the structure and beauties of an epic poem, concludes +all in these following words:—</p> + +<blockquote><p><i>"Non enim res gestæ versibus comprehendendæ +sunt, quod longe melius historici faciunt: sed, per ambages +deorumque ministeria, præcipitanaus est liber +spiritus, ut potius furentis animi vaticinatio appareat, +quam religiosæ orationis, sub testibus, fides."</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>In which sentence, and his own essay of a poem, +which immediately he gives you, it is thought he +taxes Lucan, who followed too much the truth of +history, crowded sentences together, was too full of +points, and too often offered at somewhat which +had more of the sting of an epigram, than of the +dignity and state of an heroic poem. Lucan used +not much the help of his heathen deities: There +was neither the ministry of the gods, nor the precipitation +of the soul, nor the fury of a prophet (of +which my author speaks), in his <i>Pharsalia</i>; he treats +you more like a philosopher than a poet, and instructs +you in verse, with what he had been taught +by his uncle Seneca in prose. In one word, he walks +soberly afoot, when he might fly. Yet Lucan is not +always this religious historian. The oracle of Appius +and the witchcraft of Erictho, will somewhat +atone for him, who was, indeed, bound up by an ill-chosen +<span class="pgnm" id="page_021"></span> +and known argument, to follow truth with +great exactness. For my part, I am of opinion, that +neither Homer, Virgil, Statius, Ariosto, Tasso, nor +our English Spencer, could have formed their poems +half so beautiful, without those gods and spirits, +and those enthusiastic parts of poetry, which compose +the most noble parts of all their writings. And +I will ask any man who loves heroic poetry (for I +will not dispute their tastes who do not), if the +ghost of Polydorus in Virgil, the Enchanted Wood +in Tasso, and the Bower of Bliss in Spencer (which +he borrows from that admirable Italian) could have +been omitted, without taking from their works +some of the greatest beauties in them. And if any +man object the improbabilities of a spirit appearing, +or of a palace raised by magic; I boldly answer +him, that an heroic poet is not tied to a bare representation +of what is true, or exceeding probable; +but that he may let himself loose to visionary objects +and to the representation of such things, as, +depending not on sense, and therefore not to be +comprehended by knowledge, may give him a freer +scope for imagination. It is enough that, in all ages +and religions, the greatest part of mankind have +believed the power of magic, and that there are spirits +or spectres which have appeared. This, I say, +is foundation enough for poetry; and I dare farther +affirm, that the whole doctrine of separated beings, +whether those spirits are incorporeal substances, +(which Mr Hobbes, with some reason, thinks to imply +a contradiction) or that they are a thinner and +more aërial sort of bodies, (as some of the fathers +have conjectured) may better be explicated by poets +than by philosophers or divines. For their speculations +on this subject are wholly poetical; they +have only their fancy for their guide; and that, being +sharper in an excellent poet, than it is likely it +<span class="pgnm" id="page_022"></span> +should in a phlegmatic, heavy gownman, will see +farther in its own empire, and produce more satisfactory +notions on those dark and doubtful problems.</p> + +<p>Some men think they have raised a great argument +against the use of spectres and magic in heroic +poetry, by saying they are unnatural; but whether +they or I believe there are such things, is not +material; it is enough that, for aught we know, they +may be in nature; and whatever is, or may be, is +not properly unnatural. Neither am I much concerned +at Mr Cowley's verses before "Gondibert," +though his authority is almost sacred to me: It is +true, he has resembled the old epic poetry to a fantastic +fairy-land; but he has contradicted himself +by his own example: For he has himself made use +of angels and visions in his "Davideis," as well as +Tasso in his "Godfrey."</p> + +<p>What I have written on this subject will not be +thought a digression by the reader, if he please to +remember what I said in the beginning of this essay, +that I have modelled my heroic plays by the +rules of an heroic poem. And if that be the most +noble, the most pleasant, and the most instructive +way of writing in verse, and withal the highest pattern +of human life, as all poets have agreed, I shall +need no other argument to justify my choice in this +imitation. One advantage the drama has above the +other, namely, that it represents to view what the +poem only does relate; and, <i>Segnius irritant animum +demissa per aures, quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta +fidelibus</i>, as Horace tells us.</p> + +<p>To those who object my frequent use of drums +and trumpets, and my representations of battles, I +answer, I introduced them not on the English stage: +Shakespeare used them frequently; and though +Jonson shews no battle in his "Catiline," yet you hear +<span class="pgnm" id="page_023"></span> +from behind the scenes the sounding of trumpets, +and the shouts of fighting armies. But, I add farther, +that these warlike instruments, and even their +presentations of fighting on the stage, are no more +than necessary to produce the effects of an heroic +play; that is, to raise the imagination of the audience +and to persuade them, for the time, that what +they behold on the theatre is really performed. The +poet is then to endeavour an absolute dominion over +the minds of the spectators; for, though our fancy +will contribute to its own deceit, yet a writer ought +to help its operation: And that the Red Bull has +formerly done the same, is no more an argument +against our practice, than it would be for a physician +to forbear an approved medicine, because a +mountebank has used it with success.</p> + +<p>Thus I have given a short account of heroic plays. +I might now, with the usual eagerness of an author, +make a particular defence of this. But the common +opinion (how unjust soever) has been so much +to my advantage, that I have reason to be satisfied, +and to suffer with patience all that can be urged +against it.</p> + +<p>For, otherwise, what can be more easy for me, +than to defend the character of Almanzor, which +is one great exception that is made against the +play? 'Tis said, that Almanzor is no perfect pattern +of heroic virtue, that he is a contemner of kings, +and that he is made to perform impossibilities.</p> + +<p>I must therefore avow, in the first place, from +whence I took the character. The first image I +had of him, was from the Achilles of Homer; the +next from Tasso's Rinaldo, (who was a copy of the +former) and the third from the Artaban of Monsieur +Calpranede, who has imitated both. The original +of these, Achilles, is taken by Homer for his hero; +and is described by him as one, who in strength +<span class="pgnm" id="page_024"></span> +and courage surpassed the rest of the Grecian army; +but, withal, of so fiery a temper, so impatient of an +injury, even from his king and general, that when +his mistress was to be forced from him by the command +of Agamemnon, he not only disobeyed it, but +returned him an answer full of contumely, and in +the most opprobrious terms he could imagine; they +are Homer's words which follow, and I have cited +but some few amongst a multitude.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p><span class="Greek" title="Oinobares, kynos ommat' echôn, kradiên d' elaphoio."> +Οινοβαρες, +κυνος +ομματ' +εχων, +κραδιην +δ' ελαφοιο. +</span>—Il. α. v. 225.</p> +<p><span class="Greek" title="Dêmoboros basileus"> +Δημοβορος +βασιλευς, +</span> &c.—Il. α. v. 231.</p> +</div> + +<p>Nay, he proceeded so far in his insolence, as to +draw out his sword, with intention to kill him;</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p><span class="Greek" title="Elketo d' ek koleoio mega xiphos."> +Ελκετο +δ' εκ +κολεοιο +μεγα +ξιφος. +</span>—Il. α. v. 194.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">and, if Minerva had not appeared, and held his hand, +he had executed his design; and it was all she could +do to dissuade him from it. The event was, that +he left the army, and would fight no more. Agamemnon +gives his character thus to Nestor;</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p><span class="Greek" title="All' hod' anêr ethelei peri pantôn emmenai allôn,"> +Αλλ' +`οδ +ανηρ +εθελει +περι +παντων +εμμεναι +αλλων, +</span></p> +<p><span class="Greek" title="Pantôn men krateein ethelei, pantessi d' anassein."> +Παντων +μεν +κρατεει +εθελει, +παντεσσι +δ' ανασσειν. +</span></p> +<p class="citation">Il. α. v. 287, 288</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">and Horace gives the same description of him in +his Art of Poetry.</p> + +<div class="poem" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>—Honoratum si fortè reponis Achillem,</p> +<p>Inpiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer,</p> +<p>Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis.</p> +</div> + +<p>Tasso's chief character, Rinaldo, was a man of +the same temper; for, when he had slain Gernando +in his heat of passion, he not only refused to be +judged by Godfrey, his general, but threatened that +if he came to seize him, he would right himself by +arms upon him; witness these following lines of +Tasso:</p> + +<div class="poem" style="font-style: italic"> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_025"></span> +<p>Venga egli, o mundi, io terrò fermo il piede:</p> +<p>Giudici fian tra noi la sorte, e l'arme;</p> +<p>Fera tragedia vuol che s'appresenti,</p> +<p>Per lor diporto, alle nemiche genti.</p> +</div> + +<p>You see how little these great authors did esteem +the point of honour, so much magnified by the +French, and so ridiculously aped by us. They made +their heroes men of honour; but so, as not to divest +them quite of human passions and frailties: +they content themselves to shew you, what men +of great spirits would certainly do when they were +provoked, not what they were obliged to do by the +strict rules of moral virtue. For my own part, I declare +myself for Homer and Tasso, and am more in love +with Achilles and Rinaldo, than with Cyrus and +Oroondates. I shall never subject my characters +to the French standard, where love and honour are +to be weighed by drams and scruples: Yet, where +I have designed the patterns of exact virtues, such +as in this play are the parts of Almahide, of Ozmyn, +and Benzayda, I may safely challenge the best of +theirs.</p> + +<p>But Almanzor is taxed with changing sides: and +what tie has he on him to the contrary? He is +not born their subject whom he serves, and he is +injured by them to a very high degree. He threatens +them, and speaks insolently of sovereign power; +but so do Achilles and Rinaldo, who were subjects +and soldiers to Agamemnon and Godfrey of Bulloigne. +He talks extravagantly in his passion; but, +if I would take the pains to quote an hundred passages +of Ben Jonson's Cethegus, I could easily shew +you, that the rhodomontades of Almanzor are neither +so irrational as his, nor so impossible to be put +in execution; for Cethegus threatens to destroy +nature, and to raise a new one out of it; to kill all +the senate for his part of the action; to look Cato +<span class="pgnm" id="page_026"></span> +dead; and a thousand other things as extravagant +he says, but performs not one action in the play.</p> + +<p>But none of the former calumnies will stick; and, +therefore, it is at last charged upon me, that Almanzor +does all things; or if you will have an absurd +accusation, in their nonsense who make it, that he +performs impossibilities: they say, that being a +stranger, he appeases two fighting factions, when +the authority of their lawful sovereign could not. +This is indeed the most improbable of all his actions, +but it is far from being impossible. Their king had +made himself contemptible to his people, as the history +of Granada tells us; and Almanzor, though a +stranger, yet was already known to them by his +gallantry in the Juego de torros, his engagement on +the weaker side, and more especially by the character +of his person and brave actions, given by Abdalla +just before; and, after all, the greatness of the +enterprise consisted only in the daring, for he had +the king's guards to second him: But we have read +both of Cæsar, and many other generals, who have +not only calmed a mutiny with a word, but have +presented themselves single before an army of their +enemies; which upon sight of them has revolted +from their own leaders, and come over to their +trenches. In the rest of Almanzor's actions you see +him for the most part victorious; but the same fortune +has constantly attended many heroes, who +were not imaginary. Yet, you see it no inheritance +to him; for, in the first place, he is made a prisoner; +and, in the last, defeated, and not able to preserve +the city from being taken. If the history of +the late Duke of Guise be true, he hazarded more, +and performed not less in Naples, than Almanzor is +feigned to have done in Granada.</p> + +<p>I have been too tedious in this apology; but to +make some satisfaction, I will leave the rest of my +play exposed to the criticks, without defence. +<span class="pgnm" id="page_027"></span> +The concernment of it is wholly passed from me, +and ought to be in them who have been favourable +to it, and are somewhat obliged to defend their opinions +That there are errors in it, I deny not;</p> + +<blockquote><p><i>Ast opere in tanto fas est obrepere somnum.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>But I have already swept the stakes: and, with +the common good fortune of prosperous gamesters, +can be content to sit quietly; to hear my fortune +cursed by some, and my faults arraigned by others; +and to suffer both without reply.</p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_029"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">ON MR DRYDEN'S PLAY,</h3> +<h3 class="nomarg">THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>The applause I gave among the foolish crowd</p> +<p>Was not distinguished, though I clapped aloud:</p> +<p>Or, if it had, my judgment had been hid:</p> +<p>I clapped for company, as others did.</p> +<p>Thence may be told the fortune of your play;</p> +<p>Its goodness must be tried another way.</p> +<p>Let's judge it then, and, if we've any skill,</p> +<p>Commend what's good, though we commend it ill.</p> +<p>There will be praise enough; yet not so much,</p> +<p>As if the world had never any such:</p> +<p>Ben Johnson, Beaumont, Fletcher, Shakespeare, are,</p> +<p>As well as you, to have a poet's share.</p> +<p>You, who write after, have, besides, this curse,</p> +<p>You must write better, or you else write worse.</p> +<p>To equal only what was writ before,</p> +<p>Seems stolen, or borrowed from the former store.</p> +<p>Though blind as Homer all the ancients be,</p> +<p>'Tis on their shoulders, like the lame, we see.</p> +<p>Then not to flatter th' age, nor flatter you,</p> +<p>(Praises, though less, are greater when they're true,)</p> +<p>You're equal to the best, out-done by you;</p> +<p>Who had out-done themselves, had they lived now.</p> +</div> +<p class="citation smcap">Vaughan<a class="ftnt" href="#Alman_3-1">[1]</a>.</p> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnote:</p> +<ol> +<li><a name="Alman_3-1" id="Alman_3-1"></a>John, Lord Vaughan, eldest surviving son of Richard, Earl of Carbery.</li> +</ol> +</div> + +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_030" id="page_030"></a></div> + +<h3 class="chap">PROLOGUE TO THE FIRST PART,</h3> +<h3 class="nomarg">SPOKEN BY MRS ELLEN GWYN,</h3> +<h3 class="nomarg">IN A BROAD-BRIMMED HAT, AND WAIST-BELT.<a class="ftnt" href="#Alman_4-1">[1]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><table summary="PROLOGUE TO THE FIRST PART"> +<tr><td><p>This jest was first of the other house's making,</p> +<p>And, five times tried, has never failed of taking;</p> +<p>For 'twere a shame a poet should be killed</p> +<p>Under the shelter of so broad a shield.</p> +<p>This is that hat, whose very sight did win ye</p> +<p>To laugh and clap as though the devil were in ye.</p> +<p>As then, for Nokes, so now I hope you'll be</p> +<p>So dull, to laugh once more for love of me.</p> +<p>I'll write a play, says one, for I have got</p> +<p>A broad-brimmed hat, and waist-belt, towards a plot.</p> +<p>Says the other, I have one more large than that.</p> +<p>Thus they out-write each other—with a hat!</p> +<p>The brims still grew with every play they writ;</p> +<p>And grew so large, they covered all the wit.</p> +<p>Hat was the play; 'twas language, wit, and tale:</p> +<p>Like them that find meat, drink, and cloth in ale.</p> +<p>What dulness do these mongrel wits confess,</p> +<p>When all their hope is acting of a dress!</p> +<p>Thus, two the best comedians of the age</p> +<p>Must be worn out, with being blocks o' the stage;</p> +<p>Like a young girl, who better things has known,</p> +<p>Beneath their poet's impotence they groan.</p> +<p>See now what charity it was to save!</p> +<p>They thought you liked, what only you forgave;</p> +<p><span class="pgnm" id="page_031"></span> +And brought you more dull sense, dull sense much worse</p> +<p>Than brisk gay nonsense, and the heavier curse.</p> +<p>They bring old iron, and glass upon the stage,</p> +<p>To barter with the Indians of our age.</p> +<p>Still they write on, and like great authors show;</p> +<p>But 'tis as rollers in wet gardens grow</p> +<p>Heavy with dirt, and gathering as they go.</p> +<p>May none, who have so little understood,</p> +<p>To like such trash, presume to praise what's good!</p> +<p>And may those drudges of the stage, whose fate</p> +<p>Is damned dull farce more dully to translate,</p> +<p>Fall under that excise the state thinks fit</p> +<p>To set on all French wares, whose worst is wit.</p> +<p>French farce, worn out at home, is sent abroad;</p> +<p>And, patched up here, is made our English mode.</p> +<p>Henceforth, let poets, ere allowed to write,</p> +<p>Be searched, like duelists before they fight,</p> +<p>For wheel-broad hats, dull honour, all that chaff,</p> +<p>Which makes you mourn, and makes the vulgar laugh:</p> +<p>For these, in plays, are as unlawful arms,</p> +<p>As, in a combat, coats of mail, and charms.</p> +</td> +<td><p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +}<br /> +}<br /> +}<br /></p> +</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<a name="Alman_4-1" id="Alman_4-1"> </a> +<p>Footnote:</p> +<ol> +<li>There is a vague tradition, that, in this grotesque dress, (for the brims of +the hat were as broad as a cart-wheel,) Nell Gwyn had the good fortune first +to attract the attention of her royal lover. Where the jest lay, is difficult to +discover: it seems to have originated with the duke of York's players.</li> +</ol></div> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_032"></span></div> +<h3 class="chap">DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Mahomet Boabdelin,</span> <i>the last king of Granada.</i><br /> +<i>Prince</i> <span class="smcap">Abdalla,</span> <i>his brother.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Abdelmelech,</span> <i>chief of the Abencerrages.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Zulema,</span> <i>chief of the Zegrys.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Abenamar,</span> <i>an old Abencerrago.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Selin,</span> <i>an old Zegry.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Ozmyn,</span> <i>a brave young Abencerrago, son to Abenamar.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Hamet,</span> <i>brother to Zulema, a Zegry.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Gomel,</span> <i>a Zegry.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Almanzor.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Ferdinand,</span> <i>king of Spain.</i><br /> +<i>Duke of</i> <span class="smcap">Arcos,</span> <i>his General.</i><br /> +<i>Don</i> <span class="smcap">Alonzo d'Aguilar,</span> <i>a Spanish Captain.</i></p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Almahide,</span> <i>Queen of Granada.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lyndaraxa,</span> <i>Sister of</i> <span class="smcap">Zulema,</span> <i>a Zegry Lady.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Benzayda,</span> <i>Daughter to</i> <span class="smcap">Selin.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Esperanza,</span> <i>Slave to the Queen.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Halyma,</span> <i>Slave to</i> <span class="smcap">Lyndaraxa.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Isabella,</span> <i>Queen of Spain.</i></p> + +<p class="noind"><i>Messengers, Guards, Attendants, Men, and Women.</i></p> + +<p>SCENE.—<i>Granada, and the Christian Camp besieging it.</i></p> +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_033"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE,</h3> +<p class="ctr">OR, THE</p> +<h3 class="nomarg">CONQUEST OF GRANADA.</h3> +<p class="ctr">THE FIRST PART.</p> + +<h4 class="scn">ACT I. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Boabdelin, Abenamar, Abdelmelech,</span> +and Guards.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Thus, in the triumphs of soft peace, I reign;<br /> +And, from my walls, defy the powers of Spain;<br /> +With pomp and sports my love I celebrate,<br /> +While they keep distance, and attend my state.—<br /> +Parent to her, whose eyes my soul enthral, <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Aben.</span></span><br /> +Whom I, in hope, already father call,<br /> +Abenamar, thy youth these sports has known,<br /> +Of which thy age is now spectator grown;<br /> +Judge-like thou sit'st, to praise, or to arraign<br /> +The flying skirmish of the darted cane:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_034"></span> +But, when fierce bulls run loose upon the place,<br /> +And our bold Moors their loves with danger grace,<br /> +Then heat new-bends thy slacken'd nerves again,<br /> +And a short youth runs warm through every vein.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> I must confess the encounters of this day<br /> +Warmed me indeed, but quite another way,—<br /> +Not with the fire of youth; but generous rage,<br /> +To see the glories of my youthful age<br /> +So far out-done.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Castile could never boast, in all its pride;<br /> +A pomp so splendid, when the lists, set wide,<br /> +Gave room to the fierce bulls, which wildly ran<br /> +In Sierra Ronda, ere the war began;<br /> +Who, with high nostrils snuffing up the wind,<br /> +Now stood the champion of the savage kind.<br /> +Just opposite, within the circled place,<br /> +Ten of our bold Abencerrages race<br /> +(Each brandishing his bull-spear in his hand,)<br /> +Did their proud jennets gracefully command.<br /> +On their steel'd heads their demi-lances wore<br /> +Small pennons, which their ladies' colours bore.<br /> +Before this troop did warlike Ozmyn go;<br /> +Each lady, as he rode, saluting low;<br /> +At the chief stands, with reverence more profound,<br /> +His well-taught courser, kneeling, touched the ground;<br /> +Thence raised, he sidelong bore his rider on,<br /> +Still facing, till he out of sight was gone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> You praise him like a friend; and I confess,<br /> +His brave deportment merited no less.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Nine bulls were launched by his victorious arm,<br /> +Whose wary jennet, shunning still the harm,<br /> +Seemed to attend the shock, and then leaped wide:<br /> +Mean while, his dext'rous rider, when he spied<br /> +The beast just stooping, 'twixt the neck and head<br /> +His lance, with never-erring fury, sped.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_035"></span> +<span class="cnm">Aben.</span> My son did well, and so did Hamet too;<br /> +Yet did no more than we were wont to do;<br /> +But what the stranger did was more than man.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> He finished all those triumphs we began.<br /> +One bull, with curled black head, beyond the rest,<br /> +And dew-laps hanging from his brawny chest,<br /> +With nodding front a while did daring stand,<br /> +And with his jetty hoof spurned back the sand;<br /> +Then, leaping forth, he bellowed out aloud:<br /> +The amazed assistants back each other crowd,<br /> +While monarch-like he ranged the listed field;<br /> +Some tossed, some gored, some trampling down he killed.<br /> +The ignobler Moors from far his rage provoke<br /> +With woods of darts, which from his sides he shook.<br /> +Mean time your valiant son, who had before<br /> +Gained fame, rode round to every Mirador;<br /> +Beneath each lady's stand a stop he made,<br /> +And, bowing, took the applauses which they paid.<br /> +Just in that point of time, the brave unknown<br /> +Approached the lists.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> I marked him, when alone<br /> +(Observed by all, himself observing none)<br /> +He entered first, and with a graceful pride<br /> +His fiery Arab dextrously did guide,<br /> +Who, while his rider every stand surveyed,<br /> +Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade;<br /> +Not moving forward, yet, with every bound,<br /> +Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground.<br /> +What after passed<br /> +Was far from the Ventanna where I sate,<br /> +But you were near, and can the truth relate. <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Thus while he stood, the bull, who saw his foe,<br /> +His easier conquests proudly did forego;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_036"></span> +And, making at him with a furious bound,<br /> +From his bent forehead aimed a double wound.<br /> +A rising murmur ran through all the field,<br /> +And every lady's blood with fear was chilled:<br /> +Some shrieked, while others, with more helpful care,<br /> +Cried out aloud,—Beware, brave youth, beware!<br /> +At this he turned, and, as the bull drew near,<br /> +Shunned, and received him on his pointed spear:<br /> +The lance broke short, the beast then bellowed loud,<br /> +And his strong neck to a new onset bowed.<br /> +The undaunted youth<br /> +Then drew; and, from his saddle bending low,<br /> +Just where the neck did to the shoulders grow,<br /> +With his full force discharged a deadly blow.<br /> +Not heads of poppies (when they reap the grain)<br /> +Fall with more ease before the labouring swain,<br /> +Than fell this head:<br /> +It fell so quick, it did even death prevent,<br /> +And made imperfect bellowings as it went.<br /> +Then all the trumpets victory did sound,<br /> +And yet their clangors in our shouts were drown'd. +<span class="sdr">[A confused noise within.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> The alarm-bell rings from our Alhambra walls,<br /> +And from the streets sound drums and ataballes. +<span class="sdr">[Within, a bell, drums, and trumpets.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter a Messenger.</p> + +<p class="dlg">How now? from whence proceed these new alarms?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mess.</span> The two fierce factions are again in arms;<br /> +And, changing into blood the day's delight,<br /> +The Zegrys with the Abencerrages fight;<br /> +On each side their allies and friends appear;<br /> +The Macas here, the Alabezes there:<br /> +The Gazuls with the Bencerrages join,<br /> +And, with the Zegrys, all great Gomel's line.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Draw up behind the Vivarambla place;<br /> +Double my guards,—these factions I will face;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_037"></span> +And try if all the fury they can bring,<br /> +Be proof against the presence of their king. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Boab.</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn">The Factions appear: At the head of the Abencerrages, +<span class="cnm">Ozmyn;</span> at the head of the Zegrys, +<span class="cnm">Zulema, Hamet, Gomel,</span> and <span class="cnm">Selin: +Abenamar</span> and <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech,</span> joined +with the Abencerrages.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> The faint Abencerrages quit their ground:<br /> +Press them; put home your thrusts to every wound.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Zegry, on manly force our line relies;<br /> +Thine poorly takes the advantage of surprise:<br /> +Unarmed and much out-numbered we retreat;<br /> +You gain no fame, when basely you defeat.<br /> +If thou art brave, seek nobler victory;<br /> +Save Moorish blood; and, while our bands stand by,<br /> +Let two and two an equal combat try.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ham.</span> 'Tis not for fear the combat we refuse,<br /> +But we our gained advantage will not lose.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> In combating, but two of you will fall;<br /> +And we resolve we will dispatch you all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> We'll double yet the exchange before we die,<br /> +And each of ours two lives of yours shall buy.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> enters betwixt them, as they stand ready +to engage.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alm.</span> I cannot stay to ask which cause is best;<br /> +But this is so to me, because opprest. <span class="sdr">[Goes to the Aben.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Boabdelin</span> and his guards, going betwixt +them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> On your allegiance, I command you stay;<br /> +Who passes here, through me must make his way;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_038"></span> +My life's the Isthmus; through this narrow line<br /> +You first must cut, before those seas can join.<br /> +What fury, Zegrys, has possessed your minds?<br /> +What rage the brave Abencerrages blinds?<br /> +If of your courage you new proofs would show,<br /> +Without much travel you may find a foe.<br /> +Those foes are neither so remote nor few,<br /> +That you should need each other to pursue.<br /> +Lean times and foreign wars should minds unite;<br /> +When poor, men mutter, but they seldom fight.<br /> +O holy Alha! that I live to see<br /> +Thy Granadines assist their enemy!<br /> +You fight the christians' battles; every life<br /> +You lavish thus, in this intestine strife,<br /> +Does from our weak foundations take one prop,<br /> +Which helped to hold our sinking country up.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> 'Tis fit our private enmity should cease;<br /> +Though injured first, yet I will first seek peace.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> No, murderer, no; I never will be won<br /> +To peace with him, whose hand has slain my son.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Our prophet's curse<br /> +On me, and all the Abencerrages light,<br /> +If, unprovoked, I with your son did fight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> A band of Zegrys ran within the place,<br /> +Matched with a troop of thirty of our race.<br /> +Your son and Ozmyn the first squadrons led,<br /> +Which, ten by ten, like Parthians, charged and fled.<br /> +The ground was strowed with canes where we did meet,<br /> +Which crackled underneath our coursers' feet:<br /> +When Tarifa (I saw him ride a part)<br /> +Changed his blunt cane for a steel-pointed dart,<br /> +And, meeting Ozmyn next,—<br /> +Who wanted time for treason to provide,—<br /> +He basely threw it at him, undefied.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> [<span class="sdm">Shewing his arms.</span>] +Witness this blood—which when by treason sought,<br /> +That followed, sir, which to myself I ought.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_039"></span> +<span class="cnm">Zul.</span> His hate to thee was grounded on a grudge,<br /> +Which all our generous Zegrys just did judge:<br /> +Thy villain-blood thou openly didst place<br /> +Above the purple of our kingly race.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> From equal stems their blood both houses draw,<br /> +They from Morocco, you from Cordova.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ham.</span> Their mongrel race is mixed with Christian breed;<br /> +Hence 'tis that they those dogs in prisons feed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Our holy prophet wills, that charity<br /> +Should even to birds and beasts extended be:<br /> +None knows what fate is for himself designed;<br /> +The thought of human chance should make us kind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> We waste that time we to revenge should give:<br /> +Fall on: let no Abencerrago live. +<span class="sdr">[Advancing before the rest of his party. <span class="chm">Almanzor</span> +advancing on the other side, and +describing a line with his sword.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Upon thy life pass not this middle space;<br /> +Sure death stands guarding the forbidden place.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> To dare that death, I will approach yet nigher;<br /> +Thus,—wert thou compassed in with circling fire. <span class="sdr">[They fight.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Disarm them both; if they resist you, kill. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Almanzor,</span> in the midst of the guards, kills +<span class="cnm">Gomel,</span> and then is disarmed.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Now you have but the leavings of my will.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Kill him! this insolent unknown shall fall,<br /> +And be the victim to atone you all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> If he must die, not one of us will live:<br /> +That life he gave for us, for him we give.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_040"></span> +<span class="cnm">Boab.</span> It was a traitor's voice that spoke those words;<br /> +So are you all, who do not sheath your swords.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Outrage unpunished, when a prince is by,<br /> +Forfeits to scorn the rights of majesty:<br /> +No subject his protection can expect,<br /> +Who what he owes himself does first neglect.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> This stranger, sir, is he,<br /> +Who lately in the Vivarambla place<br /> +Did, with so loud applause, your triumphs grace.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> The word which I have given, I'll not revoke;<br /> +If he be brave, he's ready for the stroke.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> No man has more contempt than I of breath,<br /> +But whence hast thou the right to give me death?<br /> +Obeyed as sovereign by thy subjects be,<br /> +But know, that I alone am king of me.<br /> +I am as free as nature first made man,<br /> +Ere the base laws of servitude began,<br /> +When wild in woods the noble savage ran.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Since, then, no power above your own you know,<br /> +Mankind should use you like a common foe;<br /> +You should be hunted like a beast of prey:<br /> +By your own law I take your life away.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> My laws are made but only for my sake;<br /> +No king against himself a law can make.<br /> +If thou pretend'st to be a prince like me,<br /> +Blame not an act, which should thy pattern be.<br /> +I saw the oppressed, and thought it did belong<br /> +To a king's office to redress the wrong:<br /> +I brought that succour, which thou ought'st to bring,<br /> +And so, in nature, am thy subjects' king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> I do not want your counsel to direct<br /> +Or aid to help me punish or protect.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_041"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Thou want'st them both, or better thou would'st know,<br /> +Than to let factions in thy kingdom grow.<br /> +Divided interests, while thou think'st to sway,<br /> +Draw, like two brooks, thy middle stream away:<br /> +For though they band and jar, yet both combine<br /> +To make their greatness by the fall of thine.<br /> +Thus, like a buckler, thou art held in sight,<br /> +While they behind thee with each other fight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Away, and execute him instantly! <span class="sdr">[To his Guards.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Stand off; I have not leisure yet to die.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To them, enter <span class="cnm">Abdalla</span> hastily.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Hold, sir! for heaven's sake hold!<br /> +Defer this noble stranger's punishment,<br /> +Or your rash orders you will soon repent.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Brother, you know not yet his insolence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Upon yourself you punish his offence:<br /> +If we treat gallant strangers in this sort,<br /> +Mankind will shun the inhospitable court;<br /> +And who, henceforth, to our defence will come,<br /> +If death must be the brave Almanzor's doom?<br /> +From Africa I drew him to your aid,<br /> +And for his succour have his life betrayed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Is this the Almanzor whom at Fez you knew,<br /> +When first their swords the Xeriff brothers drew?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> This, sir, is he, who for the elder fought,<br /> +And to the juster cause the conquest brought;<br /> +Till the proud Santo, seated on the throne,<br /> +Disdained the service he had done to own:<br /> +Then to the vanquished part his fate he led;<br /> +The vanquished triumphed, and the victor fled.<br /> +Vast is his courage, boundless is his mind,<br /> +Rough as a storm, and humorous as wind:<br /> +Honour's the only idol of his eyes;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_042"></span> +The charms of beauty like a pest he flies;<br /> +And, raised by valour from a birth unknown,<br /> +Acknowledges no power above his own. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Boabdelin</span> coming to <span class="cnm">Almanzor.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Impute your danger to our ignorance;<br /> +The bravest men are subject most to chance:<br /> +Granada much does to your kindness owe;<br /> +But towns, expecting sieges, cannot show<br /> +More honour, than to invite you to a foe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I do not doubt but I have been to blame:<br /> +But, to pursue the end for which I came,<br /> +Unite your subjects first; then let us go,<br /> +And pour their common rage upon the foe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> [<span class="sdm">to the Factions.</span>] +Lay down your arms, and let me beg you cease<br /> +Your enmities.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> We will not hear of peace,<br /> +Till we by force have first revenged our slain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> The action we have done we will maintain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> Then let the king depart, and we will try<br /> +Our cause by arms.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> For us and victory.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> A king entreats you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> What subjects will precarious kings regard?<br /> +A beggar speaks too softly to be heard:<br /> +Lay down your arms! 'tis I command you now.<br /> +Do it—or, by our prophet's soul I vow,<br /> +My hands shall right your king on him I seize.<br /> +Now let me see whose look but disobeys.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All.</span> Long live king Mahomet Boabdelin!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> No more; but hushed as midnight silence go:<br /> +He will not have your acclamations now.<br /> +Hence, you unthinking crowd!— +<span class="sdr">[The Common People go off on both parties.</span><br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_043"></span> +Empire, thou poor and despicable thing,<br /> +When such as these make or unmake a king!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> How much of virtue lies in one great soul, +<span class="sdr">[Embracing him.</span><br /> +Whose single force can multitudes controul! <span class="sdr">[A trumpet within.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter a Messenger.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Messen.</span> The Duke of Arcos, sir,<br /> +Does with a trumpet from the foe appear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Attend him; he shall have his audience here.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter the Duke of <span class="cnm">Arcos.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> The monarchs of Castile and Arragon<br /> +Have sent me to you, to demand this town.<br /> +To which their just and rightful claim is known.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Tell Ferdinand, my right to it appears<br /> +By long possession of eight hundred years:<br /> +When first my ancestors from Afric sailed,<br /> +In Rodrique's death your Gothic title failed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> The successors of Rodrique still remain,<br /> +And ever since have held some part of Spain:<br /> +Even in the midst of your victorious powers,<br /> +The Asturias, and all Portugal, were ours.<br /> +You have no right, except you force allow;<br /> +And if yours then was just, so ours is now.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> 'Tis true from force the noblest title springs;<br /> +I therefore hold from that, which first made kings.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Since then by force you prove your title true,<br /> +Ours must be just, because we claim from you.<br /> +When with your father you did jointly reign,<br /> +Invading with your Moors the south of Spain,<br /> +I, who that day the Christians did command,<br /> +Then took, and brought you bound to Ferdinand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_044"></span> +<span class="cnm">Boab.</span> I'll hear no more; defer what you would say;<br /> +In private we'll discourse some other day.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Sir, you shall hear, however you are loth,<br /> +That, like a perjured prince, you broke your oath:<br /> +To gain your freedom you a contract signed,<br /> +By which your crown you to my king resigned,<br /> +From thenceforth as his vassal holding it,<br /> +And paying tribute such as he thought fit;<br /> +Contracting, when your father came to die,<br /> +To lay aside all marks of royalty,<br /> +And at Purchena privately to live,<br /> +Which, in exchange, king Ferdinand did give.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> The force used on me made that contract void.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Why have you then its benefits enjoyed?<br /> +By it you had not only freedom then,<br /> +But, since, had aid of money and of men;<br /> +And, when Granada for your uncle held,<br /> +You were by us restored, and he expelled.<br /> +Since that, in peace we let you reap your grain,<br /> +Recalled our troops, that used to beat your plain;<br /> +And more—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Yes, yes, you did, with wonderous care,<br /> +Against his rebels prosecute the war,<br /> +While he secure in your protection slept;<br /> +For him you took, but for yourself you kept.<br /> +Thus, as some fawning usurer does feed,<br /> +With present sums, the unwary spendthrift's need,<br /> +You sold your kindness at a boundless rate,<br /> +And then o'erpaid the debt from his estate;<br /> +Which, mouldering piecemeal, in your hands did fall,<br /> +Till now at last you come to swoop it all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> The wrong you do my king, I cannot bear;<br /> +Whose kindness you would odiously compare.—<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_045"></span> +The estate was his; which yet, since you deny,<br /> +He's now content, in his own wrong, to buy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> And he shall buy it dear! What his he calls,<br /> +We will not give one stone from out these walls.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Take this for answer, then,—<br /> +Whate'er your arms have conquered of my land,<br /> +I will, for peace, resign to Ferdinand.—<br /> +To harder terms my mind I cannot bring;<br /> +But, as I still have lived, will die a king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Since thus you have resolved, henceforth prepare<br /> +For all the last extremities of war:<br /> +My king his hope from heaven's assistance draws.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> The Moors have heaven, and me, to assist their cause. +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Arcos.</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Esperanza.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Esper.</span> Fair Almahide,<br /> +(Who did with weeping eyes these discords see,<br /> +And fears the omen may unlucky be,)<br /> +Prepares a zambra to be danced this night.<br /> +In hope soft pleasures may your minds unite.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> My mistress gently chides the fault I made:<br /> +But tedious business has my love delayed,—<br /> +Business which dares the joys of kings invade.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> First let us sally out, and meet the foe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Led on by you, we on to triumph go.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Then with the day let war and tumult cease;<br /> +The night be sacred to our love and peace:<br /> +'Tis just some joys on weary kings should wait;<br /> +'Tis all we gain by being slaves to state. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_046"></span></div> +<h4 class="scn">ACT II. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abdalla, Abdelmelech, Ozmyn, Zulema,</span> +and <span class="cnm">Hamet,</span> as returning from the sally.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> This happy day does to Granada bring<br /> +A lasting peace, and triumphs to the king!—<br /> +The two fierce factions will no longer jar,<br /> +Since they have now been brothers in the war.<br /> +Those who, apart, in emulation fought,<br /> +The common danger to one body brought;<br /> +And, to his cost, the proud Castilian finds<br /> +Our Moorish courage in united minds.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Since to each others aid our lives we owe,<br /> +Lose we the name of faction, and of foe;<br /> +Which I to Zulema can bear no more,<br /> +Since Lyndaraxa's beauty I adore.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> I am obliged to Lyndaraxa's charms,<br /> +Which gain the conquest I should lose by arms;<br /> +And wish my sister may continue fair,<br /> +That I may keep a good,<br /> +Of whose possession I should else despair.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> While we indulge our common happiness,<br /> +He is forgot, by whom we all possess;<br /> +The brave Almanzor, to whose arms we owe<br /> +All that we did, and all that we shall do;<br /> +Who, like a tempest, that out-rides the wind,<br /> +Made a just battle ere the bodies joined.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> His victories we scarce could keep in view,<br /> +Or polish them so fast as he rough-drew.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Fate, after him, below with pain did move,<br /> +And victory could scarce keep pace above:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_047"></span> +Death did at length so many slain forget,<br /> +And lost the tale, and took them by the great.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor,</span> with the Duke of <span class="cnm">Arcos,</span> +prisoner.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> See, here he comes,<br /> +And leads in triumph him, who did command<br /> +The vanquished army of king Ferdinand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> [<span class="sdm">To the Duke.</span>]<br /> +Thus far your master's arms a fortune find<br /> +Below the swelled ambition of his mind;<br /> +And Alha shuts a misbeliever's reign<br /> +From out the best and goodliest part of Spain.<br /> +Let Ferdinand Calabrian conquests make,<br /> +And from the French contested Milan take;<br /> +Let him new worlds discover to the old,<br /> +And break up shining mountains, big with gold;<br /> +Yet he shall find this small domestic foe,<br /> +Still sharp and pointed, to his bosom grow.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Of small advantages too much you boast;<br /> +You beat the out-guards of my master's host:<br /> +This little loss, in our vast body, shows<br /> +So small, that half have never heard the news.<br /> +Fame's out of breath, ere she can fly so far,<br /> +To tell them all, that you have e'er made war.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> It pleases me your army is so great;<br /> +For now I know there's more to conquer yet.<br /> +By heaven! I'll see what troops you have behind:<br /> +I'll face this storm, that thickens in the wind;<br /> +And, with bent forehead, full against it go,<br /> +'Till I have found the last and utmost foe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Believe, you shall not long attend in vain:<br /> +To-morrow's dawn shall cover all the plain;<br /> +Bright arms shall flash upon you from afar,<br /> +A wood of lances, and a moving war.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_048"></span> +But I, unhappy, in my bonds, must yet<br /> +Be only pleased to hear of your defeat,<br /> +And with a slave's inglorious ease remain,<br /> +'Till conquering Ferdinand has broke my chain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Vain man, thy hopes of Ferdinand are weak!<br /> +I hold thy chain too fast for him to break.<br /> +But, since thou threaten'st us, I'll set thee free,<br /> +That I again may fight, and conquer thee.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Old as I am, I take thee at thy word,<br /> +And will to-morrow thank thee with my sword.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I'll go, and instantly acquaint the king,<br /> +And sudden orders for thy freedom bring.<br /> +Thou canst not be so pleased at liberty,<br /> +As I shall be to find thou darest be free. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Almanzor, Arcos,</span> and the rest, excepting +only <span class="cnm">Abdalla</span> and <span class="cnm">Zulema.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Of all those Christians who infest this town,<br /> +This duke of Arcos is of most renown.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Oft have I heard, that, in your father's reign,<br /> +His bold adventurers beat the neighbouring plain;<br /> +Then under Ponce Leon's name he fought,<br /> +And from our triumphs many prizes brought;<br /> +Till in disgrace from Spain at length he went,<br /> +And since continued long in banishment.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> But, see, your beauteous sister does appear.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> By my desire she came to find me here. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Zulema</span> and <span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa</span> whisper; then <span class="cnm">Zul.</span> +goes out, and <span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> is going after.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Why, fairest Lyndaraxa, do you fly <span class="sdr">[Staying her.</span><br /> +A prince, who at your feet is proud to die?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Sir, I should blush to own so rude a thing, +<span class="sdr">[Staying.</span><br /> +As 'tis to shun the brother of my king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_049"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> In my hard fortune, I some ease should find,<br /> +Did your disdain extend to all mankind.<br /> +But give me leave to grieve, and to complain,<br /> +That you give others what I beg in vain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Take my esteem, if you on that can live;<br /> +For, frankly, sir, 'tis all I have to give:<br /> +If from my heart you ask or hope for more,<br /> +I grieve the place is taken up before.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> My rival merits you.—<br /> +To Abdelmelech I will justice do;<br /> +For he wants worth, who dares not praise a foe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> That for his virtue, sir, you make defence,<br /> +Shows in your own a noble confidence.<br /> +But him defending, and excusing me,<br /> +I know not what can your advantage be.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> I fain would ask, ere I proceed in this,<br /> +If, as by choice, you are by promise his?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> The engagement only in my love does lie,<br /> +But that's a knot which you can ne'er untie.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> When cities are besieged, and treat to yield,<br /> +If there appear relievers from the field,<br /> +The flag of parley may be taken down,<br /> +Till the success of those without is known;</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Though Abdelmelech has not yet possest,<br /> +Yet I have sealed the treaty in my breast.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Your treaty has not tied you to a day;<br /> +Some chance might break it, would you but delay.<br /> +If I can judge the secrets of your heart,<br /> +Ambition in it has the greatest part;<br /> +And wisdom, then, will shew some difference,<br /> +Betwixt a private person, and a prince.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Princes are subjects still.—<br /> +Subject and subject can small difference bring:<br /> +The difference is 'twixt subjects and a king.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_050"></span> +And since, sir, you are none, your hopes remove;<br /> +For less than empire I'll not change my love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Had I a crown, all I should prize in it,<br /> +Should be the power to lay it at your feet.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Had you that crown, which you but wish, not hope,<br /> +Then I, perhaps, might stoop, and take it up.<br /> +But till your wishes and your hopes agree,<br /> +You shall be still a private man with me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> If I am king, and if my brother die,—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Two if's scarce make one possibility.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> The rule of happiness by reason scan;<br /> +You may be happy with a private man.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> That happiness I may enjoy, 'tis true;<br /> +But then that private man must not be you.<br /> +Where'er I love, I'm happy in my choice;<br /> +If I make you so, you shall pay my price.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Why would you be so great?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Because I've seen,<br /> +This day, what 'tis to hope to be a queen.—<br /> +Heaven, how you all watched each motion of her eye!<br /> +None could be seen while Almahide was by,<br /> +Because she is to be—her majesty!—<br /> +Why would I be a queen? Because my face<br /> +Would wear the title with a better grace.<br /> +If I became it not, yet it would be<br /> +Part of your duty, then, to flatter me.<br /> +These are but half the charms of being great;<br /> +I would be somewhat, that I know not yet:—<br /> +Yes! I avow the ambition of my soul,<br /> +To be that one to live without controul!<br /> +And that's another happiness to me,<br /> +To be so happy as but one can be.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Madam,—because I would all doubts remove,—<br /> +Would you, were I a king, accept my love?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_051"></span> +<span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I would accept it; and, to shew 'tis true,<br /> +From any other man as soon as you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Your sharp replies make me not love you less;<br /> +But make me seek new paths to happiness.—<br /> +What I design, by time will best be seen:<br /> +You may be mine, and yet may be a queen.<br /> +When you are so, your word your love assures.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Perhaps not love you,—but I will be yours.— +<span class="sdr">[He offers to take her hand, and kiss it.</span><br /> +Stay, sir, that grace I cannot yet allow;<br /> +Before you set the crown upon my brow.—<br /> +That favour which you seek,<br /> +Or Abdelmelech, or a king, must have;<br /> +When you are so, then you may be my slave. +<span class="sdr">[Exit; but looks smiling back on him.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Howe'er imperious in her words she were,<br /> +Her parting looks had nothing of severe;<br /> +A glancing smile allured me to command,<br /> +And her soft fingers gently pressed my hand:<br /> +I felt the pleasure glide through every part;<br /> +Her hand went through me to my very heart.<br /> +For such another pleasure, did he live,<br /> +I could my father of a crown deprive.—<br /> +What did I say?—<br /> +Father!—That impious thought has shocked my mind:<br /> +How bold our passions are, and yet how blind!—<br /> +She's gone; and now,<br /> +Methinks, there is less glory in a crown:<br /> +My boiling passions settle, and go down.<br /> +Like amber chafed, when she is near, she acts;<br /> +When farther oft, inclines, but not attracts.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_052"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Zulema.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">Assist me, Zulema, if thou wouldst be<br /> +That friend thou seem'st, assist me against me.<br /> +Betwixt my love and virtue I am tossed;<br /> +This must be forfeited, or that be lost.<br /> +I could do much to merit thy applause,—<br /> +Help me to fortify the better cause;<br /> +My honour is not wholly put to flight,<br /> +But would, if seconded, renew the fight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> I met my sister, but I do not see<br /> +What difficulty in your choice can be:<br /> +She told me all; and 'tis so plain a case,<br /> +You need not ask what counsel to embrace.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> I stand reproved, that I did doubt at all;<br /> +My waiting virtue staid but for thy call:<br /> +'Tis plain that she, who, for a kingdom, now<br /> +Would sacrifice her love, and break her vow,<br /> +Not out of love, but interest, acts alone,<br /> +And would, even in my arms, lie thinking of a throne.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Add to the rest, this one reflection more:<br /> +When she is married, and you still adore,<br /> +Think then,—and think what comfort it will bring,—<br /> +She had been mine,<br /> +Had I but only dared to be a king!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> I hope you only would my honour try;<br /> +I'm loth to think you virtue's enemy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> If, when a crown and mistress are in place,<br /> +Virtue intrudes, with her lean holy face,<br /> +Virtue's then mine, and not I virtue's foe.<br /> +Why does she come where she has nought to do?<br /> +Let her with anchorites, not with lovers, lie;<br /> +Statesmen and they keep better company.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Reason was given to curb our head-strong will.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Reason but shews a weak physician's skill;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_053"></span> +Gives nothing, while the raging fit does last,<br /> +But stays to cure it, when the worst is past.<br /> +Reason's a staff for age, when nature's gone;<br /> +But youth is strong enough to walk alone,</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> In cursed ambition I no rest should find,<br /> +But must for ever lose my peace of mind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Methinks that peace of mind were bravely lost;<br /> +A crown, whate'er we give, is worth the cost.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Justice distributes to each man his right;<br /> +But what she gives not, should I take by might?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> If justice will take all, and nothing give,<br /> +Justice, methinks, is not distributive.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Had fate so pleased, I had been eldest born,<br /> +And then, without a crime, the crown had worn!—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Would you so please, fate yet a way would find;<br /> +Man makes his fate according to his mind.<br /> +The weak low spirit, fortune makes her slave;<br /> +But she's a drudge, when hectored by the brave:<br /> +If fate weaves common thread, he'll change the doom,<br /> +And with new purple spread a nobler loom.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> No more!—I will usurp the royal seat;<br /> +Thou, who hast made me wicked, make me great.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Your way is plain: the death of Tarifa<br /> +Does on the king our Zegrys' hatred draw;<br /> +Though with our enemies in show we close,<br /> +'Tis but while we to purpose can be foes.<br /> +Selin, who heads us, would revenge his son;<br /> +But favour hinders justice to be done.<br /> +Proud Ozmyn with the king his power maintains,<br /> +And, in him, each Abencerrago reigns.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> What face of any title can I bring?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> The right an eldest son has to be king.<br /> +Your father was at first a private man,<br /> +And got your brother ere his reign began;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_054"></span> +When, by his valour, he the crown had won,<br /> +Then you were born a monarch's eldest son.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> To sharp-eyed reason this would seem untrue;<br /> +But reason I through love's false optics view.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Love's mighty power has led me captive too;<br /> +I am in it unfortunate as you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Our loves and fortunes shall together go;<br /> +Thou shalt be happy, when I first am so.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> The Zegrys at old Selin's house are met,<br /> +Where, in close council, for revenge they sit:<br /> +There we our common interest will unite;<br /> +You their revenge shall own, and they your right.<br /> +One thing I had forgot, which may import:<br /> +I met Almanzor coming back from court,<br /> +But with a discomposed and speedy pace,<br /> +A fiery colour kindling all his face:<br /> +The king his prisoner's freedom has denied,<br /> +And that refusal has provoked his pride.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> 'Would he were ours!—<br /> +I'll try to gild the injustice of his cause,<br /> +And court his valour with a vast applause.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> The bold are but the instruments o'the wise;<br /> +They undertake the dangers we advise:<br /> +And, while our fabric with their pains we raise,<br /> +We take the profit, and pay them with praise. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT III. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> and <span class="cnm">Abdalla.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> That he should dare to do me this disgrace!—<br /> +Is fool, or coward, writ upon my face?<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_055"></span> +Refuse my prisoner!—I such means will use,<br /> +He shall not have a prisoner to refuse.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> He said, you were not by your promise tied;<br /> +That he absolved your word, when he denied.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> He break my promise, and absolve my vow!<br /> +'Tis more than Mahomet himself can do!—<br /> +The word, which I have given, shall stand like fate;<br /> +Not like the king's, that weather-cock of state.<br /> +He stands so high, with so unfixed a mind,<br /> +Two factions turn him with each blast of wind:<br /> +But now, he shall not veer! my word is past;<br /> +I'll take his heart by the roots, and hold it fast.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> You have your vengeance in your hand this hour;<br /> +Make me the humble creature of your power:<br /> +The Granadines will gladly me obey;<br /> +(Tired with so base and impotent a sway)<br /> +And, when I shew my title, you shall see,<br /> +I have a better right to reign than he.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> It is sufficient that you make the claim;<br /> +You wrong our friendship when your right you name.<br /> +When for myself I fight, I weigh the cause;<br /> +But friendship will admit of no such laws:<br /> +That weighs by the lump; and, when the cause is light,<br /> +Puts kindness in to set the balance right.<br /> +True, I would wish my friend the juster side;<br /> +But, in the unjust, my kindness more is tried:<br /> +And all the opposition I can bring,<br /> +Is, that I fear to make you such a king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> The majesty of kings we should not blame,<br /> +When royal minds adorn the royal name;<br /> +The vulgar, greatness too much idolize,<br /> +But haughty subjects it too much despise.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_056"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I only speak of him,<br /> +Whom pomp and greatness sit so loose about,<br /> +That he wants majesty to fill them out.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Haste, then, and lose no time!—<br /> +The business must be enterprised this night:<br /> +We must surprise the court in its delight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> For you to will, for me 'tis to obey:<br /> +But I would give a crown in open day;<br /> +And, when the Spaniards their assault begin,<br /> +At once beat those without, and these within. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Almanz.</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Abdalla, hold!—There's somewhat I intend<br /> +To speak, not as your rival, but your friend.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> If as a friend, I am obliged to hear;<br /> +And what a rival says I cannot fear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Think, brave Abdalla, what it is you do:<br /> +Your quiet, honour, and our friendship too,<br /> +All for a fickle beauty you forego.<br /> +Think, and turn back, before it be too late.<br /> +Behold in me the example of your fate:<br /> +I am your sea-mark; and, though wrecked and lost,<br /> +My ruins stand to warn you from the coast.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Your counsels, noble Abdelmelech, move<br /> +My reason to accept them, not my love.<br /> +Ah, why did heaven leave man so weak defence,<br /> +To trust frail reason with the rule of sense!<br /> +'Tis over-poised and kicked up in the air,<br /> +While sense weighs down the scale, and keeps it there;<br /> +Or, like a captive king, 'tis borne away,<br /> +And forced to countenance its own rebels' sway.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> No, no; our reason was not vainly lent;<br /> +Nor is a slave, but by its own consent:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_057"></span> +If reason on his subject's triumph wait,<br /> +An easy king deserves no better fate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> You speak too late; my empire's lost too far:<br /> +I cannot fight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Then make a flying war;<br /> +Dislodge betimes, before you are beset.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Her tears, her smiles, her every look's a net.<br /> +Her voice is like a Syren's of the land;<br /> +And bloody hearts lie panting in her hand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> This do you know, and tempt the danger still?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Love, like a lethargy, has seized my will.<br /> +I'm not myself, since from her sight I went;<br /> +I lean my trunk that way, and there stand bent.<br /> +As one, who, in some frightful dream, would shun<br /> +His pressing foe, labours in vain to run;<br /> +And his own slowness, in his sleep, bemoans,<br /> +With thick short sighs, weak cries, and tender groans,<br /> +So I—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Some friend, in charity, should shake,<br /> +And rouse, and call you loudly till you wake.<br /> +Too well I know her blandishments to gain,<br /> +Usurper-like, till settled in her reign;<br /> +Then proudly she insults, and gives you cares,<br /> +And jealousies, short hopes, and long despairs.<br /> +To this hard yoke you must hereafter bow,<br /> +Howe'er she shines all golden to you now.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdul.</span> Like him, who on the ice<br /> +Slides swiftly on, and sees the water near,<br /> +Yet cannot stop himself in his career,<br /> +So am I carried. This enchanted place,<br /> +Like Circe's isle, is peopled with a race<br /> +Of dogs and swine; yet, though their fate I know,<br /> +I look with pleasure, and am turning too. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa</span> passes over the Stage.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_058"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Fly, fly, before the allurements of her face,<br /> +Ere she return with some resistless grace,<br /> +And with new magic cover all the place.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> I cannot, will not,—nay, I would not fly:<br /> +I'll love, be blind, be cozened till I die;<br /> +And you, who bid me wiser counsel take,<br /> +I'll hate, and, if I can, I'll kill you for her sake.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Even I, that counselled you, that choice approve:<br /> +I'll hate you blindly, and her blindly love.<br /> +Prudence, that stemmed the stream, is out of breath:<br /> +And to go down it is the easier death.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa</span> re-enters, and smiles on <span class="cnm">Abdalla.</span></p> +<p class="dlg"><span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Abdalla.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> That smile on Prince Abdalla seems to say,<br /> +You are not in your killing mood to day:<br /> +Men brand, indeed, your sex with cruelty,<br /> +But you are too good to see poor lovers die.<br /> +This god-like pity in you I extol;<br /> +And more, because, like heaven's, 'tis general.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> My smile implies not that I grant his suit:<br /> +'Twas but a bare return of his salute.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> It said, you were engaged, and I in place;<br /> +But, to please both, you would divide the grace.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> You've cause to be contented with your part,<br /> +When he has but the look, and you the heart.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> In giving but that look, you give what's mine:<br /> +I'll not one corner of a glance resign.<br /> +All's mine; and I am covetous of my store:<br /> +I have not love enough, I'll tax you more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_059"></span> +<span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I gave not love; 'twas but civility:<br /> +He is a prince; that's due to his degree.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> That prince you smiled on is my rival still,<br /> +And should, if me you loved, be treated ill.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I know not how to show so rude a spite.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> That is, you know not how to love aright;<br /> +Or, if you did, you would more difference see<br /> +Betwixt our souls, than 'twixt our quality.<br /> +Mark, if his birth makes any difference,<br /> +If to his words it adds one grain of sense.<br /> +That duty, which his birth can make his due,<br /> +I'll pay, but it shall not be paid by you:<br /> +For, if a prince courts her whom I adore,<br /> +He is my rival, and a prince no more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> And when did I my power so far resign.<br /> +That you should regulate each look of mine?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Then, when you gave your love, you gave that power.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> 'Twas during pleasure, 'tis revoked this hour.<br /> +Now, call me false, and rail on womankind,—<br /> +'Tis all the remedy you're like to find.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Yes, there's one more;<br /> +I'll hate you, and this visit is my last.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Do't, if you can; you know I hold you fast:<br /> +Yet, for your quiet, would you could resign<br /> +Your love, as easily as I do mine.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Furies and hell, how unconcerned she speaks!<br /> +With what indifference all her vows she breaks!<br /> +Curse on me, but she smiles!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> That smile's a part of love, and all's your due:<br /> +I take it from the prince, and give it you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_060"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Just heaven, must my poor heart your May-game prove,<br /> +To bandy, and make children's play in love? <span class="sdr">[Half crying.</span><br /> +Ah! how have I this cruelty deserved?<br /> +I, who so truly and so long have served!<br /> +And left so easily! oh cruel maid!<br /> +So easily! it was too unkindly said.<br /> +That heart, which could so easily remove,<br /> +Was never fixed, nor rooted deep in love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> You lodged it so uneasy in your breast,<br /> +I thought you had been weary of the guest.<br /> +First, I was treated like a stranger there;<br /> +But, when a household friend I did appear,<br /> +You thought, it seems, I could not live elsewhere.<br /> +Then, by degrees, your feigned respect withdrew;<br /> +You marked my actions, and my guardian grew.<br /> +But I am not concerned your acts to blame:<br /> +My heart to yours but upon liking came;<br /> +And, like a bird, whom prying boys molest,<br /> +Stays not to breed, where she had built her nest.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> I have done ill,<br /> +And dare not ask you to be less displeased;<br /> +Be but more angry, and my pain is eased.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> If I should be so kind a fool, to take<br /> +This little satisfaction which you make,<br /> +I know you would presume some other time<br /> +Upon my goodness, and repeat your crime.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Oh never, never, upon no pretence;<br /> +My life's too short to expiate this offence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> No, now I think on't, 'tis in vain to try;<br /> +'Tis in your nature, and past remedy.<br /> +You'll still disquiet my too loving heart:<br /> +Now we are friends 'tis best for both to part. +<span class="sdr">[He takes her hand.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_061"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> By this—Will you not give me leave to swear?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> You would be perjured if you should, I fear:<br /> +And, when I talk with Prince Abdalla next,<br /> +I with your fond suspicions shall be vext.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> I cannot say I'll conquer jealousy,<br /> +But, if you'll freely pardon me, I'll try.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> And, till you that submissive servant prove,<br /> +I never can conclude you truly love.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To them, the <span class="cnm">King, Almahide, Abenamar, Esperanza,</span> +Guards, Attendants.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Approach, my Almahide, my charming fair,<br /> +Blessing of peace, and recompence of war.<br /> +This night is yours; and may your life still be<br /> +The same in joy, though not solemnity.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<h4>THE ZAMBRA DANCE.</h4> + +<h4>SONG.</h4> + +<h5>I.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p class="i1">Beneath a myrtle shade,</p> +<p>Which love for none, but happy lovers made,</p> +<p>I slept; and straight my love before me brought</p> +<p>Phyllis, the object of my waking thought.</p> +<p>Undressed she came my flames to meet,</p> +<p>While love strewed flowers beneath her feet;</p> +<p>Flowers which, so pressed by her, became more sweet.</p> +</div> + +<h5>II.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p class="i1">From the bright vision's head</p> +<p>A careless veil of lawn was loosely spread:</p> +<p><span class="pgnm" id="page_062"></span> +From her white temples fell her shaded hair</p> +<p>Like cloudy sunshine, not too brown nor fair;</p> +<p>Her hands, her lips, did love inspire;</p> +<p>Her every grace my heart did fire:</p> +<p>But most her eyes, which languished with desire.</p> +</div> + +<h5>III.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p class="i1">Ah, charming fair, said I,</p> +<p>How long can you my bliss and yours deny?</p> +<p>By nature and by love, this lonely shade</p> +<p>Was for revenge of suffering lovers made.</p> +<p>Silence and shades with love agree;</p> +<p>Both shelter you and favour me:</p> +<p>You cannot blush, because I cannot see.</p> +</div> + +<h5>IV.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p class="i1">No, let me die, she said,</p> +<p>Rather than lose the spotless name of maid!—</p> +<p>Faintly, methought, she spoke; for all the while</p> +<p>She bid me not believe her, with a smile.</p> +<p>Then die, said I: She still denied;</p> +<p>And is it thus, thus, thus, she cried,</p> +<p>You use a harmless maid?—and so she died!</p> +</div> + +<h5>V.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p class="i1">I waked, and straight I knew,</p> +<p>I loved so well, it made my dream prove true:</p> +<p>Fancy, the kinder mistress of the two,</p> +<p>Fancy had done what Phyllis would not do!</p> +<p>Ah, cruel nymph, cease your disdain,</p> +<p>While, I can dream you scorn in vain,—</p> +<p>Asleep or waking you must ease my pain.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="sdr">[After the dance, a tumultuous noise of drums +and trumpets.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_063"></span> +To them <span class="cnm">Ozmyn;</span> his sword drawn.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Arm, quickly arm; yet all, I fear, too late;<br /> +The enemy's already at the gate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> The Christians are dislodged; what foe is near?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> The Zegrys are in arms, and almost here:<br /> +The streets with torches shine, with shoutings ring,<br /> +And Prince Abdalla is proclaimed the king.<br /> +What man could do, I have already done,<br /> +But bold Almanzor fiercely leads them on.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> The Alhambra yet is safe in my command; +<span class="sdr">[To the King.</span><br /> +Retreat you thither, while their shock we stand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> I cannot meanly for my life provide;<br /> +I'll either perish in't, or stem this tide.<br /> +To guard the palace, Ozmyn, be your care:<br /> +If they o'ercome, no sword will hurt the fair.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> I'll either die; or I'll make good the place.<br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> And I with these will bold Almanzor face. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt all but the Ladies. An alarum within.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> What dismal planet did my triumphs light!<br /> +Discord the day, and death does rule the night:<br /> +The noise my soul does through my senses wound.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Methinks it is a noble, sprightly sound,<br /> +The trumpet's clangor, and the clash of arms!<br /> +This noise may chill your blood, but mine it warms. +<span class="sdr">[Shouting and clashing of swords within.</span><br /> +We have already passed the Rubicon;<br /> +The dice are mine; now, fortune, for a throne! +<span class="sdr">[A shout within, and clashing of swords afar off.</span><br /> +The sound goes farther off, and faintly dies;<br /> +Curse of this going back, these ebbing cries!<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_064"></span> +Ye winds, waft hither sounds more strong and quick;<br /> +Beat faster, drums, and mingle deaths more thick.<br /> +I'll to the turrets of the palace go,<br /> +And add new fire to those that fight below:<br /> +Thence, hero-like, with torches by my side,<br /> +(Far be the omen, though) my love will guide.<br /> +No; like his better fortune I'll appear,<br /> +With open arms, loose veil, and flowing hair,<br /> +Just flying forward from my rolling sphere:<br /> +My smiles shall make Abdalla more than man;<br /> +Let him look up, and perish if he can. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">An alarum nearer: Then Enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> and +<span class="cnm">Selin,</span> at the head of the Zegrys; <span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> Prisoner.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> We have not fought enough; they fly too soon;<br /> +And I am grieved the noble sport is done.<br /> +This only man, of all whom chance did bring <span class="sdr">[Pointing to <span class="cnm">Ozmyn.</span></span><br /> +To meet my arms, was worth the conquering.<br /> +His brave resistance did my fortune grace;<br /> +So slow, so threatning forward he gave place.<br /> +His chains be easy, and his usage fair.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> I beg you would commit him to my care.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Next, the brave Spaniard free without delay;<br /> +And with a convoy send him safe away. <span class="sdr">[Exit a Guard.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Hamet</span> and others.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> The king by me salutes you; and, to show<br /> +That to your valour he his crown does owe,<br /> +Would from your mouth I should the word receive,<br /> +And that to these you would your orders give.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_065"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> He much o'er-rates the little I have done. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> goes to the door, and there seems to give out +orders, by sending people several ways.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Selin</span> to <i>Ozmyn.</i> Now, to revenge the murder of my son,<br /> +To morrow for thy certain death prepare;<br /> +This night I only leave thee to despair.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozmyn.</span> Thy idle menaces I do not fear:<br /> +My business was to die or conquer here.<br /> +Sister, for you I grieve I could no more:<br /> +My present state betrays my want of power;<br /> +But, when true courage is of force bereft,<br /> +Patience, the only fortitude, is left. <span class="sdr">[Exit with <span class="cnm">Selin.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Ah, Esperanza, what for me remains<br /> +But death, or, worse than death, inglorious chains!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Esper.</span> Madam, you must not to despair give place;<br /> +Heaven never meant misfortune to that face.<br /> +Suppose there were no justice in your cause,<br /> +Beauty's a bribe that gives her judges laws.<br /> +That you are brought to this deplored estate,<br /> +Is but the ingenious flattery of your fate;<br /> +Fate fears her succour, like an alms, to give;<br /> +And would you, God-like, from yourself should live.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Mark but how terribly his eyes appear!<br /> +And yet there's something roughly noble there,<br /> +Which, in unfashioned nature, looks divine,<br /> +And, like a gem, does in the quarry shine. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> returns; she falls at his feet, being +veiled.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Turn, mighty conqueror, turn your face this way,<br /> +Do not refuse to hear the wretched pray!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> What business can this woman have with me?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> That of the afflicted to the Deity.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_066"></span> +So may your arms success in battle find;<br /> +So may the mistress of your vows be kind,<br /> +If you have any; or, if you have none,<br /> +So may your liberty be still your own!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Yes, I will turn my face, but not my mind:<br /> +You bane and soft destruction of mankind,<br /> +What would you have with me?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I beg the grace <span class="sdr">[Unveiling.</span><br /> +You would lay by those terrors of your face.<br /> +Till calmness to your eyes you first restore,<br /> +I am afraid, and I can beg no more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> [<span class="sdm">Looking fixedly on her.</span>]<br /> +Well; my fierce visage shall not murder you.<br /> +Speak quickly, woman; I have much to do.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Where should I find the heart to speak one word?<br /> +Your voice, sir, is as killing as your sword.<br /> +As you have left the lightning of your eye,<br /> +So would you please to lay your thunder by.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I'm pleased and pained, since first her eyes I saw,<br /> +As I were stung with some tarantula.<br /> +Arms, and the dusty field, I less admire,<br /> +And soften strangely in some new desire;<br /> +Honour burns in me not so fiercely bright,<br /> +But pale as fires when mastered by the light:<br /> +Even while I speak and look, I change yet more,<br /> +And now am nothing that I was before.<br /> +I'm numbed, and fixed, and scarce my eye-balls move:<br /> +I fear it is the lethargy of love!<br /> +'Tis he; I feel him now in every part:<br /> +Like a new lord he vaunts about my heart;<br /> +Surveys, in state, each corner of my breast,<br /> +While poor fierce I, that was, am dispossessed.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_067"></span> +I'm bound; but I will rouse my rage again;<br /> +And, though no hope of liberty remain,<br /> +I'll fright my keeper when I shake my chain.<br /> +You are— <span class="sdr">[Angrily.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I know I am your captive, sir.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> You are—You shall—And I can scarce forbear—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Alas!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> 'Tis all in vain; it will not do: <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +I cannot now a seeming anger show:<br /> +My tongue against my heart no aid affords;<br /> +For love still rises up, and choaks my words.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> In half this time a tempest would be still.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> 'Tis you have raised that tempest in my will.<br /> +I wonnot love you; give me back my heart;<br /> +But give it, as you had it, fierce and brave.<br /> +It was not made to be a woman's slave,<br /> +But, lion-like, has been in desarts bred,<br /> +And, used to range, will ne'er be tamely led.<br /> +Restore its freedom to my fettered will,<br /> +And then I shall have power to use you ill.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> My sad condition may your pity move;<br /> +But look not on me with the eyes of love:—<br /> +I must be brief, though I have much to say.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> No, speak; for I can hear you now all day.<br /> +Her sueing sooths me with a secret pride: <span class="sdr">[Softly.</span><br /> +A suppliant beauty cannot be denied: <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +Even while I frown, her charms the furrows seize;<br /> +And I'm corrupted with the power to please.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Though in your worth no cause of fear I see,<br /> +I fear the insolence of victory;<br /> +As you are noble, sir, protect me then<br /> +From the rude outrage of insulting men.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_068"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Who dares touch her I love? I'm all o'er love:<br /> +Nay, I am love; love shot, and shot so fast,<br /> +He shot himself into my breast at last.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> You see before you her, who should be queen,<br /> +Since she is promised to Boabdelin.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Are you beloved by him? O wretched fate,<br /> +First that I love at all; then, loved too late!<br /> +Yet, I must love!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Alas, it is in vain;<br /> +Fate for each other did not us ordain.<br /> +The chances of this day too clearly show<br /> +That heaven took care that it should not be so.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Would heaven had quite forgot me this one day!<br /> +But fate's yet hot—<br /> +I'll make it take a bent another way. +<span class="sdr">[He walks swiftly and discomposedly, studying.</span><br /> +I bring a claim which does his right remove;<br /> +You're his by promise, but you're mine by love.<br /> +'Tis all but ceremony which is past;<br /> +The knot's to tie which is to make you fast.<br /> +Fate gave not to Boabdelin that power;<br /> +He wooed you but as my ambassador.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Our souls are tied by holy vows above.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> He signed but his: but I will seal my love.<br /> +I love you better, with more zeal than he.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> This day<br /> +I gave my faith to him, he his to me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Good heaven, thy book of fate before me lay,<br /> +But to tear out the journal of this day:<br /> +Or, if the order of the world below<br /> +Will not the gap of one whole day allow,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_069"></span> +Give me that minute when she made her vow!<br /> +That minute, ev'n the happy from their bliss might give;<br /> +And those, who live in grief, a shorter time would live.<br /> +So small a link, if broke, the eternal chain<br /> +Would, like divided waters, join again.—<br /> +It wonnot be; the fugitive is gone,<br /> +Prest by the crowd of following minutes on:<br /> +That precious moment's out of nature fled,<br /> +And in the heap of common rubbish laid,<br /> +Of things that once have been, and are decayed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Your passion, like a fright, suspends my pain;<br /> +It meets, o'erpowers, and beats mine back again:<br /> +But as, when tides against the current flow,<br /> +The native stream runs its own course below,<br /> +So, though your griefs possess the upper part,<br /> +My own have deeper channels in my heart.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Forgive that fury which my soul does move;<br /> +'Tis the essay of an untaught first love:<br /> +Yet rude, unfashioned truth it does express;<br /> +'Tis love just peeping in a hasty dress.<br /> +Retire, fair creature, to your needful rest;<br /> +There's something noble labouring in my breast:<br /> +This raging fire, which through the mass does move,<br /> +Shall purge my dross, and shall refine my love. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Almahide</span> and <span class="cnm">Esperanza.</span></span><br /> +She goes, and I like my own ghost appear;<br /> +It is not living when she is not here.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To him <span class="cnm">Abdalla</span> as King, attended.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> My first acknowledgments to heaven are due;<br /> +My next, Almanzor, let me pay to you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_070"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> A poor surprise, and on a naked foe,<br /> +Whatever you confess, is all you owe;<br /> +And I no merit own, or understand<br /> +That fortune did you justice by my hand:<br /> +Yet, if you will that little service pay<br /> +With a great favour, I can shew the way.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> I have a favour to demand of you;<br /> +That is, to take the thing for which you sue.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Then, briefly, thus: when I the Albayzyn won,<br /> +I found the beauteous Almahide alone,<br /> +Whose sad condition did my pity move;<br /> +And that compassion did produce my love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> This needs no suit; in justice, I declare.<br /> +She is your captive by the right of war.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> She is no captive then; I set her free;<br /> +And, rather than I will her jailor be,<br /> +I'll nobly lose her in her liberty.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Your generosity I much approve;<br /> +But your excess of that shows want of love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> No, 'tis the excess of love which mounts so high,<br /> +That, seen far off, it lessens to the eye.<br /> +Had I not loved her, and had set her free,<br /> +That, sir, had been my generosity;<br /> +But 'tis exalted passion, when I show<br /> +I dare be wretched, not to make her so:<br /> +And, while another passion fills her breast,<br /> +I'll be all wretched rather than half blest.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> May your heroic act so prosperous be,<br /> +That Almahide may sigh you set her free.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Zulema.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Of five tall towers which fortify this town,<br /> +All but the Alhambra your dominion own:<br /> +Now, therefore, boldly I confess a flame,<br /> +Which is excused in Almahide's name.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_071"></span> +If you the merit of this night regard,<br /> +In her possession I have my reward.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> She your reward! why, she's a gift so great,<br /> +That I myself have not deserved her yet;<br /> +And therefore, though I won her with my sword,<br /> +I have, with awe, my sacrilege restored.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> What you deserve<br /> +I'll not dispute, because I do not know;<br /> +This only I will say, she shall not go.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Thou, single, art not worth my answering:<br /> +But take what friends, what armies thou canst bring;<br /> +What worlds; and, when you are united all,<br /> +Then will I thunder in your ears,—She shall.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> I'll not one tittle of my right resign.—<br /> +Sir, your implicit promise made her mine;<br /> +When I, in general terms, my love did show,<br /> +You swore our fortunes should together go.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> The merits of the cause I'll not decide,<br /> +But, like my love, I would my gift divide.<br /> +Your equal titles then no longer plead;<br /> +But one of you, for love of me, recede.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I have receded to the utmost line,<br /> +When, by my free consent, she is not mine:<br /> +Then let him equally recede with me,<br /> +And both of us will join to set her free.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> If you will free your part of her, you may;<br /> +But, sir, I love not your romantic way.<br /> +Dream on, enjoy her soul, and set that free;<br /> +I'm pleased her person should be left for me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Thou shalt not wish her thine; thou shalt not dare<br /> +To be so impudent, as to despair.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> The Zegrys, sir, are all concerned to see<br /> +How much their merit you neglect in me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_072"></span> +<span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> Your slighting Zulema, this very hour<br /> +Will take ten thousand subjects from your power.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> What are ten thousand subjects such as they?<br /> +If I am scorned—I'll take myself away.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Since both cannot possess what both pursue,<br /> +I grieve, my friend, the chance should fall on you;<br /> +But when you hear what reason I can urge—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> None, none that your ingratitude can purge.<br /> +Reason's a trick, when it no grant affords;<br /> +It stamps the face of majesty on words.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Your boldness to your services I give:<br /> +Now take it, as your full reward,—to live.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> To live!<br /> +If from thy hands alone my death can be,<br /> +I am immortal, and a god to thee.<br /> +If I would kill thee now, thy fate's so low,<br /> +That I must stoop ere I can give the blow:<br /> +But mine is fixed so far above thy crown,<br /> +That all thy men,<br /> +Piled on thy back, can never pull it down:<br /> +But, at my ease, thy destiny I send,<br /> +By ceasing from this hour to be thy friend.<br /> +Like heaven, I need but only to stand still.<br /> +And, not concurring to thy life, I kill.<br /> +Thou canst no title to my duty bring;<br /> +I'm not thy subject, and my soul's thy king.<br /> +Farewell. When I am gone,<br /> +There's not a star of thine dare stay with thee:<br /> +I'll whistle thy tame fortune after me;<br /> +And whirl fate with me wheresoe'er I fly,<br /> +As winds drive storms before them in the sky. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_073"></span> +<span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Let not this insolent unpunished go;<br /> +Give your commands; your justice is too slow. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Zulema, Hamet,</span> and others are going after him.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Stay, and what part he pleases let him take:<br /> +I know my throne's too strong for him to shake.<br /> +But my fair mistress I too long forget;<br /> +The crown I promised is not offered yet.<br /> +Without her presence all my joys are vain,<br /> +Empire a curse, and life itself a pain. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT IV. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Boabdelin, Abenamar,</span> and Guards.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Advise, or aid, but do not pity me:<br /> +No monarch born can fall to that degree.<br /> +Pity descends from kings to all below;<br /> +But can, no more than fountains, upward flow.<br /> +Witness, just heaven, my greatest grief has been,<br /> +I could not make your Almahide a queen.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> I have too long the effects of fortune known,<br /> +Either to trust her smiles, or fear her frown.<br /> +Since in their first attempt you were not slain,<br /> +Your safety bodes you yet a second reign.<br /> +The people like a headlong torrent go,<br /> +And ev'ry dam they break, or overflow;<br /> +But, unopposed, they either lose their force,<br /> +Or wind, in volumes, to their former course.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> In walls we meanly must our hopes inclose,<br /> +To wait our friends, and weary out our foes:<br /> +While Almahide<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_074"></span> +To lawless rebels is exposed a prey,<br /> +And forced the lustful victor to obey.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> One of my blood, in rules of virtue bred!<br /> +Think better of her, and believe she's dead.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> We are betrayed, the enemy is here;<br /> +We have no farther room to hope or fear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> It is indeed Almanzor whom you see,<br /> +But he no longer is your enemy.<br /> +You were ungrateful, but your foes were more;<br /> +What your injustice lost you, theirs restore.<br /> +Make profit of my vengeance while you may,<br /> +My two-edged sword can cut the other way.—<br /> +I am your fortune, but am swift like her,<br /> +And turn my hairy front if you defer:<br /> +That hour, when you deliberate, is too late;<br /> +I point you the white moment of your fate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Believe him sent as prince Abdalla's spy;<br /> +He would betray us to the enemy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz</span>, Were I, like thee, in cheats of state grown old,<br /> +(Those public markets, where, for foreign gold,<br /> +The poorest prince is to the richest sold)<br /> +Then thou mightst think me fit for that low part;<br /> +But I am yet to learn the statesman's art.<br /> +My kindness and my hate unmasked I wear;<br /> +For friends to trust, and enemies to fear.<br /> +My heart's so plain,<br /> +That men on every passing through may look,<br /> +Like fishes gliding in a crystal brook;<br /> +When troubled most, it does the bottom shew,<br /> +'Tis weedless all above, and rockless all below.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Ere he be trusted, let him then be tried;<br /> +He may be false, who once has changed his side.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_075"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> In that you more accuse yourselves than me;<br /> +None who are injured can inconstant be.<br /> +You were inconstant, you, who did the wrong;<br /> +To do me justice does to me belong.<br /> +Great souls by kindness only can be tied;<br /> +Injured again, again I'll leave your side.<br /> +Honour is what myself, and friends, I owe;<br /> +And none can lose it who forsake a foe.<br /> +Since, then, your foes now happen to be mine,<br /> +Though not in friendship, we'll in interest join:<br /> +So while my loved revenge is full and high,<br /> +I'll give you back your kingdom by the by.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> That I so long delayed what you desire, +<span class="sdr">[Embracing him.</span><br /> +Was, not to doubt your worth, but to admire.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> This counsellor an old man's caution shows,<br /> +Who fears that little, he has left, to lose:<br /> +Age sets a fortune; while youth boldly throws.<br /> +But let us first your drooping soldiers cheer;<br /> +Then seek out danger, ere it dare appear:<br /> +This hour I fix your crown upon your brow;<br /> +Next hour fate gives it, but I give it now. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> O, could I read the dark decrees of fate,<br /> +That I might once know whom to love, or hate!<br /> +For I myself scarce my own thoughts can guess,<br /> +So much I find them varied by success.<br /> +As in some weather-glass, my love I hold;<br /> +Which falls or rises with the heat or cold.—<br /> +I will be constant yet, if fortune can;<br /> +I love the king,—let her but name the man.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_076"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Halyma.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hal.</span> Madam, a gentleman, to me unknown,<br /> +Desires that he may speak with you alone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Some message from the king.—Let him appear.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech;</span> who throws off his disguise.—She +starts.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> I see you are amazed that I am here:<br /> +But let at once your fear and wonder end.<br /> +In the usurper's guards I found a friend,<br /> +Who led me safe to you in this disguise.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Your danger brings this trouble in my eyes.—<br /> +But what affair this 'venturous visit drew?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> The greatest in the world,—the seeing you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> The courage of your love I so admire,<br /> +That, to preserve you, you shall straight retire. +<span class="sdr">[She leads him to the door.</span><br /> +Go, dear! each minute does new dangers bring;<br /> +You will be taken, I expect the king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> The king!—the poor usurper of an hour:<br /> +His empire's but a dream of kingly power.—<br /> +I warn you, as a lover and a friend,<br /> +To leave him, ere his short dominion end:<br /> +The soldier I suborned will wait at night,<br /> +And shall alone be conscious of your flight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I thank you, that you so much care bestow;<br /> +But, if his reign be short, I need not go.<br /> +For why should I expose my life, and yours,<br /> +For what, you say, a little time assures?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm</span>, My danger in the attempt is very small;<br /> +And, if he loves you, yours is none at all.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_077"></span> +But, though his ruin be as sure as fate,<br /> +Your proof of love to me would come too late.<br /> +This trial I in kindness would allow;<br /> +'Tis easy; if you love me, show it now.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> It is because I love you, I refuse;<br /> +For all the world my conduct would accuse,<br /> +If I should go with him I love away;<br /> +And, therefore, in strict virtue, I will stay.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> You would in vain dissemble love to me;<br /> +Through that thin veil your artifice I see.<br /> +You would expect the event, and then declare;<br /> +But do not, do not drive me to despair:<br /> +For, if you now refuse with me to fly,<br /> +Rather than love you after this, I'll die;<br /> +And, therefore, weigh it well before you speak;<br /> +My king is safe, his force within not weak.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> The counsel, you have given me, may be wise;<br /> +But, since the affair is great, I will advise.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Then that delay I for denial take. <span class="sdr">[Is going.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Stay; you too swift an exposition make.<br /> +If I should go, since Zulema will stay,<br /> +I should my brother to the king betray.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> There is no fear; but, if there were, I see<br /> +You value still your brother more than me.—<br /> +Farewell! some ease I in your falsehood find;<br /> +It lets a beam in, that will clear my mind:<br /> +My former weakness I with shame confess,<br /> +And, when I see you next, shall love you less. <span class="sdr">[Is going again.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Your faithless dealings you may blush to tell: +<span class="sdr">[Weeping.</span><br /> +This is a maid's reward, who loves too well.— <span class="sdr">[He looks back.</span><br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_078"></span> +Remember that I drew my latest breath,<br /> +In charging your unkindness with my death.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> [<span class="sdm">coming back</span>]<br /> +Have I not answered all you can invent,<br /> +Even the least shadow of an argument?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> You want not cunning what you please to prove,<br /> +But my poor heart knows only how to love;<br /> +And, finding this, you tyrannize the more:<br /> +'Tis plain, some other mistress you adore;<br /> +And now, with studied tricks of subtlety,<br /> +You come prepared to lay the fault on me. <span class="sdr">[Wringing her hands.</span><br /> +But, oh, that I should love so false a man!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Hear me, and then disprove it, if you can.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I'll hear no more; your breach of faith is plain:<br /> +You would with wit your want of love maintain.<br /> +But, by my own experience, I can tell,<br /> +They, who love truly, cannot argue well.—<br /> +Go faithless man!<br /> +Leave me alone to mourn my misery;<br /> +I cannot cease to love you, but I'll die. +<span class="sdr">[Leans her head on his arm.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> What man but I so long unmoved could hear +<span class="sdr">[Weeping.</span><br /> +Such tender passion, and refuse a tear!—<br /> +But do not talk of dying any more,<br /> +Unless you mean that I should die before.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I fear your feigned repentance comes too late;<br /> +I die, to see you still thus obstinate:<br /> +But yet, in death my truth of love to show,<br /> +Lead me; if I have strength enough, I'll go.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_079"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> By heaven, you shall not go! I will not be<br /> +O'ercome in love or generosity.<br /> +All I desire, to end the unlucky strife,<br /> +Is but a vow, that you will be my wife.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> To tie me to you by a vow is hard;<br /> +It shows, my love you as no tie regard.—<br /> +Name any thing but that, and I'll agree.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Swear, then, you never will my rival's be.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Nay, pr'ythee, this is harder than before.—<br /> +Name any thing, good dear, but that thing more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Now I too late perceive I am undone;<br /> +Living and seeing, to my death I run.<br /> +I know you false, yet in your snares I fall;<br /> +You grant me nothing, and I grant you all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I would grant all; but I must curb my will,<br /> +Because I love to keep you jealous still.<br /> +In your suspicion I your passion find;<br /> +But I will take a time to cure your mind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Halyma.</span> O, madam, the new king is drawing near!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Haste quickly hence, lest he should find you here!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> How much more wretched than I came, I go!<br /> +I more my weakness and your falsehood know;<br /> +And now must leave you with my greatest foe! <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Go!—How I love thee heaven can only tell:<br /> +And yet I love thee, for a subject, well.—<br /> +Yet whatsoever charms a crown can bring,<br /> +A subject's greater than a little king.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_080"></span> +I will attend till time this throne secure;<br /> +And, when I climb, my footing shall be sure.— <span class="sdr">[Music without.</span><br /> +Music! and, I believe, addressed to me.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<h4>SONG.</h4> + +<h5>I.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Wherever I am, and whatever I do,</p> +<p class="i1">My Phyllis is still in my mind;</p> +<p>When angry, I mean not to Phyllis to go,</p> +<p class="i1">My feet, of themselves, the way find:</p> +<p>Unknown to myself I am just at her door,</p> +<p>And, when I would rail, I can bring out no more</p> +<p class="i1">Than, Phyllis too fair and unkind!</p> +</div> + +<h5>II.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>When Phyllis I see, my heart bounds in my breast,</p> +<p class="i1">And the love I would stifle is shown;</p> +<p>But asleep, or awake, I am never at rest,</p> +<p class="i1">When from my eyes Phyllis is gone.</p> +<p>Sometimes a sad dream does delude my sad mind;</p> +<p>But, alas! when I wake, and no Phyllis I find,</p> +<p class="i1">How I sigh to myself all alone!</p> +</div> + +<h5>III.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Should a king be my rival in her I adore,</p> +<p class="i1">He should offer his treasure in vain:</p> +<p>O, let me alone to be happy and poor,</p> +<p class="i1">And give me my Phyllis again!</p> +<p>Let Phyllis be mine, and but ever be kind,</p> +<p>I could to a desart with her be confined,</p> +<p class="i1">And envy no monarch his reign.</p> +</div> + +<span class="pgnm" id="page_081"></span> +<h5>IV.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Alas! I discover too much of my love,</p> +<p class="i1">And she too well knows her own power!</p> +<p>She makes me each day a new martyrdom prove,</p> +<p class="i1">And makes me grow jealous each hour:</p> +<p>But let her each minute torment my poor mind,</p> +<p>I had rather love Phyllis, both false and unkind.</p> +<p class="i1">Than ever be freed from her power.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abdalla,</span> with guards.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Now, madam, at your feet a king you see;<br /> +Or, rather, if you please, a sceptered slave:<br /> +'Tis just you should possess the power you gave.<br /> +Had love not made me yours, I yet had been<br /> +But the first subject to Boabdelin.<br /> +Thus heaven declares the crown I bring your due;<br /> +And had forgot my title, but for you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Heaven to your merits will, I hope, be kind;<br /> +But, sir, it has not yet declared its mind.<br /> +'Tis true, it holds the crown above your head;<br /> +But does not fix it 'till your brother's dead.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> All, but the Alhambra, is within my power;<br /> +And that my forces go to take this hour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> When, with its keys, your brother's head you bring,<br /> +I shall believe you are indeed a king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> But since the events of all things doubtful are,<br /> +And, of events, most doubtful those of war;<br /> +I beg to know before, if fortune frown,<br /> +Must I then lose your favour with my crown?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> You'll soon return a conqueror again;<br /> +And, therefore, sir, your question is in vain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_082"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdul.</span> I think to certain victory I move;<br /> +But you may more assure it, by your love.<br /> +That grant will make my arms invincible.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> My prayers and wishes your success foretell.—<br /> +Go then, and fight, and think you fight for me;<br /> +I wait but to reward your victory.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> But if I lose it, must I lose you too?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> You are too curious, if you more would know.<br /> +I know not what my future thoughts will be:<br /> +Poor women's thoughts are all <i>extempore</i>.<br /> +Wise men, indeed,<br /> +Beforehand a long chain of thoughts produce;<br /> +But ours are only for our present use.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Those thoughts, you will not know, too well declare.<br /> +You mean to wait the final doom of war.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I find you come to quarrel with me now;<br /> +Would you know more of me than I allow?<br /> +Whence are you grown that great divinity,<br /> +That with such ease into my thoughts can pry?<br /> +Indulgence does not with some tempers suit;<br /> +I see I must become more absolute.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> I must submit,<br /> +On what hard terms soe'er my peace be bought.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Submit!—you speak as you were not in fault.—<br /> +'Tis evident the injury is mine;<br /> +For why should you my secret thoughts divine?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Yet if we might be judged by reason's laws—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Then you would have your reason judge my cause!—<br /> +Either confess your fault, or hold your tongue;<br /> +For I am sure I'm never in the wrong.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_083"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Then I acknowledge it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Then I forgive.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Under how hard a law poor lovers live!<br /> +Who, like the vanquished, must their right release,<br /> +And with the loss of reason buy their peace.— <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +Madam, to show that you my power command,<br /> +I put my life and safety in your hand:—<br /> +Dispose of the Albayzyn as you please,<br /> +To your fair hands I here resign the keys.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I take your gift, because your love it shows,<br /> +And faithful Selin for alcade chuse.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Selin, from her alone your orders take.—<br /> +This one request, yet, madam, let me make,<br /> +That, from those turrets, you the assault will see;<br /> +And crown, once more, my arms with victory. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt, leading her out.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Selin</span> remains with <span class="cnm">Gazul</span> and <span class="cnm">Reduan,</span> +his servants.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><br /><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> Gazul, go tell my daughter that I wait—<br /> +You Reduan, bring the prisoner to his fate. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Gaz.</span> and <span class="cnm">Red.</span></span><br /> +Ere of my charge I will possession take,<br /> +A bloody sacrifice I mean to make:<br /> +The manes of my son shall smile this day,<br /> +While I, in blood, my vows of vengeance pay.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter at one door <span class="cnm">Benzayda,</span> with <span class="cnm">Gazul;</span> at the +other, <span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> bound, with <span class="cnm">Reduan.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> I sent, Benzayda, to glad your eyes:<br /> +These rites we owe your brother's obsequies.—<br /> +You two [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Gaz.</span> and <span class="cnm">Red.</span></span>] the cursed Abencerrago bind:<br /> +You need no more to instruct you in my mind. +<span class="sdr">[They bind him to a corner of the stage.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_084"></span> +<span class="cnm">Benz.</span> In what sad object am I called to share?<br /> +Tell me, what is it, sir, you here prepare?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> 'Tis what your dying brother did bequeath;<br /> +A scene of vengeance, and a pomp of death!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> The horrid spectacle my soul does fright:<br /> +I want the heart to see the dismal sight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> You are my principal invited guest,<br /> +Whose eyes I would not only feed, but feast:<br /> +You are to smile at his last groaning breath,<br /> +And laugh to see his eye-balls roll in death;<br /> +To judge the lingering soul's convulsive strife,<br /> +When thick short breath catches at parting life.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> And of what marble do you think me made?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> What! can you be of just revenge afraid?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> He killed my brother in his own defence.<br /> +Pity his youth, and spare his innocence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> Art thou so soon to pardon murder won?<br /> +Can he be innocent, who killed my son?<br /> +Abenamar shall mourn as well as I;<br /> +His Ozmyn, for my Tarifa, shall die.<br /> +But since thou plead'st so boldly, I will see<br /> +That justice, thou would'st hinder, done by thee.<br /> +Here, [<span class="sdm">Gives her his sword.</span>] take the sword, and do a sister's part:<br /> +Pierce his, fond girl, or I will pierce thy heart.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> To his commands I join my own request;<br /> +All wounds from you are welcome to my breast:<br /> +Think only, when your hand this act has done,<br /> +It has but finished what your eyes begun.<br /> +I thought, with silence, to have scorned my doom;<br /> +But now your noble pity has o'ercome;<br /> +Which I acknowledge with my latest breath,—<br /> +The first whoe'er began a love in death.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> to <i>Selin.</i> Alas, what aid can my weak hand afford?<br /> +You see I tremble when I touch a sword:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_085"></span> +The brightness dazzles me, and turns my sight;<br /> +Or, if I look, 'tis but to aim less right.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> I'll guide the hand which must my death convey;<br /> +My leaping heart shall meet it half the way.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin</span> to <i>Benz.</i> Waste not the precious time in idle breath.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Let me resign this instrument of death. +<span class="sdr">[Giving the sword to her father, and then pulling it back.</span><br /> +Ah, no! I was too hasty to resign:<br /> +'Tis in your hand more mortal than in mine.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hamet.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> The king is from the Alhambra beaten back,<br /> +And now preparing for a new attack;<br /> +To favour which, he wills, that instantly<br /> +You reinforce him with a new supply.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin</span> to <i>Benz.</i> Think not, although my duty calls me hence,<br /> +That with the breach of yours I will dispense.<br /> +Ere my return, see my commands you do:<br /> +Let me find Ozmyn dead, and killed by you.—<br /> +Gazul and Reduan, attend her still;<br /> +And, if she dares to fail, perform my will. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Selin</span> and <span class="cnm">Hamet.</span></span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Benzayda</span> looks languishing on him, with her +sword down; <span class="cnm">Gazul</span> and <span class="cnm">Reduan</span> standing +with drawn swords by her.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><br /><br /><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Defer not, fair Benzayda, my death:<br /> +Looking on you,<br /> +I should but live to sigh away my breath.<br /> +My eyes have done the work they had to do:<br /> +I take your image with me, which they drew;<br /> +And, when they close, I shall die full of you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_086"></span> +<span class="cnm">Benz.</span> When parents their commands unjustly lay,<br /> +Children are privileged to disobey;<br /> +Yet from that breach of duty I am clear,<br /> +Since I submit the penalty to bear.<br /> +To die, or kill you, is the alternative;<br /> +Rather than take your life, I will not live.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> This shows the excess of generosity;<br /> +But, madam, you have no pretence to die.<br /> +I should defame the Abencerrages race,<br /> +To let a lady suffer in my place.<br /> +But neither could that life, you would bestow,<br /> +Save mine; nor do you so much pity owe<br /> +To me, a stranger, and your house's foe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> From whencesoe'er their hate our houses drew,<br /> +I blush to tell you, I have none for you.<br /> +'Tis a confession which I should not make,<br /> +Had I more time to give, or you to take:<br /> +But, since death's near, and runs with so much force,<br /> +We must meet first, and intercept his course.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Oh, how unkind a comfort do you give!<br /> +Now I fear death again, and wish to live.<br /> +Life were worth taking, could I have it now;<br /> +But 'tis more good than heaven can e'er allow<br /> +To one man's portion, to have life and you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Sure, at our births,<br /> +Death with our meeting planets danced above,<br /> +Or we were wounded by a mourning love!— <span class="sdr">[Shouts within.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Red.</span> The noise returns, and doubles from behind;<br /> +It seems as if two adverse armies joined.—<br /> +Time presses us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gaz.</span> If longer you delay,<br /> +We must, though loth, your father's will obey.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Haste, madam, to fulfil his hard commands.<br /> +And rescue me from their ignoble hands.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_087"></span> +Let me kiss yours, when you my wound begin,<br /> +Then easy death will slide with pleasure in.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Ah, gentle soldiers, some short time allow! +<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Gaz.</span> and <span class="cnm">Red.</span></span><br /> +My father has repented him ere now;<br /> +Or will repent him, when he finds me dead.<br /> +My clue of life is twined with Ozmyn's thread.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Red.</span> 'Tis fatal to refuse her, or obey.—<br /> +But where is our excuse? what can we say?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Say any thing.<br /> +Say, that to kill the guiltless you were loth;<br /> +Or if you did, say, I would kill you both.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gaz.</span> To disobey our orders is to die.—<br /> +I'll do't,—who dares oppose it?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Red.</span> That dare I. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Reduan</span> stands before <span class="cnm">Ozmyn,</span> and fights with +<span class="cnm">Gazul. Benzayda</span> unbinds <span class="cnm">Ozmyn,</span> and +gives him her sword.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><br /><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Stay not to see the issue of the fight; +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Red.</span> kills <span class="cnm">Gaz.</span></span><br /> +But haste to save yourself by speedy flight. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> kneels to kiss her hand.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Did all mankind against my life conspire.<br /> +Without this blessing I would not retire.—<br /> +But madam, can I go and leave you here?<br /> +Your father's anger now for you I fear:<br /> +Consider you have done too much to stay.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Think not of me, but fly yourself away.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Red.</span> Haste quickly hence; the enemies are nigh!<br /> +From every part I see the soldiers fly.<br /> +The foes not only our assailants beat,<br /> +But fiercely sally out on their retreat,<br /> +And, like a sea broke loose, come on amain.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_088"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Abenamar,</span> and a party with their swords +drawn, driving in some of the enemies.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Traitors, you hope to save yourselves in vain!—<br /> +Your forfeit lives shall for your treason pay;<br /> +And Ozmyn's blood shall be revenged this day.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> No, sir, your Ozmyn lives; and lives to own +<span class="sdr">[Kneeling to his father.</span><br /> +A father's piety to free his son.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> My Ozmyn!—O, thou blessing of my age! +<span class="sdr">[Embracing him.</span><br /> +And art thou safe from their deluded rage!—<br /> +Whom must I praise for thy deliverance?<br /> +Was it thy valour, or the work of chance?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Nor chance, nor valour, could deliver me;<br /> +But 'twas a noble pity set me free.—<br /> +My liberty, and life,<br /> +And what your happiness you're pleased to call,<br /> +We to this charming beauty owe it all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Instruct me, visible divinity!— <span class="sdr">[To her.</span><br /> +Instruct me by what name to worship thee!<br /> +For to thy virtue I would altars raise,<br /> +Since thou art much above all human praise.<br /> +But see,—</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor,</span> his sword bloody, leading in +<span class="cnm">Almahide</span> attended by <span class="cnm">Esperanza.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">My other blessing, Almahide, is here!—<br /> +I'll to the king, and tell him she is near:<br /> +You, Ozmyn, on your fair deliverer wait,<br /> +And with your private joys the public celebrate. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Aben. Ozm.</span> and <span class="cnm">Benz.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> The work is done; now, madam, you are free;<br /> +At least, if I can give you liberty:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_089"></span> +But you have chains which you yourself have chose;<br /> +And, O, that I could free you too from those!<br /> +But you are free from force, and have full power<br /> +To go, and kill my hopes and me, this hour.—<br /> +I see, then, you will go; but yet my toil<br /> +May he rewarded with a looking while.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Almanzor can from every subject raise<br /> +New matter for our wonder and his praise.<br /> +You bound and freed me; but the difference is,<br /> +That showed your valour; but your virtue this.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Madam, you praise a funeral victory,<br /> +At whose sad pomp the conqueror must die.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Conquest attends Almanzor every where;<br /> +I am too small a foe for him to fear:<br /> +But heroes still must be opposed by some,<br /> +Or they would want occasion to o'ercome.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Madam, I cannot on bare praises live:<br /> +Those, who abound in praises, seldom give.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> While I to all the world your worth make known,<br /> +May heaven reward the pity you have shown!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> My love is languishing, and starved to death;<br /> +And would you give me charity—in breath?<br /> +Prayers are the alms of churchmen to the poor:<br /> +They send's to heaven, but drive us from their door.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Cease, cease a suit<br /> +So vain to you, and troublesome to me,<br /> +If you will have me think that I am free.<br /> +If I am yet a slave, my bonds I'll bear;<br /> +But what I cannot grant, I will not hear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> You will not hear!—You must both hear and grant;<br /> +For, madam, there's an impudence in want.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Your way is somewhat strange to ask relief<br /> +You ask with threatening, like a begging thief.—<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_090"></span> +Once more, Almanzor, tell me, am I free?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Madam, you are, from all the world,—but me!—<br /> +But as a pirate, when he frees the prize<br /> +He took from friends, sees the rich merchandize,<br /> +And, after he has freed it, justly buys;<br /> +So, when I have restored your liberty—<br /> +But then, alas, I am too poor to buy!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Nay, now you use me just as pirates do:<br /> +You free me; but expect a ransom too.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> You've all the freedom that a prince can have;<br /> +But greatness cannot be without a slave.<br /> +A monarch never can in private move,<br /> +But still is haunted with officious love.<br /> +So small an inconvenience you may bear;<br /> +'Tis all the fine fate sets upon the fair.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Yet princes may retire, whene'er they please,<br /> +And breathe free air from out their palaces:<br /> +They go sometimes unknown, to shun their state;<br /> +And then, 'tis manners not to know or wait.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> If not a subject then, a ghost I'll be;<br /> +And from a ghost, you know, no place is free.<br /> +Asleep, awake, I'll haunt you every where;<br /> +From my white shroud groan love into your ear:<br /> +When in your lover's arms you sleep at night,<br /> +I'll glide in cold betwixt, and seize my right:<br /> +And is't not better, in your nuptial bed,<br /> +To have a living lover than a dead?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I can no longer bear to be accused,<br /> +As if what I could grant you, I refused.<br /> +My father's choice I never will dispute;<br /> +And he has chosen ere you moved your suit.<br /> +You know my case; if equal you can be,<br /> +Plead for yourself, and answer it for me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_091"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Then, madam, in that hope you bid me live;<br /> +I ask no more than you may justly give:<br /> +But in strict justice there may favour be,<br /> +And may I hope that you have that for me?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Why do you thus my secret thoughts pursue,<br /> +Which, known, hurt me, and cannot profit you?<br /> +Your knowledge but new troubles does prepare,<br /> +Like theirs who curious in their fortunes are.<br /> +To say, I could with more content be yours,<br /> +Tempts you to hope; but not that hope assures.<br /> +For since the king has right,<br /> +And favoured by my father in his suit,<br /> +It is a blossom which can bear no fruit.<br /> +Yet, if you dare attempt so hard a task,<br /> +May you succeed; you have my leave to ask.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I can with courage now my hopes pursue,<br /> +Since I no longer have to combat you.<br /> +That did the greatest difficulty bring;<br /> +The rest are small, a father and a king!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Great souls discern not when the leap's too wide,<br /> +Because they only view the farther side.<br /> +Whatever you desire, you think is near;<br /> +But, with more reason, the event I fear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> No; there is a necessity in fate,<br /> +Why still the brave bold man is fortunate:<br /> +He keeps his object ever full in sight,<br /> +And that assurance holds him firm and right.<br /> +True, 'tis a narrow path that leads to bliss,<br /> +But right before there is no precipice:<br /> +Fear makes men look aside, and then their footing miss.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I do your merit all the right I can;<br /> +Admiring virtue in a private man: +<span class="pgnm" id="page_092"></span> +I only wish the king may grateful be,<br /> +And that my father with my eyes may see.<br /> +Might I not make it as my last request,—<br /> +Since humble carriage suits a suppliant best,—<br /> +That you would somewhat of your fierceness hide—<br /> +That inborn fire—I do not call it pride?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Born, as I am, still to command, not sue,<br /> +Yet you shall see that I can beg for you;<br /> +And if your father will require a crown,<br /> +Let him but name the kingdom, 'tis his own.<br /> +I am, but while I please, a private man;<br /> +I have that soul which empires first began.<br /> +From the dull crowd, which every king does lead,<br /> +I will pick out whom I will chuse to head:<br /> +The best and bravest souls I can select,<br /> +And on their conquered necks my throne erect. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT V. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Abdalla</span> alone, under the walls of the Albayzyn.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> While she is mine, I have not yet lost all,<br /> +But in her arms shall have a gentle fall:<br /> +Blest in my love, although in war o'ercome,<br /> +I fly, like Antony from Actium,<br /> +To meet a better Cleopatra here.—<br /> +You of the watch! you of the watch! appear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Sold.</span> [<span class="sdm">above.</span>] Who calls below? What's your demand?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> 'Tis I:<br /> +Open the gate with speed; the foe is nigh.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Sold.</span> What orders for admittance do you bring?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Slave, my own orders; look, and know the king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_093"></span> +<span class="cnm">Sold.</span> I know you; but my charge is so severe,<br /> +That none, without exception, enter here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Traitor, and rebel! thou shalt shortly see<br /> +Thy orders are not to extend to me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> [<span class="sdm">above.</span>] What saucy slave so rudely does exclaim,<br /> +And brands my subject with a rebel's name?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Dear Lyndaraxa, haste; the foes pursue.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> My lord, the Prince Abdalla, is it you?<br /> +I scarcely can believe the words I hear;<br /> +Could you so coarsely treat my officer?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> He forced me; but the danger nearer draws:<br /> +When I am entered, you shall know the cause.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Entered! Why, have you any business here?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> I am pursued, the enemy is near.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Are you pursued, and do you thus delay<br /> +To save yourself? Make haste, my lord, away.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Give me not cause to think you mock my grief:<br /> +What place have I, but this, for my relief?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> This favour does your handmaid much oblige,<br /> +But we are not provided for a siege:<br /> +My subjects few; and their provision thin;<br /> +The foe is strong without, we weak within.<br /> +This to my noble lord may seem unkind,<br /> +But he will weigh it in his princely mind;<br /> +And pardon her, who does assurance want<br /> +So much, she blushes when she cannot grant.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Yes, you may blush; and you have cause to weep.<br /> +Is this the faith you promised me to keep?<br /> +Ah yet, if to a lover you will bring<br /> +No succour, give your succour to a king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_094"></span> +<span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> A king is he, whom nothing can withstand;<br /> +Who men and money can with ease command.<br /> +A king is he, whom fortune still does bless;<br /> +He is a king, who does a crown possess.<br /> +If you would have me think that you are he,<br /> +Produce to view your marks of sovereignty;<br /> +But if yourself alone for proof you bring,<br /> +You are but a single person, not a king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Ungrateful maid, did I for this rebel?<br /> +I say no more; but I have loved too well.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Who but yourself did that rebellion move:<br /> +Did I e'er promise to receive your love?<br /> +Is it my fault you are not fortunate?<br /> +I love a king, but a poor rebel hate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Who follow fortune, still are in the right;<br /> +But let me be protected here this night.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> The place to-morrow will be circled round;<br /> +And then no way will for your flight be found.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> I hear my enemies just coming on; +<span class="sdr">[Trampling within.</span><br /> +Protect me but one hour, till they are gone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> They'll know you have been here; it cannot be;<br /> +That very hour you stay, will ruin me:<br /> +For if the foe behold our interview,<br /> +I shall be thought a rebel too, like you.<br /> +Haste hence; and, that your flight may prosperous prove,<br /> +I'll recommend you to the powers above. +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Lynd.</span> from above.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> She's gone: Ah, faithless and ungrateful maid!—<br /> +I hear some tread; and fear I am betrayed.<br /> +I'll to the Spanish king; and try if he,<br /> +To countenance his own right, will succour me:<br /> +There is more faith in Christian dogs, than thee. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_095"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Ozmyn, Benzayda,</span> and <span class="cnm">Abenamar.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> I wish<br /> +(To merit all these thanks) I could have said,<br /> +My pity only did his virtue aid;<br /> +'Twas pity, but 'twas of a love-sick maid.<br /> +His manly suffering my esteem did move;<br /> +That bred compassion, and compassion love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> O blessing sold me at too cheap a rate!<br /> +My danger was the benefit of fate. <span class="sdr">[To his father.</span><br /> +But that you may my fair deliverer know,<br /> +She was not only born our house's foe,<br /> +But to my death by powerful reasons led;<br /> +At least, in justice, she might wish me dead.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> But why thus long do you her name conceal?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> To gain belief for what I now reveal:<br /> +Even thus prepared, you scarce can think it true,<br /> +The saver of my life from Selin drew<br /> +Her birth; and was his sister whom I slew.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> No more; it cannot, was not, must not be:<br /> +Upon my blessing, say not it was she.<br /> +The daughter of the only man I hate!<br /> +Two contradictions twisted in a fate!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> The mutual hate, which you and Selin bore,<br /> +Does but exalt her generous pity more.<br /> +Could she a brother's death forgive to me,<br /> +And cannot you forget her family?<br /> +Can you so ill requite the life I owe,<br /> +To reckon her, who gave it, still your foe?<br /> +It lends too great a lustre to her line,<br /> +To let her virtue ours so much out-shine.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Thou gav'st her line the advantage which they have,<br /> +By meanly taking of the life they gave.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_096"></span> +Grant that it did in her a pity shew;<br /> +But would my son be pitied by a foe?<br /> +She has the glory of thy act defaced:<br /> +Thou kill'dst her brother; but she triumphs last:<br /> +Poorly for us our enmity would cease;<br /> +When we are beaten, we receive a peace.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> If that be all in which you disagree,<br /> +I must confess 'twas Ozmyn conquered me.<br /> +Had I beheld him basely beg his life,<br /> +I should not now submit to be his wife;<br /> +But when I saw his courage death controul,<br /> +I paid a secret homage to his soul;<br /> +And thought my cruel father much to blame,<br /> +Since Ozmyn's virtue his revenge did shame.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> What constancy can'st thou e'er hope to find<br /> +In that unstable, and soon conquered mind?<br /> +What piety can'st thou expect from her,<br /> +Who could forgive a brother's murderer?<br /> +Or, what obedience hop'st thou to be paid,<br /> +From one who first her father disobeyed?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Nature, that bids us parents to obey,<br /> +Bids parents their commands by reason weigh;<br /> +And you her virtue by your praise did own,<br /> +Before you knew by whom the act was done.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Your reasons speak too much of insolence;<br /> +Her birth's a crime past pardon or defence.<br /> +Know, that as Selin was not won by thee,<br /> +Neither will I by Selin's daughter be.<br /> +Leave her, or cease henceforth to be my son:<br /> +This is my will; and this I will have done. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Aben.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> It is a murdering will,<br /> +That whirls along with an impetuous sway,<br /> +And, like chain-shot, sweeps all things in its way.<br /> +He does my honour want of duty call;<br /> +To that, and love, he has no right at all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_097"></span> +<span class="cnm">Benz.</span> No, Ozmyn, no; it is a much less ill<br /> +To leave me, than dispute a father's will:<br /> +If I had any title to your love,<br /> +Your father's greater right does mine remove:<br /> +Your vows and faith I give you back again,<br /> +Since neither can be kept without a sin.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Nothing but death my vows can give me back:<br /> +They are not yours to give, nor mine to take.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Nay, think not, though I could your vows resign,<br /> +My love or virtue could dispense with mine.<br /> +I would extinguish your unlucky fire,<br /> +To make you happy in some new desire:<br /> +I can preserve enough for me and you,<br /> +And love, and be unfortunate, for two.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> In all that's good and great<br /> +You vanquish me so fast, that in the end<br /> +I shall have nothing left me to defend.<br /> +From every post you force me to remove;<br /> +But let me keep my last entrenchment, love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Love then, my Ozmyn; I will be content <span class="sdr">[Giving her hand.</span><br /> +To make you wretched by your own consent:<br /> +Live poor, despised, and banished for my sake,<br /> +And all the burden of my sorrows take;<br /> +For, as for me, in whatsoe'er estate,<br /> +While I have you, I must be fortunate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Thus then, secured of what we hold most dear,<br /> +(Each other's love) we'll go—I know not where.<br /> +For where, alas, should we our flight begin?<br /> +The foe's without; our parents are within.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> I'll fly to you, and you shall fly to me;<br /> +Our flight but to each other's arms shall be.<br /> +To providence and chance permit the rest;<br /> +Let us but love enough, and we are blest. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_098"></span></div> +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4> + + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Boabdelin, Abenamar, Abdelmelech,</span> +Guards: <span class="cnm">Zulema</span> and <span class="cnm">Hamet,</span> Prisoners.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> They are Lyndaraxa's brothers; for her sake,<br /> +Their lives and pardon my request I make.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Then, Zulema and Hamet, live; but know,<br /> +Your lives to Abdelmelech's suit you owe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> The grace received so much my hope exceeds,<br /> +That words come weak and short to answer deeds.<br /> +You've made a venture, sir, and time must shew,<br /> +If this great mercy you did well bestow.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> You, Abdelmelech, haste before 'tis night,<br /> +And close pursue my brother in his flight. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech, Zulema,</span> and <span class="cnm">Hamet.</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor, Almahide,</span> and <span class="cnm">Esperanza.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">But see, with Almahide<br /> +The brave Almanzor comes, whose conquering sword<br /> +The crown, it once took from me, has restored.<br /> +How can I recompence so great desert!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I bring you, sir, performed in every part,<br /> +My promise made; your foes are fled or slain;<br /> +Without a rival, absolute you reign.<br /> +Yet though, in justice, this enough may be,<br /> +It is too little to be done by me:<br /> +I beg to go,<br /> +Where my own courage and your fortune calls,<br /> +To chase these misbelievers from our walls.<br /> +I cannot breathe within this narrow space;<br /> +My heart's too big, and swells beyond the place.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> You can perform, brave warrior, what you please;<br /> +Fate listens to your voice, and then decrees.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_099"></span> +Now I no longer fear the Spanish powers;<br /> +Already we are free, and conquerors.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Accept, great king, to-morrow, from my hand,<br /> +The captive head of conquered Ferdinand.<br /> +You shall not only what you lost regain,<br /> +But o'er the Biscayan mountains to the main,<br /> +Extend your sway, where never Moor did reign.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> What, in another, vanity would seem,<br /> +Appears but noble confidence in him;<br /> +No haughty boasting, but a manly pride;<br /> +A soul too fiery, and too great to guide:<br /> +He moves excentric, like a wandering star,<br /> +Whose motion's just, though 'tis not regular.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> It is for you, brave man, and only you,<br /> +Greatly to speak, and yet more greatly do.<br /> +But, if your benefits too far extend,<br /> +I must be left ungrateful in the end:<br /> +Yet somewhat I would pay,<br /> +Before my debts above all reckoning grow,<br /> +To keep me from the shame of what I owe.<br /> +But you<br /> +Are conscious to yourself of such desert,<br /> +That of your gift I fear to offer part.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> When I shall have declared my high request,<br /> +So much presumption there will be confest,<br /> +That you will find your gifts I do not shun;<br /> +But rather much o'er-rate the service done.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Give wing to your desires, and let 'em fly,<br /> +Secure they cannot mount a pitch too high.<br /> +So bless me, Alha, both in peace and war,<br /> +As I accord, whate'er your wishes are.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Emboldened by the promise of a prince, +<span class="sdr">[Putting one knee to the ground.</span><br /> +I ask this lady now with confidence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_100"></span> +<span class="cnm">Boab.</span> You ask the only thing I cannot grant. +<span class="sdr">[The King and <span class="cnm">Abenamar</span> look amazedly on +each other.</span><br /> +But, as a stranger, you are ignorant<br /> +Of what by public fame my subjects know;<br /> +She is my mistress.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> —And my daughter too.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Believe, old man, that I her father knew:<br /> +What else should make Almanzor kneel to you?—<br /> +Nor doubt, sir, but your right to her was known:<br /> +For had you had no claim but love alone,<br /> +I could produce a better of my own.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> [<span class="sdm">softly to him.</span>]<br /> +Almanzor, you forget my last request:<br /> +Your words have too much haughtiness expressed.<br /> +Is this the humble way you were to move?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> [<span class="sdm">to her.</span>]<br /> +I was too far transported by my love.<br /> +Forgive me; for I had not learned to sue<br /> +To any thing before, but heaven and you.—<br /> +Sir, at your feet, I make it my request— <span class="sdr">[To the King.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[First line kneeling: second, rising, and boldly.</span><br /> +Though, without boasting, I deserve her best;<br /> +For you her love with gaudy titles sought,<br /> +But I her heart with blood and dangers bought.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> The blood, which you have shed in her defence,<br /> +Shall have in time a fitting recompence:<br /> +Or, if you think your services delayed,<br /> +Name but your price, and you shall soon be paid.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> My price!—why, king, you do not think you deal<br /> +With one who sets his services to sale?<br /> +Reserve your gifts for those who gifts regard;<br /> +And know, I think myself above reward.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_101"></span> +<span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Then sure you are some godhead; and our care<br /> +Must be to come with incense and with prayer.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> As little as you think yourself obliged,<br /> +You would be glad to do't, when next besieged.<br /> +But I am pleased there should be nothing due;<br /> +For what I did was for myself, not you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> You with contempt on meaner gifts look down;<br /> +And, aiming at my queen, disdain my crown.<br /> +That crown, restored, deserves no recompence.<br /> +Since you would rob the fairest jewel thence.<br /> +Dare not henceforth ungrateful me to call;<br /> +Whate'er I owed you, this has cancelled all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I'll call thee thankless, king, and perjured both:<br /> +Thou swor'st by Alha, and hast broke thy oath.<br /> +But thou dost well; thou tak'st the cheapest way;<br /> +Not to own services thou canst not pay.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> My patience more than pays thy service past;<br /> +But now this insolence shall be thy last.<br /> +Hence from my sight! and take it as a grace,<br /> +Thou liv'st, and art but banished from the place.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Where'er I go, there can no exile be;<br /> +But from Almanzor's sight I banish thee:<br /> +I will not now, if thou wouldst beg me, stay;<br /> +But I will take my Almahide away.<br /> +Stay thou with all thy subjects here; but know,<br /> +We leave thy city empty when we go. +<span class="sdr">[Takes <span class="cnm">Almahide'S</span> hand.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Fall on; take; kill the traitor. +<span class="sdr">[The Guards fall on him; he makes at the King +through the midst of them, and falls upon him; +they disarm him, and rescue the King.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><br /><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> —Base and poor,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_102"></span> +Blush that thou art Almanzor's conqueror. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Almahide</span> wrings her hands, then turns and +veils her face.</span><br /> +Farewell, my Almahide!<br /> +Life of itself will go, now thou art gone,<br /> +Like flies in winter, when they lose the sun. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Abenamar</span> whispers the King a little, then +speaks aloud.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Revenge, and taken so secure a way,<br /> +Are blessings which heaven sends not every day.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> I will at leisure now revenge my wrong;<br /> +And, traitor, thou shalt feel my vengeance long:<br /> +Thou shalt not die just at thy own desire,<br /> +But see my nuptials, and with rage expire.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Thou darest not marry her while I'm in sight:<br /> +With a bent brow thy priest and thee I'll fright;<br /> +And in that scene,<br /> +Which all thy hopes and wishes should content,<br /> +The thought of me shall make thee impotent. +<span class="sdr">[He is led off by Guards.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> As some fair tulip, by a storm oppressed, +<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Almah.</span></span><br /> +Shrinks up, and folds its silken arms to rest;<br /> +And, bending to the blast, all pale and dead,<br /> +Hears, from within, the wind sing round its head,—<br /> +So, shrouded up, your beauty disappears:<br /> +Unveil, my love, and lay aside your fears.<br /> +The storm, that caused your fright, is passed and done. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Almahide</span> unveiling, and looking round for +<span class="cnm">Almanzor.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> So flowers peep out too soon, and miss the sun. +<span class="sdr">[Turning from him.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> What mystery in this strange behaviour lies?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Let me for ever hide these guilty eyes,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_103"></span> +Which lighted my Almanzor to his tomb;<br /> +Or, let them blaze, to show me there a room.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Heaven lent their lustre for a nobler end;<br /> +A thousand torches must their light attend,<br /> +To lead you to a temple and a crown.<br /> +Why does my fairest Almahide frown?<br /> +Am I less pleasing then I was before,<br /> +Or, is the insolent Almanzor more?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I justly own that I some pity have,<br /> +Not for the insolent, but for the brave.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Though to your king your duty you neglect,<br /> +Know, Almahide, I look for more respect:<br /> +And, if a parent's charge your mind can move,<br /> +Receive the blessing of a monarch's love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Did he my freedom to his life prefer,<br /> +And shall I wed Almanzor's murderer?<br /> +No, sir; I cannot to your will submit;<br /> +Your way's too rugged for my tender feet.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> You must be driven where you refuse to go;<br /> +And taught, by force, your happiness to know.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> To force me, sir, is much unworthy you, +<span class="sdr">[Smiling scornfully.</span><br /> +And, when you would, impossible to do.<br /> +If force could bend me, you might think, with shame,<br /> +That I debase the blood from whence I came.<br /> +My soul is soft, which you may gently lay<br /> +In your loose palm; but, when 'tis pressed to stay,<br /> +Like water, it deludes your grasp, and slips away.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> I find I must revoke what I decreed:<br /> +Almanzor's death my nuptials must precede.<br /> +Love is a magic which the lover ties;<br /> +But charms still end when the magician dies.<br /> +Go; let me hear my hated rival's dead; <span class="sdr">[To his Guard.</span><br /> +And, to convince my eyes, bring back his head.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_104"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Go on: I wish no other way to prove<br /> +That I am worthy of Almanzor's love.<br /> +We will in death, at least, united be:<br /> +I'll shew you I can die as well as he.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> What should I do! when equally I dread<br /> +Almanzor living and Almanzor dead!—<br /> +Yet, by your promise, you are mine alone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> How dare you claim my faith, and break your own?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> This for your virtue is a weak defence:<br /> +No second vows can with your first dispense.<br /> +Yet, since the king did to Almanzor swear,<br /> +And in his death ungrateful may appear,<br /> +He ought, in justice, first to spare his life,<br /> +And then to claim your promise as his wife.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Whate'er my secret inclinations be,<br /> +To this, since honour ties me, I agree:<br /> +Yet I declare, and to the world will own,<br /> +That, far from seeking, I would shun the throne.<br /> +And with Almanzor lead a humble life:<br /> +There is a private greatness in his wife.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> That little love I have, I hardly buy;<br /> +You give my rival all, while you deny:<br /> +Yet, Almahide, to let you see your power,<br /> +Your loved Almanzor shall be free this hour.<br /> +You are obeyed; but 'tis so great a grace,<br /> +That I could wish me in my rival's place. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">King</span> and <span class="cnm">Abenamar.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> How blessed was I before this fatal day,<br /> +When all I knew of love, was to obey!<br /> +'Twas life becalmed, without a gentle breath;<br /> +Though not so cold, yet motionless as death.<br /> +A heavy quiet state; but love, all strife,<br /> +All rapid, is the hurricane of life.<br /> +Had love not shewn me, I had never seen<br /> +An excellence beyond Boabdelin.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_105"></span> +I had not, aiming higher, lost my rest;<br /> +But with a vulgar good been dully blest:<br /> +But, in Almanzor, having seen what's rare,<br /> +Now I have learnt too sharply to compare;<br /> +And, like a favourite quickly in disgrace,<br /> +Just knew the value ere I lost the place.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To her <span class="cnm">Almanzor,</span> bound and guarded.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I see the end for which I'm hither sent,<br /> +To double, by your sight, my punishment.<br /> +There is a shame in bonds I cannot bear;<br /> +Far more than death, to meet your eyes I fear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> That shame of long continuance shall not be: +<span class="sdr">[Unbinding him.</span><br /> +The king, at my entreaty, sets you free.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> The king! my wonder's greater than before;<br /> +How did he dare my freedom to restore?<br /> +He like some captive lion uses me;<br /> +He runs away before he sets me free,<br /> +And takes a sanctuary in his court:<br /> +I'll rather lose my life than thank him for't.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> If any subject for your thanks there be,<br /> +The king expects them not, you owe them me.<br /> +Our freedoms through each other's hands have past;<br /> +You give me my revenge in winning last.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Then fate commodiously for me has done;<br /> +To lose mine there where I would have it won.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Almanzor, you too soon will understand,<br /> +That what I win is on another's hand.<br /> +The king (who doomed you to a cruel fate)<br /> +Gave to my prayers both his revenge and hate;<br /> +But at no other price would rate your life,<br /> +Than my consent and oath to be his wife.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_106"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Would you, to save my life, my love betray?<br /> +Here; take me; bind me; carry me away;<br /> +Kill me! I'll kill you if you disobey. <span class="sdr">[To the Guards.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> That absolute command your love does give,<br /> +I take, and charge you by that power to live.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> When death, the last of comforts, you refuse,<br /> +Your power, like heaven upon the damned, you use;<br /> +You force me in my being to remain,<br /> +To make me last, and keep me fresh for pain.<br /> +When all my joys are gone,<br /> +What cause can I for living longer give,<br /> +But a dull, lazy habitude to live?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Rash men, like you, and impotent of will,<br /> +Give chance no time to turn, but urge her still;<br /> +She would repent; you push the quarrel on,<br /> +And once because she went, she must be gone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> She shall not turn; what is it she can do,<br /> +To recompense me for the loss of you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah</span>, Heaven will reward your worth some better way:<br /> +At least, for me, you have but lost one day.<br /> +Nor is't a real loss which you deplore;<br /> +You sought a heart that was engaged before.<br /> +'Twas a swift love which took you in his way;<br /> +Flew only through your heart, but made no stay:<br /> +'Twas but a dream, where truth had not a place;<br /> +A scene of fancy, moved so swift a pace,<br /> +And shifted, that you can but think it was;—<br /> +Let then, the short vexatious vision pass.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> My joys, indeed, are dreams; but not my pain:<br /> +'Twas a swift ruin, but the marks remain.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_107"></span> +When some fierce fire lays goodly buildings waste,<br /> +Would you conclude<br /> +There had been none, because the burning's past?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> It was your fault that fire seized all your breast;<br /> +You should have blown up some to save the rest:<br /> +But 'tis, at worst, but so consumed by fire,<br /> +As cities are, that by their fall rise higher.<br /> +Build love a nobler temple in my place;<br /> +You'll find the fire has but enlarged your space.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Love has undone me; I am grown so poor,<br /> +I sadly view the ground I had before,<br /> +But want a stock, and ne'er can build it more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Then say what charity I can allow;<br /> +I would contribute if I knew but how.<br /> +Take friendship; or, if that too small appear,<br /> +Take love,—which sisters may to brothers bear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> A sister's love! that is so palled a thing,<br /> +What pleasure can it to a lover bring?<br /> +'Tis like thin food to men in fevers spent;<br /> +Just keeps alive, but gives no nourishment.<br /> +What hopes, what fears, what transports can it move?<br /> +'Tis but the ghost of a departed love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> You, like some greedy cormorant, devour<br /> +All my whole life can give you in an hour.<br /> +What more I can do for you is to die,<br /> +And that must follow, if you this deny.<br /> +Since I gave up my love, that you might live,<br /> +You, in refusing life, my sentence give.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Far from my breast be such an impious thought!<br /> +Your death would lose the quiet mine had sought.<br /> +I'll live for you, in spite of misery;<br /> +But you shall grant that I had rather die.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_108"></span> +I'll be so wretched, filled with such despair,<br /> +That you shall see, to live was more to dare.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Adieu, then, O my soul's far better part!<br /> +Your image sticks so close,<br /> +That the blood follows from my rending heart.<br /> +A last farewell!<br /> +For, since a last must come, the rest are vain,<br /> +Like gasps in death, which but prolong our pain.<br /> +But, since the king is now a part of me,<br /> +Cease from henceforth to be his enemy.<br /> +Go now, for pity go! for, if you stay,<br /> +I fear I shall have something still to say.<br /> +Thus—I for ever shut you from my sight. <span class="sdr">[Veils.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Like one thrust out in a cold winters night,<br /> +Yet shivering underneath your gate I stay;<br /> +One look—I cannot go before 'tis day.— +<span class="sdr">[She beckons him to be gone.</span><br /> +Not one—Farewell: Whate'er my sufferings be<br /> +Within, I'll speak farewell as loud as she:<br /> +I will not be out-done in constancy.— <span class="sdr">[She turns her back.</span><br /> +Then like a dying conqueror I go;<br /> +At least I have looked last upon my foe.<br /> +I go—but, if too heavily I move,<br /> +I walk encumbered with a weight of love.<br /> +Fain I would leave the thought of you behind,<br /> +But still, the more I cast you from my mind,<br /> +You dash, like water, back, when thrown against the wind. +<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">As he goes off, the <span class="cnm">King</span> meets him with <span class="cnm">Abenamar;</span> +they stare at each other without saluting.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> With him go all my fears: A guard there wait,<br /> +And see him safe without the city gate.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_109"></span> +To them <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">Now, Abdelmelech, is my brother dead?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Th' usurper to the Christian camp is fled;<br /> +Whom as Granada's lawful king they own,<br /> +And vow, by force, to seat him on the throne.<br /> +Mean time the rebels in the Albayzyn rest;<br /> +Which is in Lyndaraxa's name possest.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Haste and reduce it instantly by force.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> First give me leave to prove a milder course.<br /> +She will, perhaps, on summons yield the place.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> We cannot to your suit refuse her grace. +<span class="sdr">[One enters hastily, and whispers <span class="cnm">Abenamar.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> How fortune persecutes this hoary head!<br /> +My Ozmyn is with Selin's daughter fled.<br /> +But he's no more my son:<br /> +My hate shall like a Zegry him pursue,<br /> +'Till I take back what blood from me he drew.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Let war and vengeance be to-morrow's care;<br /> +But let us to the temple now repair.<br /> +A thousand torches make the mosque more bright:<br /> +This must be mine and Almahide's night.<br /> +Hence, ye importunate affairs of state,<br /> +You should not tyrannize on love, but wait.<br /> +Had life no love, none would for business live;<br /> +Yet still from love the largest part we give;<br /> +And must be forced, in empire's weary toil,<br /> +To live long wretched, to be pleased a while. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_110"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">EPILOGUE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Success, which can no more than beauty last,</p> +<p>Makes our sad poet mourn your favours past:</p> +<p>For, since without desert he got a name,</p> +<p>He fears to lose it now with greater shame.</p> +<p>Fame, like a little mistress of the town,</p> +<p>Is gained with ease, but then she's lost as soon:</p> +<p>For, as those tawdry misses, soon or late,</p> +<p>Jilt such as keep them at the highest rate;</p> +<p>And oft the lacquey, or the brawny clown,</p> +<p>Gets what is hid in the loose-bodied gown,—</p> +<p>So, fame is false to all that keep her long;</p> +<p>And turns up to the fop that's brisk and young.</p> +<p>Some wiser poet now would leave fame first;</p> +<p>But elder wits are, like old lovers, cursed:</p> +<p>Who, when the vigour of their youth is spent,</p> +<p>Still grow more fond, as they grow impotent.</p> +<p>This, some years hence, our poet's case may prove;</p> +<p>But yet, he hopes, he's young enough to love.</p> +<p>When forty comes, if e'er he live to see</p> +<p>That wretched, fumbling age of poetry,</p> +<p>'Twill be high time to bid his muse adieu:—</p> +<p>Well may he please himself, but never you.</p> +<p>Till then, he'll do as well as he began,</p> +<p>And hopes you will not find him less a man.</p> +<p>Think him not duller for this year's delay;</p> +<p>He was prepared, the women were away;</p> +<p>And men, without their parts, can hardly play.</p> +<p>If they, through sickness, seldom did appear,</p> +<p>Pity the virgins of each theatre:</p> +<p>For, at both houses, 'twas a sickly year!</p> +<p>And pity us, your servants, to whose cost,</p> +<p>In one such sickness, nine whole months are lost.</p> +<p>Their stay, he fears, has ruined what he writ:</p> +<p>Long waiting both disables love and wit.</p> +<p>They thought they gave him leisure to do well;</p> +<p>But, when they forced him to attend, he fell!</p> +<p>Yet, though he much has failed, he begs, to-day,</p> +<p>You will excuse his unperforming play:</p> +<p>Weakness sometimes great passion does express;</p> +<p>He had pleased better, had he loved you less.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_111" id="page_111"></a></div> + +<h2 class="chap">ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE:</h2> +<p class="ctr">OR, THE</p> +<h3 class="nomarg">CONQUEST OF GRANADA</h3> +<p class="ctr">BY THE</p> +<h3 class="nomarg"><i>SPANIARDS.</i></h3> + +<h3>A TRAGEDY.<br /> +THE SECOND PART.</h3> + +<div class="ctr"> +<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram"> +<tr><td><p class="epigram"><i>—Stimulos dedit æmula virtus.</i></p> +<p class="citation smcap">Lucan.</p></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_113"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">PROLOGUE TO THE SECOND PART.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>They, who write ill, and they, who ne'er durst write,</p> +<p>Turn critics, out of mere revenge and spite:</p> +<p>A playhouse gives them fame; and up there starts,</p> +<p>From a mean fifth-rate wit, a man of parts.</p> +<p>(So common faces on the stage appear;</p> +<p>We take them in, and they turn beauties here.)</p> +<p>Our author fears those critics as his fate;</p> +<p>And those he fears, by consequence must hate,</p> +<p>For they the traffic of all wit invade,</p> +<p>As scriveners draw away the bankers' trade.</p> +<p>Howe'er, the poet's safe enough to day,</p> +<p>They cannot censure an unfinished play.</p> +<p>But, as when vizard-mask appears in pit,</p> +<p>Straight every man, who thinks himself a wit,</p> +<p>Perks up, and, managing his comb with grace,</p> +<p>With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face;</p> +<p>That done, bears up to th' prize, and views each limb,</p> +<p>To know her by her rigging and her trim;</p> +<p>Then, the whole noise of fops to wagers go,—</p> +<p>"Pox on her, 'tmust be she;" and—"damme, no!"—</p> +<p>Just, so, I prophesy, these wits to-day</p> +<p>Will blindly guess at our imperfect play;</p> +<p>With what new plots our Second Part is filled,</p> +<p>Who must be kept alive, and who be killed.</p> +<p>And as those vizard-masks maintain that fashion,</p> +<p>To soothe and tickle sweet imagination;</p> +<p>So our dull poet keeps you on with masking,</p> +<p>To make you think there's something worth your asking.</p> +<p>But, when 'tis shown, that, which does now delight you,</p> +<p>Will prove a dowdy, with a face to fright you.</p> +</div> + + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_115"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE,</h3> +<p class="ctr">OR, THE</p> +<h3 class="nomarg">CONQUEST OF GRANADA.</h3> +<p class="ctr">THE SECOND PART.</p> + +<h4 class="scn">ACT I<br /> +SCENE I.—<i>A Camp.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">King Ferdinand, Queen Isabella, Alonzo +D'Aguilar;</span> Attendants, Men and Women.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> At length the time is come, when Spain shall be<br /> +From the long yoke of Moorish tyrants free.<br /> +All causes seem to second our design,<br /> +And heaven and earth in their destruction join.<br /> +When empire in its childhood first appears,<br /> +A watchful fate o'ersees its tender years;<br /> +Till, grown more strong, it thrusts and stretches out,<br /> +And elbows all the kingdoms round about:<br /> +The place thus made for its first breathing free,<br /> +It moves again for ease and luxury;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_116"></span> +Till, swelling by degrees, it has possessed<br /> +The greater space, and now crowds up the rest;<br /> +When, from behind, there starts some petty state,<br /> +And pushes on its now unwieldy fate;<br /> +Then down the precipice of time it goes,<br /> +And sinks in minutes, which in ages rose.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> Should bold Columbus in his search succeed,<br /> +And find those beds in which bright metals breed;<br /> +Tracing the sun, who seems to steal away,<br /> +That, miser-like, he might alone survey<br /> +The wealth which he in western mines did lay,—<br /> +Not all that shining ore could give my heart<br /> +The joy, this conquered kingdom will impart;<br /> +Which; rescued from these misbelievers' hands,<br /> +Shall now, at once, shake off its double bands:<br /> +At once to freedom and true faith restored,<br /> +Its old religion and its ancient lord.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> By that assault which last we made, I find,<br /> +Their courage is with their success declined:<br /> +Almanzor's absence now they dearly buy,<br /> +Whose conduct crowned their arms with victory.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alonzo.</span> Their king himself did their last sally guide;<br /> +I saw him, glistering in his armour, ride<br /> +To break a lance in honour of his bride:<br /> +But other thoughts now fill his anxious breast;<br /> +Care of his crown his love has dispossest.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Abdalla.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> But see, the brother of the Moorish king:<br /> +He seems some news of great import to bring.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> He brings a spacious title to our side:<br /> +Those, who would conquer, must their foes divide.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_117"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Since to my exile you have pity shown,<br /> +And given me courage yet to hope a throne;<br /> +While you without our common foes subdue,<br /> +I am not wanting to myself or you;<br /> +But have, within, a faction still alive,<br /> +Strong to assist, and secret to contrive,<br /> +And watching each occasion to foment<br /> +The people's fears into a discontent;<br /> +Which, from Almanzor's loss, before were great,<br /> +And now are doubled by their late defeat:<br /> +These letters from their chiefs the news assures. +<span class="sdr">[Gives letters to the <span class="cnm">King.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> Be mine the honour, but the profit yours.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To them the <span class="cnm">Duke of Arcos,</span> with <span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> and <span class="cnm">Benzayda,</span> +Prisoners.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> That tertia of Italians did you guide,<br /> +To take their post upon the river side?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> All are according to your orders placed:<br /> +My chearful soldiers their intrenchments haste;<br /> +The Murcian foot hath ta'en the upper ground,<br /> +And now the city is beleaguered round.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> Why is not then their leader here again?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> The master of Alcantara is slain;<br /> +But he, who slew him, here before you stands:<br /> +It is that Moor whom you behold in bands.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> A braver man I had not in my host;<br /> +His murderer shall not long his conquest boast:<br /> +But, Duke of Arcos, say, how was he slain?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Our soldiers marched together on the plain;<br /> +We two rode on, and left them far behind,<br /> +Till, coming where we found the valley wind,<br /> +We saw these Moors; who, swiftly as they could,<br /> +Ran on to gain the covert of a wood.<br /> +This we observed; and, having crossed their way,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_118"></span> +The lady, out of breath, was forced to stay:<br /> +The man then stood, and straight his faulchion drew;<br /> +Then told us, we in vain did those pursue,<br /> +Whom their ill fortune to despair did drive,<br /> +And yet, whom we should never take alive.<br /> +Neglecting this, the master straight spurred on;<br /> +But the active Moor his horse's shock did shun,<br /> +And, ere his rider from his reach could go,<br /> +Finished the combat with one deadly blow.<br /> +I, to revenge my friend, prepared to fight;<br /> +But now our foremost men were come in sight,<br /> +Who soon would have dispatched him on the place,<br /> +Had I not saved him from a death so base,<br /> +And brought him to attend your royal doom.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> A manly face, and in his age's bloom;<br /> +But, to content the soldiers, he must die:<br /> +Go, see him executed instantly.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> Stay; I would learn his name before he go:<br /> +You, Prince Abdalla, may the prisoner know.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Ozmyn's his name, and he deserves his fate;<br /> +His father heads the faction which I hate:<br /> +But much I wonder, that with him I see<br /> +The daughter of his mortal enemy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> 'Tis true, by Ozmyn's sword my brother fell;<br /> +But 'twas a death he merited too well.<br /> +I know a sister should excuse his fault;<br /> +But you know too, that Ozmyn's death he sought,</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Our prophet has declared, by the event,<br /> +That Ozmyn is reserved for punishment;<br /> +For, when he thought his guilt from danger clear,<br /> +He, by new crimes, is brought to suffer here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> In love, or pity, if a crime you find,<br /> +We two have sinned above all human kind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_119"></span> +<span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Heaven in my punishment has done a grace;<br /> +I could not suffer, in a better place:<br /> +That I should die by Christians it thought good,<br /> +To save your father's guilt, who sought my blood. <span class="sdr">[To her.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Fate aims so many blows to make us fall,<br /> +That 'tis in vain to think to ward them all:<br /> +And, where misfortunes great and many are,<br /> +Life grows a burden, and not worth our care.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> I cast it from me, like a garment torn,<br /> +Ragged, and too indecent to be worn:<br /> +Besides, there is contagion in my fate, <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Benz.</span></span><br /> +It makes your life too much unfortunate.—<br /> +But, since her faults are not allied to mine,<br /> +In her protection let your favour shine.<br /> +To you, great queen, I make this last request,<br /> +(Since pity dwells in every royal breast)<br /> +Safe, in your care, her life and honour be:<br /> +It is a dying lover's legacy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Cease, Ozmyn, cease so vain a suit to move;<br /> +I did not give you on those terms my love.<br /> +Leave me the care of me; for, when you go,<br /> +My love will soon instruct me what to do.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> Permit me, sir, these lovers' doom to give:<br /> +My sentence is, they shall together live.<br /> +The courts of kings<br /> +To all distressed should sanctuaries be,<br /> +But most to lovers in adversity.<br /> +Castile and Arragon,<br /> +Which long against each other war did move,<br /> +My plighted lord and I have joined by love;<br /> +And, if to add this conquest heaven thinks good,<br /> +I would not have it stained with lovers' blood.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_120"></span> +<span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> Whatever Isabella shall command<br /> +Shall always be a law to Ferdinand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> The frowns of fate we will no longer fear.<br /> +Ill fate, great queen, can never find us here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> Your thanks some other time I will receive:<br /> +Henceforward safe in my protection live.<br /> +Granada is for noble loves renowned:<br /> +Her best defence is in her lovers found.<br /> +Love's an heroic passion, which can find<br /> +No room in any base degenerate mind:<br /> +It kindles all the soul with honour's fire,<br /> +To make the lover worthy his desire.<br /> +Against such heroes I success should fear,<br /> +Had we not too an host of lovers here.<br /> +An army, of bright beauties come with me;<br /> +Each lady shall her servant's actions see:<br /> +The fair and brave on each side shall contest;<br /> +And they shall overcome, who love the best. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.—<i>The Alhambra.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Zulema.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> True, they have pardoned me; but do they know<br /> +What folly 'tis to trust a pardoned foe?<br /> +A blush remains in a forgiven face:<br /> +It wears the silent tokens of disgrace.<br /> +Forgiveness to the injured does belong;<br /> +But they ne'er pardon, who have done the wrong.<br /> +My hopeful fortunes lost! and, what's above<br /> +All I can name or think, my ruined love!<br /> +Feigned honesty shall work me into trust,<br /> +And seeming penitence conceal my lust.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_121"></span> +Let heaven's great eye of Providence now take<br /> +One day of rest, and ever after wake.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Boabdelin, Abenamar,</span> and Guards.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Losses on losses! as if heaven decreed<br /> +Almanzor's valour should alone succeed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Each sally we have made, since he is gone,<br /> +Serves but to pull our speedy ruin on.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Of all mankind, the heaviest fate he bears,<br /> +Who the last crown of sinking empire wears.<br /> +No kindly planet of his birth took care:<br /> +Heaven's outcast, and the dross of every star! +<span class="sdr">[A tumultuous noise within.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">What new misfortunes do these cries presage?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> They are the effects of the mad people's rage.<br /> +All in despair tumultuously they swarm:<br /> +The fairest streets already take the alarm;<br /> +The needy creep from cellars under ground;<br /> +To them new cries from tops of garrets sound;<br /> +The aged from the chimneys seek the cold;<br /> +And wives from windows helpless infants hold.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> See what the many-headed beast demands.— +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span></span><br /> +Cursed is that king, whose's honour's in their hands.<br /> +In senates, either they too slowly grant,<br /> +Or saucily refuse to aid my want;<br /> +And, when their thrift has ruined me in war,<br /> +They call their insolence my want of care.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Cursed be their leaders, who that rage foment,<br /> +And veil, with public good, their discontent:<br /> +They keep the people's purses in their hands,<br /> +And hector kings to grant their wild demands;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_122"></span> +But to each lure, a court throws out, descend,<br /> +And prey on those they promised to defend.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Those kings, who to their wild demands consent,<br /> +Teach others the same way to discontent.<br /> +Freedom in subjects is not, nor can be;<br /> +But still, to please them, we must call them free.<br /> +Propriety, which they their idol make,<br /> +Or law, or law's interpreters, can shake.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> The name of commonwealth is popular;<br /> +But there the people their own tyrants are.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> But kings, who rule with limited command,<br /> +Have players' sceptres put into their hand.<br /> +Power has no balance, one side still weighs down,<br /> +And either hoists the commonwealth or crown;<br /> +And those, who think to set the scale more right,<br /> +By various turnings but disturb the weight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> While people tug for freedom, kings for power,<br /> +Both sink beneath some foreign conqueror:<br /> +Then subjects find too late they were unjust,<br /> +And want that power of kings, they durst not trust.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> The tumult now is high, and dangerous grown:<br /> +The people talk of rendering up the town;<br /> +And swear that they will force the king's consent.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> What counsel can this rising storm prevent?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Their fright to no persuasions will give ear:<br /> +There's a deaf madness in a people's fear.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter a Messenger.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mess.</span> Their fury now a middle course does take;<br /> +To yield the town, or call Almanzor back.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_123"></span> +<span class="cnm">Boab.</span> I'll rather call my death.—<br /> +Go and bring up my guards to my defence:<br /> +I'll punish this outrageous insolence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Since blind opinion does their reason sway,<br /> +You must submit to cure them their own way.<br /> +You to their fancies physic must apply;<br /> +Give them that chief on whom they most rely.<br /> +Under Almanzor prosperously they fought;<br /> +Almanzor, therefore, must with prayers be brought.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter a second Messenger.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Mess.</span> Haste all you can their fury to assuage:<br /> +You are not safe from their rebellious rage.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter a third Messenger.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">3 Mess.</span> This minute, if you grant not their desire,<br /> +They'll seize your person, and your palace fire.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Your danger, sir, admits of no delay.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> In tumults people reign, and kings obey.—<br /> +Go and appease them with the vow I make,<br /> +That they shall have their loved Almanzor back. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Abdel.</span></span><br /> +Almanzor has the ascendant o'er my fate;<br /> +I'm forced to stoop to one I fear and hate:<br /> +Disgraced, distressed, in exile, and alone,<br /> +He's greater than a monarch on his throne:<br /> +Without a realm, a royalty he gains;<br /> +Kings are the subjects over whom he reigns. +<span class="sdr">[A shout of acclamations within.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> These shouts proclaim the people satisfied.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> We for another tempest must provide.<br /> +To promise his return as I was loth,<br /> +So I want power now to perform my oath.<br /> +Ere this, for Afric he is sailed from Spain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> The adverse winds his passage yet detain;<br /> +I heard, last night, his equipage did stay<br /> +At a small village, short of Malaga.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_124"></span> +<span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Abenamar, this evening thither haste;<br /> +Desire him to forget his usage past:<br /> +Use all your rhetoric, promise, flatter, pray.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Almahide,</span> attended.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Good fortune shows you yet a surer way:<br /> +Nor prayers nor promises his mind will move;<br /> +'Tis inaccessible to all, but love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Oh, thou hast roused a thought within my breast,<br /> +That will for ever rob me of my rest.<br /> +Ah jealousy, how cruel is thy sting!<br /> +I, in Almanzor, a loved rival bring!<br /> +And now, I think, it is an equal strife,<br /> +If I my crown should hazard, or my wife.<br /> +Where, marriage, is thy cure, which husbands boast,<br /> +That in possession their desire is lost?<br /> +Or why have I alone that wretched taste,<br /> +Which, gorged and glutted, does with hunger last?<br /> +Custom and duty cannot set me free,<br /> +Even sin itself has not a charm for me.<br /> +Of married lovers I am sure the first,<br /> +And nothing but a king could be so curst.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> What sadness sits upon your royal heart?<br /> +Have you a grief, and must not I have part?<br /> +All creatures else a time of love possess;<br /> +Man only clogs with cares his happiness:<br /> +And, while he should enjoy his part of bliss,<br /> +With thoughts of what may be, destroys what is.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> You guess aright; I am oppressed with grief,<br /> +And 'tis from you that I must seek relief. <span class="sdr">[To the company.</span><br /> +Leave us; to sorrow there's a reverence due:<br /> +Sad kings, like suns eclipsed, withdraw from view. +<span class="sdr">[The Attendants go off, and chairs are set for +the King and Queen.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="pgnm" id="page_125"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almah.</span> So, two kind turtles, when a storm is nigh,<br /> +Look up, and see it gathering in the sky:<br /> +Each calls his mate, to shelter in the groves,<br /> +Leaving, in murmur, their unfinished loves:<br /> +Perched on some drooping branch, they sit alone,<br /> +And coo, and hearken to each other's moan.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Since, Almahide, you seem so kind a wife, +<span class="sdr">[Taking her by the hand.</span><br /> +What would you do to save a husband's life?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> When fate calls on that hard necessity,<br /> +I'll suffer death, rather than you shall die.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Suppose your country should in danger be;<br /> +What would you undertake to set it free?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> It were too little to resign my breath:<br /> +My own free hand should give me nobler death.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> That hand, which would so much for glory do,<br /> +Must yet do more; for it must kill me too.<br /> +You must kill me, for that dear country's sake;<br /> +Or, what's all one, must call Almanzor back.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I see to what your speech you now direct;<br /> +Either my love or virtue you suspect.<br /> +But know, that, when my person I resigned,<br /> +I was too noble not to give my mind.<br /> +No more the shadow of Almanzor fear;<br /> +I have no room, but for your image, here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> This, Almahide, would make me cease to mourn,<br /> +Were that Almanzor never to return:<br /> +But now my fearful people mutiny;<br /> +Their clamours call Almanzor back, not I.<br /> +Their safety, through my ruin, I pursue;<br /> +He must return, and must be brought by you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> That hour, when I my faith to you did plight,<br /> +I banished him for ever from my sight.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_126"></span> +His banishment was to my virtue due;<br /> +Not that I feared him for myself, but you.<br /> +My honour had preserved me innocent:<br /> +But I would, your suspicion to prevent;<br /> +Which, since I see augmented in your mind,<br /> +I yet more reason for his exile find.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> To your entreaties he will yield alone.<br /> +And on your doom depend my life and throne.<br /> +No longer, therefore, my desires withstand;<br /> +Or, if desires prevail not, my command.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> In his return, too sadly I foresee<br /> +The effects of your returning jealousy.<br /> +But your command I prize above my life;<br /> +'Tis sacred to a subject and a wife:<br /> +If I have power, Almanzor shall return.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Cursed be that fatal hour when I was born! +<span class="sdr">[Letting go her hand, and starting up.</span><br /> +You love, you love him; and that love reveal,<br /> +By your too quick consent to his repeal.<br /> +My jealousy had but too just a ground;<br /> +And now you stab into my former wound.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> This sudden change I do not understand.<br /> +Have you so soon forgot your own command?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Grant that I did the unjust injunction lay,<br /> +You should have loved me more than to obey.<br /> +I know you did this mutiny design;<br /> +But I'll your love-plot quickly countermine.<br /> +Let my crown go; he never shall return;<br /> +I, like a phœnix, in my nest will burn.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> You please me well; that in one common fate<br /> +You wrap yourself, and me, and all your state.<br /> +Let us no more of proud Almanzor hear:<br /> +'Tis better once to die, than still to fear;<br /> +And better many times to die, than be<br /> +Obliged, past payment, to an enemy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_127"></span> +<span class="cnm">Boab.</span> 'Tis better; but you wives have still one way:<br /> +Whene'er your husbands are obliged, you pay.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Thou, heaven, who know'st it, judge my innocence!—<br /> +You, sir, deserve not I should make defence.<br /> +Yet, judge my virtue by that proof I gave,<br /> +When I submitted to be made your slave.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> If I have been suspicious or unkind,<br /> +Forgive me; many cares distract my mind:<br /> +Love, and a crown!<br /> +Two such excuses no one man e'er had;<br /> +And each of them enough to make me mad:<br /> +But now my reason reassumes its throne,<br /> +And finds no safety when Almanzor's gone.<br /> +Send for him then; I'll be obliged, and sue;<br /> +'Tis a less evil than to part with you.<br /> +I leave you to your thoughts; but love me still!<br /> +Forgive my passion, and obey my will. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Boabdelin.</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Almahide</span> solus.</p> + +<p class="dlg">My jealous lord will soon to rage return;<br /> +That fire, his fear rakes up, does inward burn.<br /> +But heaven, which made me great, has chose for me,<br /> +I must the oblation for my people be.<br /> +I'll cherish honour, then, and life despise;<br /> +What is not pure, is not for sacrifice.<br /> +Yet for Almanzor I in secret mourn!<br /> +Can virtue, then, admit of his return?<br /> +Yes; for my love I will by virtue square;<br /> +My heart's not mine, but all my actions are.<br /> +I'll like Almanzor act; and dare to be<br /> +As haughty, and as wretched too, as he.<br /> +What will he think is in my message meant?<br /> +I scarcely understand my own intent:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_128"></span> +But, silk-worm like, so long within have wrought,<br /> +That I am lost in my own web of thought. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Almahide.</span></span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT II.<br /> +SCENE I.—<i>A Wood.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> and <span class="cnm">Benzayda.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> 'Tis true, that our protection here has been<br /> +The effect of honour in the Spanish queen;<br /> +But, while I as a friend continue here,<br /> +I to my country must a foe appear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Think not, my Ozmyn, that we here remain<br /> +As friends, but prisoners to the power of Spain.<br /> +Fortune dispenses with your country's right;<br /> +But you desert your honour in your flight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> I cannot leave you here, and go away;<br /> +My honour's glad of a pretence to stay. +<span class="sdr">[A noise within,<span style="font-style: normal;">—Follow, follow, follow!—</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Selin,</span> his sword drawn, as pursued.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> I am pursued, and now am spent and done;<br /> +My limbs suffice me not with strength to run.<br /> +And, if I could, alas! what can I save?<br /> +A year, the dregs of life too, from the grave. +<span class="sdr">[Sits down on the ground.</span><br /> +Here will I sit, and here attend my fate,<br /> +With the same hoary majesty and state,<br /> +As Rome's old senate for the Gauls did wait.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> It is my father; and he seems distressed.<br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> My honour bids me succour the oppressed;<br /> +That life he sought, for his I'll freely give;<br /> +We'll die together, or together live.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_129"></span> +<span class="cnm">Benz.</span> I'll call more succour, since the camp is near,<br /> +And fly on all the wings of love and fear. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Benz.</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abenamar,</span> and four or five Moors. He looks +and finds <span class="cnm">Selin.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> You've lived, and now behold your latest hour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> I scorn your malice, and defy your power.<br /> +A speedy death is all I ask you now;<br /> +And that's a favour you may well allow.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> [<span class="sdm">shewing himself.</span>]<br /> +Who gives you death, shall give it first to me;<br /> +Fate cannot separate our destiny.— <span class="sdr">[Knows his father.</span><br /> +My father here! then heaven itself has laid<br /> +The snare, in which my virtue is betrayed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Fortune, I thank thee! thou hast kindly done,<br /> +To bring me back that fugitive, my son;<br /> +In arms too? fighting for my enemy!—<br /> +I'll do a Roman justice,—thou shalt die!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> I beg not you my forfeit life would save;<br /> +Yet add one minute to that breath you gave.<br /> +I disobeyed you, and deserve my fate;<br /> +But bury in my grave two houses' hate.<br /> +Let Selin live; and see your justice done<br /> +On me, while you revenge him for his son:<br /> +Your mutual malice in my death may cease,<br /> +And equal loss persuade you both to peace.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Yes, justice shall be done on him and thee.—<br /> +Haste and dispatch them both immediately. <span class="sdr">[To a soldier.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> If you have honour,—since you nature want,—<br /> +For your own sake my last petition grant;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_130"></span> +And kill not a disarmed, defenceless foe,<br /> +Whose death your cruelty, or fear, will show.<br /> +My father cannot do an act so base:—<br /> +My father!—I mistake;—I meant, who was.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Go, then, dispatch him first who was my son!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Swear but to save his life, I'll yield my own.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Nor tears, nor prayers, thy life, or his, shall buy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Then, sir, Benzayda's father shall not die!— +<span class="sdr">[Putting himself before <span class="cnm">Selin.</span></span><br /> +And, since he'll want defence when I am gone,<br /> +I will, to save his life, defend my own.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> This justice, parricides, like thee, should have!— +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Aben.</span> and his party attack them both. <span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> +parries his father's thrusts, and thrusts at the +others.</span><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Benzayda,</span> with <span class="cnm">Abdalla,</span> the Duke of +<span class="cnm">Arcos,</span> and Spaniards.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> O, help my father! and my Ozmyn save!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Villains, that death you have deserved is near!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Stay, prince! and know, I have a father here!— +<span class="sdr">[Stops <span class="cnm">Abdalla's</span> hand.</span><br /> +I were that parricide, of whom he spoke,<br /> +Did not my piety prevent your stroke.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> to <i>Aben.</i> +Depart, then, and thank heaven you had a son.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> I am not with these shows of duty won.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> to his <i>Father.</i> +Heaven knows, I would that life, you seek, resign;<br /> +But, while Benzayda lives, it is not mine.<br /> +Will you yet pardon my unwilling crime?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> By no entreaties, by no length of time,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_131"></span> +Will I be won; but, with my latest breath,<br /> +I'll curse thee here, and haunt thee after death. +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Aben.</span> with his party.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Can you be merciful to that degree, +<span class="sdr">[Kneeling to <span class="cnm">Selin.</span></span><br /> +As to forgive my father's faults in me?<br /> +Can you forgive<br /> +The death of him I slew in my defence,<br /> +And from the malice separate the offence?<br /> +I can no longer be your enemy:<br /> +In short, now kill me, sir, or pardon me. +<span class="sdr">[Offers him his sword.</span><br /> +In this your silence my hard fate appears.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> I'll answer you, when I can speak for tears.<br /> +But, till I can,<br /> +Imagine what must needs be brought to pass; <span class="sdr">[Embraces him.</span><br /> +My heart's not made of marble, nor of brass.<br /> +Did I for you a cruel death prepare,<br /> +And have you, have you made my life your care!<br /> +There is a shame contracted by my faults,<br /> +Which hinders me to speak my secret thoughts.<br /> +And I will tell you—when the shame's removed—<br /> +You are not better by my daughter loved.—<br /> +Benzayda be yours.—I can no more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Blessed be that breath which does my life restore! +<span class="sdr">[Embracing his knees.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> I hear my father now; these words confess<br /> +That name, and that indulgent tenderness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> Benzayda, I have been too much to blame;<br /> +But let your goodness expiate my shame:<br /> +You Ozmyn's virtue did in chains adore,<br /> +And part of me was just to him before.—<br /> +My son!—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> My father!—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_132"></span> +<span class="cnm">Selin.</span> Since by you I live,<br /> +I, for your sake, your family forgive.<br /> +Let your hard father still my life pursue,<br /> +I hate not him, but for his hate to you;<br /> +Even that hard father yet may one day be<br /> +By kindness vanquished, as you vanquished me;<br /> +Or, if my death can quench to you his rage,<br /> +Heaven makes good use of my remaining age.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> I grieve your joys are mingled with my cares;<br /> +But all take interest in their own affairs;<br /> +And, therefore, I must ask how mine proceed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> They now are ripe, and but your presence need:<br /> +For Lyndaraxa, faithless as the wind,<br /> +Yet to your better fortunes will be kind;<br /> +For, hearing that the Christians own your cause,<br /> +From thence the assurance of a throne she draws.<br /> +And since Almanzor, whom she most did fear,<br /> +Is gone, she to no treaty will give ear;<br /> +But sent me her unkindness to excuse.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> You much surprise me with your pleasing news.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> But, sir, she hourly does the assault expect,<br /> +And must be lost if you her aid neglect:<br /> +For Abdelmelech loudly does declare,<br /> +He'll use the last extremities of war,<br /> +If she refuse the fortress to resign.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> The charge of hastening this relief be mine.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> This while I undertook, whether beset,<br /> +Or else by chance, Abenamar I met;<br /> +Who seemed, in haste, returning to the town.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> My love must in my diligence be shown.—<br /> +And [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Arcos.</span></span>] as my pledge of faith to Spain, this hour<br /> +I'll put the fortress in your master's power.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_133"></span> +<span class="cnm">Selin.</span> An open way from hence to it there lies,<br /> +And we with ease may send in large supplies,<br /> +Free from the shot and sallies of the town.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Permit me, sir, to share in your renown;<br /> +First to my king I will impart the news,<br /> +And then draw out what succours we shall use. +<span class="sdr">[Exit Duke of <span class="cnm">Arcos.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]<br /> +Grant that she loves me not, at least I see<br /> +She loves not others, if she loves not me.—<br /> +'Tis pleasure, when we reap the fruit of pain:<br /> +'Tis only pride, to be beloved again.<br /> +How many are not loved, who think they are!<br /> +Yet all are willing to believe the fair;<br /> +And, though 'tis beauty's known and obvious cheat,<br /> +Yet man's self-love still favours the deceit. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Abdal.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> Farewell, my children! equally so dear,<br /> +That I myself am to myself less near:<br /> +While I repeat the dangers of the war,<br /> +Your mutual safety be each other's care.<br /> +Your father, Ozmyn, till the war be done,<br /> +As much as honour will permit, I'll shun:<br /> +If by his sword I perish, let him know<br /> +It was, because I would not be his foe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Goodness and virtue all your actions guide;<br /> +You only err in choosing of your side.<br /> +That party I, with honour, cannot take;<br /> +But can much less the care of you forsake:<br /> +I must not draw my sword against my prince,<br /> +But yet may hold a shield in your defence.<br /> +Benzayda, free from danger, here shall stay,<br /> +And for a father and a lover pray.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> No, no! I gave not on those terms my heart,<br /> +That from my Ozmyn I should ever part:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_134"></span> +That love I vowed, when you did death attend,<br /> +'Tis just that nothing but my death should end.<br /> +What merchant is it, who would stay behind,<br /> +His whole stock ventured to the waves and wind?<br /> +I'll pray for both, but both shall be in sight;<br /> +And heaven shall hear me pray, and see you fight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> No longer, Ozmyn, combat a design,<br /> +Where so much love, and so much virtue join.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Benz.</span></span>]<br /> +Then conquer, and your conquest happy be,<br /> +Both to yourself, your father, and to me.—<br /> +With bended knees our freedom we'll demand<br /> +Of Isabel, and mighty Ferdinand:<br /> +Then while the paths of honour we pursue,<br /> +We'll interest heaven for us, in right of you. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.—<i>The Albayzyn.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">An alarm within; then Soldiers running over the +stage. Enter <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech,</span> victorious, with +Soldiers.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> 'Tis won, 'tis won! and Lyndaraxa, now,<br /> +Who scorned to treat, shall to a conquest bow.<br /> +To every sword I free commission give;<br /> +Fall on, my friends, and let no rebel live.<br /> +Spare only Lyndaraxa; let her be<br /> +In triumph led, to grace my victory.<br /> +Since by her falsehood she betrayed my love,<br /> +Great as that falsehood my revenge shall prove.—</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa,</span> as frightened, attended by +women.</p> + +<p class="dlg">Go, take the enchantress, bring her to me bound!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Force needs not, where resistance is not found:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_135"></span> +I come, myself, to offer you my hands;<br /> +And, of my own accord, invite your bands.<br /> +I wished to be my Abdelmelech's slave;<br /> +I did but wish,—and easy fortune gave.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> O, more than woman false!—but 'tis in vain.—<br /> +Can you ere hope to be believed again?<br /> +I'll sooner trust the hyæna, than your smile;<br /> +Or, than your tears, the weeping crocodile.<br /> +In war and love none should be twice deceived;<br /> +The fault is mine if you are now believed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Be overwise, then, and too late repent;<br /> +Your crime will carry its own punishment.<br /> +I am well pleased not to be justified;<br /> +I owe no satisfaction to your pride.<br /> +It will be more advantage to my fame,<br /> +To have it said, I never owned a flame.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> 'Tis true, my pride has satisfied itself:<br /> +I have at length escaped the deadly shelf.<br /> +The excuses you prepare will be in vain,<br /> +Till I am fool enough to love again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Am I not loved?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> I must with shame avow,<br /> +I loved you once;—but do not love you now.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Have I for this betrayed Abdalla's trust?<br /> +You are to me, as I to him, unjust. <span class="sdr">[Angrily.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> 'Tis like you have done much for love of me,<br /> +Who kept the fortress of my enemy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> 'Tis true, I took the fortress from his hand;<br /> +But, since, have kept it in my own command.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> That act your foul ingratitude did show.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> You are the ungrateful, since 'twas kept for you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_136"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> 'Twas kept indeed; but not by your intent:<br /> +For all your kindness I may thank the event.<br /> +Blush, Lyndaraxa, for so gross a cheat:<br /> +'Twas kept for me,—when you refused to treat! <span class="sdr">[Ironically.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Blind man! I knew the weakness of the place:<br /> +It was my plot to do your arms this grace.<br /> +Had not my care of your renown been great,<br /> +I loved enough to offer you to treat.<br /> +She, who is loved, must little lets create;<br /> +But you bold lovers are to force your fate.<br /> +This force, you used, my maiden blush will save;<br /> +You seemed to take, what secretly I gave.<br /> +I knew we must be conquered; but I knew<br /> +What confidence I might repose in you.<br /> +I knew, you were too grateful to expose<br /> +My friends, and soldiers, to be used like foes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Well, though I love you not, their lives shall be<br /> +Spared out of pity and humanity.—<br /> +Alferez, [<span class="sdm">To a Soldier.</span>] go, and let the slaughter cease. +<span class="sdr">[Exit the Alferez.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Then must I to your pity owe my peace?<br /> +Is that the tenderest term you can afford?<br /> +Time was, you would have used another word.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Then, for your beauty I your soldiers spare:<br /> +For, though I do not love you, you are fair.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> That little beauty why did heaven impart,<br /> +To please your eyes, but not to move your heart!<br /> +I'll shroud this gorgon from all human view,<br /> +And own no beauty, since it charms not you!<br /> +Reverse your orders, and your sentence give;<br /> +My soldiers shall not from my beauty live.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_137"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Then, from your friendship they their lives shall gain;<br /> +Tho' love be dead, yet friendship does remain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> That friendship, which from withered love does shoot,<br /> +Like the faint herbage on a rock, wants root.<br /> +Love is a tender amity, refined:<br /> +Grafted on friendship it exalts the kind.<br /> +But when the graff no longer does remain,<br /> +The dull stock lives, but never bears again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Then, that my friendship may not doubtful prove,—<br /> +Fool that I am to tell you so!—I love.<br /> +You would extort this knowledge from my breast,<br /> +And tortured me so long that I confest.<br /> +Now I expect to suffer for my sin;<br /> +My monarchy must end, and yours begin.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Confess not love, but spare yourself that shame,<br /> +And call your passion by some other name.<br /> +Call this assault, your malice, or your hate;<br /> +Love owns no acts so disproportionate.<br /> +Love never taught this insolence you shew,<br /> +To treat your mistress like a conquered foe.<br /> +Is this the obedience which my heart should move!<br /> +This usage looks more like a rape than love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> What proof of duty would you I should give?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> 'Tis grace enough to let my subjects live!<br /> +Let your rude soldiers keep possession still;<br /> +Spoil, rifle, pillage,—any thing but kill.<br /> +In short, sir, use your fortune as you please;<br /> +Secure my castle, and my person seize;<br /> +Let your true men my rebels hence remove;<br /> +I shall dream on, and think 'tis all your love!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_138"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> You know too well my weakness and your power:<br /> +Why did heaven make a fool a conqueror!<br /> +She was my slave, 'till she by me was shewn<br /> +How weak my force was, and how strong her own.<br /> +Now she has beat my power from every part,<br /> +Made her way open to my naked heart: <span class="sdr">[To a Soldier.</span><br /> +Go, strictly charge my soldiers to retreat:<br /> +Those countermand who are not entered yet.<br /> +On peril of your lives leave all things free. <span class="sdr">[Exit Soldier.</span><br /> +Now, madam, love Abdalla more than me.<br /> +I only ask, in duty you would bring<br /> +The keys of our Albayzyn to the king:<br /> +I'll make your terms as gentle as you please. +<span class="sdr">[Trumpets sound a charge within, and soldiers shout.</span><br /> +What shouts, and what new sounds of war are these?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Fortune, I hope, has favoured my intent, <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +Of gaining time, and welcome succours sent.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter the Alferez.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alferez.</span> All's lost, and you are fatally deceived:<br /> +The foe is entered, and the place relieved.<br /> +Scarce from the walls had I drawn off my men,<br /> +When, from their camp, the enemy rushed in,<br /> +And prince Abdalla entered first the gate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> I am betrayed, and find it now too late.<br /> +When your proud soul to flatteries did descend, <span class="sdr">[To her.</span><br /> +I might have known it did some ill portend.<br /> +The weary seaman stormy weather fears,<br /> +When winds shift often, and no cause appears.<br /> +You by my bounty live—<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_139"></span> +Your brothers, too, were pardoned for my sake,<br /> +And this return your gratitude does make.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> My brothers best their own obligement know;<br /> +Without your charging me with what they owe.<br /> +But, since you think the obligement is so great,<br /> +I'll bring a friend to satisfy my debt. <span class="sdr">[Looking behind.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Thou shalt not triumph in thy base design;<br /> +Though not thy fort, thy person shall be mine. +<span class="sdr">[He goes to take her: She runs and cries out help.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abdalla,</span> Duke of <span class="cnm">Arcos,</span> and Spaniards. +<span class="cnm">Abdelmelech</span> retreats fighting, and is pursued by +the adverse party off the stage. The alarm within.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter again <span class="cnm">Abdalla</span> and the Duke of <span class="cnm">Arcos,</span> with +<span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Bold Abdelmelech twice our Spaniards faced,<br /> +Though much out-numbered; and retreated last.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Your beauty, as it moves no common fire, +<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa.</span></span><br /> +So it no common courage can inspire.<br /> +As he fought well, so had he prospered too,<br /> +If, madam, he, like me, had fought for you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Fortune, at last, has chosen with my eyes;<br /> +And, where I would have given it, placed the prize.<br /> +You see, sir, with what hardship I have kept<br /> +This precious gage, which in my hands you left.<br /> +But 'twas the love of you which made me fight,<br /> +And gave me courage to maintain your right.<br /> +Now, by experience, you my faith may find,<br /> +And are to thank me that I seemed unkind.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_140"></span> +When your malicious fortune doomed your fall,<br /> +My care restrained you then from losing all;<br /> +Against your destiny I shut the gate,<br /> +And gathered up the shipwrecks of your fate;<br /> +I, like a friend, did even yourself withstand,<br /> +From throwing all upon a losing hand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> My love makes all your acts unquestioned go,<br /> +And sets a sovereign stamp on all you do.<br /> +Your love I will believe with hood-winked eyes;—<br /> +In faith, much merit in much blindness lies.<br /> +But now, to make you great as you are fair,<br /> +The Spaniards an imperial crown prepare.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> That gift's more welcome, which with you I share.<br /> +Let us no time in fruitless courtship lose,<br /> +But sally out upon our frighted foes.<br /> +No ornaments of power so please my eyes,<br /> +As purple, which the blood of princes dies. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.—<i>The Alhambra.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Boabdelin, Abenamar, Almahide,</span> and Guards, +&c. The Queen wearing a scarf.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> My little journey has successful been,<br /> +The fierce Almanzor will obey the queen.<br /> +I found him, like Achilles on the shore,<br /> +Pensive, complaining much, but threatening more;<br /> +And, like that injured Greek, he heard our woes,<br /> +Which, while I told, a gloomy smile arose<br /> +From his bent brows: And still, the more he heard,<br /> +A more severe and sullen joy appeared.<br /> +But, when he knew we to despair were driven,<br /> +Betwixt his teeth he muttered thanks to heaven.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_141"></span> +<span class="cnm">Boab.</span> How I disdain this aid! which I must take,<br /> +Not for my own, but Almahide's sake.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> But when he heard it was the queen who sent,<br /> +That her command repealed his banishment,<br /> +He took the summons with a greedy joy,<br /> +And asked me how she would his sword employ:<br /> +Then bid me say, her humblest slave would come,<br /> +From her fair mouth with joy to take his doom.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Oh that I had not sent you! though it cost<br /> +My crown! though I, and it, and all were lost!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> While I, to bring this news, came on before,<br /> +I met with Selin—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> I can hear no more.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hamet.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> Almanzor is already at the gate,<br /> +And throngs of people on his entrance wait.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Thy news does all my faculties surprise;<br /> +He bears two basilisks in those fierce eyes;<br /> +And that tame dæmon, which should guard my throne,<br /> +Shrinks at a genius greater than his own. +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Boab.</span> with <span class="cnm">Aben.</span> and Guards.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor;</span> seeing <span class="cnm">Almahide</span> approach him, +he speaks.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> So Venus moves, when to the Thunderer,<br /> +In smiles or tears, she would some suit prefer;<br /> +When with her cestus girt,<br /> +And drawn by doves, she cuts the liquid skies,<br /> +And kindles gentle fires where'er she flies:<br /> +To every eye a goddess is confest,<br /> +By all the heavenly nation she is blest,<br /> +And each with secret joy admits her to his breast.—<br /> +Madam your new commands I come to know,<br /> +If yet you can have any where I go. <span class="sdr">[To her bowing.</span><br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_142"></span> +If to the regions of the dead they be,<br /> +You take the speediest course to send by me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Heaven has not destined you so soon to rest:<br /> +Heroes must live to succour the distrest.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> To serve such beauty all mankind should live;<br /> +And, in our service, our reward you give.<br /> +But stay me not in torture, to behold<br /> +And ne'er enjoy. As from another's gold<br /> +The miser hastens, in his own defence,<br /> +And shuns the sight of tempting excellence;<br /> +So, having seen you once so killing fair,<br /> +A second sight were but to move despair.<br /> +I take my eyes from what too much would please,<br /> +As men in fevers famish their disease.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> No; you may find your cure an easier way,<br /> +If you are pleased to seek it,—in your stay.<br /> +All objects lose by too familiar view,<br /> +When that great charm is gone, of being new;<br /> +By often seeing me, you soon will find<br /> +Defects so many, in my face and mind,<br /> +That to be freed from love you need not doubt;<br /> +And, as you looked it in, you'll look it out.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I rather, like weak armies, should retreat,<br /> +And so prevent my more entire defeat.<br /> +For your own sake in quiet let me go;<br /> +Press not too far on a despairing foe:<br /> +I may turn back, and armed against you move,<br /> +With all the furious train of hopeless love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Your honour cannot to ill thoughts give way,<br /> +And mine can run no hazard by your stay.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Do you then think I can with patience see<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_143"></span> +That sovereign good possessed, and not by me?<br /> +No; I all day shall languish at the sight,<br /> +And rave on what I do not see all night;<br /> +My quick imagination will present<br /> +The scenes and images of your content.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> These are the day-dreams which wild fancy yields,<br /> +Empty as shadows are, that fly o'er fields.<br /> +Oh, whither would this boundless fancy move!<br /> +'Tis but the raging calenture of love.<br /> +Like a distracted passenger you stand,<br /> +And see, in seas, imaginary land,<br /> +Cool groves, and flowery meads; and while you think<br /> +To walk, plunge in, and wonder that you sink.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Love's calenture too well I understand;<br /> +But sure your beauty is no fairy-land!<br /> +Of your own form a judge you cannot be;<br /> +For, glow-worm like, you shine, and do not see.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Can you think this, and would you go away?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> What recompence attends me, if I stay?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> You know I am from recompence debarred,<br /> +But I will grant your merit a reward;<br /> +Your flame's too noble to deserve a cheat,<br /> +And I too plain to practise a deceit.<br /> +I no return of love can ever make,<br /> +But what I ask is for my husband's sake;<br /> +He, I confess, has been ungrateful too,<br /> +But he and I are ruined if you go:<br /> +Your virtue to the hardest proof I bring;—<br /> +Unbribed, preserve a mistress and a king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I'll stop at nothing that appears so brave:<br /> +I'll do't, and now I no reward will have.<br /> +You've given my honour such an ample field,<br /> +That I may die, but that shall never yield.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_144"></span> +Spite of myself I'll stay, fight, love, despair;<br /> +And I can do all this, because I dare.<br /> +Yet I may own one suit—<br /> +That scarf, which, since by you it has been borne,<br /> +Is blessed, like relicks which by saints were worn.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Presents like this my virtue durst not make,<br /> +But that 'tis given you for my husband's sake. +<span class="sdr">[Gives the scarf.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> This scarf to honourable rags I'll wear,<br /> +As conquering soldiers tattered ensigns bear;<br /> +But oh, how much my fortune I despise,<br /> +Which gives me conquest, while she love denies! <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT III.<br /> +SCENE I.—<i>The Alhambra.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almahide</span> and <span class="cnm">Esperanza.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Esper.</span> Affected modesty has much of pride;<br /> +That scarf he begged, you could not have denied;<br /> +Nor does it shock the virtue of a wife,<br /> +When given that man, to whom you owe your life.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Heaven knows, from all intent of ill 'twas free,<br /> +Yet it may feed my husband's jealousy;<br /> +And for that cause I wish it were not done.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Boabdelin,</span> and walks apart.</p> + +<p class="dlg">See, where he comes, all pensive and alone;<br /> +A gloomy fury has o'erspread his face:<br /> +'Tis so! and all my fears are come to pass.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Marriage, thou curse of love, and snare of life, +<span class="sdr">[Aside</span><br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_145"></span> +That first debased a mistress to a wife!<br /> +Love, like a scene, at distance should appear,<br /> +But marriage views the gross-daubed landscape near.<br /> +Love's nauseous cure! thou cloyest whom thou should'st please;<br /> +And, when thou cur'st, then thou art the disease.<br /> +When hearts are loose, thy chain our bodies ties;<br /> +Love couples friends, but marriage enemies.<br /> +If love like mine continues after thee,<br /> +'Tis soon made sour, and turned by jealousy;<br /> +No sign of love in jealous men remains,<br /> +But that which sick men have of life—their pains.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Has my dear lord some new affliction had? +<span class="sdr">[Walking to him.</span><br /> +Have I done any thing that makes him sad?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> You! nothing: You! But let me walk alone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I will not leave you till the cause be known:<br /> +My knowledge of the ill may bring relief.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Thank ye; you never fail to cure my grief!<br /> +Trouble me not, my grief concerns not you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> While I have life, I will your steps pursue.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> I'm out of humour now; you must not stay.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I fear it is that scarf I gave away.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> No, 'tis not that; but speak of it no more:<br /> +Go hence! I am not what I was before.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Then I will make you so; give me your hand!<br /> +Can you this pressing and these tears withstand?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Oh heaven, were she but mine, or mine alone! +<span class="sdr">[Sighing, and going off from her.</span><br /> +Ah, why are not the hearts of women known!<br /> +False women to new joys unseen can move;<br /> +There are no prints left in the paths of love,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_146"></span> +All goods besides by public marks are known;<br /> +But what we most desire to keep, has none.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Why will you in your breast your passion crowd, +<span class="sdr">[Approaching him.</span><br /> +Like unborn thunder rolling in a cloud?<br /> +Torment not your poor heart, but set it free,<br /> +And rather let its fury break on me.<br /> +I am not married to a god; I know,<br /> +Men must have passions, and can bear from you.<br /> +I fear the unlucky present I have made!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> O power of guilt! how conscience can upbraid!<br /> +It forces her not only to reveal,<br /> +But to repeat what she would most conceal!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Can such a toy, and given in public too—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> False woman, you contrived it should be so.<br /> +That public gift in private was designed<br /> +The emblem of the love you meant to bind.<br /> +Hence from my sight, ungrateful as thou art!<br /> +And, when I can, I'll banish thee my heart. <span class="sdr">[She weeps.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> wearing the Scarf. He sees her +weep.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> What precious drops are those,<br /> +Which silently each other's track pursue,<br /> +Bright as young diamonds in their infant dew?<br /> +Your lustre you should free from tears maintain,<br /> +Like Egypt, rich without the help of rain.<br /> +Now cursed be he who gave this cause of grief;<br /> +And double cursed, who does not give relief!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Our common fears, and public miseries,<br /> +Have drawn these tears from my afflicted eyes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Madam, I cannot easily believe<br /> +It is for any public cause you grieve.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_147"></span> +On your fair face the marks of sorrow lie;<br /> +But I read fury in your husband's eye:<br /> +And, in that passion, I too plainly find<br /> +That you're unhappy, and that he's unkind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Not new-made mothers greater love express<br /> +Than he, when with first looks their babes they bless;<br /> +Not Heaven is more to dying martyrs kind,<br /> +Nor guardian angels to their charge assigned.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> O goodness counterfeited to the life!<br /> +O the well-acted virtue of a wife!<br /> +Would you with this my just suspicions blind?<br /> +You've given me great occasion to be kind!<br /> +The marks, too, of your spotless love appear;<br /> +Witness the badge of my dishonour there. +<span class="sdr">[Pointing to <span class="cnm">Almanzor's</span> scarf.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Unworthy owner of a gem so rare!<br /> +Heavens! why must he possess, and I despair?<br /> +Why is this miser doomed to all this store;<br /> +He, who has all, and yet believes he's poor?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> [<span class="sdm">to <span class="cnm">Almanz.</span></span>]<br /> +You're much too bold, to blame a jealousy<br /> +So kind in him, and so desired by me.<br /> +The faith of wives would unrewarded prove,<br /> +Without those just observers of our love.<br /> +The greater care the higher passion shows;<br /> +We hold that clearest we most fear to lose.<br /> +Distrust in lovers is too warm a sun,<br /> +But yet 'tis night in love when that is gone;<br /> +And in those climes which most his scorching know,<br /> +He makes the noblest fruits and metals grow.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Yes; there are mines of treasure in your breast,<br /> +Seen by that jealous sun, but not possest.<br /> +He, like a devil, among the blest above,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_148"></span> +Can take no pleasure in your heaven of love.<br /> +Go, take her; and thy causeless fears remove; <span class="sdr">[To the King.</span><br /> +Love her so well, that I with rage may die:<br /> +Dull husbands have no right to jealousy:<br /> +If that's allowed, it must in lovers be.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> The succour, which thou bring'st me, makes thee bold:<br /> +But know, without thy aid, my crown I'll hold;<br /> +Or, if I cannot, I will fire the place,<br /> +Of a full city make a naked space.<br /> +Hence, then, and from a rival set me free!<br /> +I'll do, I'll suffer any thing but thee.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I wonnot go; I'll not be forced away:<br /> +I came not for thy sake; nor do I stay.<br /> +It was the queen who for my aid did send;<br /> +And 'tis I only can the queen defend:<br /> +I, for her sake, thy sceptre will maintain;<br /> +And thou, by me, in spite of thee, shalt reign.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Had I but hope I could defend this place<br /> +Three days, thou should'st not live to my disgrace<br /> +So small a time;<br /> +Might I possess my Almahide alone,<br /> +I would live ages out ere they were gone.<br /> +I should not be of love or life bereft;<br /> +All should be spent before, and nothing left.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> [<span class="sdm">to <span class="cnm">Boab.</span></span>]<br /> +As for your sake I for Almanzor sent,<br /> +So, when you please, he goes to banishment.<br /> +You shall, at last, my loyalty approve:<br /> +I will refuse no trial of my love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> How can I think you love me, while I see<br /> +That trophy of a rival's victory?<br /> +I'll tear it from his side.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I'll hold it fast<br /> +As life, and when life's gone, I'll hold this last;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_149"></span> +And if thou tak'st it after I am slain,<br /> +I'll send my ghost to fetch it back again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> When I bestowed that scarf, I had not thought,<br /> +Or not considered it might be a fault;<br /> +But, since my lord's displeased that I should make<br /> +So small a present, I command it back.<br /> +Without delay the unlucky gift restore;<br /> +Or, from this minute, never see me more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> The shock of such a curse I dare not stand: +<span class="sdr">[Pulling it off hastily, and presenting it to her.</span><br /> +Thus I obey your absolute command. <span class="sdr">[She gives it to the King.</span><br /> +Must he the spoils of scorn'd Almanzor wear?—<br /> +May Turnus' fate be thine, who dared to bear<br /> +The belt of murdered Pallas! from afar<br /> +Mayest thou be known, and be the mark of war!<br /> +Live, just to see it from thy shoulders torn<br /> +By common hands, and by some coward worn. <span class="sdr">[An alarm within.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech, Zulema, Hamet, Abenamar;</span> +their swords drawn.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Is this a time for discord or for grief?<br /> +We perish, sir, without your quick relief.<br /> +I have been fooled, and am unfortunate;<br /> +The foes pursue their fortune and our fate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> The rebels with the Spaniards are agreed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Take breath; my guards shall to the fight succeed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> [<span class="sdm">to <span class="cnm">Almanzor.</span></span>]<br /> +Why stay you, sir? the conquering foe is near:<br /> +Give us their courage, and give them our fear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> Take arms, or we must perish in your sight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I care not: perish: for I will not fight,<br /> +I wonnot lift an arm in his defence:<br /> +And yet I wonnot stir one foot from hence.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_150"></span> +I to your king's defence his town resign;<br /> +This only spot, whereon I stand, is mine.—<br /> +Madam, be safe, and lay aside your fear, <span class="sdr">[To the Queen</span><br /> +You are as in a magic circle here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> To our own valour our success we'll owe.<br /> +Haste, Hamet, with Abenamar to go;<br /> +You two draw up, with all the speed you may,<br /> +Our last reserves, and yet redeem the day. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Hamet</span> and <span class="cnm">Abenamar</span> one way, the +King the other, with <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech,</span> &c. +Alarm within.</span><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech,</span> his sword drawn.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Granada is no more! the unhappy king<br /> +Venturing too far, ere we could succour bring,<br /> +Was by the duke of Arcos prisoner made,<br /> +And, past relief, is to the fort conveyed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Heaven, thou art just! go, now despise my aid.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Unkind Almanzor, how am I betrayed!<br /> +Betrayed by him in whom I trusted most!<br /> +But I will ne'er outlive what I have lost.<br /> +Is this your succour, this your boasted love!<br /> +I will accuse you to the saints above!<br /> +Almanzor vowed he would for honour fight,<br /> +And lets my husband perish in my sight. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Almahide</span> and <span class="cnm">Esperanza.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Oh, I have erred; but fury made me blind;<br /> +And, in her just reproach, my fault I find!<br /> +I promised even for him to fight, whom I—<br /> +But since he's loved by her, he must not die.<br /> +Thus, happy fortune comes to me in vain,<br /> +When I myself must ruin it again.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_151"></span> +To him <span class="cnm">Abenamar, Hamet, Abdelmelech, Zulema,</span> +Soldiers.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> The foe has entered the Vermillion towers;<br /> +And nothing but the Alhambra now is ours.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Even that's too much, except we may have more;<br /> +You lost it all to that last stake before.<br /> +Fate, now come back; thou canst not farther get;<br /> +The bounds of thy libration here are set.<br /> +Thou know'st this place,<br /> +And, like a clock wound up, strik'st here for me;<br /> +Now, Chance, assert thy own inconstancy,<br /> +And, Fortune, fight, that thou may'st Fortune be!—<br /> +They come: here, favoured by the narrow place, <span class="sdr">[A noise within.</span><br /> +I can, with few, their gross battalion face.<br /> +By the dead wall, you, Abdelmelech, wind;<br /> +Then charge, and their retreat cut off behind. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[An alarm within.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> and his Party, with <span class="cnm">Abdalla</span> +prisoner.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> You were my friend: and to that name I owe +<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Abdal.</span></span><br /> +The just regard, which you refused to show.<br /> +Your liberty I frankly would restore,<br /> +But honour now forbids me to do more.<br /> +Yet, sir, your freedom in your choice shall be,<br /> +When you command to set your brother free.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> The exchange, which you propose, with joy I take;<br /> +An offer easier than my hopes could make.<br /> +Your benefits revenge my crimes to you,<br /> +For I my shame in that bright mirror view.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_152"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> No more; you give me thanks you do not owe:<br /> +I have been faulty, and repent me now.<br /> +But, though our penitence a virtue be,<br /> +Mean souls alone repent in misery;<br /> +The brave own faults when good success is given,<br /> +For then they come on equal terms to heaven. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.—<i>The Albayzyn.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> and <span class="cnm">Benzayda.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> I see there's somewhat which you fear to tell;<br /> +Speak quickly, Ozmyn, is my father well?<br /> +Why cross you thus your arms, and shake your head?<br /> +Kill me at once, and tell me he is dead.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> I know not more than you; but fear not less;<br /> +Twice sinking, twice I drew him from the press:<br /> +But the victorious foe pursued so fast,<br /> +That flying throngs divided us at last.<br /> +As seamen parting in a general wreck,<br /> +When first the loosening planks begin to crack;<br /> +Each catches one, and straight are far disjoined,<br /> +Some borne by tides, and others by the wind;<br /> +So, in this ruin, from each other rent,<br /> +With heaved-up hands we mutual farewells sent:<br /> +Methought his eyes, when just I lost his view,<br /> +Were looking blessings to be sent to you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Blind queen of Chance, to lovers too severe,<br /> +Thou rulest mankind, but art a tyrant there!<br /> +Thy widest empire's in a lover's breast:<br /> +Like open seas, we seldom are at rest.<br /> +Upon thy coasts our wealth is daily cast;<br /> +And thou, like pirates, mak'st no peace to last.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_153"></span> +To them <span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa,</span> Duke of Arcos, and Guards.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> We were surprised when least we did suspect,<br /> +And justly suffered by our own neglect.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> No; none but I have reason to complain!<br /> +So near a kingdom, yet 'tis lost again!<br /> +O, how unequally in me were joined<br /> +A creeping fortune, with a soaring mind!<br /> +O lottery of fate! where still the wise<br /> +Draw blanks of fortune, and the fools the prize!<br /> +These cross, ill-shuffled lots from heaven are sent,<br /> +Yet dull Religion teaches us content;<br /> +But when we ask it where the blessing dwells,<br /> +It points to pedant colleges, and cells;<br /> +There shows it rude, and in a homely dress,<br /> +And that proud Want mistakes for happiness. <span class="sdr">[A trumpet within.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Zulema.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">Brother! what strange adventure brought you here?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> The news I bring will yet more strange appear.<br /> +The little care you of my life did show,<br /> +Has of a brother justly made a foe;<br /> +And Abdelmelech who that life did save,<br /> +As justly has deserved that life he gave.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Your business cools, while tediously it stays<br /> +On the low theme of Abdelmelech's praise.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> This I present from Prince Abdalla's hands. +<span class="sdr">[Delivers a letter, which she reads.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> He has proposed, (to free him from his bands)<br /> +That, with his brother, an exchange be made.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> It proves the same design which we had laid.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_154"></span> +Before the castle let a bar be set;<br /> +And when the captives on each side are met,<br /> +With equal numbers chosen for their guard,<br /> +Just at the time the passage is unbarred,<br /> +Let both at once advance, at once be free.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> The exchange I will myself in person see.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> I fear to ask, yet would from doubt be freed,—<br /> +Is Selin captive, sir, or is he dead?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> I grieve to tell you what you needs must know,—<br /> +He is a prisoner to his greatest foe;<br /> +Kept with strong guards in the Alhambra tower;<br /> +Without the reach even of Almanzor's power.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> With grief and shame I am at once opprest.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> You will be more, when I relate the rest.<br /> +To you I from Abenamar am sent, <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Ozmyn.</span></span><br /> +And you alone can Selin's death prevent.<br /> +Give up yourself a prisoner in his stead;<br /> +Or, ere to-morrow's dawn, believe him dead.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Ere that appear, I shall expire with grief.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Your action swift, your counsel must be brief.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> While for Abdalla's freedom we prepare,<br /> +You in each other's breast unload your care. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt all but <span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> and <span class="cnm">Benzayda.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> My wishes contradictions must imply;<br /> +You must not go; and yet he must not die.<br /> +Your reason may, perhaps, the extremes unite;<br /> +But there's a mist of fate before my sight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> The two extremes too distant are, to close;<br /> +And human wit can no mid way propose.<br /> +My duty therefore shows the nearest way<br /> +To free your father, and my own obey.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_155"></span> +<span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Your father, whom, since yours, I grieve to blame,<br /> +Has lost, or quite forgot, a parent's name;<br /> +And, when at once possessed of him and you,<br /> +Instead of freeing one, will murder two.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Fear not my life; but suffer me to go:<br /> +What cannot only sons with parents do!<br /> +'Tis not my death my father does pursue;<br /> +He only would withdraw my love from you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Now, Ozmyn, now your want of love I see;<br /> +For would you go, and hazard losing me?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> I rather would ten thousand lives forsake;<br /> +Nor can you e'er believe the doubt you make.<br /> +This night I with a chosen band will go,<br /> +And, by surprise, will free him from the foe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> What foe! ah whither would your virtue fall!<br /> +It is your father whom the foe you call.<br /> +Darkness and rage will no distinction make,<br /> +And yours may perish for my father's sake.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Thus, when my weaker virtue goes astray.<br /> +Yours pulls it back, and guides me in the way:<br /> +I'll send him word, my being shall depend<br /> +On Selin's life, and with his death shall end.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> 'Tis that, indeed, would glut your father's rage:<br /> +Revenge on Ozmyn's youth, and Selin's age.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Whate'er I plot, like Sysiphus, in vain<br /> +I heave a stone, that tumbles down again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> This glorious work is then reserved for me:<br /> +He is my father, and I'll set him free.<br /> +These chains my father for my sake does wear:<br /> +I made the fault; and I the pains will bear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Yes; you no doubt have merited these pains;<br /> +Those hands, those tender limbs, were made for chains!<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_156"></span> +Did I not love you, yet it were too base<br /> +To let a lady suffer in my place.<br /> +Those proofs of virtue you before did show,<br /> +I did admire; but I must envy now.<br /> +Your vast ambition leaves no fame for me,<br /> +But grasps at universal monarchy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Yes, Ozmyn, I shall still this palm pursue;<br /> +I will not yield my glory even to you.<br /> +I'll break those bonds in which my father's tied,<br /> +Or, if I cannot break them, I'll divide.<br /> +What, though my limbs a woman's weakness show,<br /> +I have a soul as masculine as you;<br /> +And when these limbs want strength my chains to wear,<br /> +My mind shall teach my body how to bear. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Benz.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> What I resolve, I must not let her know;<br /> +But honour has decreed she must not go.<br /> +What she resolves, I must prevent with care;<br /> +She shall not in my fame or danger share.<br /> +I'll give strict order to the guards which wait,<br /> +That, when she comes, she shall not pass the gate.<br /> +Fortune, at last, has run me out of breath;<br /> +I have no refuge but the arms of death:<br /> +To that dark sanctuary I will go;<br /> +She cannot reach me when I lie so low. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.—<i>The Albayzyn.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter, on one side, <span class="cnm">Almanzor, Abdalla, Abdelmelech, +Zulema, Hamet.</span> On the other side, +the Duke of <span class="cnm">Arcos, Boabdelin, Lyndaraxa,</span> +and their Party. After which the bars are opened; +and at the same time <span class="cnm">Boabdelin</span> and <span class="cnm">Abdalla</span> +pass by each other, each to his Party; when <span class="cnm">Abdalla</span> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_157"></span> +is passed on the other side, the Duke of <span class="cnm">Arcos</span> +approaches the bars, and calls to <span class="cnm">Almanzor.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> The hatred of the brave with battles ends,<br /> +And foes, who fought for honour, then are friends.<br /> +I love thee, brave Almanzor, and am proud<br /> +To have one hour when love may be allowed.<br /> +This hand, in sign of that esteem, I plight;<br /> +We shall have angry hours enough to fight. <span class="sdr">[Giving his hand.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> The man who dares, like you, in fields appear,<br /> +And meet my sword, shall be my mistress here.<br /> +If I am proud, 'tis only to my foes;<br /> +Rough but to such who virtue would oppose.<br /> +If I some fierceness from a father drew,<br /> +A mother's milk gives me some softness too.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Since first you took, and after set me free,<br /> +(Whether a sense of gratitude it be,<br /> +Or some more secret motion of my mind,<br /> +For which I want a name that's more than kind)<br /> +I shall be glad, by whate'er means I can,<br /> +To get the friendship of so brave a man;<br /> +And would your unavailing valour call,<br /> +From aiding those whom heaven has doomed to fall.<br /> +We owe you that respect,<br /> +Which to the gods of foes besieged was shown,<br /> +To call you out before we take your town.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Those whom we love, we should esteem them too,<br /> +And not debauch that virtue which we woo.<br /> +Yet, though you give my honour just offence,<br /> +I'll take your kindness in the better sense;<br /> +And, since you for my safety seem to fear,<br /> +I, to return your bribe, should wish you here.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_158"></span> +But, since I love you more than you do me,<br /> +In all events preserve your honour free;<br /> +For that's your own, though not your destiny.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Were you obliged in honour by a trust,<br /> +I should not think my own proposals just;<br /> +But since you fight for an unthankful king,<br /> +What loss of fame can change of parties bring?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> It will, and may with justice too be thought,<br /> +That some advantage in that change I sought.<br /> +And though I twice have changed for wrongs received,<br /> +That it was done for profit none believed.<br /> +The king's ingratitude I knew before;<br /> +So that can be no cause of changing more.<br /> +If now I stand, when no reward can be,<br /> +'Twill show the fault before was not in me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Yet there is a reward to valour due,<br /> +And such it is as may be sought by you;<br /> +That beauteous queen, whom you can never gain,<br /> +While you secure her husband's life and reign.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Then be it so; let me have no return +<span class="sdr">[Here <span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa</span> comes near, and hears them.</span><br /> +From him but hatred, and from her but scorn.<br /> +There is this comfort in a noble fate,<br /> +That I deserve to be more fortunate.<br /> +You have my last resolve; and now, farewell:<br /> +My boding heart some mischief does foretell;<br /> +But what it is, heaven will not let me know.<br /> +I'm sad to death, that I must be your foe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Heaven, when we meet, if fatal it must be<br /> +To one, spare him, and cast the lot on me. <span class="sdr">[They retire.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Ah, what a noble conquest were this heart!<br /> +I am resolved I'll try my utmost art:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_159"></span> +In gaining him, I gain that fortune too,<br /> +Which he has wedded, and which I but woo.<br /> +I'll try each secret passage to his mind,<br /> +And love's soft bands about his heart-strings wind.<br /> +Not his vowed constancy shall 'scape my snare;<br /> +While he without resistance does prepare,<br /> +I'll melt into him ere his love's aware. +<span class="sdr">[She makes a gesture of invitation to <span class="cnm">Almanzor,</span> +who returns again</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> You see, sir, to how strange a remedy<br /> +A persecuted maid is forced to fly:<br /> +Who, much distressed, yet scarce has confidence<br /> +To make your noble pity her defence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Beauty, like yours, can no protection need;<br /> +Or, if it sues, is certain to succeed.<br /> +To whate'er service you ordain my hand,<br /> +Name your request, and call it your command.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> You cannot, sir, but know, that my ill fate<br /> +Has made me loved with all the effects of hate:<br /> +One lover would, by force, my person gain;<br /> +Which one, as guilty, would by force detain.<br /> +Rash Abdelmelech's love I cannot prize,<br /> +And fond Abdalla's passion I despise.<br /> +As you are brave, so you are prudent too;<br /> +Advise a wretched woman what to do.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Have courage, fair one, put your trust in me;<br /> +You shall, at least, from those you hate, be free.<br /> +Resign your castle to the king's command,<br /> +And leave your love concernments in my hand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> The king, like them, is fierce, and faithless too;<br /> +How can I trust him who has injured you?<br /> +Keep for yourself, (and you can grant no less)<br /> +What you alone are worthy to possess.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_160"></span> +Enter, brave sir; for, when you speak the word,<br /> +These gates will open of their own accord;<br /> +The genius of the place its lord will meet,<br /> +And bend its tow'ry forehead to your feet.<br /> +That little citadel, which now you see,<br /> +Shall, then, the head of conquered nations be;<br /> +And every turret, from your coming, rise<br /> +The mother of some great metropolis.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> 'Tis pity, words, which none but gods should hear,<br /> +Should lose their sweetness in a soldier's ear:<br /> +I am not that Almanzor whom you praise;<br /> +But your fair mouth can fair ideas raise:—<br /> +I am a wretch, to whom it is denied<br /> +To accept, with honour, what I wish with pride;<br /> +And, since I light not for myself, must bring<br /> +The fruits of all my conquests to the king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Say rather to the queen, to whose fair name<br /> +I know you vow the trophies of your fame.<br /> +I hope she is as kind as she is fair;<br /> +Kinder than inexperienced virgins are<br /> +To their first loves; (though she has loved before,<br /> +And that first innocence is now no more:)<br /> +But, in revenge, she gives you all her heart,<br /> +(For you are much too brave to take a part.)<br /> +Though, blinded by a crown, she did not see<br /> +Almanzor greater than a king could be,<br /> +I hope her love repairs her ill-made choice:<br /> +Almanzor cannot be deluded twice.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> No, not deluded; for none count their gains,<br /> +Who, like Almanzor, frankly give their pains.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Almanzor, do not cheat yourself, nor me;<br /> +Your love is not refined to that degree:<br /> +For, since you have desires, and those not blest,<br /> +Your love's uneasy, and at little rest.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_161"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> 'Tis true, my own unhappiness I see;<br /> +But who, alas, can my physician be?<br /> +Love, like a lazy ague, I endure,<br /> +Which fears the water, and abhors the cure.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> 'Tis a consumption, which your life does waste,<br /> +Still flattering you with hope, till help be past;<br /> +But, since of cure from her you now despair,<br /> +You, like consumptive men, should change your air:<br /> +Love somewhere else; 'tis a hard remedy,<br /> +But yet you owe yourself so much, to try.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> My love's now grown so much a part of me,<br /> +That life would, in the cure, endangered be:<br /> +At least, it like a limb cut off would show;<br /> +And better die than like a cripple go.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> You must be brought like madmen to their cure,<br /> +And darkness first, and next new bonds endure:<br /> +Do you dark absence to yourself ordain,<br /> +And I, in charity, will find the chain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Love is that madness which all lovers have;<br /> +But yet 'tis sweet and pleasing so to rave:<br /> +'Tis an enchantment, where the reason's bound;<br /> +But Paradise is in the enchanted ground;<br /> +A palace, void of envy, cares and strife,<br /> +Where gentle hours delude so much of life.<br /> +To take those charms away, and set me free,<br /> +Is but to send me into misery;<br /> +And prudence, of whose cure so much you boast,<br /> +Restores those pains, which that sweet folly lost.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I would not, like philosophers, remove,<br /> +But show you a more pleasing shape of love.<br /> +You a sad, sullen, froward love did see;<br /> +I'll show him kind, and full of gaiety.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_162"></span> +In short, Almanzor, it shall be my care<br /> +To show you love; for you but saw despair.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I, in the shape of love, despair did see;<br /> +You, in his shape, would show inconstancy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> There's no such thing as constancy you call;<br /> +Faith ties not hearts; 'tis inclination all.<br /> +Some wit deformed, or beauty much decayed,<br /> +First constancy in love a virtue made.<br /> +From friendship they that land-mark did remove,<br /> +And falsely placed it on the bounds of love.<br /> +Let the effects of change be only tried;<br /> +Court me, in jest, and call me Almahide:<br /> +But this is only counsel I impart,<br /> +For I, perhaps, should not receive your heart.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Fair though you are<br /> +As summer mornings, and your eyes more bright<br /> +Than stars that twinkle in a winter's night;<br /> +Though you have eloquence to warm and move<br /> +Cold age, and praying hermits, into love;<br /> +Though Almahide with scorn rewards my care,—<br /> +Yet, than to change, 'tis nobler to despair.<br /> +My love's my soul; and that from fate is free;<br /> +'Tis that unchanged and deathless part of me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> The fate of constancy your love pursue!<br /> +Still to be faithful to what's false to you. +<span class="sdr">[Turns from him, and goes off angrily.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Ye gods, why are not hearts first paired above,<br /> +But some still interfere in others' love!<br /> +Ere each for each by certain marks are known,<br /> +You mould them up in haste, and drop them down;<br /> +And, while we seek what carelessly you sort,<br /> +You sit in state, and make our pains your sport. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt on both sides.</span></p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_163"></span></div> + +<h4 class="scn">ACT IV. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abenamar,</span> and Soldier.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Haste and conduct the prisoner to my sight. +<span class="sdr">[Exit Soldier, and immediately enters with <span class="cnm">Selin</span> +bound.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Did you, according to my orders, write? <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Selin</span></span><br /> +And have you summoned Ozmyn to appear?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> I am not yet so much a slave to fear,<br /> +Nor has your son deserved so ill of me,<br /> +That by his death or bonds I would be free.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Against thy life thou dost the sentence give;<br /> +Behold how short a time thou hast to live.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> Make haste, and draw the curtain while you may;<br /> +You but shut out the twilight of my day.<br /> +Beneath the burden of my age I bend:<br /> +You kindly ease me ere my journey's end. +<span class="sdr">[To them a Soldier with <span class="cnm">Ozmyn; Ozmyn</span> kneels.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> to <i>Selin.</i> It is enough, my promise makes you free;<br /> +Resign your bonds, and take your liberty.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Sir, you are just, and welcome are these bands;<br /> +'Tis all the inheritance a son demands.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> Your goodness, O my Ozmyn, is too great;<br /> +I am not weary of my fetters yet:<br /> +Already, when you move me to resign,<br /> +I feel them heavier on your feet than mine.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_164"></span> +Enter another Soldier.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Sold.</span> A youth attends you in the outer room,<br /> +Who seems in haste, and does from Ozmyn come.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Conduct him in.—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Sent from Benzayda, I fear, to me.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Benzayda,</span> in the habit of a man.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> My Ozmyn here!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Benzayda! 'tis she!—<br /> +Go youth, I have no business for thee here;<br /> +Go to the Albayzyn, and attend me there.<br /> +I'll not be long away; I pray thee go,<br /> +By all our love and friendship—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Ozmyn, no:<br /> +I did not take on me this bold disguise,<br /> +For ends so low, to cheat your watchmen's eyes.<br /> +When I attempted this, it was to do<br /> +An action, to be envied even by you;<br /> +But you, alas, have been too diligent,<br /> +And what I purposed fatally prevent!<br /> +Those chains, which for my father I would bear,<br /> +I take with less content to find you here;<br /> +Except your father will that mercy show,<br /> +That I may wear them both for him and you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> I thank thee, fortune! thou hast, in one hour,<br /> +Put all I could have asked thee in my power.<br /> +My own lost wealth thou giv'st not only back,<br /> +But driv'st upon my coast my pirate's wreck.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> With Ozmyn's kindness I was grieved before,<br /> +But yours, Benzayda, has' undone me more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> to a <i>Soldier.</i> +Go fetch new fetters, and the daughter bind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Be just at least, sir, though you are not kind:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_165"></span> +Benzayda is not as a prisoner brought,<br /> +But comes to suffer for another's fault.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Then, Ozmyn, mark, that justice which I do,<br /> +I, as severely, will exact from you:<br /> +The father is not wholly dead in me;<br /> +Or you may yet revive it, if it be.<br /> +Like tapers new blown out, the fumes remain,<br /> +To catch the light, and bring it back again.<br /> +Benzayda gave you life, and set you free;<br /> +For that, I will restore her liberty.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Sir, on my knees I thank you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Ozmyn, hold;<br /> +One part of what I purpose is untold:<br /> +Consider, then, it on your part remains,<br /> +When I have broke, not to resume your chains.<br /> +Like an indulgent father, I have paid<br /> +All debts, which you, my prodigal, have made.<br /> +Now you are clear, break off your fond design,<br /> +Renounce Benzayda, and be wholly mine.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Are these the terms? Is this the liberty?<br /> +Ah, sir, how can you so inhuman be?<br /> +My duty to my life I will prefer;<br /> +But life and duty must give place to her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Consider what you say, for, with one breath,<br /> +You disobey my will, and give her death.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Ah, cruel father, what do you propose!<br /> +Must I then kill Benzayda, or must lose?<br /> +I can do neither; in this wretched state.<br /> +The least that I can suffer is your hate;<br /> +And yet that's worse than death: Even while I sue,<br /> +And choose your hatred, I could die for you.<br /> +Break quickly, heart, or let my blood be spilt<br /> +By my own hand, to save a father's guilt.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Hear me, my lord, and take this wretched life,<br /> +To free you from the fear of Ozmyn's wife.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_166"></span> +I beg but what with ease may granted be,<br /> +To spare your son, and kill your enemy;<br /> +Or, if my death's a grace too great to give,<br /> +Let me, my lord, without my Ozmyn live.<br /> +Far from your sight and Ozmyn's let me go,<br /> +And take from him a care, from you a foe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> How, my Benzayda! can you thus resign<br /> +That love, which you have vowed so firmly mine?<br /> +Can you leave me for life and liberty?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> What I have done will show that I dare die;<br /> +But I'll twice suffer death, and go away,<br /> +Rather than make you wretched by my stay:<br /> +By this my father's freedom will be won;<br /> +And to your father I restore a son.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> Cease, cease, my children, your unhappy strife,<br /> +Selin will not be ransomed by your life.<br /> +Barbarian, thy old foe defies thy rage; <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Aben.</span></span><br /> +Turn, from their youth, thy malice to my age.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Forbear, dear father! for your Ozmyn's sake,<br /> +Do not such words to Ozmyn's father speak.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Alas, 'tis counterfeited rage; he strives<br /> +But to divert the danger from our lives:<br /> +For I can witness, sir, and you might see,<br /> +How in your person he considered me.<br /> +He still declined the combat where you were;<br /> +And you well know it was not out of fear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Alas, my lord, where can your vengeance fall?<br /> +Your justice will not let it reach us all.<br /> +Selin and Ozmyn both would sufferers be;<br /> +And punishment's a favour done to me.<br /> +If we are foes, since you have power to kill,<br /> +'Tis generous in you not to have the will;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_167"></span> +But, are we foes? Look round, my lord, and see;<br /> +Point out that face which is your enemy.<br /> +Would you your hand in Selin's blood embrue?<br /> +Kill him unarmed, who, armed, shunned killing you?<br /> +Am I your foe? Since you detest my line,<br /> +That hated name of Zegry I resign:<br /> +For you, Benzayda will herself disclaim;<br /> +Call me your daughter, and forget my name.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> This virtue would even savages subdue;<br /> +And shall it want the power to vanquish you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> It has, it has; I read it in his eyes;<br /> +'Tis now not anger, 'tis but shame denies;<br /> +A shame of error, that great spirits find,<br /> +When keeps down virtue struggling in the mind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Yes, I am vanquished! The fierce conflict's past,<br /> +And shame itself is now o'ercome at last.<br /> +'Twas long before my stubborn mind was won;<br /> +But, melting once, I on the sudden run;<br /> +Nor can I hold my headlong kindness more,<br /> +Than I could curb my cruel rage before. +<span class="sdr">[Runs to <span class="cnm">Benz.,</span> and embraces her.</span><br /> +Benzayda, 'twas your virtue vanquished me;<br /> +That could alone surmount my cruelty. +<span class="sdr">[Runs to <span class="cnm">Selin,</span> and unbinds him.</span><br /> +Forgive me, Selin, my neglect of you;<br /> +But men, just waking, scarce know what they do.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> O father!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> Father!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aden.</span> Dare I own that name!<br /> +Speak, speak it often, to remove my shame. +<span class="sdr">[They all embrace him.</span><br /> +O Selin, O my children, let me go!<br /> +I have more kindness than I yet can show.<br /> +For my recovery I must shun your sight;<br /> +Eyes used to darkness cannot bear the light. +<span class="sdr">[He runs in, they following him.</span></p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_168"></span></div> + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.—<i>The Albayzyn.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor, Abdelmelech,</span> Soldiers.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> 'Tis war again, and I am glad 'tis so;<br /> +Success shall now by force and courage go.<br /> +Treaties are but the combat of the brain,<br /> +Where still the stronger lose, and weaker gain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> On this assault, brave sir, which we prepare,<br /> +Depends the sum and fortune of the war.<br /> +Encamped without the fort the Spaniard lies,<br /> +And may, in spite of us, send in supplies.<br /> +Consider yet, ere we attack the place,<br /> +What 'tis to storm it in an army's face.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> The minds of heroes their own measures are,<br /> +They stand exempted from the rules of war.<br /> +One loose, one sally of the hero's soul,<br /> +Does all the military art controul;<br /> +While timorous wit goes round, or fords the shore,<br /> +He shoots the gulph, and is already o'er;<br /> +And, when the enthusiastic fit is spent,<br /> +Looks back amazed at what he underwent. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[An alarum within.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> and <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech,</span> with their +Soldiers.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> They fly, they fly; take breath and charge again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Make good your entrance, and bring up more men.<br /> +I feared, brave friend, my aid had been too late.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> You drew us from the jaws of certain fate.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_169"></span> +At my approach,<br /> +The gate was open, and the draw-bridge down;<br /> +But, when they saw I stood, and came not on,<br /> +They charged with fury on my little band,<br /> +Who, much o'erpowered, could scarce the shock withstand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Ere night we shall the whole Albayzyn gain.<br /> +But see, the Spaniards march along the plain<br /> +To its relief; you, Abdelmelech, go,<br /> +And force the rest, while I repulse the foe. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Almanzor.</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abdalla,</span> and some few Soldiers, who seem +fearful.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Turn cowards, turn! there is no hope in flight;<br /> +You yet may live, if you but dare to fight.<br /> +Come, you brave few, who only fear to fly,<br /> +We're not enough to conquer, but to die.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> No, prince, that mean advantage I refuse;<br /> +'Tis in your power a nobler fate to choose.<br /> +Since we are rivals, honour does command<br /> +We should not die, but by each other's hand.<br /> +Retire; and, if it prove my destiny <span class="sdr">[To his men.</span><br /> +To fall, I charge you let the prince go free. +<span class="sdr">[The Soldiers depart on both sides.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> O, Abdelmelech, that I knew some way<br /> +This debt of honour, which I owe, to pay!<br /> +But fate has left this only means for me,<br /> +To die, and leave you Lyndaraxa free.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> He, who is vanquished and is slain, is blest;<br /> +The wretched conqueror can ne'er have rest;<br /> +But is reserved a harder fate to prove.<br /> +Bound in the fetters of dissembled love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_170"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Now thou art base, and I deserve her more;<br /> +Without complaint I will to death adore.<br /> +Dar'st thou see faults, and yet dost love pretend?<br /> +I will even Lyndaraxa's crimes defend.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Maintain her cause, then, better than thy own,—<br /> +Than thy ill got, and worse defended throne. +<span class="sdr">[They fight, <span class="cnm">Abdalla</span> falls.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Now ask your life.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> 'Tis gone; that busy thing,<br /> +The soul, is packing up, and just on wing,<br /> +Like parting swallows, when they seek the spring:<br /> +Like them, at its appointed time, it goes,<br /> +And flies to countries more unknown than those.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa</span> hastily, sees them, and is going +out again. <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech</span> stops her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> No, you shall stay, and see a sacrifice,<br /> +Not offered by my sword, but by your eyes.<br /> +From those he first ambitious poison drew,<br /> +And swelled to empire from the love of you.<br /> +Accursed fair!<br /> +Thy comet-blaze portends a prince's fate;<br /> +And suffering subjects groan beneath thy weight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdal.</span> Cease, rival, cease!<br /> +I would have forced you, but it wonnot be;<br /> +I beg you now, upbraid her not for me.<br /> +You, fairest, to my memory be kind! <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span></span><br /> +Lovers like me your sex will seldom find.<br /> +When I usurped a crown for love of you,<br /> +I then did more, than, dying, now I do.<br /> +I'm still the same as when my love begun;<br /> +And, could I now this fate foresee or shun,<br /> +Would yet do all I have already done. <span class="sdr">[Dies.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[She puts her handkerchief to her eyes.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="pgnm" id="page_171"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Weep on, weep on, for it becomes you now;<br /> +These tears you to that love may well allow.<br /> +His unrepenting soul, if it could move<br /> +Upward in crimes, flew spotted with your love;<br /> +And brought contagion to the blessed above.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> He's gone, and peace go with a constant mind!<br /> +His love deserved I should have been more kind;<br /> +But then your love and greater worth I knew:<br /> +I was unjust to him, but just to you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> I was his enemy, and rival too,<br /> +Yet I some tears to his misfortune owe:<br /> +You owe him more; weep then, and join with me:<br /> +So much is due even to humanity.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Weep for this wretch, whose memory I hate!<br /> +Whose folly made us both unfortunate!<br /> +Weep for this fool, who did my laughter move!<br /> +This whining, tedious, heavy lump of love!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Had fortune favoured him, and frowned on me,<br /> +I then had been that heavy fool, not he:<br /> +Just this had been my funeral elegy.<br /> +Thy arts and falsehood I before did know,<br /> +But this last baseness was concealed till now;<br /> +And 'twas no more than needful to be known;<br /> +I could be cured by such an act alone.<br /> +My love, half blasted, yet in time would shoot;<br /> +But this last tempest rends it to the root.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> These little piques, which now your anger move,<br /> +Will vanish, and are only signs of love.<br /> +You've been too fierce; and, at some other time,<br /> +I should not with such ease forgive your crime:<br /> +But, in a day of public joy like this,<br /> +I pardon, and forget whate'er's amiss.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_172"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> These arts have oft prevailed, but must no more:<br /> +The spell is ended, and the enchantment o'er.<br /> +You have at last destroyed, with much ado,<br /> +That love, which none could have destroyed, but you.<br /> +My love was blind to your deluding art;<br /> +But blind men feel, when stabbed so near the heart.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I must confess there was some pity due;<br /> +But I concealed it out of love to you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> No, Lyndaraxa; 'tis at last too late:<br /> +Our loves have mingled with too much of fate.<br /> +I would, but cannot now, myself deceive:<br /> +O that you still could cheat, and I believe!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Do not so light a quarrel long pursue:<br /> +You grieve your rival was less loved than you.<br /> +'Tis hard, when men of kindness must complain!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> I'm now awake, and cannot dream again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Yet hear—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> No more; nothing my heart can bend:<br /> +That queen, you scorned, you shall this night attend.<br /> +Your life the king has pardoned for my sake;<br /> +But on your pride I some revenge must take.<br /> +See now the effects of what your arts designed!<br /> +Thank your inconstant and ambitious mind.<br /> +'Tis just that she, who to no love is true,<br /> +Should be forsaken, and contemned, like you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> All arts of injured women I will try:<br /> +First I will be revenged; and then I'll die.<br /> +But like some falling tower,<br /> +Whose seeming firmness does the sight beguile,<br /> +So hold I up my nodding head a while,<br /> +Till they come under; and reserve my fall,<br /> +That with my ruins I may reach them all,</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Conduct her hence. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> guarded.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_173"></span> +Enter a Soldier.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Sold.</span> Almanzor is victorious without fight;<br /> +The foes retreated when he came in sight.<br /> +Under the walls, this night, his men are drawn,<br /> +And mean to seek the Spaniard with the dawn.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> The sun's declined:<br /> +Command the watch be set without delay,<br /> +And in the fort let bold Benducar stay.— <span class="sdr">[Exit Sold.</span><br /> +I'll haste to court, where solitude I'll fly,<br /> +And herd, like wounded deer, in company.<br /> +But oh, how hard a passion to remove,<br /> +When I must shun myself, to 'scape from love! <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.—<i>A Gallery in the Alhambra.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Zulema, Hamet.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> I thought your passion for the queen was dead,<br /> +Or that your love had, with your hopes, been fled.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> 'Twas like a fire within a furnace pent:<br /> +I smothered it, and kept it long from vent;<br /> +But, fed with looks, and blown with sighs so fast,<br /> +It broke a passage through my lips at last.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> Where found you confidence your suit to move?<br /> +Our broken fortunes are not fit to love.<br /> +Well; you declared your love:—What followed then?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> She looked as judges do on guilty men,<br /> +When big with fate they triumph in their dooms,<br /> +And smile before the deadly sentence comes.<br /> +Silent I stood, as I were thunder-struck;<br /> +Condemned and executed with a look.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_174"></span> +<span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> You must, with haste, some remedy prepare:<br /> +Now you are in, you must break through the snare.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> She said, she would my folly yet conceal;<br /> +But vowed my next attempt she would reveal.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> 'Tis dark; and in this lonely gallery,<br /> +Remote from noise, and shunning every eye,<br /> +One hour each evening she in private mourns,<br /> +And prays, and to the circle then returns.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> These lighted tapers show the time is nigh.<br /> +Perhaps my courtship will not be in vain:<br /> +At least, few women will of force complain.</p> + +<p class="sdn">At the other end of the Gallery, enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> +and <span class="cnm">Esperanza.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> Almanzor, and with him<br /> +The favourite slave of the sultana queen.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Ere they approach, let us retire unseen,<br /> +And watch our time when they return again:<br /> +Then force shall give, if favour does deny;<br /> +And, that once done, we'll to the Spaniards fly. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Zul.</span> and <span class="cnm">Hamet.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Now stand; the apartment of the queen is near;<br /> +And, from this place, your voice will reach her ear. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Esperanza</span> goes out.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<h4>SONG, IN TWO PARTS.</h4> + +<h5>I.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p><span style="font-style: normal">He.</span> How unhappy a lover am I,</p> +<p class="i3">While I sigh for my Phillis in vain;</p> +<p class="i2">All my hopes of delight</p> +<p class="i2">Are another man's right,</p> +<p class="i3">Who is happy, while I am in pain!</p> +</div> + +<span class="pgnm" id="page_175"></span> +<h5>II.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p><span style="font-style: normal">She.</span> Since her honour allows no relief,</p> +<p class="i3">But to pity the pains which you bear,</p> +<p class="i2">'Tis the best of your fate</p> +<p class="i2">In a hopeless estate,</p> +<p class="i3">To give o'er, and betimes to despair.</p> +</div> + +<h5>III.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p><span style="font-style: normal">He.</span> I have tried the false med'cine in vain;</p> +<p class="i3">For I wish what I hope not to win:</p> +<p class="i2">From without, my desire</p> +<p class="i2">Has no food to its fire;</p> +<p class="i3">But it burns and consumes me within.</p> +</div> + +<h5>IV.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p><span style="font-style: normal">She.</span> Yet, at least, 'tis a pleasure to know</p> +<p class="i3">That you are not unhappy alone:</p> +<p class="i2">For the nymph you adore</p> +<p class="i2">Is as wretched, and more;</p> +<p class="i3">And counts all your sufferings her own.</p> +</div> + +<h5>V.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p><span style="font-style: normal">He.</span> O ye gods, let me suffer for both;</p> +<p class="i3">At the feet of my Phyllis I'll lie:</p> +<p class="i2">I'll resign up my breath,</p> +<p class="i2">And take pleasure in death</p> +<p class="i3">To be pitied by her when I die.</p> +</div> + +<h5>VI.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p><span style="font-style: normal">She.</span> What her honour denied you in life,</p> +<p class="i3">In her death she will give to your love.</p> +<p class="i2">Such flame as is true</p> +<p class="i2">After fate will renew,</p> +<p class="i3">For the souls to meet closer above.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_176"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Esperanza</span> again, after the Song.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Accept this diamond, till I can present<br /> +Something more worthy my acknowledgement.<br /> +And now farewell: I will attend, alone,<br /> +Her coming forth; and make my sufferings known. +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Esperanza.</span></span><br /> +A hollow wind comes whistling through that door,<br /> +And a cold shivering seizes me all o'er;<br /> +My teeth, too, chatter with a sudden fright:—<br /> +These are the raptures of too fierce delight,<br /> +The combat of the tyrants, hope and fear;<br /> +Which hearts, for want of field-room, cannot bear.<br /> +I grow impatient;—this, or that's the room:—<br /> +I'll meet her;—now methinks, I her her come. +<span class="sdr">[He goes to the door; the Ghost of his Mother +meets him: He starts back: The Ghost stands +in the door.</span><br /> +Well may'st thou make thy boast, whate'er thou art!<br /> +Thou art the first e'er made Almanzor start.<br /> +My legs<br /> +Shall bear me to thee in their own despite:<br /> +I'll rush into the covert of thy night,<br /> +And pull thee backward, by the shroud, to light;<br /> +Or else I'll squeeze thee, like a bladder, there,<br /> +And make thee groan thyself away to air. <span class="sdr">[The Ghost retires.</span><br /> +So, thou art gone! Thou canst no conquest boast:<br /> +I thought what was the courage of a ghost.—<br /> +The grudging of my ague yet remains;<br /> +My blood, like icicles, hangs in my veins,<br /> +And does not drop:—Be master of that door,<br /> +We two will not disturb each other more.<br /> +I erred a little, but extremes may join;<br /> +That door was hell's, but this is heaven's and mine. +<span class="sdr">[Goes to the other door, and is met again by the Ghost.</span><br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_177"></span> +Again! by heaven, I do conjure thee, speak!<br /> +What art thou, spirit? and what dost thou seek? +<span class="sdr">[The Ghost comes on softly after the conjuration; +and <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> retires to the middle of the stage.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Ghost.</span> I am the ghost of her who gave thee birth;<br /> +The airy shadow of her mouldering earth.<br /> +Love of thy father me through seas did guide;<br /> +On seas I bore thee, and on seas I died.<br /> +I died; and for my winding sheet a wave<br /> +I had, and all the ocean for my grave.<br /> +But, when my soul to bliss did upward move,<br /> +I wandered round the crystal walls above;<br /> +But found the eternal fence so steeply high,<br /> +That, when I mounted to the middle sky,<br /> +I flagged, and fluttered down, and could not fly.<br /> +Then, from the battlements of the heavenly tower,<br /> +A watchman angel bid me wait this hour;<br /> +And told me, I had yet a task assigned,<br /> +To warn that little pledge I left behind;<br /> +And to divert him, ere it were too late,<br /> +From crimes unknown, and errors of his fate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Speak, holy shade; thou parent-form, speak on! +<span class="sdr">[Bowing.</span><br /> +Instruct thy mortal-elemented son;<br /> +For here I wander, to myself unknown.<br /> +But O, thou better part of heavenly air,<br /> +Teach me, kind spirit, since I'm still thy care,<br /> +My parents' names:<br /> +If I have yet a father, let me know<br /> +To whose old age my humble youth must bow,<br /> +And pay its duty, if he mortal be,<br /> +Or adoration, if a mind, like thee.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ghost.</span> Then, what I may, I'll tell.—<br /> +From ancient blood thy father's lineage springs,<br /> +Thy mother's thou deriv'st from stems of kings.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_178"></span> +A Christian born, and born again that day,<br /> +When sacred water washed thy sins away.<br /> +Yet, bred in errors, thou dost misemploy<br /> +That strength heaven gave thee, and its flock destroy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> By reason, man a godhead may discern,<br /> +But how he should be worshipped cannot learn.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ghost.</span> Heaven does not now thy ignorance reprove,<br /> +But warns thee from known crimes of lawless love.<br /> +That crime thou knowest, and, knowing, dost not shun,<br /> +Shall an unknown and greater crime pull on:<br /> +But if, thus warned, thou leav'st this cursed place,<br /> +Then shalt thou know the author of thy race.<br /> +Once more I'll see thee; then my charge is done.<br /> +Far hence, upon the mountains of the moon,<br /> +Is my abode; where heaven and nature smile,<br /> +And strew with flowers the secret bed of Nile.<br /> +Blessed souls are there refined, and made more bright,<br /> +And, in the shades of heaven, prepared for light. <span class="sdr">[Exit Ghost.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> O heaven, how dark a riddle's thy decree,<br /> +Which bounds our wills, yet seems to leave them free!<br /> +Since thy fore-knowledge cannot be in vain,<br /> +Our choice must be what thou didst first ordain.<br /> +Thus, like a captive in an isle confined,<br /> +Man walks at large, a prisoner of the mind:<br /> +Wills all his crimes, while heaven the indictment draws,<br /> +And, pleading guilty, justifies the laws.<br /> +Let fate be fate; the lover and the brave<br /> +Are ranked, at least, above the vulgar slave.<br /> +Love makes me willing to my death to run;<br /> +And courage scorns the death it cannot shun.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_179"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Almahide</span> with a taper.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> My light will sure discover those who talk.—<br /> +Who dares to interrupt my private walk?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> He, who dares love, and for that love must die,<br /> +And, knowing this, dares yet love on, am I.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> That love which you can hope, and I can pay,<br /> +May be received and given in open day:<br /> +My praise and my esteem you had before;<br /> +And you have bound yourself to ask no more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Yes, I have bound myself; but will you take<br /> +The forfeit of that bond, which force did make?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> You know you are from recompence debarred;<br /> +But purest love can live without reward.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Pure love had need be to itself a feast;<br /> +For, like pure elements, 'twill nourish least.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> It therefore yields the only pure content;<br /> +For it, like angels, needs no nourishment.<br /> +To eat and drink can no perfection be;<br /> +All appetite implies necessity.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> 'Twere well, if I could like a spirit live;<br /> +But, do not angels food to mortals give?<br /> +What if some demon should my death foreshow,<br /> +Or bid me change, and to the Christians go;<br /> +Will you not think I merit some reward,<br /> +When I my love above my life regard?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> In such a case your change must be allowed:<br /> +I would myself dispense with what you vowed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Were I to die that hour when I possess,<br /> +This minute shall begin my happiness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_180"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almah.</span> The thoughts of death your passion would remove;<br /> +Death is a cold encouragement to love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> No; from my joys I to my death would run,<br /> +And think the business of my life well done:<br /> +But I should walk a discontented ghost,<br /> +If flesh and blood were to no purpose lost.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> You love me not, Almanzor; if you did,<br /> +You would not ask what honour must forbid.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> And what is honour, but a love well hid?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Yes, 'tis the conscience of an act well done,<br /> +Which gives us power our own desires to shun;<br /> +The strong and secret curb of headlong will;<br /> +The self-reward of good, and shame of ill.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> These, madam, are the maxims of the day,<br /> +When honour's present, and when love's away.<br /> +The duty of poor honour were too hard,<br /> +In arms all day, at night to mount the guard.<br /> +Let him, in pity, now to rest retire;<br /> +Let these soft hours be watched by warm desire.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Guards, who all day on painful duty keep,<br /> +In dangers are not privileged to sleep.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> And with what dangers are you threatened here?<br /> +Am I, alas! a foe for you to fear?<br /> +See, madam, at your feet this enemy; <span class="sdr">[Kneels.</span><br /> +Without your pity and your love I die.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Rise, rise, and do not empty hopes pursue;<br /> +Yet think that I deny myself, not you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> A happiness so high I cannot bear:<br /> +My love's too fierce, and you too killing fair.<br /> +I grow enraged to see such excellence!—<br /> +If words, so much disordered, give offence,<br /> +My love's too full of zeal to think of sense.<br /> +Be you like me; dull reason hence remove,<br /> +And tedious forms, and give a loose to love.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_181"></span> +Love eagerly; let us be gods to-night;<br /> +And do not, with half yielding, clash delight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Thou strong seducer, opportunity!<br /> +Of womankind, half are undone by thee!<br /> +Though I resolve I will not be misled,<br /> +I wish I had not heard what you have said!<br /> +I cannot be so wicked to comply;<br /> +And, yet, am most unhappy to deny!<br /> +Away!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I will not move me from this place:<br /> +I can take no denial from that face!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> If I could yield,—but think not that I will,—<br /> +You and myself I in revenge should kill;<br /> +For I should hate us both, when it were done,<br /> +And would not to the shame of life be won.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Live but to-night, and trust to-morrow's mind:<br /> +Ere that can come, there's a whole life behind.<br /> +Methinks, already crowned with joys I lie,<br /> +Speechless and breathless, in an ecstasy!<br /> +Not absent in one thought: I am all there:<br /> +Still close, yet wishing still to be more near.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Deny your own desires; for it will be<br /> +Too little now to be denied by me.<br /> +Will he, who does all great, all noble seem,<br /> +Be lost and forfeit to his own esteem?<br /> +Will he, who may with heroes claim a place,<br /> +Belie that fame, and to himself be base?<br /> +Think how august and godlike you did look,<br /> +When my defence, unbribed, you undertook;<br /> +But, when an act so brave you disavow,<br /> +How little, and how mercenary now!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Are, then, my services no higher prized?<br /> +And can I fall so low, to be despised?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Yes; for whatever may be bought, is low;<br /> +And you yourself, who sell yourself, are so.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_182"></span> +Remember the great act you did this day:<br /> +How did your love to virtue then give way!<br /> +When you gave freedom to my captive lord,—<br /> +That rival who possessed what you adored,—<br /> +Of such a deed what price can there be made?<br /> +Think well; is that an action to be paid?<br /> +It was a miracle of virtue shown;<br /> +And wonders are with wonder paid alone.<br /> +And would you all that secret joy of mind,<br /> +Which great souls only in great actions find,<br /> +All that, for one tumultuous minute lose?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz</span>, I would that minute before ages chuse.<br /> +Praise is the pay of heaven for doing good;<br /> +But love's the best return for flesh and blood.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> You've moved my heart so much, I can deny<br /> +No move; but know, Almanzor, I can die.<br /> +Thus far my virtue yields; if I have shown<br /> +More love than what I ought, let this atone. +<span class="sdr">[Going to stab herself.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Hold, hold!<br /> +Such fatal proofs of love you shall not give:<br /> +Deny me; hate me; both are just,—but live!<br /> +Your virtue I will ne'er disturb again;<br /> +Nor dare to ask, for fear I should obtain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> 'Tis generous to have conquered your desire;<br /> +You mount above your wish, and lose it higher.<br /> +There's pride in virtue, and a kindly heat;<br /> +Not feverish, like your love, but full as great.<br /> +Farewell; and may our loves hereafter be<br /> +But image-like, to heighten piety.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> 'Tis time I should be gone.—<br /> +Alas! I am but half converted yet;<br /> +All I resolve, I with one look forget;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_183"></span> +And, like a lion, whom no arts can tame,<br /> +Shall tear even those, who would my rage reclaim. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt severally.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Zulema</span> and <span class="cnm">Hamet</span> watch <span class="cnm">Almanzor;</span> and +when he is gone, go in after the Queen.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech</span> and <span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> It is enough, you've brought me to this place:<br /> +Here stop, and urge no further my disgrace.<br /> +Kill me; in death your mercy will be seen,<br /> +But make me not a captive to the queen.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> 'Tis therefore I this punishment provide:<br /> +This only can revenge me on your pride.<br /> +Prepare to suffer what you shun in vain;<br /> +And know, you now are to obey, not reign.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almahide</span> shrieking; her hair loose; she +runs over the stage.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Help, help, O heaven, some help!</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Zulema</span> and <span class="cnm">Hamet.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Make haste before,<br /> +And intercept her passage to the door.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Villains, what act are you attempting here!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span><br />I thank thee, heaven! some succour does appear. +<span class="sdr">[As <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech</span> is going to help the Queen, +<span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa</span> pulls out his sword, and holds it.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> With what ill fate my good design is curst!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> We have no time to think; dispatch him first.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> O for a sword! +<span class="sdr">[They make at <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech;</span> he goes off at +one door, while the Queen escapes at the other.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_184"></span> +<br /><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Ruined!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> Undone!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> And, which is worst of all,<br /> +He is escaped.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> I hear them loudly call.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Your fear will lose you; call as loud as they:<br /> +I have not time to teach you what to say.<br /> +The court will in a moment all be here;<br /> +But second what I say, and do not fear.<br /> +Call help; run that way; leave the rest to me. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Zul.</span> and <span class="cnm">Hamet</span> retire, and within cry,<span style="font-style: normal;">—Help!</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter, at several doors, the King, <span class="cnm">Abenamar, Selin, +Ozmyn, Almanzor,</span> with Guards attending +<span class="cnm">Boabdelin.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> What can the cause of all this tumult be?<br /> +And what the meaning of that naked sword?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I'll tell, when fear will so much breath afford.—<br /> +The queen and Abdelmelech—'Twill not out—<br /> +Even I, who saw it, of the truth yet doubt,<br /> +It seems so strange.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Did she not name the queen?<br /> +Haste; speak.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> How dare I speak what I have seen?—<br /> +With Hamet, and with Zulema I went,<br /> +To pay both theirs, and my acknowledgment<br /> +To Almahide, and by her mouth implore<br /> +Your clemency, our fortunes to restore.<br /> +We chose this hour, which we believed most free,<br /> +When she retired from noise and company.<br /> +The ante-chamber past, we gently knocked,<br /> +Unheard it seems, but found the lodgings locked,<br /> +In duteous silence while we waited there,<br /> +We first a noise, and then long whispers hear; +<span class="pgnm" id="page_185"></span> +Yet thought it was the queen at prayers alone,<br /> +Till she distinctly said,—If this were known,<br /> +My love, what shame, what danger would ensue!<br /> +Yet I,—and sighed,—could venture more for you!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> O heaven, what do I hear!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Let her go on.<br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> And how,—then murmured in a bigger tone<br /> +Another voice,—and how should it be known?<br /> +This hour is from your court attendants free;<br /> +The king suspects Almanzor, but not me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> I find her drift; Hamet, be confident; +<span class="sdr">[At the door.</span><br /> +Second her words, and fear not the event.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Zulema</span> and <span class="cnm">Hamet</span> enter. The King embraces them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Welcome, my only friends;—behold in me,<br /> +O kings, behold the effects of clemency!<br /> +See here the gratitude of pardoned foes!<br /> +That life, I gave them, they for me expose!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> Though Abdelmelech was our friend before,<br /> +When duty called us, he was so no more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Damn your delay!—you torturers, proceed!<br /> +I will not hear one word but Almahide.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> When you, within, the traitor's voice did hear,<br /> +What did you then?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> I durst not trust my ear;<br /> +But, peeping through the key-hole, I espied<br /> +The queen, and Abdelmelech by her side;<br /> +She on the couch, he on her bosom lay;<br /> +Her hand about his neck his head did stay,<br /> +And from his forehead wiped the drops away.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Go on, go on, my friends, to clear my doubt;<br /> +I hope I shall have life to hear you out.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_186"></span> +<span class="cnm">Zul</span> What had been, sir, you may suspect too well;<br /> +What followed, modesty forbids to tell:<br /> +Seeing what we had thought beyond belief,<br /> +Our hearts so swelled with anger and with grief,<br /> +That, by plain force, we strove the door to break.<br /> +He, fearful, and with guilt, or love, grown weak,<br /> +Just as we entered, 'scaped the other way;<br /> +Nor did the amazed queen behind him stay.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> His sword, in so much haste, he could not mind;<br /> +But left this witness of his crime behind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> O proud, ungrateful, faithless womankind!<br /> +How changed, and what a monster am I made!<br /> +My love, my honour, ruined and betrayed!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Your love and honour! mine are ruined worse:—<br /> +Furies and hell!—What right have you to curse?<br /> +Dull husband as you are,<br /> +What can your love, or what your honour, be?<br /> +I am her lover, and she's false to me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Go; when the authors of my shame are found,<br /> +Let them be taken instantly and bound:<br /> +They shall be punished as our laws require:<br /> +'Tis just, that flames should be condemned to fire.<br /> +This, with the dawn of morning shall be done.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> You haste too much her execution.<br /> +Her condemnation ought to be deferred;<br /> +With justice, none can be condemned unheard.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> A formal process tedious is, and long;<br /> +Besides, the evidence is full and strong.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> The law demands two witnesses; and she<br /> +Is cast, for which heaven knows I grieve, by three.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> Hold, sir! since you so far insist on law,<br /> +We can from thence one just advantage draw:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_187"></span> +That law, which dooms adultresses to die,<br /> +Gives champions, too, to slandered chastity.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> And how dare you, who from my bounty live,<br /> +Intrench upon my love's prerogative?<br /> +Your courage in your own concernments try;<br /> +Brothers are things remote, while I am by.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> I knew not you thus far her cause would own,<br /> +And must not suffer you to fight alone:<br /> +Let two to two in equal combat join;<br /> +You vindicate her person, I her line.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Of all mankind, Almanzor has least right<br /> +In her defence, who wrong'd his love, to fight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> 'Tis false: she is not ill, nor can she be;<br /> +She must be chaste, because she's loved by me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Dare you, what sense and reason prove, deny?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> When she's in question, sense and reason lie.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> For truth, and for my injured sovereign,<br /> +What I have said, I will to death maintain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> So foul a falsehood, whoe'er justifies,<br /> +Is basely born, and, like a villain, lies.<br /> +In witness of that truth, be this my gage. +<span class="sdr">[Takes a ring from his finger.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> I take it; and despise a traitor's rage.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> The combat's yours.—A guard the lists surround;<br /> +Then raise a scaffold in the encompassed ground,<br /> +And, by it, piles of wood; in whose just fire,<br /> +Her champions slain, the adultress shall expire.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> We ask no favour, but what arms will yield.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Choose, then, two equal judges of the field:<br /> +Next morning shall decide the doubtful strife,<br /> +Condemn the unchaste, or quit the virtuous wife.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> But I am both ways cursed:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_188"></span> +For Almahide must die, if I am slain;<br /> +Or for my rival I the conquest gain. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT V. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> solus.</p> + +<p class="dlg">I have outfac'd myself; and justified,<br /> +What I knew false, to all the world beside.<br /> +She was as faithless as her sex could be;<br /> +And, now I am alone, she's so to me.<br /> +She's fallen! and, now, where shall we virtue find?<br /> +She was the last that stood of womankind.<br /> +Could she so holily my flames remove,<br /> +And fall that hour to Abdelmelech's love?<br /> +Yet her protection I must undertake;<br /> +Not now for love, but for my honour's sake,<br /> +That moved me first, and must oblige me still:<br /> +My cause is good, however her's be ill.<br /> +I'll leave her, when she's freed; and let it be<br /> +Her punishment, she could be false to me.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To him <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech,</span> guarded.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Heaven is not heaven, nor are there deities<br /> +There is some new rebellion in the skies.<br /> +All that was good and holy is dethroned,<br /> +And lust and rapine are for justice owned.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> 'Tis true; what justice in that heaven can be,<br /> +Which thus affronts me with the sight of thee?<br /> +Why must I be from just revenge debarred?<br /> +Chains are thy arms, and prisons are thy guard:<br /> +The death, thou diest, may to a husband be<br /> +A satisfaction; but 'tis none to me.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_189"></span> +My love would justice to itself afford;<br /> +But now thou creep'st to death below my sword.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> This threatening would show better were I free.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> No; wert thou freed, I would not threaten thee;<br /> +This arm should then—but now it is too late!<br /> +I could redeem thee to a nobler fate.<br /> +As some huge rock,<br /> +Rent from its quarry, does the waves divide,<br /> +So I<br /> +Would souse upon thy guards, and dash them wide:<br /> +Then, to my rage left naked and alone,<br /> +Thy too much freedom thou should'st soon bemoan:<br /> +Dared like a lark, that, on the open plain<br /> +Pursued and cuffed, seeks shelter now in vain;<br /> +So on the ground wouldst thou expecting lie,<br /> +Not daring to afford me victory.<br /> +But yet thy fate's not ripe; it is decreed,<br /> +Before thou diest, that Almahide be freed.<br /> +My honour first her danger must remove,<br /> +And then revenge on thee my injured love. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt severally.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">The <span class="cnm">Scene</span> changes to the Vivarambla, and appears +filled with Spectators; a Scaffold hung with black.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter the <span class="cnm">Queen</span> guarded, with <span class="cnm">Esperanza.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> See how the gazing people crowd the place,<br /> +All gaping to be filled with my disgrace. <span class="sdr">[A shout within.</span><br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_190"></span> +That shout, like the hoarse peals of vultures, rings,<br /> +When over fighting fields they beat their wings.—<br /> +Let never woman trust in innocence,<br /> +Or think her chastity its own defence;<br /> +Mine has betrayed me to this public shame,<br /> +And virtue, which I served, is but a name.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Esper.</span> Leave then that shadow, and for succour fly<br /> +To Him we serve, the Christian's Deity.<br /> +Virtue's no god, nor has she power divine:<br /> +But He protects it, who did first enjoin.<br /> +Trust then in Him; and from his grace implore<br /> +Faith to believe, what rightly we adore.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Thou Power unknown, if I have erred, forgive!<br /> +My infancy was taught what I believe.<br /> +But if the Christians truly worship thee,<br /> +Let me thy Godhead in thy succour see:<br /> +So shall thy justice in my safety shine,<br /> +And all my days, which thou shalt add, be thine!</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter the <span class="cnm">King, Abenamar, Lyndaraxa, Benzayda:</span> +then <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech</span> guarded; and after +him <span class="cnm">Selin</span> and <span class="cnm">Alabez,</span> as Judges of the Field.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> You, judges of the field, first take your place.—<br /> +The accusers and accused bring face to face.<br /> +Set guards, and let the lists be opened wide;<br /> +And may just heaven assist the juster side!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> What! not one tender look, one passing word?<br /> +Farewell, my much unkind, but still loved lord!<br /> +Your throne was for my humble fate too high,<br /> +And therefore heaven thinks fit that I should die.<br /> +My story be forgot, when I am dead,<br /> +Lest it should fright some other from your bed;<br /> +And, to forget me, may you soon adore<br /> +Some happier maid,—yet none could love you more.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_191"></span> +But may you never think me innocent,<br /> +Lest it should cause you trouble to repent.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> 'Tis pity so much beauty should not live; <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +Yet I too much am injured, to forgive. <span class="sdr">[Goes to his seat.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Trumpets: Then enter two Moors, bearing two naked +swords before the accusers <span class="cnm">Zulema</span> and <span class="cnm">Hamet,</span> +who follow them. The Judges seat themselves; the +<span class="cnm">Queen</span> and <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech</span> are led to the Scaffold.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alabez.</span> Say for what end you thus in arms appear;<br /> +What are your names, and what demand you here?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> The Zegrys' ancient race our lineage claims;<br /> +And Zulema and Hamet are our names.<br /> +Like loyal subjects in these lists we stand,<br /> +And justice in our king's behalf demand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> For whom, in witness of what both have seen,<br /> +Bound by our duty, we appeach the queen<br /> +And Abdelmelech, of adultery.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Which, like true knights, we will maintain, or die.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alabez.</span> Swear on the Alcoran your cause is right,<br /> +And Mahomet so prosper you in fight. +<span class="sdr">[They touch their foreheads with the Alcoran, +and bow.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Trumpets on the other side of the Stage; two Moors, +as before, with bare swords before <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> and +<span class="cnm">Ozmyn.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> Say for what end you thus in arms appear;<br /> +What are your names, and what demand you here?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Ozmyn is his, Almanzor is my name;<br /> +We come as champions of the queen's fair fame.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_192"></span> +<span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> To prove these Zegrys, like false traitors, lie;<br /> +Which, like true knights, we will maintain, or die.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> [<span class="sdm">to <span class="cnm">Almah.</span></span>]<br /> +Madam, do you for champions take these two,<br /> +By their success to live or die?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I do.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> Swear on the Alcoran your cause is right;<br /> +And Mahomet so prosper you in fight. <span class="sdr">[They kiss the Alcoran.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> and <span class="cnm">Benzayda</span> embrace, and take leave +in dumb show; while <span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa</span> speaks to +her Brother.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><br /><br /><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> If you o'ercome, let neither of them live,<br /> +But use with care the advantages I give:<br /> +One of their swords in fight shall useless be;<br /> +The bearer of it is suborned by me. +<span class="sdr">[She and <span class="cnm">Benzayda</span> retire.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alabez.</span> Now, principals and seconds, all advance,<br /> +And each of you assist his fellow's chance.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> The wind and sun we equally divide,<br /> +So let the event of arms the truth decide.<br /> +The chances of the fight, and every wound,<br /> +The trumpets, on the victor's part, resound. +<span class="sdr">[The Trumpets sound; <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> and <span class="cnm">Zulema</span> +meet and fight; <span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> and <span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> After +some passes, the sword of <span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> breaks; he +retires, defending himself, and is wounded; the +Zegrys' Trumpets sound their advantage. <span class="cnm">Almanzor,</span> +in the mean time, drives <span class="cnm">Zulema</span> to +the farther end of the Stage, till, hearing the +Trumpets of the adverse Party, he looks back, +and sees <span class="cnm">Ozmyn's</span> misfortune; he makes at <span class="cnm">Zulema</span> +just as <span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> falls, in retiring, and +<span class="cnm">Hamet</span> is thrusting at him.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span class="pgnm" id="page_193"></span> +<span class="cnm">Hamet.</span> [<span class="sdm">to <span class="cnm">Ozmyn,</span> thrusting.</span>]<br /> +Our difference now shall soon determined be.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Hold, traitor, and defend thyself from me. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Hamet</span> leaves <span class="cnm">Ozmyn</span> (who cannot rise), and both +he and <span class="cnm">Zulema</span> fall on <span class="cnm">Almanzor,</span> and press +him; he retires, and <span class="cnm">Hamet,</span> advancing first, is +run through the body, and falls. The Queen's +Trumpets sound. <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> pursues <span class="cnm">Zulema.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> I must make haste some remedy to find:—<br /> +Treason, Almanzor, treason! look behind. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> looks behind him to see who calls, and +<span class="cnm">Zulema</span> takes the advantage, and wounds him; +the Zegrys' Trumpets sound; <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> turns +upon <span class="cnm">Zulema,</span> and wounds him; he falls. The +Queens Trumpets sound.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><br /><br /><br /><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Now triumph in thy sister's treachery. +<span class="sdr">[Stabbing him.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zul.</span> Hold, hold! I have enough to make me die,<br /> +But, that I may in peace resign my breath,<br /> +I must confess my crime before my death.<br /> +Mine is the guilt; the queen is innocent:<br /> +I loved her, and, to compass my intent,<br /> +Used force, which Abdelmelech did prevent.<br /> +The lie my sister forged; but, O! my fate<br /> +Comes on too soon, and I repent too late.<br /> +Fair queen, forgive; and let my penitence<br /> +Expiate some part of— <span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Even thy whole offence!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> [<span class="sdm">to the Judges.</span>]<br /> +If aught remains in the sultana's cause,<br /> +I here am ready to fulfil the laws.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> The law is fully satisfied, and we<br /> +Pronounce the queen and Abdelmelech free.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Heaven, thou art just! +<span class="sdr">[The Judges rise from their seats, and go before +<span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> to the Queens Scaffold; he unbinds +the Queen and <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech;</span> they all go off, +the People shouting, and the Trumpets sounding +the while.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><br /><br /><br /><br /><span class="pgnm" id="page_194"></span> +<span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Before we pay our thanks, or show our joy,<br /> +Let us our needful charity employ.<br /> +Some skilful surgeon speedily be found,<br /> +To apply fit remedies to Ozmyn's wound.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> [<span class="sdm">running to <span class="cnm">Ozm.</span></span>]<br /> +That be my charge: my linen I will tear;<br /> +Wash it with tears, and bind it with my hair.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> With how much pleasure I my pains endure,<br /> +And bless the wound which causes such a cure! +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Ozm.</span> led by <span class="cnm">Benz.</span> and <span class="cnm">Aben.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Some from the place of combat bear the slain.—<br /> +Next Lyndaraxa's death I should ordain:<br /> +But let her, who this mischief did contrive,<br /> +For ever banished from Granada live.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Thou shouldst have punished more, or not at all:<br /> +By her thou hast not ruined, thou shalt fall.<br /> +The Zegrys shall revenge their branded line,<br /> +Betray their gate, and with the Christians join. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Lyndaraxa</span> with <span class="cnm">Alabez;</span> the bodies of +her Brothers are borne after her.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Almanzor, Almahide,</span> and <span class="cnm">Esperanza,</span> re-enter +to the King.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> The thanks thus paid, which first to heaven were due,<br /> +My next, Almanzor, let me pay to you:<br /> +Somewhat there is of more concernment too,<br /> +Which 'tis not fit you should in public know.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_195"></span> +First let your wounds be dressed with speedy care,<br /> +And then you shall the important secret share.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Whene'er you speak,<br /> +Were my wounds mortal, they should still bleed on;<br /> +And I would listen till my life were gone:<br /> +My soul should even for your last accent stay,<br /> +And then shout out, and with such speed obey,<br /> +It should not bait at heaven to stop its way. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Almanz.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> 'Tis true, Almanzor did her honour save,<br /> +But yet what private business can they have?<br /> +Such freedom virtue will not sure allow;<br /> +I cannot clear my heart, but must my brow. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[He approaches <span class="cnm">Almahide.</span></span><br /> +Welcome again, my virtuous, loyal wife;<br /> +Welcome to love, to honour, and to life! +<span class="sdr">[Goes to salute her, she starts back.</span><br /> +You seem<br /> +As if you from a loathed embrace did go!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Then briefly will I speak, since you must know<br /> +What to the world my future acts will show:<br /> +But hear me first, and then my reasons weigh.<br /> +'Tis known, how duty led me to obey<br /> +My father's choice; and how I since did live,<br /> +You, sir, can best your testimony give.<br /> +How to your aid I have Almanzor brought,<br /> +When by rebellious crowds your life was sought;<br /> +Then, how I bore your causeless jealousy,<br /> +(For I must speak) and after set you free,<br /> +When you were prisoner in the chance of war:<br /> +These, sure, are proofs of love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> I grant they are.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> And could you then, O cruelly unkind!<br /> +So ill reward such tenderness of mind?<br /> +Could you, denying what our laws afford<br /> +The meanest subject, on a traitor's word,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_196"></span> +Unheard, condemn, and suffer me to go<br /> +To death, and yet no common pity show!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Love filled my heart even to the brim before;<br /> +And then, with too much jealousy, boiled o'er.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Be't love or jealousy, 'tis such a crime,<br /> +That I'm forewarned to trust a second time.<br /> +Know, then, my prayers to heaven shall never cease,<br /> +To crown your arms in war, your wars with peace;<br /> +But from this day I will not know your bed:<br /> +Though Almahide still lives, your wife is dead;<br /> +And with her dies a love so pure and true,<br /> +It could be killed by nothing but by you. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Almah.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Yes; you will spend your life in prayers for me,<br /> +And yet this hour my hated rival see.<br /> +She might a husband's jealousy forgive;<br /> +But she will only for Almanzor live.<br /> +It is resolved; I will myself provide<br /> +That vengeance, which my useless laws denied;<br /> +And, by Almanzor's death, at once remove<br /> +The rival of my empire, and my love. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Boab.</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almahide,</span> led by <span class="cnm">Almanzor,</span> and followed +by <span class="cnm">Esperanza;</span> she speaks, entering.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> How much, Almanzor, to your aid I owe,<br /> +Unable to repay, I blush to know;<br /> +Yet, forced by need, ere I can clear that score,<br /> +I, like ill debtors, come to borrow more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Your new commands I on my knees attend:<br /> +I was created for no other end.<br /> +Born to be yours, I do by nature serve,<br /> +And, like the labouring beast, no thanks deserve.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Yet first your virtue to your succour call,<br /> +For in this hard command you'll need it all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_197"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I stand prepared; and whatsoe'er it be,<br /> +Nothing is hard to him, who loves like me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Then know, I from your love must yet implore<br /> +One proof:—that you would never see me more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I must confess, <span class="sdr">[Starting back.</span><br /> +For this last stroke I did no guard provide;<br /> +I could suspect no foe was near that side.<br /> +From winds and thickening clouds we thunder fear,<br /> +None dread it from that quarter which is clear;<br /> +And I would fain believe, 'tis but your art<br /> +To shew<br /> +You knew where deepest you could wound my heart.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> So much respect is to your passion due,<br /> +That sure I could not practise arts on you.<br /> +But that you may not doubt what I have said,<br /> +This hour I have renounced my husband's bed:<br /> +Judge, then, how much my fame would injured be,<br /> +If, leaving him, I should a lover see.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> If his unkindness have deserved that curse,<br /> +Must I, for loving well, be punished worse?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Neither your love nor merits I compare,<br /> +But my unspotted name must be my care.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> I have this day established its renown.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Would you so soon, what you have raised, throw down?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> But, madam, is not yours a greater guilt,<br /> +To ruin him, who has that fabric built?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> No lover should his mistress' prayers withstand,<br /> +Yet you contemn my absolute command.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> 'Tis not contempt,<br /> +When your command is issued out too late;<br /> +'Tis past my power, and all beyond is fate.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_198"></span> +I scarce could leave you, when to exile sent,<br /> +Much less when now recalled from banishment;<br /> +For if that heat your glances cast were strong,<br /> +Your eyes, like glasses, fire, when held so long.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Then, since you needs will all my weakness know,<br /> +I love you; and so well, that you must go.<br /> +I am so much obliged, and have withal<br /> +A heart so boundless and so prodigal,<br /> +I dare not trust myself, or you, to stay,<br /> +But, like frank gamesters, must forswear the play.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Fate, thou art kind to strike so hard a blow:<br /> +I am quite stunned, and past all feeling now.<br /> +Yet—can you tell me you have power and will<br /> +To save my life, and at that instant kill?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> This, had you staid, you never must have known;<br /> +But, now you go, I may with honour own.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> But, madam, I am forced to disobey:<br /> +In your defence my honour bids me stay.<br /> +I promised to secure your life and throne,<br /> +And, heaven be thanked, that work is yet undone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I here make void that promise which you made,<br /> +For now I have no farther need of aid.<br /> +That vow, which to my plighted lord was given,<br /> +I must not break, but may transfer to heaven:<br /> +I will with vestals live:<br /> +There needs no guard at a religious door;<br /> +Few will disturb the praying and the poor.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Let me but near that happy temple stay,<br /> +And through the grates peep on you once a day;<br /> +To famished hope I would no banquet give:<br /> +I cannot starve, and wish but just to live.<br /> +Thus, as a drowning man<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_199"></span> +Sinks often, and does still more faintly rise,<br /> +With his last hold catching whate'er he spies;<br /> +So, fallen from those proud hopes I had before,<br /> +Your aid I for a dying wretch implore.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I cannot your hard destiny withstand,</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Boabdelin,</span> and Guards above.</p> + +<p class="dlg">But slip, like bending rushes, from your hand.<br /> +Sink all at once, since you must sink at last.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Can you that last relief of sight remove,<br /> +And thrust me out the utmost line of love!<br /> +Then, since my hopes of happiness are gone,<br /> +Denied all favours, I will seize this one. +<span class="sdr">[Catches her hand, and kisses it.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> My just revenge no longer I'll forbear:<br /> +I've seen too much; I need not stay to hear. <span class="sdr">[Descends.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> As a small shower<br /> +To the parched earth does some refreshment give,<br /> +So, in the strength of this, one day I'll live:<br /> +A day,—a year,—an age,—for ever, now; +<span class="sdr">[Betwixt each word he kisses her hand by force; +she struggling.</span><br /><br /> +I feel from every touch a new soul flow. +<span class="sdr">[She snatches her hand away.</span><br /> +My hoped eternity of joy is past!<br /> +'Twas insupportable, and could not last.<br /> +Were heaven not made of less, or duller joy,<br /> +'Twould break each minute, and itself destroy.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter King and Guards, below.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> This, this, is he, for whom thou didst deny<br /> +To share my bed:—Let them together die.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Hear me, my lord.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> Your flattering arts are vain:<br /> +Make haste, and execute what I ordain. <span class="sdr">[To the Guards.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_200"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Cut piece-meal in this cause,<br /> +From every wound I should new vigour take,<br /> +And every limb should new Almanzors make. +<span class="sdr">[He puts himself before the Queen; the Guards +attack him, with the King.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> What angry god, to exercise his spite, +<span class="sdr">[To the King.</span><br /> +Has arm'd your left hand, to cut off your right? +<span class="sdr">[The King turns, the fight ceases.</span><br /> +The foes are entered at the Elvira gate:<br /> +False Lyndaraxa has the town betrayed,<br /> +And all the Zegrys give the Spaniards aid.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boab.</span> O mischief, not suspected nor foreseen!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Already they have gained the Zacatin,<br /> +And thence the Vivarambla place possest,<br /> +While our faint soldiers scarce defend the rest.<br /> +The duke of Arcos does one squadron head,<br /> +The next by Ferdinand himself is led.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Now, brave Almanzor, be a god again;<br /> +Above our crimes and your own passions reign.<br /> +My lord has been by jealousy misled,<br /> +To think I was not faithful to his bed.<br /> +I can forgive him, though my death he sought,<br /> +For too much love can never be a fault.<br /> +Protect him, then; and what to his defence<br /> +You give not, give to clear my innocence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Listen, sweet heaven, and all ye blessed above,<br /> +Take rules of virtue from a mortal love!<br /> +You've raised my soul; and if it mount more high,<br /> +'Tis as the wren did on the eagle fly.<br /> +Yes, I once more will my revenge neglect,<br /> +And, whom you can forgive, I can protect.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_201"></span> +<span class="cnm">Boab.</span> How hard a fate is mine, still doomed to shame!<br /> +I make occasions for my rival's fame! <span class="sdr">[Exeunt. An alarm within.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Ferdinand, Isabella,</span> Don <span class="cnm">Alonzo +d'Aguilar;</span> Spaniards and Ladies.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> Already more than half the town is gained,<br /> +But there is yet a doubtful fight maintained.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alonz.</span> The fierce young king the entered does attack,<br /> +And the more fierce Almanzor drives them back.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> The valiant Moors like raging lions fight;<br /> +Each youth encouraged by his lady's sight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> I will advance with such a shining train,<br /> +That Moorish beauties shall oppose in vain.<br /> +Into the press of clashing swords we'll go,<br /> +And, where the darts fly thickest, seek the foe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> May heaven, which has inspired this generous thought,<br /> +Avert those dangers you have boldly sought!<br /> +Call up more troops; the women, to our shame,<br /> +Will ravish from the men their part of fame. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Isabella</span> and Ladies.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Alabez,</span> and kisses the King's hand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alabez.</span> Fair Lyndaraxa, and the Zegry line,<br /> +Have led their forces with your troops to join;<br /> +The adverse part, which obstinately fought,<br /> +Are broke, and Abdelmelech prisoner brought.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> Fair Lyndaraxa, and her friends, shall find<br /> +The effects of an obliged and grateful mind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_202"></span> +<span class="cnm">Alabez.</span> But, marching by the Vivarambla place,<br /> +The combat carried a more doubtful face:<br /> +In that vast square the Moors and Spaniards met,<br /> +Where the fierce conflict is continued yet;<br /> +But with advantage on the adverse side,<br /> +Whom fierce Almanzor does to conquest guide.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> With my Castilian foot I'll meet his rage; +<span class="sdr">[Is going out: Shouts within are heard,<span style="font-style: normal;">—Victoria! +Victoria!</span></span><br /> +But these loud clamours better news presage.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter the <span class="cnm">Duke of Arcos,</span> and Soldiers; their +Swords drawn and bloody.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Granada now is yours; and there remain<br /> +No Moors, but such as own the power of Spain.<br /> +That squadron, which their king in person led,<br /> +We charged, but found Almanzor on their head:<br /> +Three several times we did the Moors attack,<br /> +And thrice with slaughter did he drive us back:<br /> +Our troops then shrunk; and still we lost more ground,<br /> +'Till from our queen we needful succour found:<br /> +Her guards to our assistance bravely flew,<br /> +And with fresh vigour did the fight renew:<br /> +At the same time<br /> +Did Lyndaraxa with her troops appear,<br /> +And, while we charged the front, engaged the rear:<br /> +Then fell the king, slain by a Zegry's hand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> How could he such united force withstand?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Discouraged with his death, the Moorish powers<br /> +Fell back, and, falling back, were pressed by ours;<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_203"></span> +But as, when winds and rain together crowd,<br /> +They swell till they have burst the bladdered cloud;<br /> +And first the lightning, flashing deadly clear,<br /> +Flies, falls, consumes, kills ere it does appear,—<br /> +So from his shrinking troops, Almanzor flew,<br /> +Each blow gave wounds, and with each wound he slew:<br /> +His force at once I envied and admired,<br /> +And rushing forward, where my men retired,<br /> +Advanced alone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> You hazarded too far<br /> +Your person, and the fortune of the war.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> Already both our arms for fight did bare,<br /> +Already held them threatening in the air,<br /> +When heaven (it must be heaven) my sight did guide<br /> +To view his arm, upon whose wrist I spied<br /> +A ruby cross in diamond bracelets tied;<br /> +And just above it, in the brawnier part,<br /> +By nature was engraved a bloody heart:<br /> +Struck with these tokens, which so well I knew,<br /> +And staggering back some paces, I withdrew:<br /> +He followed, and supposed it was my fear;<br /> +When, from above, a shrill voice reached his ear:—<br /> +"Strike not thy father!"—it was heard to cry;<br /> +Amazed, and casting round his wondrous eye,<br /> +He stopped; then, thinking that his fears were vain,<br /> +He lifted up his thundering arm again:<br /> +Again the voice withheld him from my death;<br /> +"Spare, spare his life," it cried, "who gave thee breath!"<br /> +Once more he stopped; then threw his sword away;<br /> +"Blessed shade," he said, "I hear thee, I obey<br /> +Thy sacred voice;" then, in the sight of all,<br /> +He at my feet, I on his neck did fall.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> O blessed event!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_204"></span> +<span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> The Moors no longer fought;<br /> +But all their safety by submission sought:<br /> +Mean time my son grew faint with loss of blood,<br /> +And on his bending sword supported stood;<br /> +Yet, with a voice beyond his strength, he cried,<br /> +"Lead me to live or die by Almahide."</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> I am not for his wounds less grieved than you:<br /> +For, if what now my soul divines prove true,<br /> +This is that son, whom in his infancy<br /> +You lost, when by my father forced to fly.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> His sister's beauty did my passion move,<br /> +(The crime for which I suffered was my love.)<br /> +Our marriage known, to sea we took our flight:<br /> +There, in a storm, Almanzor first saw light.<br /> +On his right arm a bloody heart was graved,<br /> +(The mark by which, this day, my life was saved:)<br /> +The bracelets and the cross his mother tied<br /> +About his wrist, ere she in childbed died.<br /> +How we were captives made, when she was dead,<br /> +And how Almanzor was in Afric bred,<br /> +Some other hour you may at leisure hear,<br /> +For see, the queen in triumph does appear.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Queen Isabella, Lyndaraxa,</span> Ladies, +Moors and Spaniards mixed as Guards, <span class="cnm">Abdelmelech, +Abenamar, Selin,</span> Prisoners.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> [<span class="sdm">embracing Q. Isabel.</span>]<br /> +All stories which Granada's conquest tell,<br /> +Shall celebrate the name of Isabel.<br /> +Your ladies too, who, in their country's cause,<br /> +Led on the men, shall share in your applause;<br /> +And, for your sakes, henceforward I ordain,<br /> +No lady's dower shall questioned be in Spain,<br /> +Fair Lyndaraxa, for the help she lent,<br /> +Shall, under tribute, have this government.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_205"></span> +<span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> O heaven, that I should live to see this day!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> You murmur now, but you shall soon obey.<br /> +I knew this empire to my fate was owed;<br /> +Heaven held it back as long as e'er it could;<br /> +For thee, base wretch, I want a torture yet— <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span></span><br /> +I'll cage thee; thou shalt be my Bajazet.<br /> +I on no pavement but on thee will tread;<br /> +And, when I mount, my foot shall know thy head.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> (<span class="sdm">Stabbing her with a poniard.</span>)<br /> +This first shall know thy heart.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> O! I am slain!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> Now, boast thy country is betrayed to Spain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> Look to the lady!—Seize the murderer!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abdelm.</span> (<span class="sdm">Stabbing himself.</span>)<br /> +I do myself that justice I did her.<br /> +Thy blood I to thy ruined country give, <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span></span><br /> +But love too well thy murder to out-live.<br /> +Forgive a love, excused by its excess,<br /> +Which, had it not been cruel, had been less.<br /> +Condemn my passion, then, but pardon me,<br /> +And think I murdered him who murdered thee. <span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lyndar.</span> Die for us both; I have not leisure now;<br /> +A crown is come, and will not fate allow:<br /> +And yet I feel something like death is near,<br /> +My guards, my guards,—<br /> +Let not that ugly skeleton appear!<br /> +Sure destiny mistakes; this death's not mine;<br /> +She dotes, and meant to cut another line.<br /> +Tell her I am a queen;—but 'tis too late;<br /> +Dying, I charge rebellion on my fate.<br /> +Bow down, ye slaves:— <span class="sdr">[To the Moors.</span><br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_206"></span> +Bow quickly down, and your submission show.— <span class="sdr">[They bow.</span><br /> +I'm pleased to taste an empire ere I go. <span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Selin.</span> She's dead, and here her proud ambition ends.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aben.</span> Such fortune still such black designs attends.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> Remove those mournful objects from our eyes,<br /> +And see performed their funeral obsequies. +<span class="sdr">[The bodies are carried off.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> and <span class="cnm">Almahide, Ozmyn</span> and +<span class="cnm">Benzayda; Almahide</span> brought in a chair; <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> +led betwixt Soldiers. <span class="cnm">Isabella</span> salutes +<span class="cnm">Almahide</span> in dumb show.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">D. Arcos.</span> (<span class="sdm">Presenting <span class="cnm">Almanzor</span> to the King.</span>)<br /> +See here that son, whom I with pride call mine;<br /> +And who dishonours not your royal line.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> I'm now secure, this sceptre, which I gain,<br /> +Shall be continued in the power of Spain;<br /> +Since he, who could alone my foes defend,<br /> +By birth and honour is become my friend;<br /> +Yet I can own no joy, nor conquest boast, <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Almanz.</span></span><br /> +While in this blood I see how dear it cost.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> This honour to my veins new blood will bring;<br /> +Streams cannot fail, fed by so high a spring.<br /> +But all court-customs I so little know,<br /> +That I may fail in those respects I owe.<br /> +I bring a heart which homage never knew;<br /> +Yet it finds something of itself in you:<br /> +Something so kingly, that my haughty mind<br /> +Is drawn to yours, because 'tis of a kind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_207"></span> +<span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> And yet that soul, which bears itself so high,<br /> +If fame be true, admits a sovereignty.<br /> +This queen, in her fair eyes, such fetters brings,<br /> +As chain that heart, which scorns the power of kings.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Little of charm in these sad eyes appears;<br /> +If they had any, now 'tis lost in tears.<br /> +A crown, and husband, ravished in one day!—<br /> +Excuse a grief, I cannot choose but pay.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> Have courage, madam; heaven has joys in store,<br /> +To recompence those losses you deplore.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I know your God can all my woes redress;<br /> +To him I made my vows in my distress:<br /> +And, what a misbeliever vowed this day,<br /> +Though not a queen, a Christian yet shall pay.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> (<span class="sdm">Embracing her.</span>)<br /> +That Christian name you shall receive from me,<br /> +And Isabella of Granada be.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Benz.</span> This blessed change we all with joy receive;<br /> +And beg to learn that faith which you believe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> With reverence for those holy rites prepare;<br /> +And all commit your fortunes to my care.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> to <i>Almah.</i><br /> +You, madam, by that crown you lose, may gain,<br /> +If you accept, a coronet of Spain,<br /> +Of which Almanzor's father stands possest.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> to <i>Almah.</i><br /> +May you in him, and he in you, be blest!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> I owe my life and honour to his sword;<br /> +But owe my love to my departed lord.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_208"></span> +<span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Thus, when I have no living force to dread,<br /> +Fate finds me enemies amongst the dead.<br /> +I'm now to conquer ghosts, and to destroy<br /> +The strong impressions of a bridal joy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> You've yet a greater foe than these can be,—<br /> +Virtue opposes you, and modesty.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> From a false fear that modesty does grow,<br /> +And thinks true love, because 'tis fierce, its foe.<br /> +'Tis but the wax whose seals on virgins stay:<br /> +Let it approach love's fire, 'twill melt away:—<br /> +But I have lived too long; I never knew,<br /> +When fate was conquered, I must combat you.<br /> +I thought to climb the steep ascent of love;<br /> +But did not think to find a foe above.<br /> +'Tis time to die, when you my bar must be,<br /> +Whose aid alone could give me victory;<br /> +Without,<br /> +I'll pull up all the sluices of the flood,<br /> +And love, within, shall boil out all my blood.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Q. Isabel.</span> Fear not your love should find so sad success,<br /> +While I have power to be your patroness.<br /> +I am her parent now, and may command<br /> +So much of duty as to give her hand. +<span class="sdr">[Gives him <span class="cnm">Almahide's</span> hand.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almah.</span> Madam, I never can dispute your power,<br /> +Or as a parent, or a conqueror;<br /> +But, when my year of widowhood expires,<br /> +Shall yield to your command, and his desires.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> Move swiftly, sun, and fly a lover's pace;<br /> +Leave weeks and months behind thee in thy race!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_209"></span> +<span class="cnm">K. Ferd.</span> Mean time, you shall my victories pursue,<br /> +The Moors in woods and mountains to subdue.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Almanz.</span> The toils of war shall help to wear each day,<br /> +And dreams of love shall drive my nights away.—<br /> +Our banners to the Alhambra's turrets bear;<br /> +Then, wave our conquering crosses in the air,<br /> +And cry, with shouts of triumph,—Live and reign,<br /> +Great Ferdinand and Isabel of Spain! <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_210"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">EPILOGUE.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<p>They, who have best succeeded on the stage,</p> +<p>Have still conformed their genius to their age.</p> +<p>Thus Jonson did mechanic humour show,</p> +<p>When men were dull, and conversation low.</p> +<p>Then comedy was faultless, but 'twas coarse:</p> +<p>Cobb's tankard was a jest, and Otter's horse<a class="ftnt" href="#Alman_5-1">[1]</a>.</p> +<p>And, as their comedy, their love was mean;</p> +<p>Except, by chance, in some one laboured scene,</p> +<p>Which must atone for an ill-written play.</p> +<p>They rose, but at their height could seldom stay.</p> +<p>Fame then was cheap, and the first comer sped;</p> +<p>And they have kept it since, by being dead.</p> +<p>But, were they now to write, when critics weigh</p> +<p>Each line, and every word, throughout a play,</p> +<p>None of them, no not Jonson in his height,</p> +<p>Could pass, without allowing grains for weight.</p> +<p>Think it not envy, that these truths are told;</p> +<p>Our poet's not malicious, though he's bold.</p> +<p>'Tis not to brand them, that their faults are shown,</p> +<p>But, by their errors, to excuse his own.</p> +<p>If love and honour now are higher raised,</p> +<p>'Tis not the poet, but the age is praised.</p> +<p>Wit's now arrived to a more high degree;</p> +<p>Our native language more refined and free.</p> +<p>Our ladies and our men now speak more wit</p> +<p>In conversation, than those poets writ.</p> +<p>Then, one of these is, consequently, true;</p> +<p>That what this poet writes comes short of you,</p> +<p>And imitates you ill (which most he fears),</p> +<p>Or else his writing is not worse than theirs.</p> +<p>Yet, though you judge (as sure the critics will),</p> +<p>That some before him writ with greater skill,</p> +<p>In this one praise he has their fame surpast,</p> +<p>To please an age more gallant than the last.</p> +</div> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnote:</p> +<ol> +<li><a name="Alman_5-1" id="Alman_5-1"></a>The characters alluded to are Cobb, the water bearer, in "Every Man in +his Humour;" and Captain Otter, in "Epicene, or the Silent Woman," +whose humour it was to christen his drinking cups by the names of Horse, +Bull, and Bear.</li> +</ol> +</div> + +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_211" id="page_211"></a></div> + +<h3 class="chap">DEFENCE +OF +THE EPILOGUE;</h3> + +<p class="ctr">OR,</p> + +<h4 class="ctr">AN ESSAY ON THE DRAMATIC POETRY +OF THE LAST AGE.</h4> + +<p>The promises of authors, that they will write +again, are, in effect, a threatening of their readers +with some new impertinence; and they, who perform +not what they promise, will have their pardon +on easy terms. It is from this consideration, that +I could be glad to spare you the trouble, which I +am now giving you, of a postscript, if I were not +obliged, by many reasons, to write somewhat concerning +our present plays, and those of our predecessors +on the English stage. The truth is, I have +so far engaged myself in a bold epilogue to this +play, wherein I have somewhat taxed the former +writing, that it was necessary for me either not to +print it, or to show that I could defend it. Yet I +would so maintain my opinion of the present age, +as not to be wanting in my veneration for the past: +<span class="pgnm" id="page_212"></span> +I would ascribe to dead authors their just praises in +those things wherein they have excelled us; and in +those wherein we contend with them for the pre-eminence, +I would acknowledge our advantages to +the age, and claim no victory from our wit. This +being what I have proposed to myself, I hope I +shall not be thought arrogant when I enquire into +their errors: For we live in an age so sceptical, that +as it determines little, so it takes nothing from antiquity +on trust; and I profess to have no other +ambition in this essay, than that poetry may not +go backward, when all other arts and sciences are +advancing. Whoever censures me for this inquiry, +let him hear his character from Horace:</p> + +<div class="poem" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Ingeniis non ille favet, plauditque sepultis,</p> +<p>Nostra sed impugnat; nos nostraque lividus odit.</p> + +<p><br />He favours not dead wits, but hates the living.</p> +</div> + +<p>It was upbraided to that excellent poet, that he +was an enemy to the writings of his predecessor +Lucilius, because he had said, <i>Lucilium lutulentum +fluere</i>, that he ran muddy; and that he ought to +have retrenched from his satires many unnecessary +verses. But Horace makes Lucilius himself to justify +him from the imputation of envy, by telling +you that he would have done the same, had he lived +in an age which was more refined:</p> + +<div class="poem" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Si foret hoc nostrum fato delapsus in ævum,</p> +<p>Detereret sibi multa, recideret omne quod, ultra</p> +<p>Perfectum traheretur, &c.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">And, both in the whole course of that satire, and +in his most admirable Epistle to Augustus, he makes +it his business to prove, that antiquity alone is no +plea for the excellency of a poem; but that, one +age learning from another, the last (if we can suppose +an equality of wit in the writers,) has the advantage +<span class="pgnm" id="page_213"></span> +of knowing more and better than the former +And this, I think, is the state of the question +in dispute. It is therefore my part to make it +clear, that the language, wit, and conversation of +our age, are improved and refined above the last; +and then it will not be difficult to infer, that our +plays have received some part of those advantages.</p> + +<p>In the first place, therefore, it will be necessary +to state, in general, what this refinement is, of +which we treat; and that, I think, will not be defined +amiss, "An improvement of our Wit, Language +and Conversation; or, an alteration in them +for the better."</p> + +<p>To begin with Language. That an alteration is +lately made in ours, or since the writers of the last +age (in which I comprehend Shakespeare, Fletcher, +and Jonson), is manifest. Any man who reads +those excellent poets, and compares their language +with what is now written, will see it almost in every +line; but that this is an improvement of the language +or an alteration for the better, will not so +easily be granted. For many are of a contrary opinion +that the English tongue was then in the +height of its perfection; that from Jonson's time +to ours it has been in a continual declination, like +that of the Romans from the age of Virgil to Statius, +and so downward to Claudian; of which, not +only Petronius, but Quintilian himself so much +complains, under the person of <i>Secundus</i>, in his famous +dialogue <i>De Causis corruptæ Eloquentiæ</i>.</p> + +<p>But, to shew that our language is improved, and +that those people have not a just value for the age +in which they live, let us consider in what the refinement +of a language principally consists: that is, +"either in rejecting such old words, or phrases, +which are ill sounding, or improper; or in admitting +<span class="pgnm" id="page_214"></span> +new, which are more proper, more sounding, +and more significant."</p> + +<p>The reader will easily take notice, that when I +speak of rejecting improper words and phrases, I +mention not such as are antiquated by custom only +and, as I may say, without any fault of theirs. +For in this case the refinement can be but accidental; +that is, when the words and phrases, which are +rejected, happen to be improper. Neither would I +be understood, when I speak of impropriety of language, +either wholly to accuse the last age, or to +excuse the present, and least of all myself; for all +writers have their imperfections and failings: but I +may safely conclude in the general, that our improprieties +are less frequent, and less gross than theirs. +One testimony of this is undeniable, that we are the +first who have observed them; and, certainly, to observe +errors is a great step to the correcting of +them. But, malice and partiality set apart, let any +man, who understands English, read diligently the +works of Shakespeare and Fletcher, and I dare undertake, +that he will find in every page either some +solecism of speech, or some notorious flaw in sense<a class="ftnt" href="#Almanz_6-1">[1]</a>; +and yet these men are reverenced, when we are not +forgiven. That their wit is great, and many times +their expressions noble, envy itself cannot deny.</p> + +<div class="poem" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>—Neque ego illis detrahere ausim</p> +<p>Hærentem capiti multâ cum laude coronam.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">But the times were ignorant in which they lived. +Poetry was then, if not in its infancy among us, at +least not arrived to its vigour and maturity: Witness +<span class="pgnm" id="page_215"></span> +the lameness of their plots; many of which, +especially those which they writ first (for even +that age refined itself in some measure), were made +up of some ridiculous incoherent story, which in +one play many times took up the business of an +age. I suppose I need not name "Pericles, Prince +of Tyre," nor the historical plays of Shakespeare: +besides many of the rest, as the "Winter's Tale," +"Love's Labour Lost," "Measure for Measure," +which were either grounded on impossibilities, or +at least so meanly written, that the comedy neither +caused your mirth, nor the serious part your concernment<a class="ftnt" href="#Almanz_6-2">[2]</a>. +If I would expatiate on this subject, +I could easily demonstrate, that our admired Fletcher, +who wrote after him, neither understood correct +plotting, nor that which they call "the decorum +of the stage." I would not search in his worst +plays for examples: He who will consider his "Philaster," +his "Humorous Lieutenant," his "Faithful +Shepherdess," and many others which I could name, +will find them much below the applause which is +now given them. He will see Philaster wounding +his mistress, and afterwards his boy, to save himself; +not to mention the Clown, who enters immediately, +and not only has the advantage of the combat +against the hero, but diverts you from your serious +concernment, with his ridiculous and absurd +raillery. In his "Humorous Lieutenant," you find +his Demetrius and Leontius staying in the midst of +a routed army, to hear the cold mirth of the Lieutenant; +and Demetrius afterwards appearing with +<span class="pgnm" id="page_216"></span> +a pistol in his hand, in the next age to Alexander +the Great<a class="ftnt" href="#Almanz_6-3">[3]</a>. And for his Shepherd, he falls +twice into the former indecency of wounding women. +But these absurdities, which those poets committed, +may more properly be called the age's fault +than theirs. For, besides the want of education +and learning, (which was their particular unhappiness) +they wanted the benefit of converse: But of +that I shall speak hereafter, in a place more proper +for it. Their audiences knew no better; and therefore +were satisfied with what they brought. Those, +who call theirs the golden age of poetry, have only +this reason for it, that they were then content with +acorns before they knew the use of bread; or that +<span class="Greek" title="Alis druos"> +αλις +δρυος +</span> was become a proverb. They had many +who admired them, and few who blamed them; +and certainly a severe critic is the greatest help to +a good wit: he does the office of a friend, while he +designs that of an enemy; and his malice keeps a +poet within those bounds, which the luxuriancy of +his fancy would tempt him to overleap.</p> + +<p>But it is not their plots which I meant principally +to tax; I was speaking of their sense and language; +and I dare almost challenge any man to +shew me a page together which is correct in both. +As for Ben Jonson, I am loth to name him, because +he is a most judicious writer; yet he very often falls +into these errors: and I once more beg the reader's +pardon for accusing him of them. Only let him +consider, that I live in an age where my least faults +are severely censured; and that I have no way left +<span class="pgnm" id="page_217"></span> +to extenuate my failings, but by showing as great +in those whom we admire:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p><i>Cædimus, inque vicem præbemus crura sagittis.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">I cast my eyes but by chance on Catiline; and in +the three or four last pages, found enough to conclude +that Jonson writ not correctly.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>—Let the long-hid seeds</p> +<p>Of treason, in thee, now shoot forth in deeds</p> +<p>Ranker than horror.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">In reading some bombast speeches of Macbeth, +which are not to be understood, he used to say that +it was horror; and I am much afraid that this is +so.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Thy parricide late on thy only son,</p> +<p>After his mother, to make empty way</p> +<p>For thy last wicked nuptials, worse than they</p> +<p>That blaze that act of thy incestuous life,</p> +<p>Which gained thee at once a daughter and a wife.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">The sense is here extremely perplexed; and I doubt +the word <i>they</i> is false grammar.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>—And be free</p> +<p>Not heaven itself from thy impiety.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">A synchysis, or ill-placing of words, of which Tully +so much complains in oratory.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>The waves and dens of beasts could not receive</p> +<p>The bodies that those souls were frighted <i>from</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">The preposition in the end of the sentence; a common +fault with him, and which I have but lately +observed in my own writings.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>What all the several ills that visit earth,</p> +<p>Plague, famine, fire, could not reach <i>unto</i>,</p> +<p>The sword, nor surfeits, let thy fury do.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind"><span class="pgnm" id="page_218"></span> +Here are both the former faults: for, besides that +the preposition <i>unto</i> is placed last in the verse, and +at the half period, and is redundant, there is the +former synchysis in the words "the sword, nor surfeits" +which in construction ought to have been +placed before the other.</p> + +<p>Catiline says of Cethegus, that for his sake he +would</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p><i>Go on upon</i> the gods, kiss lightning, wrest</p> +<p>The engine from the Cyclops, and <i>give fire</i></p> +<p><i>At face of a full cloud</i>, and stand <i>his ire</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">To "go on upon," is only to go on twice<a class="ftnt" href="#Almanz_6-4">[4]</a>. To +"give fire at face of a full cloud," was not understood +in his own time; "and stand <i>his ire</i>," besides +the antiquated word <i>ire</i>, there is the article <i>his</i>, +which makes false construction: and giving fire at +the face of a cloud, is a perfect image of shooting, +however it came to be known in those days to Catiline.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>—Others there are,</p> +<p>Whom envy to the state draws and pulls on,</p> +<p>For contumelies received; and such are sure <i>ones</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind"><i>Ones</i>, in the plural number: but that is frequent +with him; for he says, not long after,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Cæsar and Crassus, if they be ill men,</p> +<p>Are mighty <i>ones</i>.</p> +<p>Such men, <i>they</i> do not succour more the cause, &c.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind"><i>They</i> redundant.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Though heaven should speak with all <i>his</i> wrath at once,</p> +<p>We should stand upright and <i>unfeared</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pgnm" id="page_219"></span> +<i>His</i> is ill syntax with <i>heaven</i>; and by <i>unfeared</i> +he means <i>unafraid</i>: Words of a quite contrary signification.</p> + +<p>"The ports are open." He perpetually uses ports +for gates; which is an affected error in him, to introduce +Latin by the loss of the English idiom; +as, in the translation of Tully's speeches, he usually +does.</p> + +<p>Well-placing of words, for the sweetness of pronunciation +was not known till Mr Waller introduced +it; and, therefore, it is not to be wondered if +Ben Jonson has many such lines as these:</p> + +<p>"But being bred up in his father's needy fortunes; +brought up in's sister's prostitution," &c.</p> + +<p>But meanness of expression one would think not +to be his error in a tragedy, which ought to be +more high and sounding than any other kind of +poetry; and yet, amongst others in "Catiline," I +find these four lines together:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>So Asia, thou art cruelly even</p> +<p>With us, for all the blows thee given;</p> +<p>When we, whose virtues conquered thee,</p> +<p>Thus by thy vices ruined be.</p> +</div> + +<p><i>Be</i> there is false English for <i>are</i>; though the +rhyme hides it.</p> + +<p>But I am willing to close the book, partly out of +veneration to the author, partly out of weariness to +pursue an argument which is so fruitful in so small +a compass. And what correctness, after this, can be +expected from Shakespeare or from Fletcher, who +wanted that learning and care which Jonson had? +I will, therefore, spare my own trouble of enquiring +into their faults; who, had they lived now, had +doubtless written more correctly. I suppose it will +be enough for me to affirm, (as I think I safely may) +that these, and the like errors, which I taxed in the +<span class="pgnm" id="page_220"></span> +most correct of the last age, are such into which +we do not ordinarily fall. I think few of our present +writers would have left behind them such a +line as this:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Contain your spirit in more stricter bounds.</p> +</div> + +<p>But that gross way of two comparatives was then +ordinary; and, therefore, more pardonable in Jonson.</p> + +<p>As for the other part of refining, which consists +in receiving new words and phrases, I shall not insist +much on it. It is obvious that we have admitted +many, some of which we wanted, and therefore +our language is the richer for them, as it would +be by importation of bullion: Others are rather ornamental +than necessary; yet, by their admission, +the language is become more courtly, and our +thoughts are better drest. These are to be found +scattered in the writers of our age, and it is not my +business to collect them. They, who have lately +written with most care, have, I believe, taken the +rule of Horace for their guide; that is, not to be +too hasty in receiving of words, but rather stay till +custom has made them familiar to us:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p><i>Quern penes arbitrium est, et jus, et norma loquendi.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">For I cannot approve of their way of refining, +who corrupt our English idiom by mixing it too +much with French: That is a sophistication of language +not an improvement of it; a turning English +into French, rather than a refining of English +by French. We meet daily with those fops, who +value themselves on their travelling, and pretend +they cannot express their meaning in English, because +they would put off to us some French phrase +of the last edition; without considering, that, for +aught they know, we have a better of our own. +<span class="pgnm" id="page_221"></span> +But these are not the men who are to refine us; +their talent is to prescribe fashions, not words: at +best, they are only serviceable to a writer, so as Ennius +was to Virgil. He may <i>aurum ex stercore +colligere:</i> For it is hard if, amongst many insignificant +phrases, there happen not something worth +preserving; though they themselves, like Indians, +know not the value of their own commodity.</p> + +<p>There is yet another way of improving language, +which poets especially have practised in all ages; +that is, by applying received words to a new signification; +and this, I believe, is meant by Horace, +in that precept which is so variously construed by +expositors:</p> + +<div class="poem" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Dixeris egregie, notum si callida verbum</p> +<p>Reddiderit junctura novum.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">And, in this way, he himself had a particular happiness; +using all the tropes, and particular metaphors, +with that grace which is observable in his +Odes, where the beauty of expression is often greater +than that of thought; as, in that one example, +amongst an infinite number of others, "<i>Et vultus +nimium lubricus aspici.</i>"</p> + +<p>And therefore, though he innovated a little, he +may justly be called a great refiner of the Roman +tongue. This choice of words, and heightening of +their natural signification, was observed in him by +the writers of the following ages; for Petronius +says of him, "<i>Et Horatii curiosa felicitas.</i>" By this +graffing, as I may call it, on old words, has our +tongue been beautified by the three before-mentioned +poets, Shakespeare, Fletcher, and Jonson, whose +excellencies I can never enough admire; and in this +they have been followed, especially by Sir John +Suckling and Mr Waller, who refined upon them. +Neither have they, who succeeded them, been wanting +<span class="pgnm" id="page_222"></span> +in their endeavours to adorn our mother tongue: +But it is not so lawful for me to praise my living +contemporaries, as to admire my dead predecessors.</p> + +<p>I should now speak of the refinement of Wit; +but I have been so large on the former subject, that +I am forced to contract myself in this. I will +therefore only observe to you, that the wit of the +last age was yet more incorrect than their language. +Shakespeare, who many times has written better than +any poet, in any language, is yet so far from writing +wit always, or expressing that wit according to +the dignity of the subject, that he writes, in many +places, below the dullest writers of ours, or any precedent +age. Never did any author precipitate himself +from such height of thought to so low expressions, +as he often does. He is the very Janus of +poets; he wears almost every where two faces; and +you have scarce begun to admire the one, ere you +despise the other. Neither is the luxuriance of +Fletcher, which his friends have taxed in him, a +less fault than the carelessness of Shakespeare. He +does not well always; and, when he does, he is a +true Englishman,—he knows not when to give over. +If he wakes in one scene, he commonly slumbers +in another; and, if he pleases you in the first three +acts, he is frequently so tired with his labour, that +he goes heavily in the fourth, and sinks under his +burden in the fifth.</p> + +<p>For Ben Jonson, the most judicious of poets, +he always writ properly, and as the character required; +and I will not contest farther with my friends, +who call that wit: it being very certain, that even +folly itself, well represented, is wit in a larger signification; +and that there is fancy, as well as judgment, +in it, though not so much or noble: because +all poetry being imitation, that of folly is a +lower exercise of fancy, though perhaps as difficult +<span class="pgnm" id="page_223"></span> +as the other; for it is a kind of looking downward +in the poet, and representing that part of mankind +which is below him.</p> + +<p>In these low characters of vice and folly, lay the +excellency of that inimitable writer; who, when at +any time he aimed at wit in the stricter sense, that +is, sharpness of conceit, was forced either to borrow +from the ancients, as to my knowledge he did +very much from Plautus; or, when he trusted himself +alone, often fell into meanness of expression. +Nay, he was not free from the lowest and most +groveling kind of wit, which we call clenches, of +which "Every Man in his Humour" is infinitely +full; and, which is worse, the wittiest persons in +the drama speak them. His other comedies are not +exempt from them. Will you give me leave to +name some few? Asper, in which character he personates +himself, (and he neither was nor thought +himself a fool) exclaiming against the ignorant +judges of the age, speaks thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>How monstrous and detested is't, to see</p> +<p>A fellow, that has neither art nor brain,</p> +<p>Sit like an <i>Aristarchus</i>, or <i>stark-ass</i>,</p> +<p>Taking men's lines, with a <i>tobacco face</i>,</p> +<p>In <i>snuff</i>, &c.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">And presently after: "I marvel whose wit 'twas to +put a prologue in yond Sackbut's mouth. They +might well think he would be out of tune, and yet +you'd play upon him too."—Will you have another +of the same stamp? "O, I cannot abide these limbs +of <i>sattin</i>, or rather <i>Satan</i>."</p> + +<p>But, it may be, you will object that this was Asper, +Macilente, or Carlo Buffone; you shall, therefore, +hear him speak in his own person, and that in +the two last lines, or sting of an epigram. It is inscribed +to <i>Fine Grand</i>, who, he says, was indebted +to him for many things which he reckons there; +and concludes thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p><span class="pgnm" id="page_224"></span> +Forty things more, dear <i>Grand</i>, which you know true,</p> +<p>For which, or pay me quickly, or I'll pay you.</p> +</div> + +<p>This was then the mode of wit, the vice of the +age, and not Ben Jonson's; for you see, a little before +him, that admirable wit, Sir Philip Sidney, perpetually +playing with his words. In his time, I believe, +it ascended first into the pulpit, where (if you will +give me leave to clench too) it yet finds the benefit +of its clergy; for they are commonly the first corrupters +of eloquence, and the last reformed from vicious +oratory; as a famous Italian has observed before +me, in his Treatise of the Corruption of the Italian +Tongue; which he principally ascribes to priests +and preaching friars.</p> + +<p>But, to conclude with what brevity I can, I will +only add this, in defence of our present writers, +that, if they reach not some excellencies of Ben +Jonson, (which no age, I am confident, ever shall) +yet, at least, they are above that meanness of +thought which I have taxed, and which is frequent +in him.</p> + +<p>That the wit of this age is much more courtly, +may easily be proved, by viewing the characters of +gentlemen which were written in the last. First, +for Jonson:—True-wit, in the "Silent Woman," +was his master-piece; and Truewit was a scholar-like +kind of man, a gentleman with an allay of pedantry, +a man who seems mortified to the world, +by much reading. The best of his discourse is +drawn, not from the knowledge of the town, but +books; and, in short, he would be a fine gentleman +in an university. Shakespeare shewed the best of +his skill in his Mercutio; and he said himself, that +he was forced to kill him in the third act, to prevent +being killed by him. But, for my part, I cannot +find he was so dangerous a person: I see nothing +in him but what was so exceeding harmless, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_225"></span> +that he might have lived to the end of the play, +and died in his bed, without offence to any man.</p> + +<p>Fletcher's Don John is our only bugbear; and yet +I may affirm, without suspicion of flattery, that he +now speaks better, and that his character is maintained +with much more vigour in the fourth and +fifth acts, than it was by Fletcher in the three +former. I have always acknowledged the wit of +our predecessors, with all the veneration which becomes +me; but, I am sure, their wit was not that of +gentlemen; there was ever somewhat that was ill-bred +and clownish in it, and which confessed the +conversation of the authors.</p> + +<p>And this leads me to the last and greatest advantage +of our writing, which proceeds from conversation. +In the age wherein those poets lived, +there was less of gallantry than in ours; neither did +they keep the best company of theirs. Their fortune +has been much like that of Epicurus, in the +retirement of his gardens; to live almost unknown, +and to be celebrated after their decease. I cannot +find that any of them had been conversant in +courts, except Ben Jonson; and his genius lay not +so much that way, as to make an improvement by +it. Greatness was not then so easy of access, nor +conversation so free, as now it is. I cannot, therefore, +conceive it any insolence to affirm, that, by +the knowledge and pattern of their wit who writ +before us, and by the advantage of our own conversation, +the discourse and raillery of our comedies +excel what has been written by them. And this +will be denied by none, but some few old fellows +who value themselves on their acquaintance with the +Black Friars; who, because they saw their plays, +would pretend a right to judge ours. The memory +of these grave gentlemen is their only plea for being +wits. They can tell a story of Ben Jonson, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_226"></span> +and, perhaps, have had fancy enough to give a supper +in the Apollo, that they might be called his +sons<a class="ftnt" href="#Almanz_6-5">[5]</a>: And, because they were drawn in to be +laughed at in those times, they think themselves +now sufficiently entitled to laugh at ours. Learning +I never saw in any of them; and wit no more +than they could remember. In short, they were +unlucky to have been bred in an unpolished age, +and more unlucky to live to a refined one. They +have lasted beyond their own, and are cast behind +ours; and, not contented to have known little at +the age of twenty, they boast of their ignorance at +threescore.</p> + +<p>Now, if they ask me, whence it is that our conversation +is so much refined? I must freely, and without +flattery, ascribe it to the court; and, in it, particularly +to the king, whose example gives a law to it. +His own misfortunes, and the nation's, afforded him +an opportunity, which is rarely allowed to sovereign +princes, I mean of travelling, and being conversant +in the most polished courts of Europe; and, thereby, +of cultivating a spirit which was formed by +nature to receive the impressions of a gallant and +generous education. At his return, he found a nation +lost as much in barbarism as in rebellion: And, +as the excellency of his nature forgave the one, so +the excellency of his manners reformed the other. +<span class="pgnm" id="page_227"></span> +The desire of imitating so great a pattern first +awakened the dull and heavy spirits of the English +from their natural reservedness; loosened them +from their stiff forms of conversation, and made +them easy and pliant to each other in discourse. +Thus, insensibly, our way of living became more +free; and the fire of the English wit, which was +before stifled under a constrained, melancholy way +of breeding, began first to display its force, by mixing +the solidity of our nation with the air and +gaiety of our neighbours<a class="ftnt" href="#Almanz_6-6">[6]</a>. This being granted to +be true, it would be a wonder if the poets, whose +work is imitation, should be the only persons in +three kingdoms who should not receive advantage +by it; or, if they should not more easily imitate +the wit and conversation of the present age than of +the past.</p> + +<p>Let us therefore admire the beauties and the +heights of Shakespeare, without falling after him into +a carelessness, and, as I may call it, a lethargy +of thought, for whole scenes together. Let us imitate, +as we are able, the quickness and easiness of +Fletcher, without proposing him as a pattern to us, +either in the redundancy of his matter, or the incorrectness +of his language. Let us admire his wit +and sharpness of conceit; but let us at the same +time acknowledge, that it was seldom so fixed, and +made proper to his character, as that the same +things might not be spoken by any person in the +play. Let us applaud his scenes of love; but let +<span class="pgnm" id="page_228"></span> +us confess, that he understood not either greatness +or perfect honour in the parts of any of his women. +In fine, let us allow, that he had so much fancy, as +when he pleased he could write wit; but that he +wanted so much judgment, as seldom to have written +humour, or described a pleasant folly. Let us +ascribe to Jonson, the height and accuracy of judgment +in the ordering of his plots, his choice of characters, +and maintaining what he had chosen to the +end: But let us not think him a perfect pattern of +imitation, except it be in humour; for love, which +is the foundation of all comedies in other languages, +is scarcely mentioned in any of his plays: And +for humour itself, the poets of this age will be more +wary than to imitate the meanness of his persons. +Gentlemen will now be entertained with the follies +of each other; and, though they allow Cobb and +Tib to speak properly, yet they are not much pleased +with their tankard, or with their rags: And +surely their conversation can be no jest to them on +the theatre, when they would avoid it in the street.</p> + +<p>To conclude all, let us render to our predecessors +what is their due, without confining ourselves to a +servile imitation of all they writ; and, without assuming +to ourselves the title of better poets, let us +ascribe to the gallantry and civility of our age the +advantage which we have above them, and, to our +knowledge of the customs and manners of it, the +happiness we have to please beyond them.</p> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnotes:</p> +<ol> +<li><a name="Almanz_6-1" id="Almanz_6-1"></a>In mitigation of the censure which must be passed on our author +for this hasty and ill-considered judgment, let us remember +the very inaccurate manner in which Shakespeare's plays were +printed in the early editions.</li> + +<li><a name="Almanz_6-2" id="Almanz_6-2"></a>Mr Malone has judiciously remarked, that Dryden seems to +have been ignorant of the order in which Shakespeare wrote his +plays; and there will be charity in believing, that he was not intimately +acquainted with those he so summarily and unjustly censures.</li> + +<li><a name="Almanz_6-3" id="Almanz_6-3"></a>In these criticisms, we see the effects of the refinement which +our stage had now borrowed from the French. It is probable, +that, in the age of heroic plays, any degree of dulness, or extravagance, +would have been tolerated in the dialogue, rather than an +offence against the decorum of the scene.</li> + +<li><a name="Almanz_6-4" id="Almanz_6-4"></a>Jonson seems to have used it for to <i>go on against</i>.</li> + +<li><a name="Almanz_6-5" id="Almanz_6-5"></a>The Apollo was Ben Jonson's favourite club-room in the +Devil Tavern. The custom of adopting his admirers and imitators, +by bestowing upon them the title of Son, is often alluded to +in his works. In Dryden's time, the fashion had so far changed, +that the poetical progeny of old Ben seem to have incurred more +ridicule than honour by this ambitious distinction. Oldwit, in +Shadwell's play, called Bury Fair, is described as "a paltry old-fashioned +wit and punner of the last age, that pretends to have +been one of Ben Jonson's sons, and to have seen plays at the Blackfriars."</li> + +<li><a name="Almanz_6-6" id="Almanz_6-6"></a>This passage, though complimentary to Charles, contains much +sober truth: Having considerable taste for the Belles Lettres, he +cultivated them during his exile, and was naturally swayed by the +French rules of composition, particularly as applicable to the +Theatre. These he imported with him at his Restoration; and +hence arose the Heroic Drama, so much cultivated by our author.</li> +</ol></div> + + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p><span class="pgnm" id="page_229"></span> +The bold Epilogue, which is here defended with so much animation, +and the censure which it threw on the fathers of the stage, +seems to have given great offence. It is thus severely assailed +by Rochester:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>But does not Dryden find even Jonson dull?</p> +<p>Beaumont and Fletcher incorrect, and full</p> +<p>Of lewd lines, as he calls them? Shakespeare's style</p> +<p>Stiff and affected? to his own, the while,</p> +<p>Allowing all the justice that his pride</p> +<p>So arrogantly had to these denied:</p> +<p>And may I not have leave impartially</p> +<p>To search and censure Dryden's works, and try</p> +<p>If those gross faults, his choice pen doth commit,</p> +<p>Proceed from want of judgment, or of wit?</p> +<p>Or if his lumpish fancy doth refuse</p> +<p>Spirit and grace to his loose slattern muse?</p> +<p>Five hundred verses, every morning writ,</p> +<p>Prove him no more a poet than a wit.</p> +</div> + +<p>It is a bold, perhaps a presumptuous task, to attempt to separate +the true from the false criticism in the foregoing essay; for who is +qualified to be umpire betwixt Shakespeare and Dryden? Nevertheless, +our knowledge of the manners of the respective ages which +these extraordinary men adorned, and the remoteness of our own +from both, may enable us, with impartiality at least, to sift the +grounds of Dryden's censure. The nature of the stage in the days of +Shakespeare has been ascertained, by the sedulous exertions of his +commentators. A variety of small theatres, all of them accessible +to the lowest of the people, poor and rude in all the arts of decoration, +were dispersed through London when Shakespeare and Jonson +wrote for the stage. It was a natural consequence, that the +writings of these great men were biassed by the taste of those, for +whom they wrote;</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>For those, who live to please, must please, to live.</p> +</div> + +<p class="noind">Art was not demanded; and when used by Jonson, he complains +it was not duly appreciated. Men of a middle rank were then +probably worse educated than our mere vulgar. But the good +old time bore rough and manly spirits, who came prepared with a +tribute of tears and laughter, to bursts of pathos, or effusions of +<span class="pgnm" id="page_230"></span> +humour, although incapable of receiving the delights which a cultivated +mind derives from the gradual developement of a story, the +just dependence of its parts upon each other, the minute beauties +of language, and the absence of every thing incongruous or indecorous. +Dryden, on the other hand, wrote for a stage patronized +by a monarch and his courtiers, who were professed judges of dramatic +composition; while the rigour of religious prejudice, and +perhaps a just abhorrence of the licentious turn of the drama, +banished from the theatres a great proportion of the middle classes, +always the most valuable part of an audience; because, with a +certain degree of cultivation, they unite an unhacknied energy of +feeling. Art, therefore, became, in the days of Dryden, not only +a requisite qualification, but even the principal attribute of the +dramatic poet. He was to address himself to the heads and judgments +of his audience, on the acuteness of which they piqued +themselves; not to their feelings, stupified, probably, by selfish +dissipation. Even the acquisition and exercise of critical knowledge +tends to blunt the sense of natural beauties, as a refined +harmonist becomes indifferent to the strains of simple melody. +Hence the sacrifices which Shakespeare made, without being aware, +to the taste of his age, were amply compensated by his being called +upon, and, as it were, compelled, by the nature of his audience, +to rouse them with his thunder, and to melt them with his dew. +I question much if the age of Charles II. would have borne the +introduction of Othello or Falstaff. We may find something like +Dryden's self-complacent opinion expressed by the editor of Corneille, +where he civilly admits, "<i>Corneille etoit inegal comme +Shakespeare, et plein de genie comme lui: mais le genie de Corneille +etoit a celui de Shakespeare ce qu' un seigneur est a l'egard +d'un homme de peuple, né avec le meme esprit que lui.</i>" In other +words, the works of the one retain the rough, bold tints of nature +and originality, while those of the other are qualified by the artificial +restraints which fashion imposes upon the <i>homme de condition</i>. +It is, therefore, unjustly, that Dryden dwells so long +on Shakespeare's irregularities, amongst which I cannot help suspecting +he includes some of his greatest beauties. While we do +not defend his quibbles and carwitchets, as Bibber would have +termed them, we may rejoice that he purchased, at so slight a +sacrifice, the power and privilege of launching into every subject +with a liberty as unbounded as his genius;</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>As there is music, uninformed by art,</p> +<p>In those wild notes, which, with a merry heart,</p> +<p>The birds in unfrequented shades express,</p> +<p>Which better taught at home, yet please us less.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_231" id="page_231"></a></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE:</h2> + +<h3>A COMEDY.</h3> + +<div class="ctr"> +<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram"> +<tr><td><p class="epigram"><i>—Quicquid sum ego, quamvis<br /> +Infra Lucili censum ingeniumque, tamen me<br /> +Cum magnis vixisse, invita fatebitur usque<br /> +Invidia, et fragili quærens illidere dentem,<br /> +Offendet solido.</i></p> +<p class="citation smcap">Horat. Serm.</p></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_233"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE</h3> + +<p>Marriage a-la-mode was one of Dryden's most successful +comedies. A venerable praiser of the past time, in a curious +letter printed in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1745, gives us +this account of its first representation. "This comedy, acted by +his Majesty's servants at the Theatre-Royal, made its first appearance +with extraordinary lustre. Divesting myself of the old man, +I solemnly declare, that you have seen no such acting, no, not in +any degree since. The players were then, 1673, on a court establishment, +seventeen men, and eight women." <i>Gent. Mag.</i> Vol. +xv. p. 99. From a copy of verses, to which this letter is annexed, +we learn the excellence of the various performers by whom the +piece was first presented. They are addressed to a young actress.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Henceforth, in livelier characters excel,</p> +<p>Though 'tis great merit to act folly well;</p> +<p>Take, take from Dryden's hand Melantha's part,</p> +<p>The gaudy effort of luxuriant art,</p> +<p>In all imagination's glitter drest;</p> +<p>What from her lips fantastic Montfort caught,</p> +<p>And almost moved the thing the poet thought.</p> +<p> These scenes, the glory of a comic age,</p> +<p>(It decency could blanch each sullied page)</p> +<p>Peruse, admire, and give unto the stage;</p> +<p>Or thou, or beauteous Woffington, display</p> +<p>What Dryden's self, with pleasure, might survey.</p> +<p>Even he, before whose visionary eyes,</p> +<p>Melantha, robed in ever-varying dies,</p> +<p>Gay fancy's work, appears, actor renowned.</p> +<p>Like Roscius, with theatric laurels crowned,</p> +<p>Cibber will smile applause, and think again</p> +<p>Of Harte, and Mohun, and all the female train,</p> +<p>Coxe, Marshal, Dryden's Reeve, Bet Slade, and Charles's reign.</p> +</div> + +<p>Mrs Monfort, who, by her second marriage, became Mrs Verbruggen, +was the first who appeared in the highly popular part of +Melantha, and the action and character appear to have been held +incomparable by that unquestionable judge of the humour of a +coquette, or coxcomb, the illustrious Colley Cibber. "Melantha" +says Cibber, "is as finished an impertinent as ever fluttered +in a drawing-room; and seems to contain the most complete system +of female foppery that could possibly be crowded into the tortured +form of a fine lady. Her language, dress, motion, manners, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_234"></span> +soul, and body, are in a continual hurry to be something more +than is necessary or commendable. And, though I doubt it will be +a vain labour to offer you a just likeness of Mrs Monfort's action, +yet the fantastic expression is still so strong in my memory, that I +cannot help saying something, though fantastically, about it. The +first ridiculous airs, that break from her, are upon a gallant never +seen before, who delivers her a letter from her father, recommending +him to her good graces as an honourable lover. Here, now, +one would think she might naturally shew a little of the sex's decent +reserve, though never so slightly covered. No, sir, not a tittle +of it: Modesty is a poor-souled country gentlewoman; she is +too much a court lady to be under so vulgar a confusion. She +reads the letter, therefore, with a careless dropping lip, and an +erected brow, humming it hastily over, as if she were impatient to +outgo her father's commands, by making a complete conquest of +him at once; and, that the letter might not embarrass the attack, +crack! she crumbles it at once into her palm, and pours down upon +him her whole artillery of airs, eyes, and motion; down goes +her dainty diving body to the ground, as it she were sinking under +the conscious load of her own attractions; then launches into a +flood of fine language and compliment, still playing her chest forward +in fifty falls and risings, like a swan upon waving water; +and, to complete her impertinence, she is so rapidly fond of her own +wit, that she will not give her lover leave to praise it. Silent assenting +bows, and vain endeavours to speak, are all the share of +the conversation he is admitted to, which, at last, he is removed +from by her engagement to half a score of visits, which she swims +from him to make, with a promise to return in a twinkling." <i>Cibber's +Apology</i>, p. 99.</p> + +<p>By this lively sketch, some judgment may be formed of the effect +produced by the character of Melantha, when ably represented; +but, to say the truth, we could hardly have drawn the same +deduction from a simple perusal of the piece. Of the French +phrases, which the affected lady throws into her conversation, +some have been since naturalized, as <i>good graces</i>, <i>minuet</i>, <i>chagrin</i>, +<i>grimace</i>, <i>ridicule</i>, and others. Little can be said of the tragic +part of the drama. The sudden turn of fortune in the conclusion +is ridiculed in "The Rehearsal."</p> + +<p>The researches of Mr Malone have ascertained that "Marriage +A-la-Mode" was first acted in 1673, in an old theatre in Lincoln's +Inn Fields, occupied by the King's company, after that in +Drury-Lane had been burned, and during its re-building. The +play was printed in the same year.</p> + +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_235" id="page_235"></a></div> + +<h3 class="chap">TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE +THE EARL OF ROCHESTER<a class="ftnt" href="#Marr_1-1">[1]</a>.</h3> + +<p class="smcap">My Lord,</p> + +<p>I humbly dedicate to your Lordship that poem, +of which you were pleased to appear an early patron, +before it was acted on the stage. I may yet +go farther, with your permission, and say, that it +<span class="pgnm" id="page_236"></span> +received amendment from your noble hands ere it +was fit to be presented. You may please likewise +to remember, with how much favour to the author, +and indulgence to the play, you commended it to +the view of his Majesty, then at Windsor, and, by +his approbation of it in writing, made way for its +kind reception on the theatre. In this dedication, +therefore, I may seem to imitate a custom of the +ancients, who offered to their gods the firstlings of +the flock, (which, I think, they called <i>Ver sacrum</i>) +because they helped them to increase. I am sure, +if there be any thing in this play, wherein I have +raised myself beyond the ordinary lowness of my +comedies, I ought wholly to acknowledge it to the +favour of being admitted into your lordship's conversation. +And not only I, who pretend not to this +way, but the best comic writers of our age, will join +with me to acknowledge, that they have copied the +<span class="pgnm" id="page_237"></span> +gallantries of courts, the delicacy of expression, and +the decencies of behaviour, from your lordship, with +more success, than if they had taken their models from +the court of France. But this, my lord, will be no +wonder to the world, which knows the excellency +of your natural parts, and those you have acquired +in a noble education. That which, with more reason, +I admire, is that being so absolute a courtier, +you have not forgot either the ties of friendship, or +the practice of generosity. In my little experience +of a court, (which, I confess, I desire not to improve) +I have found in it much of interest, and more of +detraction: Few men there have that assurance of +a friend, as not to be made ridiculous by him when +they are absent. There are a middling sort of courtiers, +who become happy by their want of wit; but +they supply that want by an excess of malice to +those who have it. And there is no such persecution +as that of fools: They can never be considerable +enough to be talked of themselves; so that they +are safe only in their obscurity, and grow mischievous +to witty men, by the great diligence of their envy, +and by being always present to represent and aggravate +their faults. In the mean time, they are forced, +when they endeavour to be pleasant, to live on the +offals of their wit whom they decry; and either to +quote it, (which they do unwillingly) or to pass it +upon others for their own. These are the men who +make it their business to chace wit from the knowledge +of princes, lest it should disgrace their ignorance. +And this kind of malice your lordship has +not so much avoided, as surmounted. But if by the +excellent temper of a royal master, always more +ready to hear good than ill; if by his inclination to +love you; if by your own merit and address; if by +the charms of your conversation, the grace of your +behaviour, your knowledge of greatness, and habitude +<span class="pgnm" id="page_238"></span> +in courts, you have been able to preserve yourself +with honour in the midst of so dangerous a +course; yet at least the remembrance of those hazards +has inspired you with pity for other men, who, +being of an inferior wit and quality to you, are yet +persecuted, for being that in little, which your +lordship is in great<a class="ftnt" href="#Marr_1-2">[2]</a>. For the quarrel of those +people extends itself to any thing of sense; and if +I may be so vain to own it, amongst the rest of the +poets, has sometimes reached to the very borders of +it, even to me. So that, if our general good fortune +had not raised up your lordship to defend us, I +know not whether any thing had been more ridiculous +in court than writers. It is to your lordship's +favour we generally owe our protection and patronage; +and to the nobleness of your nature, which +will not suffer the least shadow of your wit to be +contemned in other men. You have been often +pleased, not only to excuse my imperfections, but +to vindicate what was tolerable in my writings from +their censures; and, what I never can forget, you +have not only been careful of my reputation, but of +my fortune. You have been solicitous to supply +my neglect of myself; and to overcome the fatal +<span class="pgnm" id="page_239"></span> +modesty of poets, which submits them to perpetual +wants, rather than to become importunate with +those people who have the liberality of kings in +their disposing, and who, dishonouring the bounty +of their master, suffer such to be in necessity who +endeavour at least to please him; and for whose +entertainment he has generously provided, if the +fruits of his royal favour were not often stopped in +other hands. But your lordship has given me occasion, +not to complain of courts whilst you are +there. I have found the effects of your mediation +in all my concernments; and they were so much +the more noble in you, because they were wholly +voluntary. I, became your lordship's, (if I may venture +on the similitude) as the world was made, without +knowing him who made it; and brought only +a passive obedience to be your creature. This nobleness +of yours I think myself the rather obliged +to own, because otherwise it must have been lost to +all remembrance: For you are endowed with that +excellent quality of a frank nature, to forget the +good which you have done.</p> + +<p>But, my lord, I ought to have considered, that +you are as great a judge, as you are a patron; and +that in praising you ill, I should incur a higher note +of ingratitude, than that I thought to have avoided. +I stand in need of all your accustomed goodness for +the dedication of this play; which, though perhaps +it be the best of my comedies, is yet so faulty, that +I should have feared you for my critic, if I had not, +with some policy, given you the trouble of being +my protector. Wit seems to have lodged itself more +nobly in this age, than in any of the former; and +people of my mean condition are only writers, because +some of the nobility, and your lordship in the +first place, are above the narrow praises which poesy +<span class="pgnm" id="page_240"></span> +could give you. But, let those who love to see themselves +exceeded, encourage your lordship in so dangerous +a quality; for my own part, I must confess, +that I have so much of self-interest, as to be content +with reading some papers of your verses, without +desiring you should proceed to a scene, or play; +with the common prudence of those who are worsted +in a duel, and declare they are satisfied, when +they are first wounded. Your lordship has but +another step to make, and from the patron of wit, +you may become its tyrant; and oppress our little +reputations with more ease than you now protect +them. But these, my lord, are designs, which I +am sure you harbour not, any more than the French +king is contriving the conquest of the Swissers. It +is a barren triumph, which is not worth your pains; +and would only rank him amongst your slaves, who +is already,</p> + +<p class="sig i1 smcap">My Lord,</p> +<p class="sig i2">Your Lordship's most obedient,</p> +<p class="sig i3">And most faithful servant,</p> +<p class="sig i4 smcap">John Dryden.</p> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnotes:</p> +<ol> +<li><a name="Marr_1-1" id="Marr_1-1"></a>The patron, whom Dryden here addresses, was the famous +John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, the wittiest, perhaps, and most +dissolute, among the witty and dissolute courtiers of Charles II. +It is somewhat remarkable, and may be considered as a just judgment +upon the poet, that he was, a few years afterwards, way-laid +and severely beaten by bravoes, whom Lord Rochester employed +to revenge the share which Dryden is supposed to have had in the +Essay on Satire. The reader is referred to the life of the author +for the particulars of this occurrence, which is here recalled to his +recollection, as a striking illustration of the inutility, as well as +meanness, of ill applied praise; since even the eulogy of Dryden, +however liberally bestowed and beautifully expressed, failed to save +him from the most unmanly treatment at the hands of the worthless +and heartless object, on whom it was wasted. It is melancholy +to see Dryden, as may be fairly inferred from his motto, piqueing +himself on being admitted into the society of such men as Rochester, +and enjoying their precarious favour. Mr Malone has remarked, +that even in the course of the year 1673, when this dedication +came forth, Rochester entertained the perverse ambition of directing +the public favour, not according to merit, but to his own caprice. +Accordingly, he countenanced Settle in his impudent rivalry +of Dryden, and wrote a prologue to the "Empress of Morocco," +when it was exhibited at Whitehall. Perhaps, joined to a +certain envy of Dryden's talents, the poet's intimacy with Sheffield +Earl of Mulgrave gave offence to Rochester. It is certain they +were never afterwards reconciled; and even after Rochester's death, +Dryden only mentions his once valued patron, as "a man of quality +whose ashes he will not disturb."—<i>Essay on the Origin and Progress +of Satire</i>, prefixed to Juvenal. It would seem, however, +that this dedication was very favourably received by Rochester, +since a letter of Dryden's to that nobleman is still extant, in which +he acknowledges a flattering return of compliment from his Lordship +in exchange for it.</li> +<li><a name="Marr_1-2" id="Marr_1-2"></a>When this play was acted for the first time in 1673. But +about 1675, Rochester contrived to give such offence as even +the excellent temper of his royal master was unable to digest. This +was by writing a lampoon called "The Insipids," in which the +person and character of Charles are treated with most merciless +and irreverent severity. It begins thus: + +<div class="poem"> +<br /> +<p>Chaste, pious, prudent, Charles the Second,</p> +<p class="i1">The miracle of thy Restoration</p> +<p>May like to that of quails be reckoned,</p> +<p class="i1">Rained on the Israelitish nation;</p> +<p>The wished-for blessing, from heaven sent,</p> +<p>Became their curse and punishment.</p> +</div> + +<p>For this satiric effusion the author was banished from the court.</p></li> +</ol></div> + + +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_241" id="page_241"></a></div> + +<h3 class="chap">PROLOGUE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Lord, how reformed and quiet are we grown,</p> +<p>Since all our braves and all our wits are gone!</p> +<p>Fop-corner now is free from civil war,</p> +<p>White-wig and vizard make no longer jar.</p> +<p>France, and the fleet, have swept the town so clear,</p> +<p>That we can act in peace, and you can hear.</p> +<p>'Twas a sad sight, before they marched from home,</p> +<p>To see our warriors in red waistcoats come,</p> +<p>With hair tucked up, into our tireing-room.</p> +<p>But 'twas more sad to hear their last adieu:</p> +<p>The women sobbed, and swore they would be true;</p> +<p>And so they were, as long as e'er they could,</p> +<p>But powerful guinea cannot be withstood,</p> +<p>And they were made of play-house flesh and blood.</p> +<p>Fate did their friends for double use ordain;</p> +<p>In wars abroad they grinning honour gain,</p> +<p>And mistresses, for all that stay, maintain.</p> +<p>Now they are gone, 'tis dead vacation here,</p> +<p>For neither friends nor enemies appear.</p> +<p>Poor pensive punk now peeps ere plays begin,</p> +<p>Sees the bare bench, and dares not venture in;</p> +<p>But manages her last half-crown with care,</p> +<p>And trudges to the Mall, on foot, for air.</p> +<p>Our city friends so far will hardly come,</p> +<p>They can take up with pleasures nearer home;</p> +<p>And see gay shows, and gaudy scenes elsewhere;</p> +<p>For we presume they seldom come to hear.</p> +<p>But they have now ta'en up a glorious trade,</p> +<p>And cutting Morecraft<a class="ftnt" href="#Marr_2-1">[1]</a> struts in masquerade.</p> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_242"></span> +<p>There's all our hope, for we shall shew to-day</p> +<p>A masking ball, to recommend our play;</p> +<p>Nay, to endear them more, and let them see</p> +<p>We scorn to come behind in courtesy,</p> +<p>We'll follow the new mode which they begin,</p> +<p>And treat them with a room, and couch within:</p> +<p>For that's one way, howe'er the play fall short,</p> +<p>To oblige the town, the city, and the court.</p> +</div> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnote:</p> +<ol> +<li><a name="Marr_2-1" id="Marr_2-1"></a>In the conclusion of Beaumont and Fletcher's play of "The Scornful +Lady," Morecraft, an usurer, turns a cutter, or, as we now say, a buck. +Dryden seems to allude to Ravenscroft's play of "The Citizen turned Gentleman," +a transmigration somewhat resembling that of cutting Morecraft. +This play was now acting by the Duke's company in Dorset Gardens, which, +from its situation, says Mr Malone, was much frequented by citizens, as here +insinuated.</li> +</ol></div> + + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_244"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Polydamas,</span> <i>Usurper of Sicily.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Leonidas,</span> <i>the rightful Prince, unknown.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Argaleon,</span> <i>favourite to</i> <span class="smcap">Polydamas.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Hermogenes,</span> <i>foster-father to</i> <span class="smcap">Leonidas.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Eubulus,</span> <i>his friend and companion.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Rhodophil,</span> <i>captain of the guards.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Palamede,</span> <i>a courtier.</i></p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Palmyra,</span> <i>daughter to the Usurper.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Amalthea,</span> <i>sister to</i> <span class="smcap">Argaleon.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Doralice,</span> <i>wife to</i> <span class="smcap">Rhodophil.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Melantha,</span> <i>an affected lady.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Philotis,</span> <i>woman to</i> <span class="smcap">Melantha.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Beliza,</span> <i>woman to</i> <span class="smcap">Doralice.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Artemis,</span> <i>a court lady.</i></p> + +<p>SCENE,—<i>Sicily.</i></p> +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_245"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE.</h3> + +<h4 class="scn">ACT I.<br /> +SCENE I.—<i>Walks near the Court.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Doralice</span> and <span class="cnm">Beliza.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Beliza, bring the lute into this arbour; the +walks are empty: I would try the song the princess +Amalthea bade me learn. +<br /><span class="sdr">[They go in, and sing.</span><br /></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<h5>I.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Why should a foolish marriage vow,</p> +<p class="i1">Which long ago was made,</p> +<p>Oblige us to each other now,</p> +<p class="i1">When passion is decayed?</p> +<p>We loved, and we loved, as long as we could,</p> +<p class="i1">'Till our love was loved out in us both;</p> +<p>But our marriage is dead, when the pleasure is fled:</p> +<p class="i1">'Twas pleasure first made it an oath.</p> +</div> + +<h5>II.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>If I have pleasures for a friend,</p> +<p class="i1">And further love in store,</p> +<p>What wrong has he, whose joys did end,</p> +<p class="i1">And who could give no more?</p> +<p><span class="pgnm" id="page_246"></span> +'Tis a madness that he</p> +<p>Should be jealous of me,</p> +<p>Or that I should bar him of another:</p> +<p>For all we can gain,</p> +<p>Is to give ourselves pain,</p> +<p>When neither can hinder the other.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Palamede,</span> in a riding-habit, and hears the +Song. Re-enter <span class="cnm">Doralice</span> and <span class="cnm">Beliza.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bel.</span> Madam, a stranger.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> I did not think to have had witnesses of my +bad singing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> If I have erred, madam, I hope you'll pardon +the curiosity of a stranger; for I may well call +myself so, after five years absence from the court: +but you have freed me from one error.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> What's that, I beseech you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I thought good voices, and ill faces, had +been inseparable; and that to be fair, and sing well, +had been only the privilege of angels.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> And how many more of these fine things +can you say to me?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Very few, madam; for if I should continue +to see you some hours longer, you look so killingly +that I should be mute with wonder.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> This will not give you the reputation of a +wit with me. You travelling monsieurs live upon +the stock you have got abroad, for the first day or +two: to repeat with a good memory, and apply +with a good grace, is all your wit; and, commonly, +your gullets are sewed up, like cormorants. When +you have regorged what you have taken in, you are +the leanest things in nature.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Then, madam, I think you had best make +that use of me; let me wait on you for two or three +days together, and you shall hear all I have learnt +of extraordinary in other countries; and one thing +<span class="pgnm" id="page_247"></span> +which I never saw 'till I came home, that is, a lady +of a better voice, better face, and better wit, than +any I have seen abroad. And, after this, if I should +not declare myself most passionately in love with +you, I should have less wit than yet you think I +have.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> A very plain, and pithy declaration. I see, +sir, you have been travelling in Spain or Italy, or +some of the hot countries, where men come to the +point immediately. But are you sure these are not +words of course? For I would not give my poor +heart an occasion of complaint against me, that I +engaged it too rashly, and then could not bring it +off.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Your heart may trust itself with me safely; +I shall use it very civilly while it stays, and +never turn it away, without fair warning to provide +for itself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> First, then, I do receive your passion with +as little consideration, on my part, as ever you gave +it me, on yours. And now, see what a miserable +wretch you have made yourself!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Who, I miserable? Thank you for that. +Give me love enough, and life enough, and I defy +Fortune.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Know, then, thou man of vain imagination, +know, to thy utter confusion, that I am virtuous.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Such another word, and I give up the +ghost.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Then, to strike you quite dead, know that +I am married too.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Art thou married? O thou damnable virtuous +woman!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Yes, married to a gentleman; young, handsome +rich, valiant, and with all the good qualities +that will make you despair, and hang yourself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Well, in spite of all that, I'll love you: Fortune +<span class="pgnm" id="page_248"></span> +has cut us out for one another; for I am to be +married within these three days; married, past redemption +to a young, fair, rich, and virtuous lady; +and it shall go hard but I will love my wife as little, +as, I perceive, you do your husband.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Remember, I invade no propriety: my servant +you are, only 'till you are married.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> In the meantime, you are to forget you +have a husband.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> And you, that you are to have a wife.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bel.</span> [<span class="sdm">aside, to her Lady.</span>] O madam, my lord's +just at the end of the walks! and, if you make not +haste, will discover you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Some other time, new servant, we'll talk +further of the premises; in the mean while, break +not my first commandment, that is, not to follow +me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But where, then, shall I find you again?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> At court. Yours, for two days, sir.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> And nights, I beseech you, madam. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Doralice</span> and <span class="cnm">Beliz.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Well, I'll say that for thee, thou art a very +dexterous executioner; thou hast done my business +at one stroke: yet I must marry another—and yet +I must love this; and if it lead me into some little +inconveniencies, as jealousies, and duels, and death, +and so forth—yet, while sweet love is in the case, +Fortune, do thy worst, and avaunt, mortality!</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Rhodophil,</span> who seems speaking to one within.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Leave 'em with my lieutenant, while I fetch +new orders from the king.—How? Palamede!<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Sees <span class="cnm">Palamede.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Rhodophil!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Who thought to have seen you in Sicily?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Who thought to have found the court so +far from Syracuse?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> The king best knows the reason of the progress. +<span class="pgnm" id="page_249"></span> +But, answer me, I beseech you, what brought +you home from travel?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> The commands of an old rich father.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> And the hopes of burying him?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Both together, as you see, have prevailed +on my good nature. In few words, my old man has +already married me; for he has agreed with another +old man, as rich and as covetous as himself; the articles +are drawn, and I have given my consent, for +fear of being disinherited; and yet know not what +kind of woman I am to marry.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Sure your father intends you some very ugly +wife, and has a mind to keep you in ignorance +till you have shot the gulf.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I know not that; but obey I will, and +must.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Then I cannot chuse but grieve for all the +good girls and courtezans of France and Italy. +They have lost the most kind-hearted, doting, prodigal +humble servant, in Europe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> All I could do, in these three years I staid +behind you, was to comfort the poor creatures for +the loss of you. But what's the reason that, in all +this time, a friend could never hear from you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Alas, dear Palamede! I have had no joy to +write, nor indeed to do any thing in the world to +please me. The greatest misfortune imaginable is +fallen upon me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Pr'ythee, what's the matter?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> In one word, I am married: wretchedly +married; and have been above these two years. +Yes, faith, the devil has had power over me, in +spite of my vows and resolutions to the contrary.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I find you have sold yourself for filthy lucre; +she's old, or ill conditioned.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> No; none of these: I'm sure she's young; +and, for her humour, she laughs, sings, and dances +<span class="pgnm" id="page_250"></span> +eternally; and, which is more, we never quarrel +about it, for I do the same.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> You're very unfortunate indeed: then the +case is plain, she is not handsome.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> A great beauty too, as people say.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> As people say? why, you should know that +best yourself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Ask those, who have smelt to a strong perfume +two years together, what's the scent.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But here are good qualities enough for one +woman.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Ay, too many, Palamede. If I could put +them into three or four women, I should be content.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> O, now I have found it! you dislike her +for no other reason but because she's your wife.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> And is not that enough? All that I know +of her perfections now, is only by memory. I remember +indeed, that about two years ago I loved +her passionately; but those golden days are gone, +Palamede: Yet I loved her a whole half year, double +the natural term of any mistress; and I think, in +my conscience, I could have held out another quarter, +but then the world began to laugh at me, and +a certain shame, of being out of fashion, seized me. +At last, we arrived at that point, that there was nothing +left in us to make us new to one another. +Yet still I set a good face upon the matter, and am +infinite fond of her before company; but when we +are alone, we walk like lions in a room; she one +way, and I another. And we lie with our backs to +each other, so far distant, as if the fashion of great +beds was only invented to keep husband and wife +sufficiently asunder.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> The truth is, your disease is very desperate; +but, though you cannot be cured you may be patched +up a little: you must get you a mistress, Rhodophil. +<span class="pgnm" id="page_251"></span> +That, indeed, is living upon cordials; but, +as fast as one fails, you must supply it with another. +You're like a gamester who has lost his estate; yet, +in doing that, you have learned the advantages of +play, and can arrive to live upon't.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Truth is, I have been thinking on't, and +have just resolved to take your counsel; and, faith, +considering the damned disadvantages of a married +man, I have provided well enough, for a poor humble +sinner, that is not ambitious of great matters.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> What is she, for a woman?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> One of the stars of Syracuse, I assure you: +Young enough, fair enough; and, but for one quality, +just such a woman as I could wish.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> O friend, this is not an age to be critical +in beauty. When we had good store of handsome +women, and but few chapmen, you might have been +more curious in your choice; but now the price is +enhanced upon us, and all mankind set up for mistresses, +so that poor little creatures, without beauty, +birth, or breeding, but only impudence, go off at +unreasonable rates: And a man, in these hard times, +snaps at them, as he does at broad gold; never examines +the weight, but takes light or heavy, as he +can get it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> But my mistress has one fault, that's almost +unpardonable; for, being a town-lady, without any +relation to the court, yet she thinks herself undone +if she be not seen there three or four times a day +with the princess Amalthea. And, for the king, +she haunts and watches him so narrowly in a morning, +that she prevents even the chemists, who beset +his chamber, to turn their mercury into his gold.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Yet, hitherto, methinks, you are no very +unhappy man.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> With all this, she's the greatest gossip in +nature; for, besides the court, she's the most eternal +<span class="pgnm" id="page_252"></span> +visitor of the town; and yet manages her time so +well, that she seems ubiquitary. For my part, I +can compare her to nothing but the sun; for, like +him, she takes no rest, nor ever sets in one place, +but to rise in another.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I confess, she had need be handsome, with +these qualities.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> No lady can be so curious of a new fashion, +as she is of a new French word: she's the very mint +of the nation; and as fast as any bullion comes out +of France, coins it immediately into our language.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> And her name is—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> No naming; that's not like a cavalier: Find +her, if you can, by my description; and I am not +so ill a painter that I need write the name beneath +the picture.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Well, then, how far have you proceeded in +your love?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> 'Tis yet in the bud, and what fruit it may +bear I cannot tell; for this insufferable humour, of +haunting the court, is so predominant, that she has +hitherto broken all her assignations with me, for +fear of missing her visits there.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> That's the hardest part of your adventure. +But, for aught I see, fortune has used us both alike: +I have a strange kind of mistress too in court, besides +her I am to marry.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> You have made haste to be in love, then; +for, if I am not mistaken, you are but this day arrived.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> That's all one: I have seen the lady already, +who has charmed me; seen her in these +walks, courted her, and received, for the first time, +an answer that does not put me into despair.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Argaleon, Amalthea,</span> and <span class="cnm">Artemis.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">I'll tell you more at leisure my adventures. The +<span class="pgnm" id="page_253"></span> +walks fill apace, I see. Stay, is not that the young +lord Argaleon, the king's favourite?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Yes, and as proud as ever, as ambitious, and +as revengeful.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> How keeps he the king's favour with these +qualities?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Argaleon's father helped him to the crown: +besides, he gilds over all his vices to the king, and, +standing in the dark to him, sees all his inclinations, +interests, and humours, which he so times and +soothes, that, in effect, he reigns.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> His sister Amalthea, who, I guess, stands +by him, seems not to be of his temper.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> O, she's all goodness and generosity.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Rhodophil, the king expects you earnestly.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> 'Tis done, my lord, what he commanded: I +only waited his return from hunting. Shall I attend +your lordship to him?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> No; I go first another way. <span class="sdr">[Exit hastily.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> He seems in haste, and discomposed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> [<span class="sdm">to <span class="cnm">Rhod.</span> after a short whisper.</span>] Your +friend? then he must needs be of much merit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> When he has kissed the king's hand, I +know he'll beg the honour to kiss yours. Come, +Palamede.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Rhodo.</span> and <span class="cnm">Pala.</span> bowing to +<span class="cnm">Amal.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> Madam, you tell me most surprising news.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> The fear of it, you see,<br /> +Has discomposed my brother; but to me,<br /> +All, that can bring my country good, is welcome.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> It seems incredible, that this old king,<br /> +Whom all the world thought childless,<br /> +Should come to search the farthest parts of Sicily,<br /> +In hope to find an heir.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> To lessen your astonishment, I will<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_254"></span> +Unfold some private passages of state,<br /> +Of which you are yet ignorant: Know, first,<br /> +That this Polydamus, who reigns, unjustly<br /> +Gained the crown.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> Somewhat of this I have confusedly heard.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> I'll tell you all in brief: Theagenes,<br /> +Our last great king,<br /> +Had, by his queen, one only son, an infant<br /> +Of three years old, called, after him, Theagenes.<br /> +The general, this Polydamus, then married;<br /> +The public feasts for which were scarcely past,<br /> +When a rebellion in the heart of Sicily<br /> +Called out the king to arms.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> Polydamus<br /> +Had then a just excuse to stay behind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> His temper was too warlike to accept it.<br /> +He left his bride, and the new joys of marriage,<br /> +And followed to the field. In short, they fought,<br /> +The rebels were o'ercome; but in the fight<br /> +The too bold king received a mortal wound.<br /> +When he perceived his end approaching near,<br /> +He called the general, to whose care he left<br /> +His widow queen, and orphan son; then died.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> Then false Polydamus betrayed his trust?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> He did; and, with my father's help,—for which<br /> +Heaven pardon him!—so gained their soldiers' hearts,<br /> +That, in a few days, he was saluted king:<br /> +And when his crimes had impudence enough<br /> +To bear the eye of day,<br /> +He marched his army back to Syracuse.<br /> +But see how heaven can punish wicked men,<br /> +In granting their desires: The news was brought him,<br /> +That day he was to enter it, that Eubulus,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_255"></span> +Whom his dead master had left governor,<br /> +Was fled, and with him bore away the queen,<br /> +And royal orphan; but, what more amazed him,<br /> +His wife, now big with child, and much detesting<br /> +Her husband's practices, had willingly<br /> +Accompanied their flight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> How I admire her virtue!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> What became<br /> +Of her, and them, since that, was never known;<br /> +Only, some few days since, a famous robber<br /> +Was taken with some jewels of vast price,<br /> +Which, when they were delivered to the king,<br /> +He knew had been his wife's; with these, a letter,<br /> +Much torn and sullied, but which yet he knew<br /> +To be her writing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> Sure, from hence he learned<br /> +He had a son?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> It was not left so plain:<br /> +The paper only said, she died in child-bed;<br /> +But when it should have mentioned son or daughter,<br /> +Just there it was torn off.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> Madam, the king.</p> + +<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Polydamus, Argaleon,</span> Guard and Attendants.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> The robber, though thrice racked, confessed no more.<br /> +But that he took those jewels near this place.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> But yet the circumstances strongly argue,<br /> +That those, for whom I search, are not far off.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> I cannot easily believe it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> No,<br /> +You would not have it so. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Those, I employed, have in the neighbouring hamlet,<br /> +Amongst the fishers' cabins, made discovery<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_256"></span> +Of some young persons, whose uncommon beauty,<br /> +And graceful carriage, make it seem suspicious<br /> +They are not what they seem: I therefore sent<br /> +The captain of my guards, this morning early,<br /> +With orders to secure and bring them to me.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Rhodophil</span> and <span class="cnm">Palamede.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">O, here he is.—Have you performed my will?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Sir, those, whom you commanded me to bring,<br /> +Are waiting in the walks.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Conduct them hither.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> First, give me leave<br /> +To beg your notice of this gentleman.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> He seems to merit it. His name and quality?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Palamede, son to lord Cleodemus of Palermo,<br /> +And new returned from travel. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Palamede</span> approaches, and kneels to kiss the +Kings hand.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> You are welcome.<br /> +I knew your father well, he was both brave<br /> +And honest; we two once were fellow soldiers<br /> +In the last civil wars.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I bring the same unquestion'd honesty<br /> +And zeal to serve your majesty; the courage<br /> +You were pleased to praise in him,<br /> +Your royal prudence, and your people's love,<br /> +Will never give me leave to try, like him,<br /> +In civil wars; I hope it may in foreign.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Attend the court, and it shall be my care<br /> +To find out some employment, worthy you.<br /> +Go, Rhodophil, and bring in those without. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Rho.</span> and <span class="cnm">Pala.</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_257"></span> +<span class="cnm">Rhodophil</span> returns again immediately, and with him +enter <span class="cnm">Hermogenes, Leonidas,</span> and <span class="cnm">Palmyra.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">Behold two miracles! +<span class="sdr">[Looking earnestly on <span class="cnm">Leon.</span> and <span class="cnm">Palmyra.</span></span><br /> +Of different sexes, but of equal form:<br /> +So matchless both, that my divided soul<br /> +Can scarcely ask the gods a son or daughter,<br /> +For fear of losing one. If from your hands,<br /> +You powers, I shall this day receive a daughter,<br /> +Argaleon, she is yours; but, if a son,<br /> +Then Amalthea's love shall make him happy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Grant, heaven, this admirable nymph may prove<br /> +That issue, which he seeks!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Venus Urania, if thou art a goddess,<br /> +Grant that sweet youth may prove the prince of Sicily!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Tell me, old man, and tell me true, from whence +<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Herm.</span></span><br /> +Had you that youth and maid?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> From whence you had<br /> +Your sceptre, sir: I had them from the gods.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> The gods then have not such another gift.<br /> +Say who their parents were.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> My wife, and I.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> It is not likely, a virgin, of so excellent a beauty,<br /> +Should come from such a stock.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Much less, that such a youth, so sweet, so graceful,<br /> +Should be produced from peasants.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> Why, nature is the same in villages,<br /> +And much more fit to form a noble issue,<br /> +Where it is least corrupted.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> He talks too like a man that knew the world,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_258"></span> +To have been long a peasant. But the rack<br /> +Will teach him other language. Hence with him! +<span class="sdr">[As the Guards are carrying him away, his peruke +falls off.</span><br /> +Sure I have seen that face before. Hermogenes!<br /> +'Tis he, 'tis he, who fled away with Eubulus,<br /> +And with my dear Eudoxia.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> Yes, sir, I am Hermogenes;<br /> +And if to have been loyal be a crime,<br /> +I stand prepared to suffer.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> If thou would'st live, speak quickly,<br /> +What is become of my Eudoxia?<br /> +Where is the queen and young Theagenes?<br /> +Where Eubulus? and which of these is mine? +<span class="sdr">[Pointing to <span class="cnm">Leon.</span> and <span class="cnm">Palm.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> Eudoxia is dead, so is the queen,<br /> +The infant king, her son, and Eubulus.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Traitor, 'tis false: Produce them, or—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> Once more<br /> +I tell you, they are dead; but leave to threaten,<br /> +For you shall know no further.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Then prove indulgent to my hopes, and be<br /> +My friend for ever. Tell me, good Hermogenes,<br /> +Whose son is that brave youth?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> Sir, he is yours.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Fool that I am! thou see'st that so I wish it,<br /> +And so thou flatter'st me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> By all that's holy!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Again. Thou canst not swear too deeply.—<br /> +Yet hold, I will believe thee:—Yet I doubt.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> You need not, sir.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Believe him not; he sees you credulous,<br /> +And would impose his own base issue on you,<br /> +And fix it to your crown.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Behold his goodly shape and feature, sir;<br /> +Methinks he much resembles you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_259"></span> +<span class="cnm">Arga.</span> I say, if you have any issue here,<br /> +It must be that fair creature;<br /> +By all my hopes I think so.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Yes, brother, I believe you by your hopes,<br /> +For they are all for her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Call the youth nearer.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> Leonidas, the king would speak with you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Come near, and be not dazzled with the splendour,<br /> +And greatness of a court.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I need not this encouragement;<br /> +I can fear nothing but the gods.<br /> +And, for this glory, after I have seen<br /> +The canopy of state spread wide above<br /> +In the abyss of heaven, the court of stars,<br /> +The blushing morning, and the rising sun,<br /> +What greater can I see?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> This speaks thee born a prince; thou art, thyself, +<span class="sdr">[Embracing him.</span><br /> +That rising sun, and shalt not see, on earth,<br /> +A brighter than thyself. All of you witness,<br /> +That for my son I here receive this youth,<br /> +This brave, this—but I must not praise him further,<br /> +Because he now is mine.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I wo'not, sir, believe <span class="sdr">[Kneeling.</span><br /> +That I am made your sport;<br /> +For I find nothing in myself, but what<br /> +Is much above a scorn. I dare give credit<br /> +To whatsoe'er a king, like you, can tell me.<br /> +Either I am, or will deserve to be, your son.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> I yet maintain it is impossible<br /> +This young man should be yours; for, if he were,<br /> +Why should Hermogenes so long conceal him,<br /> +When he might gain so much by his discovery?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> I staid a while to make him worthy, sir,<br /> +Of you. <span class="sdr">[To the King.</span><br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_260"></span> +But in that time I found<br /> +Somewhat within him, which so moved my love,<br /> +I never could resolve to part with him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> You ask too many questions, and are <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Arga.</span></span><br /> +Too saucy for a subject.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> You rather over-act your part, and are<br /> +Too soon a prince.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Too soon you'll find me one.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Enough, Argaleon!<br /> +I have declared him mine; and you, Leonidas,<br /> +Live well with him I love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Sir, if he be your son, I may have leave<br /> +To think your queen had twins. Look on this virgin;<br /> +Hermogenes would enviously deprive you<br /> +Of half your treasure.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> Sir, she is my daughter.<br /> +I could, perhaps, thus aided by this lord,<br /> +Prefer her to be yours; but truth forbid<br /> +I should procure her greatness by a lie!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Come hither, beauteous maid: Are you not sorry<br /> +Your father will not let you pass for mine?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I am content to be what heaven has made me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Could you not wish yourself a princess then?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Not to be sister to Leonidas.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Why, my sweet maid?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Indeed I cannot tell;<br /> +But I could be content to be his handmaid.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> I wish I had not seen her. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I must weep for your good fortune; <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Leon.</span></span><br /> +Pray, pardon me, indeed I cannot help it.<br /> +Leonidas,—alas! I had forgot, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_261"></span><br /> +Now I must call you prince,—but must I leave you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I dare not speak to her; for, if I should,<br /> +I must weep too. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> No, you shall live at court, sweet innocence,<br /> +And see him there. Hermogenes,<br /> +Though you intended not to make me happy,<br /> +Yet you shall be rewarded for the event.<br /> +Come, my Leonidas, let's thank the gods;<br /> +Thou for a father, I for such a son. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt all but <span class="cnm">Leon.</span> and <span class="cnm">Palm.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> My dear Palmyra, many eyes observe me,<br /> +And I have thoughts so tender, that I cannot<br /> +In public speak them to you: Some hours hence,<br /> +I shall shake off these crowds of fawning courtiers,<br /> +And then— <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Leon.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Fly swift, you hours! you measure time for me in vain,<br /> +'Till you bring back Leonidas again.<br /> +Be shorter now; and, to redeem that wrong,<br /> +When he and I are met, be twice as long! <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT II. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Melantha</span> and <span class="cnm">Philotis.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Count Rhodophil's a fine gentleman indeed, +madam; and, I think, deserves your affection.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Let me die but he's a fine man; he sings +and dances <i>en François</i>, and writes the <i>billets doux</i> +to a miracle.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> And those are no small talents, to a lady +<span class="pgnm" id="page_262"></span> +that understands, and values the French air, as your +ladyship does.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> How charming is the French air! and what +an <i>etourdi bête</i> is one of our untravelled islanders! +When he would make his court to me, let me die +but he is just Æsop's ass, that would imitate the +courtly French in his addresses; but, instead of +those, comes pawing upon me, and doing all +things so <i>mal a droitly</i>.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> 'Tis great pity Rhodophil's a married man, +that you may not have an honourable intrigue with +him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Intrigue, Philotis! that's an old phrase; I +have laid that word by; amour sounds better. But +thou art heir to all my cast words, as thou art to my +old wardrobe. Oh, count Rhodophil! Ah <i>mon cher</i>! +I could live and die with him.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Palamede,</span> and a Servant.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serv.</span> Sir, this is my lady.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Then this is she that is to be divine, and +nymph, and goddess, and with whom I am to be +desperately in love.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Bows to her, delivering a letter.</span><br /> +This letter, madam, which I present you from your +father, has given me both the happy opportunity, +and the boldness, to kiss the fairest hands in Sicily.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Came you lately from Palermo, sir?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But yesterday, madam.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> [<span class="sdm">Reading the letter.</span>] <i>Daughter, receive the +bearer of this letter, as a gentleman whom I have chosen +to make you happy.</i> [O Venus, a new servant +sent me! and let me die but he has the air of a +<i>gallant homme</i>!] <i>His father is the rich lord Cleodemus, +our neighbour: I suppose you'll find nothing disagreeable +in his person or his converse; both which he has +improved by travel. The treaty is already concluded, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_263"></span> +and I shall be in town within these three days; so that +you have nothing to do but to obey your careful father.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg">[<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Pala.</span></span>] Sir, my father, for whom I have a +blind obedience, has commanded me to receive your +passionate addresses; but you must also give me +leave to avow, that I cannot merit them from so accomplished +a cavalier.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I want many things, madam, to render me +accomplished; and the first and greatest of them is +your favour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Let me die, Philotis, but this is extremely +French; but yet Count Rhodophil—a gentleman, +sir, that understands the <i>grand monde</i> so well, who +has haunted the best conversations, and who, in +short, has voyaged, may pretend to the good graces +of a lady.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Hey-day! <i>Grand monde! Conversation! +voyaged!</i> and <i>good graces!</i> I find my mistress +is one of those that run mad in new French +words.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I suppose, sir, you have made the tour of +France; and, having seen all that's fine there, will +make a considerable reformation in the rudeness of +our court: For let me die, but an unfashioned, untravelled, +mere Sicilian, is a <i>bête</i>; and has nothing +in the world of an <i>honnête homme</i>.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I must confess, madam, that—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> And what new minuets have you brought +over with you? their minuets are to a miracle! and +our Sicilian jiggs are so dull and sad to them!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> For minuets, madam—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> And what new plays are there in vogue? +And who danced best in the last grand ballet? +Come, sweet servant, you shall tell me all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> [<span class="sdm">aside.</span>] Tell her all? Why, she asks all, and +<span class="pgnm" id="page_264"></span> +will hear nothing.—To answer in order, madam, to +your demands—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I am thinking what a happy couple we shall +be! For you shall keep up your correspondence +abroad, and every thing that's new writ, in France, +and fine, I mean all that's delicate, and <i>bien tourné</i>, +we will have first.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But, madam, our fortune—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I understand you, sir; you'll leave that to +me: For the <i>menage</i> of a family, I know it better +than any lady in Sicily.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Alas, madam, we—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Then, we will never make visits together, +nor see a play, but always apart; you shall be every +day at the king's levee, and I at the queen's; and +we will never meet, but in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Madam, the new prince is just passed by +the end of the walk.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> The new prince, sayest thou? Adieu, dear +servant; I have not made my court to him these +two long hours. O, it is the sweetest prince! so +<i>obligeant</i>, <i>charmant</i>, <i>ravissant</i>, that—Well, I'll +make haste to kiss his hands, and then make half a +score visits more, and be with you again in a twinkling.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit running, with <span class="cnm">Phil.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> [<span class="sdm">solus.</span>] Now heaven, of thy mercy, bless +me from this tongue! it may keep the field against +a whole army of lawyers, and that in their own +language, French gibberish. It is true, in the day-time, +it is tolerable, when a man has field room to +run from it; but to be shut up in a bed with her, +like two cocks in a pit, humanity cannot support it. +I must kiss all night in my own defence, and hold +her down, like a boy at cuffs, and give her the rising +blow every time she begins to speak.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_265"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Rhodophil.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">But here comes Rhodophil. It is pretty odd that +my mistress should so much resemble his: The same +newsmonger, the same passionate lover of a court, +the same—But, Basta, since I must marry her. I'll +say nothing, because he shall not laugh at my misfortune.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Well, Palamede, how go the affairs of love? +You have seen your mistress?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I have so.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> And how, and how? has the old Cupid, +your father, chosen well for you? is he a good +woodman?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> She's much handsomer than I could have +imagined: In short, I love her, and will marry her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Then you are quite off from your other +mistress?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> You are mistaken; I intend to love them +both, as a reasonable man ought to do: For, since +all women have their faults and imperfections, it is +fit that one of them should help out the other.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> This were a blessed doctrine, indeed, if our +wives would hear it; but they are their own enemies: +If they would suffer us but now and then to +make excursions, the benefit of our variety would +be theirs; instead of one continued, lazy, tired love, +they would, in their turns, have twenty vigorous, +fresh, and active lovers.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> And I would ask any of them, whether a +poor narrow brook, half dry the best part of the +year, and running ever one way, be to be compared +to a lusty stream, that has ebbs and flows?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Ay, or is half so profitable for navigation?</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_266"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Doralice,</span> walking by, and reading.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Ods my life, Rhodophil, will you keep my +counsel?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Yes: Where's the secret?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> There it is: [<span class="sdm">Shewing <span class="cnm">Dor.</span></span>] I may tell you, +as my friend, <i>sub sigillo</i>, &c. this is that very lady, +with whom I am in love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> By all that's virtuous, my wife! <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> You look strangely: How do you like her? +Is she not very handsome?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Sure he abuses me. [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]—Why the devil +do you ask my judgment?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> You are so dogged now, you think no +man's mistress handsome but your own. Come, you +shall hear her talk too; she has wit, I assure you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> This is too much, Palamede. <span class="sdr">[Going back.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Pr'ythee do not hang back so: Of an old +tried lover, thou art the most bashful fellow!<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Pulling him forward.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Were you so near, and would not speak, +dear husband? <span class="sdr">[Looking up.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Husband, quoth a! I have cut out a fine +piece of work for myself. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Pray, spouse, how long have you been acquainted +with this gentleman?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Who? I acquainted with this stranger? To +my best knowledge, I never saw him before.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Melantha</span> at the other end.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Thanks, fortune, thou hast helped me. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Palamede, this must not pass so. I must +know your mistress a little better.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> It shall be your own fault else. Come, I'll +introduce you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_267"></span> +<span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Introduce me! where?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> There. To my mistress. +<span class="sdr">[Pointing to <span class="cnm">Melantha,</span> who swiftly passes +over the stage.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Who? Melantha! O heavens, I did not see +her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But I did: I am an eagle where I love; I +have seen her this half hour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I find he has wit, he has got off so +readily; but it would anger me, if he should love +Melantha.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Now, I could even wish it were +my wife he loved; I find he's to be married to my +mistress.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Shall I run after, and fetch her back again, +to present you to her?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> No, you need not; I have the honour to +have some small acquaintance with her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] O Jupiter! what a blockhead was +I, not to find it out! my wife, that must be, is his +mistress. I did a little suspect it before. Well, I +must marry her, because she's handsome, and because +I hate to be disinherited by a younger brother, +which I am sure I shall be, if I disobey; and yet I +must keep in with Rhodophil, because I love his +wife.—[<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Rho.</span></span>] I must desire you to make my excuse +to your lady, if I have been so unfortunate to +cause any mistake; and, withal, to beg the honour +of being known to her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> O, that is but reason.—Hark you, spouse, +pray look upon this gentleman as my friend; whom, +to my knowledge, you have never seen before this +hour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> I am so obedient a wife, sir, that my husband's +commands shall ever be a law to me.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_268"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Melantha</span> again, hastily, and runs to embrace +<span class="cnm">Doralice.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> O, my dear, I was just going to pay my +devoirs to you; I had not time this morning, for +making my court to the king, and our new prince. +Well, never nation was so happy, and all that, in a +young prince; and he is the kindest person in the +world to me, let me die if he is not.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> He has been bred up far from court, and +therefore—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> That imports not: Though he has not seen +the <i>grand monde</i>, and all that, let me die but he has +the air of the court most absolutely.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But yet, madam, he—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> O, servant, you can testify that I am in his +good graces. Well, I cannot stay long with you, +because I have promised him this afternoon to—But +hark you, my dear, I'll tell you a secret.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Whispers to <span class="cnm">Dor.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> The devil's in me, that I must love this woman. +<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> The devil's in me, that I must marry this +woman. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> [<span class="sdm">Raising her voice.</span>] So the prince and I—But +you must make a secret of this, my dear; for I +would not for the world your husband should hear +it, or my tyrant, there, that must be.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Well, fair impertinent, your whisper is not +lost, we hear you. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> I understand then, that—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I'll tell you, my dear, the prince took me +by the hand, and pressed it <i>a la derobbée</i>, because +the king was near, made the <i>doux yeux</i> to me, and, +<i>ensuite</i>, said a thousand gallantries, or let me die, +my dear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_269"></span> +<span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Then I am sure you—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> You are mistaken, my dear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> What, before I speak?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> But I know your meaning. You think, my +dear, that I assumed something of <i>fierté</i> into my +countenance, to <i>rebute</i>, him; but, quite contrary, I +regarded him,—I know not how to express it in +our dull Sicilian language,—<i>d'un air enjoüé</i>; and said +nothing but <i>ad autre, ad autre,</i> and that it was all +<i>grimace</i>, and would not pass upon me.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Artemis: Melantha</span> sees her, and runs +away from <span class="cnm">Doralice.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">[<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Artemis.</span></span>] My dear, I must beg your pardon, I +was just making a loose from Doralice, to pay my +respects to you. Let me die, if I ever pass time so +agreeably as in your company, and if I would leave +it for any lady's in Sicily.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> The princess Amalthea is coming this way.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Amalthea: Melantha</span> runs to her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> O, dear madam! I have been at your lodging +in my new <i>galeche</i>, so often, to tell you of a +new amour, betwixt two persons whom you would +little suspect for it, that, let me die if one of my +coach-horses be not dead, and another quite tired, +and sunk under the fatigue.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> O, Melantha, I can tell you news; the +prince is coming this way.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> The prince? O sweet prince! He and I are +to—and I forgot it.—Your pardon, sweet madam, +for my abruptness.—Adieu, my dear servant,—Rhodophil.—Servant, +servant, servant all.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit running.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Rhodophil, a word with you. <span class="sdr">[Whispers.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Pala.</span></span>] Why do you not follow your +mistress, sir?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_270"></span> +<span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Follow her? Why, at this rate she'll be at +the Indies within this half hour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> However, if you cannot follow her all day, +you will meet her at night, I hope?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But can you, in charity, suffer me to be so +mortified, without affording me some relief? If it +be but to punish that sign of a husband there, that +lazy matrimony, that dull insipid taste, who leaves +such delicious fare at home, to dine abroad on worse +meat, and pay dear for it into the bargain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> All this is in vain: Assure yourself, I will +never admit of any visit from you in private.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> That is to tell me, in other words, my +condition is desperate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> I think you in so ill a condition, that I am +resolved to pray for you, this very evening, in the +close walk behind the terrace; for that's a private +place, and there I am sure nobody will disturb my +devotions. And so, good-night, sir.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> This is the newest way of making an appointment +I ever heard of. Let women alone to +contrive the means; I find we are but dunces to +them. Well, I will not be so prophane a wretch as +to interrupt her devotions; but, to make them more +effectual, I'll down upon my knees, and endeavour +to join my own with them.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Rho.</span></span>] I know already they do not love +each other; and that my brother acts but a forced +obedience to the king's commands; so that if a +quarrel should arise betwixt the prince and him, I +were most miserable on both sides.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> There shall be nothing wanting in me, madam, +to prevent so sad a consequence.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter the King and <span class="cnm">Leonidas;</span> the King whispers +<span class="cnm">Amalthea.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">[<span class="sdm">To himself.</span>] I begin to hate this Palamede, because +<span class="pgnm" id="page_271"></span> +he is to marry my mistress: Yet break with him I +dare not, for fear of being quite excluded from her +company. It is a hard case, when a man must go +by his rival to his mistress: But it is, at worst, but +using him like a pair of heavy boots in a dirty journey; +after I have fouled him all day, I'll throw him +off at night.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> [<span class="sdm">To the King.</span>] This honour is too great for +me to hope.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> You shall this hour have the assurance of it.—<br /> +Leonidas, come hither; you have heard,<br /> +I doubt not, that the father of this princess<br /> +Was my most faithful friend, while I was yet<br /> +A private man; and when I did assume<br /> +This crown, he served me in the high attempt.<br /> +You see, then, to what gratitude obliges me;<br /> +Make your addresses to her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Sir, I am yet too young to be a courtier;<br /> +I should too much betray my ignorance,<br /> +And want of breeding to so fair a lady.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Your language speaks you not bred up in desarts,<br /> +But in the softness of some Asian court,<br /> +Where luxury and ease invent kind words,<br /> +To cozen tender virgins of their hearts.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> You need not doubt,<br /> +But in what words soe'er a prince can offer<br /> +His crown and person, they will be received.<br /> +You know my pleasure, and you know your duty.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Yes, sir, I shall obey, in what I can.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> In what you can, Leonidas? Consider,<br /> +He's both your king, and father, who commands you.<br /> +Besides, what is there hard in my injunction?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> 'Tis hard to have my inclination forced.<br /> +I would not marry, sir; and, when I do,<br /> +I hope you'll give me freedom in my choice.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_272"></span> +<span class="cnm">Poly.</span> View well this lady,<br /> +Whose mind as much transcends her beauteous face,<br /> +As that excels all others.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> My beauty, as it ne'er could merit love,<br /> +So neither can it beg: And, sir, you may<br /> +Believe, that what the king has offered you,<br /> +I should refuse, did I not value more<br /> +Your person than your crown.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Think it not pride,<br /> +Or my new fortunes swell me to contemn you;<br /> +Think less, that I want eyes to see your beauty;<br /> +And, least of all, think duty wanting in me<br /> +To obey a father's will: But—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> But what, Leonidas?<br /> +For I must know your reason; and be sure<br /> +It be convincing too.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Sir, ask the stars,<br /> +Which have imposed love on us, like a fate,<br /> +Why minds are bent to one, and fly another?<br /> +Ask, why all beauties cannot move all hearts?<br /> +For though there may<br /> +Be made a rule for colour, or for feature,<br /> +There can be none for liking.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Leonidas, you owe me more<br /> +Than to oppose your liking to my pleasure.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I owe you all things, sir; but something, too,<br /> +I owe myself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> You shall dispute no more; I am a king,<br /> +And I will be obeyed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> You are a king, sir, but you are no god;<br /> +Or, if you were, you could not force my will.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] But you are just, ye gods; O you are just,<br /> +In punishing the crimes of my rebellion<br /> +With a rebellious son!<br /> +Yet I can punish him, as you do me.—<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_273"></span> +Leonidas, there is no jesting with<br /> +My will: I ne'er had done so much to gain<br /> +A crown, but to be absolute in all things.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> O, sir, be not so much a king, as to<br /> +Forget you are a father: Soft indulgence<br /> +Becomes that name. Tho' nature gives you power<br /> +To bind his duty, 'tis with silken bonds:<br /> +Command him, then, as you command yourself;<br /> +He is as much a part of you, as are<br /> +Your appetite and will, and those you force not,<br /> +But gently bend, and make them pliant to your reason.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> It may be I have used too rough a way.—<br /> +Forgive me, my Leonidas; I know<br /> +I lie as open to the gusts of passion,<br /> +As the bare shore to every, beating surge:<br /> +I will not force thee now; but I entreat thee,<br /> +Absolve a father's vow to this fair virgin;<br /> +A vow, which hopes of having such a son<br /> +First caused.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Show not my disobedience by your prayers;<br /> +For I must still deny you, though I now<br /> +Appear more guilty to myself than you:<br /> +I have some reasons, which I cannot utter,<br /> +That force my disobedience; yet I mourn<br /> +To death, that the first thing, you e'er enjoined me,<br /> +Should be that only one command in nature,<br /> +Which I could not obey.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> I did descend too much below myself,<br /> +When I entreated him.—Hence, to thy desart!<br /> +Thou'rt not my son, or art not fit to be.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Great sir, I humbly beg you, make not me <span class="sdr">[Kneeling.</span><br /> +The cause of your displeasure. I absolve<br /> +Your vow; far from me be such designs;<br /> +So wretched a desire of being great,<br /> +By making him unhappy. You may see<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_274"></span> +Something so noble in the prince's nature,<br /> +As grieves him more, not to obey, than you,<br /> +That you are not obeyed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Then, for your sake,<br /> +I'll give him one day longer to consider,<br /> +Not to deny; for my resolves are firm<br /> +As fate, that cannot change. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt King and <span class="cnm">Amal.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> And so are mine.<br /> +This beauteous princess, charming as she is,<br /> +Could never make me happy: I must first<br /> +Be false to my Palmyra, and then wretched.<br /> +But, then, a father's anger!<br /> +Suppose he should recede from his own vow,<br /> +He never would permit me to keep mine.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Palmyra; Argaleon</span> following her, a little +after.</p> + +<p class="dlg">See, she appears!<br /> +I'll think no more of any thing, but her.<br /> +Yet I have one good hour ere I am wretched.<br /> +But, oh! Argaleon follows her! so night<br /> +Treads on the footsteps of a winter's sun,<br /> +And stalks all black behind him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> O, Leonidas,<br /> +For I must call you still by that dear name,<br /> +Free me from this bad man.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I hope he dares not be injurious to you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> I rather was injurious to myself,<br /> +Than her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> That must be judged, when I hear what you said.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> I think you need not give yourself that trouble:<br /> +It concerned us alone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> You answer saucily, and indirectly:<br /> +What interest can you pretend in her?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_275"></span> +<span class="cnm">Arga.</span> It may be, sir, I made her some expressions<br /> +Which I would not repeat, because they were<br /> +Below my rank, to one of hers.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> What did he say, Palmyra?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I'll tell you all: First, he began to look,<br /> +And then he sighed, and then he looked again;<br /> +At last, he said, my eyes wounded his heart:<br /> +And, after that, he talked of flames and fires,<br /> +And such strange words, that I believed he conjured.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> O my heart!—Leave me, Argaleon.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Come, sweet Palmyra,<br /> +I will instruct you better in my meaning:<br /> +You see he would be private.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Go yourself,<br /> +And leave her here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Alas, she's ignorant,<br /> +And is not fit to entertain a prince.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> First learn what's fit for you; that's to obey.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> I know my duty is to wait on you.<br /> +A great king's son, like you, ought to forget<br /> +Such mean converse.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> What? a disputing subject?<br /> +Hence, or my sword shall do me justice on thee.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Yet I may find a time— <span class="sdr">[Going.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> What's that you mutter, <span class="sdr">[Going after him.</span><br /> +To find a time?—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> To wait on you again—<br /> +In the mean while I'll watch you. <span class="sdr">[Softly.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit, and watches during the scene.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> How precious are the hours of love in courts!<br /> +In cottages, where love has all the day,<br /> +Full, and at ease, he throws it half away.<br /> +Time gives himself, and is not valued, there;<br /> +But sells at mighty rates, each minute, here:<br /> +There, he is lazy, unemployed, and slow;<br /> +Here, he's more swift; and yet has more to do.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_276"></span> +So many of his hours in public move,<br /> +That few are left for privacy and love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> The sun, methinks, shines faint and dimly, here;<br /> +Light is not half so long, nor half so clear:<br /> +But, oh! when every day was yours and mine,<br /> +How early up! what haste he made to shine!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Such golden days no prince must hope to see,<br /> +Whose every subject is more blessed than he.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Do you remember, when their tasks were done,<br /> +How all the youth did to our cottage run?<br /> +While winter-winds were whistling loud without,<br /> +Our cheerful hearth was circled round about:<br /> +With strokes in ashes, maids their lovers drew;<br /> +And still you fell to me, and I to you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> When love did of my heart possession take,<br /> +I was so young, my soul was scarce awake:<br /> +I cannot tell when first I thought you fair;<br /> +But sucked in love, insensibly as air.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I know too well when, first my love began,<br /> +When at our wake you for the chaplet ran:<br /> +Then I was made the lady of the May,<br /> +And, with the garland, at the goal did stay:<br /> +Still, as you ran, I kept you full in view;<br /> +I hoped, and wished, and ran, methought, for you.<br /> +As you came near, I hastily did rise,<br /> +And stretched my arm outright, that held the prize.<br /> +The custom was to kiss whom I should crown;<br /> +You kneeled, and in my lap your head laid down:<br /> +I blushed, and blushed, and did the kiss delay;<br /> +At last my subjects forced me to obey:<br /> +But, when I gave the crown, and then the kiss,<br /> +I scarce had breath to say, Take that,—and this.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_277"></span> +<span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I felt, the while, a pleasing kind of smart;<br /> +That kiss went, tingling, to my very heart.<br /> +When it was gone, the sense of it did stay;<br /> +The sweetness clinged upon my lips all day,<br /> +Like drops of honey, loth to fall away.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Life, like a prodigal, gave all his store<br /> +To my first youth, and now can give no more.<br /> +You are a prince; and, in that high degree,<br /> +No longer must converse with humble me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> 'Twas to my loss the gods that title gave;<br /> +A tyrant's son is doubly born a slave:<br /> +He gives a crown; but, to prevent my life<br /> +From being happy, loads it with a wife.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Speak quickly; what have you resolved to do?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> To keep my faith inviolate to you.<br /> +He threatens me with exile, and with shame,<br /> +To lose my birthright, and a prince's name;<br /> +But there's a blessing which he did not mean,<br /> +To send me back to love and you again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Why was not I a princess for your sake?<br /> +But heaven no more such miracles can make:<br /> +And, since that cannot, this must never be;<br /> +You shall not lose a crown for love of me.<br /> +Live happy, and a nobler choice pursue;<br /> +I shall complain of fate, but not of you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Can you so easily without me live?<br /> +Or could you take the counsel, which you give?<br /> +Were you a princess, would you not be true?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I would; but cannot merit it from you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Did you not merit, as you do, my heart,<br /> +Love gives esteem, and then it gives desert.<br /> +But if I basely could forget my vow,<br /> +Poor helpless innocence, what would you do?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> In woods, and plains, where first my love began,<br /> +There would I live, retired from faithless man:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_278"></span> +I'd sit all day within some lonely shade,<br /> +Or that close arbour which your hands have made:<br /> +I'd search the groves, and every tree, to find<br /> +Where you had carved our names upon the rind:<br /> +Your hook, your scrip, all that was yours, I'd keep,<br /> +And lay them by me when I went to sleep.<br /> +Thus would I live: And maidens, when I die,<br /> +Upon my hearse white true-love-knots should tie;<br /> +And thus my tomb should be inscribed above,<br /> +<i>Here the forsaken Virgin rests from love.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Think not that time or fate shall e'er divide<br /> +Those hearts, which love and mutual vows have tied.<br /> +But we must part; farewell, my love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Till when?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Till the next age of hours we meet again.<br /> +Meantime, we may,<br /> +When near each other we in public stand,<br /> +Contrive to catch a look, or steal a hand:<br /> +Fancy will every touch and glance improve;<br /> +And draw the most spirituous parts of love.<br /> +Our souls sit close, and silently within,<br /> +And their own web from their own entrails spin;<br /> +And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,<br /> +That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT III. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Rhodophil,</span> meeting <span class="cnm">Doralice</span> and <span class="cnm">Artemis;</span> +<span class="cnm">Rhodophil</span> and <span class="cnm">Doralice</span> embrace.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> My own dear heart!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> My own true love! [<span class="sdm">She starts back.</span>] I had +forgot myself to be so kind; indeed, I am very angry +<span class="pgnm" id="page_279"></span> +with you, dear; you are come home an hour +after you appointed: if you had staid a minute +longer, I was just considering whether I should +stab, hang, or drown myself.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Embracing him.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Nothing but the king's business could have +hindered me; and I was so vexed, that I was just +laying down my commission, rather than have failed +my dear.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Kisses her hand.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> Why, this is love as it should be betwixt +man and wife: such another couple would bring +marriage into fashion again. But is it always thus +betwixt you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Always thus! this is nothing. I tell you, +there is not such a pair of turtles in Sicily; there is +such an eternal cooing and kissing betwixt us, that +indeed it is scandalous before civil company.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Well, if I had imagined I should have been +this fond fool, I would never have married the man +I loved: I married to be happy, and have made +myself miserable by over-loving. Nay, and now +my case is desperate; for I have been married above +these two years, and find myself every day worse +and worse in love: nothing but madness can be the +end on't.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> Doat on, to the extremity, and you are +happy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> He deserves so infinitely much, that, the +truth is, there can be no doating in the matter; but, +to love well, I confess, is a work that pays itself: +'Tis telling gold, and, after, taking it for one's pains.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> By that I should be a very covetous person; +for I am ever pulling out my money, and putting +it into my pocket again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> O dear Rhodophil!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> O sweet Doralice! <span class="sdr">[Embracing each other.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Nay, I am resolved, I'll never interrupt +<span class="pgnm" id="page_280"></span> +lovers: I'll leave them as happy as I found +them.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Steals away.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> What, is she gone? <span class="sdr">[Looking up.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Yes; and without taking leave.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Then there's enough for this time. +<span class="sdr">[Parting from her.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Yes, sure, the scene is done, I take it.</p> + +<p class="sdn">They walk contrary ways on the stage; he, +with his hands in his pockets, whistling; she +singing a dull melancholy tune.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Pox o'your dull tune, a man can't think for +you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Pox o'your damned whistling; you can neither +be company to me yourself, nor leave me to +the freedom of my own fancy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Well, thou art the most provoking wife!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Well, thou art the dullest husband, thou +art never to be provoked.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> I was never thought dull till I married +thee; and now thou hast made an old knife of me; +thou hast whetted me so long, till I have no edge +left.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> I see you are in the husband's fashion; you +reserve all your good humours for your mistresses, +and keep your ill for your wives.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Prythee leave me to my own cogitations; +I am thinking over all my sins, to find for which of +them it was I married thee.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Whatever your sin was, mine's the punishment.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> My comfort is, thou art not immortal; and, +when that blessed, that divine day comes of thy +departure, I'm resolved I'll make one holiday more +in the almanack for thy sake.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Ay, you had need make a holiday for me, +for I am sure you have made me a martyr.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_281"></span> +<span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Then, setting my victorious foot upon thy +head, in the first hour of thy silence, (that is, the +first hour thou art dead, for I despair of it before) +I will swear by thy ghost,—an oath as terrible to +me as Styx is to the gods,—never more to be in +danger of the banes of matrimony.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> And I am resolved to marry the very same +day thou diest, if it be but to show how little I'm +concerned for thee.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Pray thee, Doralice, why do we quarrel thus +a-days? ha! this is but a kind of heathenish life, +and does not answer the ends of marriage. If I +have erred, propound what reasonable atonement +may be made before we sleep, and I will not be refractory; +but withal consider, I have been married +these three years, and be not too tyrannical.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> What should you talk of a peace a-bed, +when you can give no security for performance of +articles?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Then, since we must live together, and both +of us stand upon our terms, as to matters of dying +first, let us make ourselves as merry as we can with +our misfortunes. Why, there's the devil on't! if +thou could'st make my enjoying thee but a little +easy, or a little more unlawful, thou should'st see +what a termagant lover I would prove. I have taken +such pains to enjoy thee, Doralice, that I have +fancied thee all the fine women of the town—to +help me out: But now there's none left for me to +think on, my imagination is quite jaded. Thou art +a wife, and thou wilt be a wife, and I can make +thee another no longer.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Rho.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Well, since thou art a husband, and wilt be +a husband, I'll try if I can find out another. 'Tis a +pretty time we women have on't, to be made widows +while we are married. Our husbands think +it reasonable to complain, that we are the same, and +<span class="pgnm" id="page_282"></span> +the same to them, when we have more reason to +complain, that they are not the same to us. Because +they cannot feed on one dish, therefore we +must be starved. 'Tis enough that they have a sufficient +ordinary provided, and a table ready spread +for them: If they cannot fall too, and eat heartily, +the fault is theirs; and 'tis pity, methinks, that the +good creature should be lost, when many a poor +sinner would be glad on't.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Melantha</span> and <span class="cnm">Artemis</span> to her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Dear, my dear, pity me, I am so <i>chagrin</i> to +day, and have had the most signal affront at court! +I went this afternoon to do my devoir to princess +Amalthea, found her, conversed with her, and +helped to make her court some half an hour; after +which, she went to take the air, chose out two ladies +to go with her, that came in after me, and left +me most barbarously behind her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> You are the less to be pitied, Melantha, +because you subject yourself to these affronts, by +coming perpetually to court, where you have no +business nor employment.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I declare, I had rather of the two be rallied +nay, <i>mal traitée</i> at court, than be deified in the +town; for, assuredly, nothing can be so <i>ridicule</i> as +a mere town lady.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Especially at court. How I have seen them +crowd and sweat in the drawing-room on a holiday-night! +For that's their time to swarm and invade +the presence. O, how they catch at a bow, or any +little salute from a courtier, to make show of their +acquaintance! and, rather than be thought to be +quite unknown, they court'sy to one another; but +they take true pains to come near the circle, and +press and peep upon the princess, to write letters +into the country how she was dressed, while the +<span class="pgnm" id="page_283"></span> +ladies, that stand about, make their court to her +with abusing them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> These are sad truths, Melantha; and therefore +I would e'en advise you to quit the court, and +live either wholly in the town, or, if you like not +that, in the country.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> In the country! nay, that's to fall beneath +the town, for they live upon our offals here. Their +entertainment of wit is only the remembrance of +what they had when they were last in town;—they +live this year upon the last year's knowledge, as +their cattle do all night, by chewing the cud of +what they eat in the afternoon.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> And they tell, for news, such unlikely stories! +A letter from one of us is such a present to +them, that the poor souls wait for the carrier's-day +with such devotion, that they cannot sleep the +night before.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> No more than I can, the night before I am +to go a journey.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Or I, before I am to try on a new gown.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> A song, that's stale here, will be new there +a twelvemonth hence; and if a man of the town by +chance come amongst them, he's reverenced for +teaching them the tune.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> A friend of mine, who makes songs sometimes, +came lately out of the west, and vowed he +was so put out of countenance with a song of his; +for, at the first country gentleman's he visited, he +saw three tailors cross legged upon the table in the +hall, who were tearing out as loud as ever they +could sing,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>—After the pangs of a desperate lover, &c.</p> +</div> + +<p class="dlg">And that all day he heard of nothing else, but the +daughters of the house, and the maids, humming it +over in every corner, and the father whistling it. +<span class="pgnm" id="page_284"></span> +<i>Arte.</i> Indeed, I have observed of myself, that +when I am out of town but a fortnight, I am so +humble, that I would receive a letter from my tailor +or mercer for a favour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> When I have been at grass in the summer, +and am new come up again, methinks I'm to be +turned into ridicule by all that see me; but when I +have been once or twice at court, I begin to value +myself again, and to despise my country acquaintance.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> There are places where all people may be +adored, and we ought to know ourselves so well as +to choose them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> That's very true; your little courtier's wife, +who speaks to the king but once a month, need but +go to a town lady, and there she may vapour and +cry,—"The king and I," at every word. Your +town lady, who is laughed at in the circle, takes +her coach into the city, and there she's called +Your honour, and has a banquet from the merchant's +wife, whom she laughs at for her kindness. +And, as for my finical cit, she removes but to her +country house, and there insults over the country +gentlewoman that never comes up, who treats her +with furmity and custard, and opens her dear bottle +of <i>mirabilis</i> beside, for a gill-glass of it at parting.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> At last, I see, we shall leave Melantha +where we found her; for, by your description of the +town and country, they are become more dreadful +to her than the court, where she was affronted. +But you forget we are to wait on the princess +Amalthea. Come, Doralice.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Farewell, Melantha.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Adieu, my dear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> You are out of charity with her, and +therefore I shall not give your service.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Do not omit it, I beseech you; for I have +<span class="pgnm" id="page_285"></span> +such a <i>tendre</i> for the court, that I love it even from +the drawing-room to the lobby, and can never be +<i>rebutée</i> by any usage. But hark you, my dears; one +thing I had forgot, of great concernment.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Quickly then, we are in haste.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Do not call it my service, that's too vulgar; +but do my <i>baise mains</i> to the princess Amalthea; +that is <i>spirituelle</i>!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> To do you service, then, we will <i>prendre</i> +the <i>carosse</i> to court, and do your <i>baise mains</i> to the +princess Amalthea, in your phrase <i>spirituelle</i>.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Artemis</span> and <span class="cnm">Doralice.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Philotis,</span> with a paper in her hand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> O, are you there, minion? And, well, are +not you a most precious damsel, to retard all my +visits for want of language, when you know you +are paid so well for furnishing me with new words +for my daily conversation? Let me die, if I have +not run the risque already to speak like one of the +vulgar, and if I have one phrase left in all my store, +that is not thread-bare <i>et usé</i>, and fit for nothing but +to be thrown to peasants.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Indeed, Madam, I have been very diligent +in my vocation; but you have so drained all the +French plays and romances, that they are not able +to supply you with words for your daily expence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Drained? What a word's there! <i>Epuisée</i>, +you sot you. Come, produce your morning's work.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> 'Tis here, madam. <span class="sdr">[Shows the paper.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> O, my Venus! fourteen or fifteen words to +serve me a whole day! Let me die, at this rate I +cannot last till night. Come, read your works: +Twenty to one, half of them will not pass muster +neither.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> <i>Sottises.</i> <span class="sdr">[Reads.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> <i>Sottises: bon.</i> That's an excellent word to +<span class="pgnm" id="page_286"></span> +begin withal; as, for example, he or she said a +thousand <i>sottises</i> to me. Proceed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> <i>Figure:</i> As, what a <i>figure</i> of a man is there! +<i>Naive, and naiveté.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> <i>Naive!</i> as how?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Speaking of a thing that was naturally said, +it was so <i>naive;</i> or, such an innocent piece of simplicity +'twas such a <i>naiveté.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Truce with your interpretations. Make +haste.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> <i>Foible, chagrin, grimace, embarrasse, double +entendre, equivoque, ecclaircissement, suittè, beveue, +façon, penchant, coup d'etourdy,</i> and <i>ridicule.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Hold, hold; how did they begin?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> They began at <i>sottises</i>, and ended <i>en ridicule</i>.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Now, give me your paper in my hand, and +hold you my glass, while I practise my postures for +the day. [<span class="sdm"><span class="cnm">Melantha</span> laughs in the glass.</span>] How +does that laugh become my face?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Sovereignly well, madam.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Sovereignly? Let me die, that's not amiss. +That word shall not be yours; I'll invent it, and +bring it up myself: My new point gorget shall be +yours upon't. Not a word of the word, I charge +you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> I am dumb, madam.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> That glance, how suits it with my face? +<span class="sdr">[Looking in the glass again.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> 'Tis so <i>languissant</i>!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> <i>Languissant!</i> that word shall be mine too, +and my last Indian gown thine for't. That sigh?<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Looks again.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> 'Twill make a man sigh, madam. 'Tis a +mere <i>incendiary</i>.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Take my guimp petticoat for that truth. +If thou hast most of these phrases, let me die but +<span class="pgnm" id="page_287"></span> +I could give away all my wardrobe, and go naked +for them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Go naked? Then you would be a Venus, +madam. O Jupiter! what had I forgot? This paper +was given me by Rhodophil's page.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> [<span class="sdm">Reading the letter.</span>] Beg the favour from +you.—Gratify my passion—so far—assignation—in +the grotto—behind the terrace—clock this +evening—Well, for the <i>billets doux</i> there is no +man in Sicily must dispute with Rhodophil; they +are so French, so <i>gallant</i>, and so <i>tendre</i>, that I cannot +resist the temptation of the assignation. Now, +go you away, Philotis; it imports me to practise +what to say to my servant when I meet him. [<span class="sdm">Exit +<span class="cnm">Philotis.</span></span>] Rhodophil, you'll wonder at my assurance +to meet you here;—let me die, I am so +out of breath with coming, that I can render you +no reason of it.—Then he will make this <i>repartee</i>; +Madam, I have no reason to accuse you for that +which is so great a favour to me.—Then I reply, +But why have you drawn me to this solitary place? +Let me die, but I am apprehensive of some violence +from you.—Then says he, Solitude, madam, is most +fit for lovers; but by this fair hand—Nay, now +I vow you're rude, sir. O fy, fy, fy; I hope you'll +be honourable?—You'd laugh at me if I should, +madam.—What, do you mean to throw me down +thus? Ah me! ah! ah! ah!</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Polydamas, Leonidas,</span> and Guards.</p> + +<p class="dlg">O Venus! the king and court. Let me die, but I +fear they have found my foible, and will turn me +into <i>ridicule</i>.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit, running.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Sir, I beseech you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Do not urge my patience.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I'll not deny,<br /> +But what your spies informed you of is true:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_288"></span> +I love the fair Palmyra; but I loved her<br /> +Before I knew your title to my blood.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Palmyra</span> guarded.</p> + +<p class="dlg">See, here she comes, and looks, amidst her guards,<br /> +Like a weak dove under the falcon's gripe.<br /> +O heaven, I cannot bear it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Maid, come hither.<br /> +Have you presumed so far, as to receive<br /> +My son's affections?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Alas, what shall I answer? To confess it<br /> +Will raise a blush upon a virgin's face;<br /> +Yet I was ever taught 'twas base to lie.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> You've been too bold, and you must love no more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Indeed I must; I cannot help my love;<br /> +I was so tender when I took the bent,<br /> +That now I grow that way.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> He is a prince, and you are meanly born.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Love either finds equality, or makes it:<br /> +Like death, he knows no difference in degrees,<br /> +But plains, and levels all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Alas! I had not rendered up my heart,<br /> +Had he not loved me first; but he preferred me<br /> +Above the maidens of my age and rank,—<br /> +Still shunned their company, and still sought mine.<br /> +I was not won by gifts, yet still he gave;<br /> +And all his gifts, though small, yet spoke his love.<br /> +He picked the earliest strawberries in woods,<br /> +The clustered filberds, and the purple grapes;<br /> +He taught a prating stare to speak my name;<br /> +And, when he found a nest of nightingales,<br /> +Or callow linnets, he would show them me,<br /> +And let me take them out.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> This is a little mistress, meanly born,<br /> +Fit only for a prince's vacant hours,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_289"></span> +And then, to laugh at her simplicity,<br /> +Not fix a passion there. Now hear my sentence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Remember, ere you give it, 'tis pronounced<br /> +Against us both.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> First, in her hand<br /> +There shall be placed a player's painted sceptre,<br /> +And, on her head, a gilded pageant crown:<br /> +Thus shall she go,<br /> +With all the boys attending on her triumph;<br /> +That done, be put alone into a boat,<br /> +With bread and water only for three days;<br /> +So on the sea she shall be set adrift,<br /> +And who relieves her dies.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I only beg that you would execute<br /> +The last part first: Let me be put to sea;<br /> +The bread and water for my three days life<br /> +I give you back, I would not live so long;<br /> +But let me 'scape the shame.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Look to me, piety; and you, O Gods, look to my piety!<br /> +Keep me from saying that, which misbecomes a son;<br /> +But let me die before I see this done.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> If you for ever will abjure her sight,<br /> +I can be yet a father; she shall live.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Hear, O you powers! is this to be a father?<br /> +I see 'tis all my happiness and quiet<br /> +You aim at, sir; and take them:<br /> +I will not save even my Palmyra's life<br /> +At that ignoble price; but I'll die with her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> So had I done by you,<br /> +Had fate made me a princess.—Death, methinks,<br /> +Is not a terror now:<br /> +He is not fierce, or grim, but fawns, and sooths me,<br /> +And slides along, like Cleopatra's aspick,<br /> +Offering his service to my troubled breast.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_290"></span> +<span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Begin what you have purposed when you please;<br /> +Lead her to scorn, your triumph shall be doubled.<br /> +As holy priests,<br /> +In pity, go with dying malefactors,<br /> +So I will share her shame.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> You shall not have your will so much; first part them,<br /> +Then execute your office.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> No; I'll die<br /> +In her defence. <span class="sdr">[Draws his sword.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Ah, hold, and pull not on<br /> +A curse, to make me worthy of my death:<br /> +Do not by lawless force oppose your father,<br /> +Whom you have too much disobeyed for me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Here, take it, sir, and with it pierce my heart: +<span class="sdr">[Presenting his sword to his Father upon his +knees.</span><br /> +You have done more in taking my Palmyra.<br /> +You are my father; therefore I submit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Keep him from any thing he may design<br /> +Against his life, while the first fury lasts;<br /> +And now perform what I commanded you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> In vain; if sword and poison be denied me,<br /> +I'll hold my breath and die.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Farewell, my last Leonidas; yet live,<br /> +I charge you, live, 'till you believe me dead.<br /> +I cannot die in peace, if you die first;<br /> +If life's a blessing, you shall have it last.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Go on with her, and lead him after me.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Argaleon</span> hastily, with <span class="cnm">Hermogenes.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> I bring you, sir, such news as must amaze you,<br /> +And such as will prevent you from an action,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_291"></span> +Which would have rendered all your life unhappy. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Hermogenes</span> kneels.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Hermogenes, you bend your knees in vain,<br /> +My doom's already past.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> I kneel not for Palmyra, for I know<br /> +She will not need my prayers; but for myself:<br /> +With a feigned tale I have abused your ears,<br /> +And, therefore, merit death: but since, unforced,<br /> +I first accuse myself, I hope your mercy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Haste to explain your meaning.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> Then, in few words, Palmyra is your daughter.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> How can I give belief to this impostor?<br /> +He, who has once abused me, often may.<br /> +I'll hear no more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> For your own sake, you must.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> A parent's love,—for I confess my crime,—<br /> +Moved me to say, Leonidas was yours;<br /> +But when I heard Palmyra was to die,<br /> +The fear of guiltless blood so stung my conscience,<br /> +That I resolved, even with my shame, to save<br /> +Your daughter's life.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> But how can I be certain, but that interest,<br /> +Which moved you first to say your son was mine,<br /> +Does not now move you too, to save your daughter?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> You had but then my word; I bring you now<br /> +Authentic testimonies. Sir, in short, +<span class="sdr">[Delivers on his knees a jewel, and letter.</span><br /> +If this will not convince you, let me suffer.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> I know this jewel well; 'twas once my mother's, +<span class="sdr">[Looking first on the jewel.</span><br /> +Which, marrying, I presented to my wife.<br /> +And this, O this is my Eudocia's hand.<br /> +<i>This was the pledge of love given to Eudocia,</i> <span class="sdr">[Reads.</span><br /> +<i>Who, dying, to her young Palmyra leaves it;</i><br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_292"></span> +<i>And this, when you, my dearest lord, receive,<br /> +Own her, and think on me, dying Eudocia.</i><br /> +Take it; 'tis well there is no more to read. <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Arga.</span></span><br /> +My eyes grow full, and swim in their own light. +<span class="sdr">[He embraces <span class="cnm">Palm.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I fear, sir, this is your intended pageant.<br /> +You sport yourself at poor Palmyra's cost;<br /> +But if you think to make me proud,<br /> +Indeed I cannot be so: I was born<br /> +With humble thoughts, and lowly, like my birth.<br /> +A real fortune could not make me haughty,<br /> +Much less a feigned.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> This was her mother's temper.<br /> +I have too much deserved thou shouldst suspect<br /> +That I am not thy father; but my love<br /> +Shall henceforth show I am. Behold my eyes,<br /> +And see a father there begin to flow:<br /> +This is not feigned, Palmyra.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I doubt no longer, sir; you are a king,<br /> +And cannot lie: Falsehood's a vice too base<br /> +To find a room in any royal breast.<br /> +I know, in spite of my unworthiness,<br /> +I am your child; for when you would have killed me,<br /> +Methought I loved you then.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Sir, we forget the prince Leonidas;<br /> +His greatness should not stand neglected thus.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Guards, you may now retire; Give him his sword,<br /> +And leave him free.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Then the first use I make of liberty<br /> +Shall be, with your permission, mighty sir,<br /> +To pay that reverence to which nature binds me. +<span class="sdr">[Kneels to <span class="cnm">Hermogenes.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Sure you forget your birth, thus to misplace<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_293"></span> +This act of your obedience; you should kneel<br /> +To nothing but to heaven, and to a king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I never shall forget what nature owes,<br /> +Nor be ashamed to pay it; though my father<br /> +Be not a king, I know him brave and honest,<br /> +And well deserving of a worthier son.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> He bears it gallantly.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Why would you not instruct me, sir, before,<br /> +<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Herm.</span></span> +Where I should place my duty?<br /> +From which, if ignorance have made me swerve,<br /> +I beg your pardon for an erring son.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I almost grieve I am a princess, since<br /> +It makes him lose a crown.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> And next, to you, my king, thus low I kneel,<br /> +To implore your mercy; if in that small time<br /> +I had the honour to be thought your son,<br /> +I paid not strict obedience to your will.<br /> +I thought, indeed, I should not be compelled,<br /> +But thought it as your son; so what I took<br /> +In duty from you, I restored in courage;<br /> +Because your son should not be forced.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> You have my pardon for it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> To you, fair princess, I congratulate<br /> +Your birth; of which I ever thought you worthy:<br /> +And give me leave to add, that I am proud<br /> +The gods have picked me out to be the man,<br /> +By whose dejected fate yours is to rise;<br /> +Because no man could more desire your fortune,<br /> +Or franklier part with his, to make you great.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I know the king, though you are not his son,<br /> +Will still regard you as my foster-brother,<br /> +And so conduct you downward from a throne,<br /> +By slow degrees, so unperceived and soft,<br /> +That it may seem no fall: Or, if it be,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_294"></span> +May fortune lay a bed of down beneath you!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> He shall be ranked with my nobility,<br /> +And kept from scorn by a large pension given him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> You are all great and royal in your gifts; +<span class="sdr">[Bowing.</span><br /> +But at the donor's feet I lay them down:<br /> +Should I take riches from you, it would seem<br /> +As I did want a soul to bear that poverty,<br /> +To which the gods designed my humble birth:<br /> +And should I take your honours without merit,<br /> +It would appear, I wanted manly courage<br /> +To hope them, in your service, from my sword.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Still brave, and like yourself.<br /> +The court shall shine this night in its full splendour,<br /> +And celebrate this new discovery.<br /> +Argaleon, lead my daughter: As we go,<br /> +I shall have time to give her my commands,<br /> +In which you are concerned. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt all but <span class="cnm">Leonidas.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Methinks, I do not want<br /> +That huge long train of fawning followers,<br /> +That swept a furlong after me.<br /> +'Tis true I am alone;<br /> +So was the godhead, ere he made the world,<br /> +And better served himself, than served by nature.<br /> +And yet I have a soul<br /> +Above this humble fate. I could command,<br /> +Love to do good, give largely to true merit,<br /> +All that a king should do: But though these are not<br /> +My province, I have scene enough within,<br /> +To exercise my virtue.<br /> +All that a heart, so fixed as mine, can move,<br /> +Is, that my niggard fortune starves my love. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_295"></span></div> + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Palamede</span> and <span class="cnm">Doralice</span> meet: She, with a book +in her hand, seems to start at the sight of him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> 'Tis a strange thing that no warning will +serve your turn; and that no retirement will secure +me from your impertinent addresses! Did not I +tell you, that I was to be private here at my devotions?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Yes; and you see I have observed my cue +exactly: I am come to relieve you from them. +Come, shut up, shut up your book; the man's come +who is to supply all your necessities.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Then, it seems, you are so impudent to +think it was an assignation? This, I warrant, was +your lewd interpretation of my innocent meaning.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Venus forbid, that I should harbour so +unreasonable a thought of a fair young lady, that +you should lead me hither into temptation. I confess, +I might think indeed it was a kind of honourable +challenge, to meet privately without seconds, +and decide the difference betwixt the two sexes; +but heaven forgive me, if I thought amiss.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> You thought too, I'll lay my life on't, that +you might as well make love to me, as my husband +does to your mistress.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I was so unreasonable to think so too.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> And then you wickedly inferred, that there +was some justice in the revenge of it; or, at least, +but little injury for a man to endeavour to enjoy +that, which he accounts a blessing, and which is +not valued as it ought by the dull possessor. Confess +your wickedness,—did you not think so?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I confess I was thinking so, as fast as I +could; but you think so much before me, that you +will let me think nothing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_296"></span> +<span class="cnm">Dor.</span> 'Tis the very thing that I designed; I have +forestalled all your arguments, and left you without +a word more, to plead for mercy. If you have +any thing farther to offer, ere sentence pass—Poor +animal, I brought you hither only for my diversion.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> That you may have, if you'll make use of +me the right way; but I tell thee, woman, I am +now past talking.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> But it may be, I came hither to hear what +fine things you could say for yourself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> You would be very angry, to my knowledge, +if I should lose so much time to say many +of them.—By this hand you would!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Fye, Palamede, I am a woman of honour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I see you are; you have kept touch with +your assignation: And before we part, you shall +find that I am a man of honour. Yet I have one +scruple of conscience—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> I warrant you will not want some naughty +argument, or other, to satisfy yourself.—I hope you +are afraid of betraying your friend?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Of betraying my friend! I am more afraid +of being betrayed by you to my friend. You women +now are got into the way of telling first yourselves: +A man, who has any care of his reputation, +will be loth to trust it with you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> O, you charge your faults upon our sex! +You men are like cocks; you never make love, but +you clap your wings, and crow when you have +done.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Nay, rather you women are like hens; +you never lay, but you cackle an hour after, to discover +your nest.—But I'll venture it for once.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> To convince you that you are in the +wrong, I'll retire into the dark grotto, to my devotion, +and make so little noise, that it shall be impossible +for you to find me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_297"></span> +<span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But if I find you—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Ay, if you find me—But I'll put you to +search in more corners than you imagine.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[She runs in, and he after her.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Rhodophil</span> and <span class="cnm">Melantha.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Let me die, but this solitude, and that +grotto are scandalous; I'll go no further; besides, +you have a sweet lady of your own.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> But a sweet mistress, now and then, makes +my sweet lady so much more sweet.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I hope you will not force me?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> But I will, if you desire it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] Where the devil are you, madam? +'Sdeath, I begin to be weary of this hide and +seek: If you stay a little longer, till the fit's over, +I'll hide in my turn, and put you to the finding +me. [<span class="sdm">He enters, and sees <span class="cnm">Rhodophil</span> and <span class="cnm">Melantha.</span></span>] +How! Rhodophil and my mistress!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> My servant, to apprehend me! this is <i>surprenant +au dernier</i>.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> I must on; there's nothing but impudence +can help me out.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Rhodophil, how came you hither in so +good company?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> As you see, Palamede; an effect of pure +friendship; I was not able to live without you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But what makes my mistress with you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Why, I heard you were here alone, and +could not in civility but bring her to you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> You'll pardon the effects of a passion which +I may now avow for you, if it transported me beyond +the rules of <i>bienseance.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But, who told you I was here? they, that +told you that, may tell you more, for aught I know.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> O, for that matter, we had intelligence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But let me tell you, we came hither so +very privately, that you could not trace us. +<span class="pgnm" id="page_298"></span> +<i>Rho.</i> Us! what us? you are alone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Us! the devil's in me for mistaking:—me, +I meant. Or us, that is, you are me, or I you, as +we are friends: That's us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Palamede, Palamede! <span class="sdr">[Within.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> I should know that voice; who's within +there, that calls you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Faith, I can't imagine; I believe the place +is haunted.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Palamede, Palamede, all-cocks hidden. <span class="sdr">[Within.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Lord, Lord, what shall I do?—Well, dear +friend, to let you see I scorn to be jealous, and that +I dare trust my mistress with you, take her back, +for I would not willingly have her frighted, and I +am resolved to see who's there; I'll not be daunted +with a bugbear, that's certain:—Prithee, dispute it +not, it shall be so; nay do not put me to swear, +but go quickly: There's an effort of pure friendship +for you now.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Doralice,</span> and looks amazed, seeing them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Doralice! I am thunder-struck to see you +here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> So am I! quite thunder-struck. Was it +you, that called me within?—I must be impudent.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> How came you hither, spouse?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Ay, how came you hither? And, which is +more, how could you be here without my knowledge?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> [<span class="sdm">To her husband.</span>] O, gentlemen, have I +caught you i'faith! have I broke forth in ambush +upon you! I thought my suspicions would prove +true.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Suspicions! this is very fine, spouse! Prithee, +what suspicions?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> O, you feign ignorance: Why, of you and +<span class="pgnm" id="page_299"></span> +Melantha; here have I staid these two hours, waiting +with all the rage of a passionate, loving wife, +but infinitely jealous, to take you two in the manner; +for hither I was certain you would come.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> But you are mistaken, spouse, in the occasion; +for we came hither on purpose to find Palamede, +on intelligence he was gone before.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I'll be hanged then, if the same party, who +gave you intelligence I was here, did not tell your +wife you would come hither. Now I smell the malice +on't on both sides.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Was it so, think you? nay, then, I'll confess +my part of the malice too. As soon as ever I +spied my husband and Melantha come together, I +had a strange temptation to make him jealous in +revenge; and that made me call Palamede, Palamede! +as though there had been an intrigue between +us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Nay, I avow, there was an appearance of +an intrigue between us too.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> To see how things will come about!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> And was it only thus, my dear Doralice? <span class="sdr">[Embrace.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> And did I wrong n'own Rhodophil, with a +false suspicion? <span class="sdr">[Embracing him.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Now I am confident we had all +four the same design: 'Tis a pretty odd kind of +game this, where each of us plays for double stakes: +This is just thrust and parry with the same motion; I +am to get his wife, and yet to guard my own mistress. +But I am vilely suspicious, that, while I conquer in +the right wing, I shall be routed in the left; for +both our women will certainly betray their party, +because they are each of them for gaining of two, +as well as we; and I much fear.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_300"></span> +If their necessities and ours were known,<br /> +They have more need of two, than we of one. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt, embracing one another.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT IV. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Leonidas,</span> musing; <span class="cnm">Amalthea,</span> following +him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Yonder he is; and I must speak or die;<br /> +And yet 'tis death to speak: yet he must know<br /> +I have a passion for him, and may know it<br /> +With a less blush; because to offer it<br /> +To his low fortunes, shows I loved before,<br /> +His person, not his greatness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> First scorned, and now commanded from the court!<br /> +The king is good; but he is wrought to this<br /> +By proud Argaleon's malice.<br /> +What more disgrace can love and fortune join<br /> +To inflict upon one man? I cannot now<br /> +Behold my dear Palmyra: She, perhaps, too,<br /> +Is grown ashamed of a mean ill-placed love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Assist me, Venus, for I tremble when<br /> +I am to speak, but I must force myself. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +Sir, I would crave but one short minute with you,<br /> +And some few words.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> The proud Argaleon's sister! <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Alas! it will not out; Shame stops my mouth. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +Pardon my error, sir; I was mistaken,<br /> +And took you for another.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> In spite of all his guards, I'll see Palmyra; <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +Though meanly born, I have a kingly soul.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_301"></span> +<span class="cnm">Amal.</span> I stand upon a precipice, where fain<br /> +I would retire, but love still thrusts me on:<br /> +Now I grow bolder, and will speak to him. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +Sir, 'tis indeed to you that I would speak,<br /> +And if—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> O, you are sent to scorn my fortunes?<br /> +Your sex and beauty are your privilege;<br /> +But should your brother—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Now he looks angry, and I dare not speak.<br /> +I had some business with you, sir,<br /> +But 'tis not worth your knowledge.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Then 'twill be charity to let me mourn<br /> +My griefs alone, for I am much disordered.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> 'Twill be more charity to mourn them with you:<br /> +Heaven knows I pity you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Your pity, madam,<br /> +Is generous, but 'tis unavailable.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> You know not till 'tis tried.<br /> +Your sorrows are no secret; you have lost<br /> +A crown, and mistress.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Are not these enough?<br /> +Hang two such weights on any other soul,<br /> +And see if it can bear them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> More; you are banished, by my brother's means,<br /> +And ne'er must hope again to see your princess;<br /> +Except as prisoners view fair walks and streets,<br /> +And careless passengers going by their grates,<br /> +To make them feel the want of liberty.<br /> +But, worse than all,<br /> +The king this morning has enjoined his daughter<br /> +To accept my brother's love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Is this your pity?<br /> +You aggravate my griefs, and print them deeper,<br /> +In new and heavier stamps.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_302"></span> +<span class="cnm">Amal.</span> 'Tis as physicians show the desperate ill,<br /> +To endear their art, by mitigating pains<br /> +They cannot wholly cure: When you despair<br /> +Of all you wish, some part of it, because<br /> +Unhoped for, may be grateful; and some other—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> What other?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Some other may—<br /> +My shame again has seized me, and I can go <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +No farther.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> These often failing sighs and interruptions<br /> +Make me imagine you have grief like mine:<br /> +Have you ne'er loved?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> I? never!—'Tis in vain:<br /> +I must despair in silence. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> You come, as I suspected then, to mock,<br /> +At least observe, my griefs: Take it not ill,<br /> +That I must leave you. <span class="sdr">[Is going.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> You must not go with these unjust opinions.<br /> +Command my life and fortunes: you are wise;<br /> +Think, and think well, what I can do to serve you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I have but one thing in my thoughts and wishes:<br /> +If, by your means, I can obtain the sight<br /> +Of my adored Palmyra; or, what's harder,<br /> +One minute's time, to tell her, I die hers— <span class="sdr">[She starts back.</span><br /> +I see I am not to expect it from you;<br /> +Nor could, indeed, with reason.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Name any other thing! Is Amalthea<br /> +So despicable, she can serve your wishes<br /> +In this alone?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> If I should ask of heaven,<br /> +I have no other suit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> To show you, then, I can deny you nothing,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_303"></span> +Though 'tis more hard to me than any other,<br /> +Yet I will do it for you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Name quickly, name the means! speak, my good angel!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Be not so much o'erjoyed; for, if you are,<br /> +I'll rather die than do't. This night the court<br /> +Will be in masquerade;<br /> +You shall attend on me; in that disguise<br /> +You may both see and speak to her,<br /> +If you dare venture it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Yes; were a god her guardian,<br /> +And bore in each hand thunder, I would venture.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Farewell, then; two hours hence I will expect you:—<br /> +My heart's so full, that I can stay no longer. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Already it grows dusky: I'll prepare<br /> +With haste for my disguise. But who are these?</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hermogenes</span> and <span class="cnm">Eubulus.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> 'Tis he; we need not fear to speak to him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eub.</span> Leonidas?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Sure I have known that voice.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> You have some reason, sir: 'tis Eubulus,<br /> +Who bred you with the princess; and, departing,<br /> +Bequeathed you to my care.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> My foster-father! let my knees express<br /> +My joys for your return! <span class="sdr">[Kneeling.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eub.</span> Rise, sir; you must not kneel.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> E'er since you left me,<br /> +I have been wandering in a maze of fate,<br /> +Led by false fires of a fantastic glory,<br /> +And the vain lustre of imagined crowns.<br /> +But, ah! why would you leave me? or how could you<br /> +Absent yourself so long?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eub.</span> I'll give you a most just account of both:<br /> +And something more I have to tell you, which<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_304"></span> +I know must cause your wonder; but this place,<br /> +Though almost hid in darkness, is not safe.<br /> +Already I discern some coming towards us <span class="sdr">[Torches appear.</span><br /> +With lights, who may discover me. Hermogenes,<br /> +Your lodgings are hard by, and much more private.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Her.</span> There you may freely speak.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Let us make haste;<br /> +For some affairs, and of no small importance,<br /> +Call me another way. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Palamede</span> and <span class="cnm">Rhodophil,</span> with Vizor +Masques in their Hands, and Torches before them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> We shall have noble sport to-night, Rhodophil; +this masquerading is a most glorious invention.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> I believe it was invented first by some jealous +lover, to discover the haunts of his jilting mistress; +or, perhaps, by some distressed servant, to +gain an opportunity with a jealous man's wife.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> No, it must be the invention of a woman, +it has so much of subtilty and love in it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> I am sure 'tis extremely pleasant; for to go +unknown, is the next degree to going invisible.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> What with our antic habits and feigned +voices,—<i>Do you know me?</i> and—<i>I know you,</i>—methinks +we move and talk just like so many overgrown +puppets.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Masquerade is only vizor-mask improved; +a heightening of the same fashion.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> No, masquerade is vizor-mask in debauch, +and I like it the better for't: for, with a vizor-mask, +we fool ourselves into courtship, for the sake of an +eye that glanced; or a hand that stole itself out of +the glove sometimes, to give us a sample of the +<span class="pgnm" id="page_305"></span> +skin: But in masquerade there is nothing to be +known, she's all <i>terra incognita</i>; and the bold discoverer +leaps ashore, and takes his lot among the +wild Indians and savages, without the vile consideration +of safety to his person, or of beauty, or +wholesomeness in his mistress.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Beliza.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Beliza, what make you here?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bel.</span> Sir, my lady sent me after you, to let you +know, she finds herself a little indisposed; so that +she cannot be at court, but is retired to rest in her +own apartment, where she shall want the happiness +of your dear embraces to night.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> A very fine phrase, Beliza, to let me know +my wife desires to lie alone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I doubt, Rhodophil, you take the pains +sometimes to instruct your wife's woman in these +elegancies.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Tell my dear lady, that since I must be so +unhappy as not to wait on her to-night, I will lament +bitterly for her absence. 'Tis true I shall be +at court, but I will take no divertisement there; +and when I return to my solitary bed, if I am so +forgetful of my passion as to sleep, I will dream of +her; and betwixt sleep and waking, put out my +foot towards her side, for midnight consolation; +and, not finding her, I will sigh, and imagine myself +a most desolate widower.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bel.</span> I shall do your commands, sir. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] She's sick as aptly for my purpose, +as if she had contrived it so. Well, if ever woman +was a help-mate for man, my spouse is so; for +within this hour I received a note from Melantha, +that she would meet me this evening in masquerade, +in boys' habit, to rejoice with me before she +<span class="pgnm" id="page_306"></span> +entered into fetters; for I find she loves me better +than Palamede, only because he's to be her husband. +There's something of antipathy in the word +<i>marriage</i> to the nature of love: marriage is the +mere ladle of affection, that cools it when 'tis never +so fiercely boiling over.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Dear Rhodophil, I must needs beg your +pardon; there is an occasion fallen out which I +had forgot: I cannot be at court to-night.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Dear Palamede, I am sorry we shall not +have one course together at the herd; but I find +your game lies single: Good fortune to you with +your mistress.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> He has wished me good fortune with his +wife; there's no sin in this then, there's fair leave +given. Well, I must go visit the sick; I cannot +resist the temptations of my charity. O what a +difference will she find betwixt a dull resty husband +and a quick vigorous lover! He sets out like +a carrier's horse, plodding on, because he knows he +must, with the bells of matrimony chiming so melancholy +about his neck, in pain till he's at his journey's +end; and, despairing to get thither, he is fain +to fortify imagination with the thoughts of another +woman: I take heat after heat, like a well-breathed +courser, and—But hark, what noise is that? Swords! +[<span class="sdm">Clashing of swords within.</span>] Nay, then, have with +you.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Pala.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Palamede,</span> with <span class="cnm">Rhodophil;</span> and <span class="cnm">Doralice</span> +in man's habit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Friend, your relief was very timely, otherwise +I had been oppressed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> What was the quarrel?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> What I did was in rescue of this youth.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> What cause could he give them?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> The cause was nothing but only the common +<span class="pgnm" id="page_307"></span> +cause of fighting in masquerades: They were +drunk, as I was sober.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Have they not hurt you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> No; but I am exceeding ill with the fright +on't.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Let's lead him to some place, where he +may refresh himself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Do you conduct him then.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] How cross this happens to my design +of going to Doralice! for I am confident she +was sick on purpose that I should visit her. Hark +you, Rhodophil, could not you take care of the +stripling? I am partly engaged to-night.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> You know I have business; but come, +youth, if it must be so.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> to <i>Rho.</i> No, good sir, do not give yourself +that trouble; I shall be safer, and better pleased +with your friend here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Farewell, then; once more I wish you a +good adventure.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Damn this kindness! now must I be troubled +with this young rogue, and miss my opportunity +with Doralice.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Rho.</span> alone; <span class="cnm">Pala.</span> with <span class="cnm">Dor.</span></span><br /></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Polydamus.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Argaleon counselled well to banish him:<br /> +He has, I know not what,<br /> +Of greatness in his looks, and of high fate,<br /> +That almost awes me; but I fear my daughter,<br /> +Who hourly moves me for him; and I marked,<br /> +She sighed when I but named Argaleon to her.<br /> +But see, the maskers: Hence, my cares, this night!<br /> +At least take truce, and find me on my pillow.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_308"></span> +Enter the Princess in masquerade, with Ladies. At +the other end, <span class="cnm">Argaleon</span> and Gentlemen in masquerade; +then <span class="cnm">Leonidas</span> leading <span class="cnm">Amalthea.</span> The +King sits. A Dance. After the Dance,</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> to <i>Leon.</i> That's the princess;<br /> +I saw the habit ere she put it on.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I know her by a thousand other signs;<br /> +She cannot hide so much divinity.<br /> +Disguised, and silent, yet some graceful motion<br /> +Breaks from her, and shines round her like a glory. +<span class="sdr">[Goes to <span class="cnm">Palmyra.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Thus she reveals herself, and knows it not;<br /> +Like love's dark lanthorn, I direct his steps,<br /> +And yet he sees not that, which gives him light.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I know you; but, alas! Leonidas,<br /> +Why should you tempt this danger on yourself?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Madam, you know me not, if you believe;<br /> +I would not hazard greater for your sake.<br /> +But you, I fear, are changed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> No, I am still the same;<br /> +But there are many things became Palmyra,<br /> +Which ill become the princess.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon</span>, I ask nothing<br /> +Which honour will not give you leave to grant:<br /> +One hour's short audience, at my father's house,<br /> +You cannot sure refuse me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Perhaps I should, did I consult strict virtue;<br /> +But something must be given to love and you.<br /> +When would you I should come?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> This evening, with the speediest opportunity.<br /> +I have a secret to discover to you,<br /> +Which will surprise and please you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> 'Tis enough.<br /> +Go now; for we may be observed and known.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_309"></span> +I trust your honour; give me not occasion<br /> +To blame myself, or you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> You never shall repent your good opinion. +<span class="sdr">[Kisses her hand, and Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> I cannot be deceived; that is the princess:<br /> +One of her maids betrayed the habit to me.<br /> +But who was he with whom she held discourse?<br /> +'Tis one she favours, for he kissed her hand.<br /> +Our shapes are like, our habits near the same;<br /> +She may mistake, and speak to me for him.<br /> +I am resolved; I'll satisfy my doubts,<br /> +Though to be more tormented.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<h4>SONG.</h4> + +<h5>I.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Whilst Alexis lay prest</p> +<p class="i1">In her arms he loved best,</p> +<p>With his hands round her neck,</p> +<p class="i1">And his head on her breast,</p> +<p>He found the fierce pleasure too hasty to stay,</p> +<p>And his soul in the tempest just flying away.</p> +</div> + +<h5>II.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>When Cælia saw this,</p> +<p>With a sigh and a kiss,</p> +<p>She cried,—O, my dear, I am robbed of my bliss!</p> +<p>'Tis unkind to your love, and unfaithfully done,</p> +<p>To leave me behind you, and die all alone.</p> +</div> + +<h5>III.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>The youth, though in haste,</p> +<p>And breathing his last,</p> +<p>In pity died slowly, while she died more fast;</p> +<p>Till at length she cried,—Now, my dear, now let us go;</p> +<p>Now die, my Alexis, and I will die too!</p> +</div> + +<span class="pgnm" id="page_310"></span> +<h5>IV.</h5> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Thus entranced they did lie,</p> +<p>Till Alexis did try</p> +<p>To recover new breath, that again he might die:</p> +<p>Then often they died; but the more they did so,</p> +<p>The nymph died more quick, and the shepherd more slow.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="sdn">Another Dance. After it, <span class="cnm">Argaleon</span> re-enters, and +stands by the Princess.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Leonidas, what means this quick return? <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Arga.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> O heaven! 'tis what I feared.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Is aught of moment happened since you went?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> No, madam; but I understood not fully<br /> +Your last commands.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> And yet you answered to them.<br /> +Retire; you are too indiscreet a lover:<br /> +I'll meet you where I promised. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> O my curst fortune! what have I discovered!<br /> +But I will be revenged. <span class="sdr">[Whispers to the King.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> But are you certain you are not deceived?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Upon my life.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Her honour is concerned.<br /> +Somewhat I'll do; but I am yet distracted,<br /> +And know not where to fix. I wished a child,<br /> +And heaven, in anger, granted my request.<br /> +So blind we are, our wishes are so vain,<br /> +That what we most desire, proves most our pain. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_311"></span></div> + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE IV.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">An Eating-house. Bottles of Wine on the table. +<span class="cnm">Palamede,</span> and <span class="cnm">Doralice,</span> in Man's Habit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Now cannot I find in my heart to +discover myself, though I long he should know me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I tell thee, boy, now I have seen thee safe, +I must be gone: I have no leisure to throw away +on thy raw conversation; I am a person that understands +better things, I.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Were I a woman, oh how you would admire +me! cry up every word I said, and screw your +face into a submissive smile; as I have seen a dull +gallant act wit, and counterfeit pleasantness, when +he whispers to a great person in a play-house; smile, +and look briskly, when the other answers, as if +something of extraordinary had past betwixt them, +when, heaven knows, there was nothing else but,—What +a clock does your lordship think it is? And +my lord's <i>repartee</i> is,—It is almost park-time: or, at +most,—Shall we out of the pit, and go behind the +scenes for an act or two—And yet such fine things +as these would be wit in a mistress's mouth.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Ay, boy; there dame Nature's in the case: +He, who cannot find wit in a mistress, deserves to +find nothing else, boy. But these are riddles to +thee, child, and I have not leisure to instruct thee; +I have affairs to dispatch, great affairs; I am a man +of business.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Come, you shall not go: You have no affairs +but what you may dispatch here, to my knowledge.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I find now, thou art a boy of more understanding +than I thought thee; a very lewd wicked +<span class="pgnm" id="page_312"></span> +boy: O' my conscience, thou would'st debauch me, +and hast some evil designs upon my person.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> You are mistaken, sir; I would only have +you shew me a more lawful reason why you would +leave me, than I can why you should not, and I'll +not stay you; for I am not so young, but I understand +the necessities of flesh and blood, and the +pressing occasions of mankind, as well as you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> A very forward and understanding boy! +thou art in great danger of a page's wit, to be brisk +at fourteen, and dull at twenty. But I'll give thee +no further account; I must, and will go.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> My life on it, your mistress is not at home.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> This imp will make me very angry.—I tell +thee, young sir, she is at home, and at home for +me; and, which is more, she is a-bed for me, and +sick for me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> For you only?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Aye, for me only.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> But how do you know she's sick a-bed?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> She sent her husband word so.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> And are you such a novice in love, to believe +a wife's message to her husband?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Why, what the devil should be her meaning +else?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> It may be, to go in masquerade, as well as +you; to observe your haunts, and keep you company +without your knowledge.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Nay, I'll trust her for that: She loves me +too well, to disguise herself from me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> If I were she, I would disguise on purpose +to try your wit; and come to my servant like a riddle,—Read +me, and take me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I could know her in any shape: My good +genius would prompt me to find out a handsome +woman: There's something that would attract me +to her without my knowledge.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_313"></span> +<span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Then you make a load-stone of your mistress?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Yes, and I carry steel about me, which has +been so often touched, that it never fails to point +to the north pole.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Yet still my mind gives me, that you have +met her disguised to-night, and have not known +her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> This is the most pragmatical conceited little +fellow, he will needs understand my business +better than myself. I tell thee, once more, thou +dost not know my mistress.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> And I tell you once more, that I know her +better than you do.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> The boy's resolved to have the last word. +I find I must go without reply. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Ah mischief, I have lost him with my fooling. +Palamede, Palamede!</p> + +<p class="sdn">He returns. She plucks off her peruke, and puts it +on again when he knows her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> O heavens! is it you, madam?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Now, where was your good genius, that +would prompt you to find me out?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Why, you see I was not deceived; you +yourself were my good genius.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> But where was the steel, that knew the load-stone? +Ha?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> The truth is, madam, the steel has lost its +virtue: and, therefore, if you please, we'll new +touch it.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Rhodophil;</span> and <span class="cnm">Melantha</span> in Boys habit. +<span class="cnm">Rhodophil</span> sees <span class="cnm">Palamede</span> kissing <span class="cnm">Doralice's</span> +hand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Palamede again! am I fallen into your +<span class="pgnm" id="page_314"></span> +quarters? What? Engaging with a boy? Is all honourable?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> O, very honourable on my side. I was +just chastising this young villain; he was running +away, without paying his share of the reckoning.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Then I find I was deceived in him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Yes, you are deceived in him: 'tis the +archest rogue, if you did but know him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Good Rhodophil, let us get off <i>a-la derobbée</i>, +for fear I should be discovered.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> There's no retiring now; I warrant you for +discovery. Now have I the oddest thought, to entertain +you before your servant's face, and he never +the wiser; it will be the prettiest juggling trick, to +cheat him when he looks upon us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> This is the strangest caprice in you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> [<span class="sdm">to <span class="cnm">Doralice.</span></span>] This Rhodophil's the unluckiest +fellow to me! this is now the second time +he has barred the dice when we were just ready to +have nicked him; but if ever I get the box again—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Do you think he will not know me? Am +I like myself?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> No more than a picture in the hangings.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Nay, then he can never discover me, now +the wrong side of the arras is turned towards him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> At least, it will be some pleasure to me, to +enjoy what freedom I can while he looks on; I will +storm the out-works of matrimony even before his +face.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> What wine have you there, Palamede?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Old Chios, or the rogue's damn'd that +drew it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Come,—to the most constant of mistresses! +that, I believe, is yours, Palamede.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Pray spare your seconds; for my part I am +but a weak brother.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Now,—to the truest of turtles! that is your +<span class="pgnm" id="page_315"></span> +wife, Rhodophil, that lies sick at home, in the bed of +honour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Now let us have one common health, and +so have done.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Then, for once, I'll begin it. Here's to him +that has the fairest lady of Sicily in masquerade to +night.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> This is such an obliging health, I'll kiss +thee, dear rogue, for thy invention.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Kisses her.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> He, who has this lady, is a happy man, without +dispute,—I'm most concerned in this, I am sure.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Was it not well found out, Rhodophil?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Ay, this was <i>bien trouvée</i> indeed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> [<span class="sdm">to <span class="cnm">Melantha.</span></span>] I suppose I shall do you a +kindness, to enquire if you have not been in France, +sir?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> To do you service, sir.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> O, monsieur, <i>votre valet bien humble</i>. +<span class="sdr">[Saluting her.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> <i>Votre esclave, monsieur, de tout mon cœur.</i> +<span class="sdr">[Returning the salute.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> I suppose, sweet sir, you are the hope and +joy of some thriving citizen, who has pinched him +self at home, to breed you abroad, where you have +learned your exercises, as it appears, most awkwardly, +and are returned, with the addition of a new-laced +bosom and a clap, to your good old father, who looks +at you with his mouth, while you spout French with +your man monsieur.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Let me kiss thee again for that, dear rogue.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> And you, I imagine, are my young master, +whom your mother durst not trust upon salt-water, +but left you to be your own tutor at fourteen, to be +very brisk and <i>entreprenant</i>, to endeavour to be debauched +ere you have learned the knack of it, to +value yourself upon a clap before you can get it, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_316"></span> +and to make it the height of your ambition to get +a player for your mistress.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> [<span class="sdm">embracing <span class="cnm">Melantha.</span></span>] O dear young bully +thou hast tickled him with a <i>repartee</i>, i'faith.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> You are one of those that applaud our country +plays, where drums, and trumpets, and blood, +and wounds, are wit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Again, my boy? Let me kiss thee most +abundantly.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> You are an admirer of the dull French +poetry, which is so thin, that it is the very leaf-gold +of wit, the very wafers and whip'd cream of sense, +for which a man opens his mouth, and gapes, to +swallow nothing: And to be an admirer of such +profound dulness, one must be endowed with a +great perfection of impudence and ignorance.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Let me embrace thee most vehemently.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I'll sacrifice my life for French poetry. +<span class="sdr">[Advancing.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> I'll die upon the spot for our country wit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> [<span class="sdm">to <span class="cnm">Melantha.</span></span>] Hold, hold, young Mars! +Palamede, draw back your hero.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> 'Tis time; I shall be drawn in for a second +else at the wrong weapon.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> O that I were a man, for thy sake!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> You'll be a man as soon as I shall.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter a Messenger to <span class="cnm">Rhodophil.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mess.</span> Sir, the king has instant business with you;<br /> +I saw the guard drawn up by your lieutenant,<br /> +Before the palace-gate, ready to march.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> 'Tis somewhat sudden; say that I am coming. +<span class="sdr">[Exit Messenger.</span><br /> +Now, Palamede, what think you of this sport?<br /> +This is some sudden tumult; will you along?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Yes, yes, I will go; but the devil take me +if ever I was less in humour. Why the pox could +<span class="pgnm" id="page_317"></span> +they not have staid their tumult till to-morrow? +Then I had done my business, and been ready for +them. Truth is, I had a little transitory crime to +have committed first; and I am the worst man in +the world at repenting, till a sin be thoroughly +done: But what shall we do with the two boys?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Let them take a lodging in the house, 'till +the business be over.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> What, lie with a boy? For my part, I own +it, I cannot endure to lie with a boy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> The more's my sorrow, I cannot accommodate +you with a better bed-fellow.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Let me die, if I enter into a pair of sheets +with him that hates the French.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Pish, take no care for us, but leave us in +the streets; I warrant you, as late as it is, I'll find +my lodging as well as any drunken bully of them all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> I'll light in mere revenge, and wreak my passion,<br /> +On all that spoil this hopeful assignation. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I'm sure we light in a good quarrel:<br /> +Rogues may pretend religion, and the laws;<br /> +But a kind mistress is the good old cause. <span class="sdr">[Exuent.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE V.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Palmyra, Eubulus,</span> and <span class="cnm">Hermogenes.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> You tell me wonders; that Leonidas<br /> +Is prince Theagenes, the late king's son.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eub.</span> It seems as strange to him, as now to you,<br /> +Before I had convinced him; but, besides<br /> +His great resemblance to the king his father,<br /> +The queen his mother lives, secured by me<br /> +In a religious house, to whom, each year,<br /> +I brought the news of his increasing virtues.<br /> +My last long absence from you both was caused<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_318"></span> +By wounds, which in my journey I received,<br /> +When set upon by thieves; I lost those jewels<br /> +And letters, which your dying mother left.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Herm.</span> The same he means, which, since, brought to the king,<br /> +Made him first know he had a child alive:<br /> +'Twas then my care of prince Leonidas,<br /> +Caused me to say he was the usurper's son;<br /> +Till after, forced by your apparent danger,<br /> +I made the true discovery of your birth,<br /> +And once more hid my prince's.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Leonidas.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Hermogenes, and Eubulus, retire;<br /> +Those of our party, whom I left without,<br /> +Expect your aid and counsel. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Herm.</span> and <span class="cnm">Eub.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I should, Leonidas, congratulate<br /> +This happy change of your exalted fate;<br /> +But, as my joy, so you my wonder move.<br /> +Your looks have more of business than of love;<br /> +And your last words some great design did shew.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I frame not any to be hid from you;<br /> +You, in my love, all my designs may see.<br /> +But what have love and you designed for me?<br /> +Fortune, once more, has set the balance right;<br /> +First, equalled us in lowness; then, in height.<br /> +Both of us have so long, like gamesters, thrown,<br /> +Till fate comes round, and gives to each his own.<br /> +As fate is equal, so may love appear:<br /> +Tell me, at least, what I must hope, or fear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> After so many proofs, how can you call<br /> +My love in doubt? Fear nothing, and hope all.<br /> +Think what a prince, with honour, may receive,<br /> +Or I may give, without a parent's leave.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> You give, and then restrain the grace you shew;<br /> +As ostentatious priests, when souls they woo,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_319"></span> +Promise their heaven to all, but grant to few.<br /> +But do for me, what I have dared for you:<br /> +I did no argument from duty bring;<br /> +Duty's a name, and love's a real thing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Man's love may, like wild torrents, overflow;<br /> +Woman's as deep, but in its banks must go.<br /> +My love is mine, and that I can impart;<br /> +But cannot give my person, with my heart.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Your love is then no gift:<br /> +For, when the person it does not convey,<br /> +'Tis to give gold, and not to give the key.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Then ask my father.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> He detains my throne;<br /> +Who holds back mine, will hardly give his own.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> What then remains?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> That I must have recourse<br /> +To arms, and take my love and crown, by force.<br /> +Hermogenes is forming the design;<br /> +And with him all the brave and loyal join.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> And is it thus you court Palmyra's bed?<br /> +Can she the murderer of her parent wed?<br /> +Desist from force: So much you well may give<br /> +To love, and me, to let my father live.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Each act of mine my love to you has shewn;<br /> +But you who tax my want of it, have none.<br /> +You bid me part with you, and let him live;<br /> +But they should nothing ask, who nothing give.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I give what virtue, and what duty can,<br /> +In vowing ne'er to wed another man.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> You will be forced to be Argaleon's wife.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I'll keep my promise, though I lose my life.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Then you lose love, for which we both contend;<br /> +For life is but the means, but love's the end.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_320"></span> +<span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Our souls shall love hereafter.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I much fear,<br /> +That soul, which could deny the body here<br /> +To taste of love, would be a niggard there.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Then 'tis past hope: our cruel fate, I see,<br /> +Will make a sad divorce 'twixt you and me.<br /> +For, if you force employ, by heaven I swear,<br /> +And all blessed beings,—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Your rash oath forbear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I never—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Hold once more. But yet, as he,<br /> +Who 'scapes a dangerous leap, looks back to see;<br /> +So I desire, now I am past my fear,<br /> +To know what was that oath you meant to swear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> I meant, that if you hazarded your life,<br /> +Or sought my father's, ne'er to be your wife.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> See now, Palmyra, how unkind you prove!<br /> +Could you, with so much ease, forswear my love?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> You force me with your ruinous design.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Your father's life is more your care, than mine.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> You wrong me: 'Tis not, though it ought to be;<br /> +You are my care, heaven knows, as well as he.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> If now the execution I delay,<br /> +My honour, and my subjects, I betray.<br /> +All is prepared for the just enterprise;<br /> +And the whole city will to-morrow rise.<br /> +The leaders of the party are within,<br /> +And Eubulus has sworn that he will bring,<br /> +To head their arms, the person of their king.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> In telling this, you may be guilty too;<br /> +I therefore must discover what I know:<br /> +What honour bids you do, nature bids me prevent;<br /> +But kill me first, and then pursue your black intent.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Palmyra, no; you shall not heed to die;<br /> +Yet I'll not trust so strict a piety.<br /> +Within there!</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_321"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Eubulus.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">Eubulus, a guard prepare;<br /> +Here, I commit this prisoner to your care. +<span class="sdr">[Kisses <span class="cnm">Palmyra's</span> hand, then gives it to <span class="cnm">Eubulus.</span></span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Leonidas, I never thought these bands<br /> +Could e'er be given me by a lover's hands.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Palmyra, thus your judge himself arraigns; +<span class="sdr">[Kneeling.</span><br /> +He, who imposed these bands, still wears your chains:<br /> +When you to love or duty false must be,<br /> +Or to your father guilty, or to me,<br /> +These chains, alone, remain to set you free. +<span class="sdr">[Noise of swords clashing.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> [<span class="sdm">within.</span>]<br /> +Secure these, first: then search the inner room.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> From whence do these tumultuous clamours come?</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hermogenes,</span> hastily.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Herm.</span> We are betrayed; and there remains alone<br /> +This comfort, that your person is not known.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter the King, <span class="cnm">Argaleon, Rhodophil, Palamede,</span> +Guards; some like citizens, as prisoners.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> What mean these midnight consultations here,<br /> +Where I like an unsummoned guest appear?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Sir—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> There needs no excuse; 'tis understood;<br /> +You were all watching for your prince's good.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> My reverend city friends, you are well met!<br /> +On what great work were your grave wisdoms set?<br /> +Which of my actions were you scanning here?<br /> +What French invasion have you found to fear?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> They are my friends; and come, sir, with intent,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_322"></span> +To take their leaves, before my banishment.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Your exile in both sexes friends can find:<br /> +I see the ladies, like the men, are kind. <span class="sdr">[Seeing <span class="cnm">Palmyra.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Alas, I came but— <span class="sdr">[Kneeling.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Add not to your crime<br /> +A lie: I'll hear you speak some other time.<br /> +How? Eubulus! nor time, nor thy disguise,<br /> +Can keep thee undiscovered from my eyes.<br /> +A guard there! seize them all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Yield, sir; what use of valour can be shewn?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> One, and unarmed, against a multitude!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Oh for a sword! +<span class="sdr">[He reaches at one of the Guards' halberds, and +is seized behind.</span><br /> +I wonnot lose my breath<br /> +In fruitless prayers; but beg a speedy death.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> O spare Leonidas, and punish me!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Mean girl, thou want'st an advocate for thee.<br /> +Now the mysterious knot will be untied;<br /> +Whether the young king lives, or where he died:<br /> +To-morrow's dawn shall the dark riddle clear,<br /> +Crown all my joys, and dissipate my fear. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT V. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Palamede, Strato. Palamede</span> with a letter +in his hand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> This evening, sayest thou? will they both +be here?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Stra.</span> Yes, sir, both my old master, and your mistress's +father. The old gentlemen ride hard this +journey; they say, it shall be the last time they +will see the town; and both of them are so pleased +<span class="pgnm" id="page_323"></span> +with this marriage, which they have concluded for +you, that I am afraid they will live some years longer +to trouble you, with the joy of it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But this is such an unreasonable thing, to +impose upon me to be married to-morrow; 'tis hurrying +a man to execution, without giving him time +to say his prayers.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Stra.</span> Yet, if I might advise you, sir, you should +not delay it; for your younger brother comes up +with them, and is got already into their favours. +He has gained much upon my old master, by finding +fault with innkeepers' bills, and by starving us, +and our horses, to shew his frugality; and he is very +well with your mistress's father, by giving him recipes +for the spleen, gout and scurvy, and other infirmities +of old age.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I'll rout him, and his country education: +Pox on him, I remember him before I travelled, he +had nothing in him but mere jockey; used to talk +loud, and make matches, and was all for the crack +of the field: Sense and wit were as much banished +from his discourse, as they are when the court goes +out of town to a horse race. Go now and provide +your master's lodgings.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Stra.</span> I go, sir. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> It vexes me to the heart, to leave all my +designs with Doralice unfinished; to have flown +her so often to a mark, and still to be bobbed at retrieve: +If I had once enjoyed her, though I could +not have satisfied my stomach with the feast, at +least I should have relished my mouth a little; but +now—</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Philotis.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Oh, sir, you are happily met; I was coming +to find you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> From your lady. I hope.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_324"></span> +<span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Partly from her; but more especially from +myself: She has just now received a letter from her +father, with an absolute command to dispose herself +to marry you to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> And she takes it to the death?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Quite contrary: The letter could never +have come in a more lucky minute; for it found +her in an ill-humour with a rival of yours, that shall +be nameless, about the pronunciation of a French +word.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Count Rhodophil? never disguise it, I +know the amour: But I hope you took the occasion +to strike in for me?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> It was my good fortune to do you some +small service in it; for your sake I discommended +him all over,—clothes, person, humour, behaviour, +every thing; and, to sum up all, told her, it was impossible +to find a married man that was otherwise; +for they were all so mortified at home with their +wives' ill humours, that they could never recover +themselves to be company abroad.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Most divinely urged!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Then I took occasion to commend your +good qualities; as the sweetness of your humour, +the comeliness of your person, your good mein, your +valour; but, above all, your liberality.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I vow to Gad I had like to have forgot +that good quality in myself, if thou hadst not remembered +me of it: Here are five pieces for thee.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Lord, you have the softest hand, sir, it +would do a woman good to touch it: Count Rhodophil's +is not half so soft; for I remember I felt +it once, when he gave me ten pieces for my new-years-gift.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> O, I understand you, madam; you shall +find my hand as soft again as Count Rhodophil's: +<span class="pgnm" id="page_325"></span> +There are twenty pieces for you. The former was +but a retaining fee; now I hope you'll plead for +me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> Your own merits speak enough. Be sure +only to ply her with French words, and I'll warrant +you'll do your business. Here are a list of her +phrases for this day: Use them to her upon all occasions +and foil her at her own weapon; for she's +like one of the old Amazons, she'll never marry, +except it be the man who has first conquered her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> I'll be sure to follow your advice: But +you'll forget to further my design.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> What, do you think I'll be ungrateful?—But +however, if you distrust my memory, put some +token on my finger to remember it by: That diamond +there would do admirably.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> There 'tis; and I ask your pardon heartily +for calling your memory into question: I assure +you I'll trust it another time, without putting you +to the trouble of another token.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Palmyra</span> and <span class="cnm">Artemis.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Art.</span> Madam, this way the prisoners are to pass; +Here you may see Leonidas.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Then here I'll stay, and follow him to +death.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Melantha,</span> hastily.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> O, here's her highness! Now is my time +to introduce myself, and to make my court to her, +in my new French phrases. Stay, let me read my +catalogue—<i>Suite</i>, <i>figure</i>, <i>chagrin</i>, <i>naiveté</i>, and <i>let +me die</i>, for the parenthesis of all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Do, persecute her; and I'll persecute +thee as fast in thy own dialect.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Madam, the princess! let me die, but this +<span class="pgnm" id="page_326"></span> +is a most horrid spectacle, to see a person, who +makes so grand a figure in the court, without the +<i>suite</i> of a princess, and entertaining your <i>chagrin</i> +all alone:—<i>Naiveté</i> should have been there, but the +disobedient word would not come in.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> What is she, Artemis?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Art.</span> An impertinent lady, madam; very ambitious +of being known to your highness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Melantha.</span></span>] Let me die, madam, if +I have not waited you here these two long hours, +without so much as the <i>suite</i> of a single servant to +attend me; entertaining myself with my own <i>chagrin</i> +till I had the honour of seeing your ladyship, +who are a person that makes so considerable a figure +in the court.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Truce with your <i>douceurs</i>, good servant; +you see I am addressing to the princess; pray do +not <i>embarrass</i> me—<i>Embarrass</i> me! what a delicious +French word do you make me lose upon you too! +[<span class="sdm">To the Princess.</span>] Your highness, madam, will +please to pardon the <i>beveue</i> which I made, in not +sooner finding you out to be a princess: But let me +die if this <i>eclaircissement</i>, which is made this day of +your quality, does not ravish me; and give me +leave to tell you—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But first give me leave to tell you, madam, +that I have so great a <i>tendre</i> for your person, and +such a <i>penchant</i> to do you service, that—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> What, must I still be troubled with your +<i>sottises</i>? (There's another word lost, that I meant +for the princess, with a mischief to you!) But your +highness, madam—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But your ladyship, madam—</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Leonidas,</span> guarded and led over the stage.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Out upon him, how he looks, madam! now +he's found no prince, he is the strangest figure of +<span class="pgnm" id="page_327"></span> +a man; how could I make that <i>coup d'etourdi</i> to +think him one?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Away, impertinent!—my dear Leonidas!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> My dear Palmyra!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Death shall never part us; my destiny is +yours. <span class="sdr">[He is led off, she follows.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Impertinent! Oh I am the most unfortunate +person this day breathing: That the princess +should thus <i>rompre en visiere</i>, without occasion. +Let me die, but I'll follow her to death, till I make +my peace.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> [<span class="sdm">Holding her.</span>] And let me die, but I'll follow +you to the infernals, till you pity me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> [<span class="sdm">Turning towards him angrily.</span>] Ay, 'tis long +of you that this <i>malheur</i> is fallen upon me; your +impertinence has put me out of the good graces of +the princess, and all that, which has ruined me, +and all that, and, therefore, let me die, but I'll be +revenged, and all that.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> <i>Façon, façon,</i> you must and shall love me, +and all that; for my old man is coming up, and all +that; and I am <i>desesperé au dernier</i>, and will not be +disinherited, and all that.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> How durst you interrupt me so <i>mal apropos</i>, +when you knew I was addressing to the +princess?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But why would you address yourself so +much <i>a contretemps</i> then?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Ah, <i>mal peste!</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Ah, <i>j'enrage!</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> <i>Radoucissez vous, de grace, madame; vous +étes bien en colere pour peu de chose. Vous n'entendez +pas la raillerie gallante.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> <i>Ad autres, ad autres</i>: He mocks himself of +me,<a class="ftnt" href="#Marr_3-1">[1]</a> he abuses me: Ah me unfortunate! <span class="sdr">[Cries.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_328"></span> +<span class="cnm">Phil.</span> You mistake him, madam, he does but accommodate +his phrase to your refined language. +<i>Ah qu'il est un cavalier accompli!</i> Pursue your point, +sir—<br /> +<span class="sdr">[To him.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> <i>Ah qu'il fait beau dans ces boccages;</i> [<span class="sdm">Singing.</span>] +<i>Ah que le ciet donne un beau jour!</i> There I was +with you, with a <i>minuét.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Let me die now, but this singing is fine, +and extremely French in him: [<span class="sdm">Laughs.</span>] But then, +that he should use my own words, as it were in +contempt of me, I cannot bear it.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Crying.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> <i>Ces beaux sejours, ces doux ramages</i>— <span class="sdr">[Singing.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> <i>Ces beaux sejours, ces doux ramages.</i> [<span class="sdm">Singing +after him.</span>] <i>Ces beaux sejours nous invitent á l'amour!</i> +Let me die, but he sings <i>en cavalier</i>, and so humours +the cadence!<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Laughing.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> <i>Foy, ma Clymene, voy sous ce chene.</i> [<span class="sdm">Singing +again.</span>] <i>S'entrebaiser ces oiseaux amoreux!</i> Let +me die now, but that was fine. Ah, now, for +three or four brisk Frenchmen, to be put into +masking habits, and to sing it on a theatre, how +witty it would be! and then to dance helter skelter +to a <i>chanson a boire: Toute la terre, toute la terre est +a moi!</i> What's matter though it were made and +sung two or three years ago in <i>cabarets</i>, how it +would attract the admiration, especially of every +one that's an <i>eveillé!</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Well; I begin to have a <i>tendre</i> for you; +but yet, upon condition, that—when we are married, +you—<br /> +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Pal.</span> sings, while she speaks.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phil.</span> You must drown her voice: If she makes +her French conditions, you are a slave for ever.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> First, you will engage—that—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Fa, la, la, la, &c. <span class="sdr">[Louder.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Will you hear the conditions?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> No; I will hear no conditions; I am resolved +to win you <i>en François</i>: To be very airy, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_329"></span> +with abundance of noise, and no sense: Fa la, la, +la, &c.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Hold, hold: I am vanquished with your +<i>gayeté d'esprit.</i> I am yours, and will be yours, <i>sans +nulle reserve, ni condition</i>: And let me die, if I do +not think myself the happiest nymph in Sicily—My dear French dear, stay but a <i>minuite</i>, till I <i>raccommode</i> +myself with the princess; and then I am +yours, <i>jusqu' a la mort. Allons donc.</i>—<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Mel. Phil.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palu.</span> [<span class="sdm">Solus, fanning himself with his hat.</span>] I never +thought before that wooing was so laborious an +exercise; if she were worth a million, I have deserved +her; and now, methinks too, with taking all +this pains for her, I begin to like her. 'Tis so; I +have known many, who never cared for hare nor +partridge, but those they caught themselves would +eat heartily: The pains, and the story a man tells +of the taking them, makes the meat go down more +pleasantly. Besides, last night I had a sweet dream +of her, and, gad, she I have once dreamed of, I +am stark mad till I enjoy her, let her be never so +ugly.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Doralice.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Who's that you are so mad to enjoy, Palamede?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> You may easily imagine that, sweet Dorarlice.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> More easily than you think I can: I met +just now with a certain man, who came to you +with letters from a certain old gentleman, y'cleped +your father; whereby I am given to understand, +that to-morrow you are to take an oath in the +church to be grave henceforward, to go ill-dressed +and slovenly, to get heirs for your estate, and to +dandle them for your diversion; and, in short, that +love and courtship are to be no more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_330"></span> +<span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Now have I so much shame to be thus +apprehended in the manner, that I can neither +speak nor look upon you; I have abundance of +grace in me, that I find: But if you have any spark +of true friendship in you, retire with me a little into +the next room, that hath a couch or bed in it, +and bestow your charity upon a dying man! A little +comfort from a mistress, before a man is going +to give himself in marriage, is as good as a lusty +dose of strong-water to a dying malefactor: it +takes away the sense of hell and hanging from +him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> No, good Palamede, I must not be so injurious +to your bride: 'Tis ill drawing from the bank +to-day, when all your ready money is payable to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> A wife is only to have the ripe fruit, that +falls of itself; but a wise man will always preserve +a shaking for a mistress.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> But a wife for the first quarter is a mistress.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But when the second comes—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> When it does come, you are so given to +variety, that you would make a wife of me in another +quarter.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> No, never, except I were married to you: +married people can never oblige one another; for +all they do is duty, and consequently there can be +no thanks: But love is more frank and generous +than he is honest; he's a liberal giver, but a cursed +pay-master.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> I declare I will have no gallant; but, if I +would, he should never be a married man; a married +man is but a mistress's half-servant, as a clergyman +is but the king's half-subject: For a man to +come to me that smells of the wife! 'Slife, I would +as soon wear her old gown after her, as her husband. +<span class="pgnm" id="page_331"></span> +<i>Pala.</i> Yet 'tis a kind of fashion to wear a princess's +cast shoes; you see the country ladies buy +them, to be fine in them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Yes, a princess's shoes may be worn after +her, because they keep their fashion, by being so +very little used; but generally a married man is the +creature of the world the most out of fashion: his +behaviour is dumpish; his discourse, his wife and +family; his habit so much neglected, it looks as if +that were married too; his hat is married, his peruke +is married, his breeches are married,—and, if we +could look within his breeches, we should find him +married there too.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Am I then to be discarded for ever? pray +do but mark how that word sounds: for ever! it +has a very damn'd sound, Doralice.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Ay, for ever! it sounds as hellishly to me, +as it can do to you, but there's no help for it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Yet, if we had but once enjoyed one another!—but +then once only, is worse than not at all: +It leaves a man with such a lingering after it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> For aught I know, 'tis better that we have +not; we might upon trial have liked each other +less, as many a man and woman, that have loved +as desperately as we, and yet, when they came to +possession, have sighed and cried to themselves, Is +this all?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> That is only, if the servant were not found +a man of this world; but if, upon trial, we had +not liked each other, we had certainly left loving; +and faith, that's the greater happiness of the two.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> 'Tis better as 'tis; we have drawn off already +as much of our love as would run clear; after +possessing, the rest is but jealousies, and disquiets, +and quarrelling, and piecing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Nay, after one great quarrel, there's never +any sound piecing; the love is apt to break in the +same place again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_332"></span> +<span class="cnm">Dor.</span> I declare I would never renew a love; +that's like him, who trims an old coach for ten +years together; he might buy a new one better +cheap.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Well, madam, I am convinced, that 'tis +best for us not to have enjoyed; but, gad, the +strongest reason is, because I can't help it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> The only way to keep us new to one another +is never to enjoy, as they keep grapes, by +hanging them upon a line; they must touch nothing, +if you would preserve them fresh.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> But then they wither, and grow dry in the +very keeping; however, I shall have a warmth for +you, and an eagerness, every time I see you; and, +if I chance to out-live Melantha—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> And if I chance to out-live Rhodophil—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Well, I'll cherish my body as much as I +can, upon that hope. 'Tis true, I would not directly +murder the wife of my bosom; but, to kill her +civilly, by the way of kindness, I'll put as fair as +another man: I'll begin to-morrow night, and be +very wrathful with her; that's resolved on.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Well, Palamede, here's my hand, I'll venture +to be your second wife, for all your threatenings.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> In the mean time I'll watch you hourly, +as I would the ripeness of a melon; and I hope +you'll give me leave now and then to look on you, +and to see if you are not ready to be cut yet.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> No, no, that must not be, Palamede, for +fear the gardener should come and catch you taking +up the glass.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Rhodophil.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Billing so sweetly! now I am confirmed +in my suspicions; I must put an end to this +ere it go farther—[<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Doralice.</span></span>] Cry you mercy, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_333"></span> +spouse, I fear I have interrupted your recreations.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> What recreations?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Nay, no excuses, good spouse; I saw fair +hand conveyed to lip, and prest, as though you had +been squeezing soft wax together for an indenture. +Palamede, you and I must clear this reckoning: +why would you have seduced my wife?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Why would you have debauched my mistress?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> What do you think of that civil couple, that +played at a game, called Hide and Seek, last evening +in the grotto?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> What do you think of that innocent pair, +who made it their pretence to seek for others, but +came, indeed, to hide themselves there?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> All things considered, I begin vehemently +to suspect, that the young gentleman I found in +your company last night, was a certain youth of +my acquaintance.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> And I have an odd imagination, that you +could never have suspected my small gallant, if +your little villainous Frenchman had not been a +false brother.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Further arguments are needless; draw off; +I shall speak to you now by the way of <i>bilbo</i>.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Claps his hand to his sword.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> And I shall answer you by the way of Dangerfield<a class="ftnt" href="#Marr_3-2">[2]</a>. +<span class="sdr">[Claps his hand on his.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Hold, hold; are not you two a couple of +mad fighting fools, to cut one another's throats for +nothing?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_334"></span> +<span class="cnm">Pala.</span> How for nothing? He courts the woman I +must marry.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> And he courts you, whom I have married.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> But you can neither of you be jealous of +what you love not.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Faith, I am jealous, and this makes me partly +suspect that I love you better than I thought.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> Pish! a mere jealousy of honour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Gad, I am afraid there's something else in't; +for Palamede has wit, and, if he loves you, there's +something more in ye than I have found: Some +rich mine, for aught I know, that I have not yet +discovered.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> 'Slife, what's this? Here's an argument for +me to love Melantha; for he has loved her, and he +has wit too, and, for aught I know, there may be a +mine; but, if there be, I am resolved I'll dig for it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Rhodophil.</span></span>] Then I have found my +account in raising your jealousy. O! 'tis the most +delicate sharp sauce to a cloyed stomach; it will +give you a new edge, Rhodophil.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> And a new point too, Doralice, if I could +be sure thou art honest.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> If you are wise, believe me for your own +sake: Love and religion have but one thing to trust +to; that's a good sound faith. Consider, if I have +played false, you can never find it out by any experiment +you can make upon me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> No? Why, suppose I had a delicate screwed +gun; if I left her clean, and found her foul, I +should discover, to my cost, she had been shot in.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> But if you left her clean, and found her only +rusty, you would discover, to your shame, she was +only so for want of shooting.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Rhodophil, you know me too well to imagine +I speak for fear; and therefore, in consideration +<span class="pgnm" id="page_335"></span> +of our past friendship, I will tell you, and bind +it by all things holy, that Doralice is innocent.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Friend, I will believe you, and vow the +same for your Melantha; but the devil on't is, how +shall we keep them so?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> What dost think of a blessed community +betwixt us four, for the solace of the women, +and relief of the men? Methinks it would be a +pleasant kind of life: Wife and husband for the +standing dish, and mistress and gallant for the desert.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> But suppose the wife and mistress should +both long for the standing dish, how should they +be satisfied together?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> In such a case they must draw lots; and +yet that would not do neither, for they would both +be wishing for the longest cut.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Then I think, Palamede, we had as good +make a firm league, not to invade each other's propriety.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Content, say I. From henceforth let all +acts of hostility cease betwixt us; and that, in the +usual form of treaties, as well by sea as land, and +in all fresh waters.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dor.</span> I will add but one <i>proviso</i>, that whoever +breaks the league, either by war abroad, or neglect +at home, both the women shall revenge themselves +by the help of the other party.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> That's but reasonable. Come away, Doralice; +I have a great temptation to be sealing articles +in private.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Hast thou so? <span class="sdr">[Claps him on the shoulder.</span><br /> +"Fall on, Macduff,<br /> +And cursed be he that first cries, Hold, enough."<br /></p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_336"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Polydamas, Palmyra, Artemis, Argaleon:</span> +After them <span class="cnm">Eubulus</span> and <span class="cnm">Hermogenes,</span> +guarded.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Sir, on my knees I beg you—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Away, I'll hear no more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> For my dead mother's sake; you say you loved her,<br /> +And tell me I resemble her. Thus she<br /> +Had begged.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> And thus I had denied her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> You must be merciful.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> You must be constant.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Go, bear them to the torture; you have boasted<br /> +You have a king to head you; I would know<br /> +To whom I must resign.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eub.</span> This is our recompence +For serving thy dead queen.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Herm.</span> And education +Of thy daughter.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> You are too modest, in not naming all<br /> +His obligations to you: Why did you<br /> +Omit his son, the prince Leonidas?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> That imposture<br /> +I had forgot; their tortures shall be doubled.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Herm.</span> You please me; I shall die the sooner.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eub.</span> No; could I live an age, and still be racked,<br /> +I still would keep the secret. <span class="sdr">[As they are going off,</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Leonidas,</span> guarded.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Oh, whither do you hurry innocence!<br /> +If you have any justice, spare their lives;<br /> +Or, if I cannot make you just, at least<br /> +I'll teach you to more purpose to be cruel.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Alas, what does he seek!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_337"></span> +<span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Make me the object of your hate and vengeance:<br /> +Are these decrepid bodies, worn to ruin,<br /> +Just ready of themselves to fall asunder.<br /> +And to let drop the soul,—<br /> +Are these fit subjects for a rack and tortures?<br /> +Where would you fasten any hold upon them?<br /> +Place pains on me,—united fix them here,—<br /> +I have both youth, and strength, and soul to bear them;<br /> +And, if they merit death, then I much more,<br /> +Since 'tis for me they suffer.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Herm.</span> Heaven forbid<br /> +We should redeem our pains, or worthless lives,<br /> +By our exposing yours.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eub.</span> Away with us. Farewell, sir:<br /> +I only suffer in my fears for you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> So much concerned for him! Then my <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +Suspicion's true. <span class="sdr">[Whispers the King.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Hear yet my last request for poor Leonidas,<br /> +Or take my life with his.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Rest satisfied, Leonidas is he. <span class="sdr">[To the King.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> I am amazed: What must be done?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Command his execution instantly:<br /> +Give him not leisure to discover it;<br /> +He may corrupt the soldiers.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> Hence with that traitor, bear him to his death:<br /> +Haste there, and see my will performed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Nay, then, I'll die like him the gods have made me.<br /> +Hold, gentlemen, I am— <span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Argaleon</span> stops his mouth.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> Thou art a traitor; 'tis not fit to hear thee.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_338"></span> +<span class="cnm">Leon.</span> I say, I am the— <span class="sdr">[Getting loose a little.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> So; gag him, and lead him off. +<span class="sdr">[Again stopping his mouth.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Leonidas, Hermogenes, Eubulus, </span>led off; +<span class="cnm">Polydamas</span> and <span class="cnm">Argaleon</span> follow.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Duty and love, by turns, possess my soul<br /> +And struggle for a fatal victory.<br /> +I will discover he's the king:—Ah, no!<br /> +That will perhaps save him;<br /> +But then I'm guilty of a father's ruin.<br /> +What shall I do, or not do? Either way<br /> +I must destroy a parent, or a lover.<br /> +Break heart; for that's the least of ills to me,<br /> +And death the only cure. <span class="sdr">[Swoons.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arte.</span> Help, help the princess.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Bear her gently hence, where she may<br /> +Have more succour. <span class="sdr">[She is borne off; <span class="cnm">Arte.</span> follows her.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[Shouts within, and clashing of swords.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> What noise is that?</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Amalthea,</span> running.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> Oh, gentlemen, if you have loyalty,<br /> +Or courage, show it now! Leonidas,<br /> +Broke on the sudden from his guards, and snatching<br /> +A sword from one, his back against the scaffold,<br /> +Bravely defends himself, and owns aloud<br /> +He is our long-lost king; found for this moment,<br /> +But, if your valour helps not, lost for ever.<br /> +Two of his guards, moved by the sense of virtue,<br /> +Are turned for him, and there they stand at bay<br /> +Against an host of foes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> Madam, no more;<br /> +We lose time; my command, or my example,<br /> +May move the soldiers to the better cause.<br /> +You'll second me? <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Pala.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_339"></span> +<span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Or die with you: No subject e'er can meet<br /> +A nobler fate, than at his sovereign's feet. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /> +<span class="sdr">[Clashing of swords within, and shouts.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Leonidas, Rhodophil, Palamede, Eubulus, +Hermogenes,</span> and their Party, victorious; +<span class="cnm">Polydamas</span> and <span class="cnm">Argaleon,</span> disarmed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> That I survive the dangers of this day,<br /> +Next to the gods, brave friends, be yours the honour;<br /> +And, let heaven witness for me, that my joy<br /> +Is not more great for this my right restored,<br /> +Than 'tis, that I have power to recompense<br /> +Your loyalty and valour. Let mean princes,<br /> +Of abject souls, fear to reward great actions;<br /> +I mean to shew,<br /> +That whatsoe'er subjects, like you, dare merit,<br /> +A king, like me, dares give.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Rho.</span> You make us blush, we have deserved so little.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> And yet instruct us how to merit more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> And as I would be just in my rewards,<br /> +So should I in my punishments; these two,<br /> +This, the usurper of my crown, the other,<br /> +Of my Palmyra's love, deserve that death,<br /> +Which both designed for me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> And we expect it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> I have too long been happy, to live wretched.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> And I too long have governed, to desire<br /> +A life without an empire.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> You are Palmyra's father; and as such,<br /> +Though not a king, shall have obedience paid<br /> +From him who is one. Father, in that name<br /> +All injuries forgot, and duty owned. <span class="sdr">[Embraces him.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> O, had I known you could have been this king,<br /> +Thus god-like, great and good, I should have wished<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_340"></span> +To have been dethroned before. 'Tis now I live,<br /> +And more than reign; now all my joys flow pure,<br /> +Unmixed with cares, and undisturbed by conscience.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Palmyra, Amalthea, Artemis, Doralice,</span> +and <span class="cnm">Melantha.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> See, my Palmyra comes! the frighted blood<br /> +Scarce yet recalled to her pale cheeks,<br /> +Like the first streaks of light broke loose from darkness,<br /> +And dawning into blushes.—Sir, you said <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Poly.</span></span><br /> +Your joys were full; Oh, would you make mine so!<br /> +I am but half restored without this blessing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Poly.</span> The gods, and my Palmyra, make you happy,<br /> +As you make me! <span class="sdr">[Gives her hand to <span class="cnm">Leonidas.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Palm.</span> Now all my prayers are heard:<br /> +I may be dutiful, and yet may love.<br /> +Virtue and patience have at length unravelled<br /> +The knots, which fortune tyed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Let me die, but I'll congratulate his majesty: +How admirably well his royalty becomes him! Becomes! +that is <i>lui sied</i>, but our damned language +expresses nothing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> How? Does it become him already? 'Twas +but just now you said, he was such a figure of a man.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel</span> True, my dear, when he was a private man +he was a figure; but since he is a king, methinks +he has assumed another figure: He looks so grand, +and so august!<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Going to the King.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pala.</span> Stay, stay; I'll present you when it is more +convenient. I find I must get her a place at court; +and when she is once there, she can be no longer +ridiculous; for she is young enough, and pretty +enough, and fool enough, and French enough, to +bring up a fashion there to be affected.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Rhodophil.</span></span>]<br /> +Did she then lead you to this brave attempt?<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_341"></span> +[<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Amalthea.</span></span>] To you, fair Amalthea, what I am,<br /> +And what all these, from me, we jointly owe:<br /> +First, therefore, to your great desert we give<br /> +Your brother's life; but keep him under guard<br /> +Till our new power be settled. What more grace<br /> +He may receive, shall from his future carriage<br /> +Be given, as he deserves.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arga.</span> I neither now desire, nor will deserve it;<br /> +My loss is such as cannot be repaired,<br /> +And, to the wretched, life can be no mercy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Then be a prisoner always: Thy ill fate<br /> +And pride will have it so: But since in this I cannot,<br /> +Instruct me, generous Amalthea, how<br /> +A king may serve you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amal.</span> I have all I hope,<br /> +And all I now must wish; I see you happy.<br /> +Those hours I have to live, which heaven in pity<br /> +Will make but few, I vow to spend with vestals:<br /> +The greatest part in prayers for you; the rest<br /> +In mourning my unworthiness.<br /> +Press me not farther to explain myself;<br /> +'Twill not become me, and may cause your trouble.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leon.</span> Too well I understand her secret grief, <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +But dare not seem to know it.—Come, my fairest; <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Palmyra.</span></span><br /> +Beyond my crown I have one joy in store,<br /> +To give that crown to her whom I adore. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnotes:</p> +<ol> +<li><a name="Marr_3-1" id="Marr_3-1"></a><i>He mocks himself of me.</i>] Melantha, like some modern coxcombs, +uses the idiom as well as the words of the French language.</li> +<li><a name="Marr_3-2" id="Marr_3-2"></a><i>Dangerfield.</i>] A dramatic bully, whose sword and habit became +proverbial. "This gentleman, appearing with his mustaccios, +according to the Turkish manner, Cordubee hat, and strange out-of-the-way +clothes, just as if one had been dressed up to act Captain +Dangerfield in the play, &c." <i>Life of Sir Dudley North.</i></li> +</ol></div> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_342"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">EPILOGUE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Thus have my spouse and I informed the nation,</p> +<p>And led you all the way to reformation;</p> +<p>Not with dull morals, gravely writ, like those,</p> +<p>Which men of easy phlegm with care compose,—</p> +<p>Your poets, of stiff words and limber sense,</p> +<p>Born on the confines of indifference;</p> +<p>But by examples drawn, I dare to say,</p> +<p>From most of you who hear and see the play.</p> +<p>There are more Rhodophils in this theatre,</p> +<p>More Palamedes, and some few wives, I fear:</p> +<p>But yet too far our poet would not run;</p> +<p>Though 'twas well offered, there was nothing done.</p> +<p>He would not quite the women's frailty bare,</p> +<p>But stript them to the waist, and left them there:</p> +<p>And the men's faults are less severely shown,</p> +<p>For he considers that himself is one.—</p> +<p>Some stabbing wits, to bloody satire bent,</p> +<p>Would treat both sexes with less compliment;</p> +<p>Would lay the scene at home; of husbands tell,</p> +<p>For wenches, taking up their wives i' the Mall;</p> +<p>And a brisk bout, which each of them did want,</p> +<p>Made by mistake of mistress and gallant.</p> +<p>Our modest author thought it was enough</p> +<p>To cut you off a sample of the stuff:</p> +<p>He spared my shame, which you, I'm sure, would not,</p> +<p>For you were all for driving on the plot:</p> +<p>You sighed when I came in to break the sport,</p> +<p>And set your teeth when each design fell short.</p> +<p>To wives and servants all good wishes lend,</p> +<p>But the poor cuckold seldom finds a friend.</p> +<p>Since, therefore, court and town will take no pity,</p> +<p>I humbly cast myself upon the city.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_343" id="page_343"></a></div> + + +<h2 class="chap">THE ASSIGNATION;</h2> +<p class="ctr">OR,</p> +<h3 class="nomarg">LOVE IN A NUNNERY.</h3> + +<h3>A COMEDY.</h3> + +<div class="ctr"> +<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram"> +<tr><td><p class="epigram"><i>Successum dea dira negat</i>—</p> +<p class="citation smcap">Virg.</p></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_345"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">THE ASSIGNATION.</h3> + +<p>This play was unfortunate in the representation. It is needless, +at the distance of more than a century, to investigate the grounds +of the dislike of an audience, who, perhaps, could at the very time +have given no good reason for their capricious condemnation of a +play, not worse than many others which they received with applause. +The author, in the dedication, hints at the "lameness of the action;" +but, as the poet and performers are nearly equally involved +in the disgrace of a condemned piece, it is a very natural +desire on either side to assign the cause of its failure to the imperfections +of the other; of which there is a ludicrous representation +in a dialogue betwixt the player and the poet in "Joseph +Andrews." Another cause of its unfavourable reception +seems to have been, its second title of "Love in a Nunnery." +Dryden certainly could, last of any man, have been justly suspected +of an intention to ridicule the Duke of York and the Catholic +religion; yet, as he fell under the same censure for the "Spanish +Friar," it seems probable that such suspicions were actually entertained. +The play certainly contains, in the present instance, nothing +to justify them. In point of merit, "The Assignation" seems +pretty much on a level with Dryden's other comedies; and certainly +the spectators, who had received the blunders of Sir Martin +Mar-all with such unbounded applause, might have taken some +interest in those of poor Benito. Perhaps the absurd and vulgar +scene, in which the prince pretends a fit of the cholic, had some +share in occasioning the fall of the piece. This inelegant <i>jeu de +theatre</i> is severely ridiculed in the "Rehearsal."</p> + +<p>To one person, the damnation of this play seems to have afforded +exquisite pleasure. This was Edward Ravenscroft, once a +member of the Middle Temple,—an ingenious gentleman, of whose +taste it may be held a satisfactory instance, that he deemed the +tragedy of "Titus Andronicus" too mild for representation, and generously +added a few more murders, rapes, and parricides, to that +charnel-house of horrors<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_1-1">[1]</a>. His turn for comedy being at least +<span class="pgnm" id="page_346"></span> +equal to his success in the blood-stained buskin, Mr Ravenscroft +translated and mangled several of the more farcical French comedies, +which he decorated with the lustre of his own great name. +Amongst others which he thus appropriated, were the most extravagant +and buffoon scenes in Moliere's "<i>Bourgeois Gentilhomme</i>;" +in which Monsieur Jourdain is, with much absurd ceremony, created +a Turkish Paladin; and where Moliere took the opportunity +to introduce an <i>entrée de ballet</i>, danced and sung by the Mufti, +dervises, and others, in eastern habits. Ravenscroft's translation, +entitled "The Citizen turned Gentleman," was acted in 1672, +and printed in the same year; the jargon of the songs, like similar +nonsense of our own day, seems to have been well received on +the stage. Dryden, who was not always above feeling indignation +at the bad taste and unjust preferences of the age, attacked Ravenscroft +in the prologue to "The Assignation," as he had before, +though less directly, in that of "Marriage a-la-Mode." Hence +the exuberant and unrepressed joy of that miserable scribbler +broke forth upon the damnation of Dryden's performance, in +the following passage of a prologue to another of his pilfered performances, +called "The Careless Lovers," acted, according to +Langbaine, in the vacation succeeding the fall of "The Assignation," +in 1673:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>An author did, to please you, let his wit run,</p> +<p>Of late, much on a serving man and cittern;</p> +<p>And yet, you would not like the serenade,—</p> +<p>Nay, and you damned his nuns in masquerade:</p> +<p>You did his Spanish sing-song too abhor;</p> +<p><i>Ah! que locura con tanto rigor!</i></p> +<p>In fine, the whole by you so much was blamed,</p> +<p>To act their parts, the players were ashamed<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_1-2">[2]</a>.</p> +<p>Ah, how severe your malice was that day!</p> +<p>To damn, at once, the poet and his play<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_1-3">[3]</a>:</p> +<p>But why was your rage just at that time shown,</p> +<p>When what the author writ was all his own?</p> +<p>Till then, he borrowed from romance, and did translate<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_1-4">[4]</a>;</p> +<p>And those plays found a more indulgent fate.</p> +</div> + +<p>Ravenscroft, however, seems to have given the first offence; for, +in the prologue to "The Citizen turned Gentleman," licensed 9th +<span class="pgnm" id="page_347"></span> +August 1672, we find the following lines, obviously levelled at +"The Conquest of Granada," and other heroic dramas of our author:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Then shall the knight, that had a knock in's cradle,</p> +<p>Such as Sir Martin and Sir Arthur Addle<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_1-5">[5]</a>,</p> +<p>Be flocked unto, as the great heroes now</p> +<p>In plays of rhyme and noise, with wondrous show:—</p> +<p>Then shall the house, to see these Hectors kill and slay,</p> +<p>That bravely fight out the whole plot of the play,</p> +<p>Be for at least six months full every day.</p> +</div> + +<p>Langbaine, who quotes the lines from the prologue to Ravenscroft's +"Careless Lovers," is of opinion, that he paid Dryden too +great a compliment in admitting the originality of "The Assignation," +and labours to shew, that the characters are imitated from +the "Romance Comique" of Scarron, and other novels of the +time. But Langbaine seems to have been unable to comprehend, +that originality consists in the mode of treating a subject, more +than in the subject itself.</p> + +<p>"The Assignation" was acted in 1672, and printed in 1673.</p> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnotes:</p> +<ol> +<li><a name="Assig_1-1" id="Assig_1-1"></a>In the prologue to this beautified edition, Ravenscroft modestly tells us: + +<div class="poem"> +<br /> +<p>Like other poets, he'll not proudly scorn</p> +<p>To own, that he but winnowed Shakespeare's corn:</p> +<p>So far was he from robbing him of's treasure,</p> +<p>That he did add his own, to make full measure.</p> +</div> +</li> +<li><a name="Assig_1-2" id="Assig_1-2"></a>This looks as if there had been some ground for Dryden's censure upon +the actors.</li> + +<li><a name="Assig_1-3" id="Assig_1-3"></a>A flat parody on the lines in Dryden's prologue, referring to Mamamouchi: + +<div class="poem"> +<br /> +<p>Grimace and habit sent you pleased away:</p> +<p>You damned the poet, but cried up the play.</p> +</div> +</li> +<li><a name="Assig_1-4" id="Assig_1-4"></a>It is somewhat remarkable, that the censure contained in what is above +printed like verses, recoils upon the head of the author, who never wrote a +single original performance. Langbaine, the persecutor of all plagiarism, +though he did not know very well in what it consisted, threatens to "pull +off Ravenscroft's disguise, and discover the politic plagiary that lurks under +it. I know," continues the biographer, "he has endeavoured to shew himself +master of the art of swift writing, and would persuade the world, that +what he writes is <i>extempore</i> wit, and written <i>currente calamo</i>. But I doubt +not to shew, that though he would be thought to imitate the silk-worm, that +spins its web from its own bowels, yet I shall make him appear like the +leech, that lives upon the blood of other men, drawn from the gums; and, +when he is rubbed with salt, spews it up again."</li> +<li><a name="Assig_1-5" id="Assig_1-5"></a>Sir Martin Mar-all we are acquainted with. Sir Arthur Addle is a similar +character, in a play called "Sir Solomon, or, The Cautious Coxcomb," +attributed to one John Caryll.</li> +</ol></div> + +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_348" id="page_348"></a></div> + + +<h3 class="chap">TO MY MOST HONOURED FRIEND, +SIR CHARLES SEDLEY, BART<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_2-1">[1]</a>.</h3> + +<p class="smcap">Sir,</p> + +<p>The design of dedicating plays is as common and +unjust, as that of desiring seconds in a duel. It is +<span class="pgnm" id="page_349"></span> +engaging our friends, it may be, in a senseless quarrel +where they have much to venture, without any +concernment of their own<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_2-2">[2]</a>. I have declared thus +much beforehand, to prevent you from suspicion, that +I intend to interest either your judgment or your +kindness, in defending the errors of this comedy. It +succeeded ill in the representation, against the opinion +of many of the best judges of our age, to whom you +know I read it, ere it was presented publicly. Whether +the fault was in the play itself, or in the lameness +of the action, or in the number of its enemies, who +came resolved to damn it for the title, I will not now +dispute. That would be too like the little satisfaction +which an unlucky gamester finds in the relation +of every cast by which he came to lose his money. +I have had formerly so much success, that the miscarriage +of this play was only my giving Fortune her +<span class="pgnm" id="page_350"></span> +revenge; I owed it her, and she was indulgent that +she exacted not the payment long before. I will +therefore deal more reasonably with you, than any +poet has ever done with any patron: I do not so +much as oblige you for my sake, to pass two ill +hours in reading of my play. Think, if you please, +that this dedication is only an occasion I have taken, +to do myself the greatest honour imaginable with +posterity; that is, to be recorded in the number of +those men whom you have favoured with your +friendship and esteem. For I am well assured, that, +besides the present satisfaction I have, it will gain +me the greatest part of my reputation with after +ages, when they shall find me valuing myself on +your kindness to me; I may have reason to suspect +my own credit with them, but I have none to doubt +of yours. And they who, perhaps, would forget me +in my poems, would remember me in this epistle.</p> + +<p>This was the course which has formerly been +practised by the poets of that nation, who were +masters of the universe. Horace and Ovid, who +had little reason to distrust their immortality, yet +took occasion to speak with honour of Virgil, Varius, +Tibullus, and Propertius, their contemporaries; as +if they sought, in the testimony of their friendship, +a farther evidence of their fame. For my own part, +I, who am the least amongst the poets, have yet the +fortune to be honoured with the best patron, and +the best friend. For, (to omit some great persons +of our court, to whom I am many ways obliged, +and who have taken care of me even amidst the +exigencies of a war<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_2-3">[3]</a>) I can make my boast to have +found a better Mæcenas in the person of my Lord +Treasurer Clifford<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_2-4">[4]</a>, and a more elegant Tibullus in +<span class="pgnm" id="page_351"></span> +that of Sir Charles Sedley. I have chosen that poet +to whom I would resemble you, not only because I +think him at least equal, if not superior, to Ovid in +his elegies; nor because of his quality, for he was, +you know, a Roman knight, as well as Ovid; but +for his candour, his wealth, his way of living, and +particularly because of this testimony which is given +him by Horace, which I have a thousand times in +my mind applied to you:</p> + +<div class="poem" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Non tu corpus eras sine pectore: Dii tibi formam,</p> +<p>Dii tibi divitias dederant, artemque fruendi.</p> +<p>Quid voveat dulci nutricula majus alumno,</p> +<p>Quam sapere, et fari possit quæ sentiat, et cui</p> +<p>Gratia, forma, valetudo contingat abunde;</p> +<p>Et mundus victus, non deficiente crumena?</p> +</div> + +<p>Certainly the poets of that age enjoyed much happiness +in the conversation and friendship of one +another. They imitated the best way of living, +which was, to pursue an innocent and inoffensive +pleasure, that which one of the ancients called +<i>eruditam voluptatem</i>. We have, like them, our genial +nights, where our discourse is neither too serious +nor too light, but always pleasant, and, for the +most part, instructive; the raillery, neither too sharp +upon the present, nor too censorious on the absent; +and the cups only such as will raise the conversation +of the night, without disturbing the business +of the morrow<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_2-5">[5]</a>. And thus far not only the philosophers, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_352"></span> +but the fathers of the church, have gone, +without lessening their reputation of good manners, +or of piety. For this reason, I have often laughed +at the ignorant and ridiculous descriptions which +some pedants have given of the wits, as they are pleased +to call them; which are a generation of men as +unknown to them, as the people of Tartary, or the +Terra Australia, are to us. And therefore as we draw +giants and anthropophagi in those vacancies of our +maps, where we have not travelled to discover better; +so those wretches paint lewdness, atheism, +folly, ill-reasoning, and all manner of extravagancies +amongst us, for want of understanding what we are. +Oftentimes it so falls out, that they have a particular +pique to some one amongst us, and then they immediately +interest heaven in their quarrel; as it is an +usual trick in courts, when one designs the ruin of +his enemy, to disguise his malice with some concernment +of the kings; and to revenge his own +cause, with pretence of vindicating the honour of +his master. Such wits as they describe, I have +never been so unfortunate as to meet in your company; +but have often heard much better reasoning +at your table, than I have encountered in their books. +<span class="pgnm" id="page_353"></span> +The wits they describe, are the fops we banish: For +blasphemy and atheism, if they were neither sin +nor ill manners, are subjects so very common, and +worn so threadbare, that people, who have sense, +avoid them, for fear of being suspected to have +none. It calls the good name of their wit in question +as it does the credit of a citizen when his shop +is filled with trumperies and painted titles, instead +of wares: We conclude them bankrupt to all manner +of understanding; and that to use blasphemy, is a +kind of applying pigeons to the soles of the feet; it +proclaims their fancy, as well as judgment, to be +in a desperate condition. I am sure, for your own +particular, if any of these judges had once the happiness +to converse with you,—to hear the candour of +your opinions; how freely you commend that wit +in others of which you have, so large a portion yourself; +how unapt you are to be censorious; with how +much easiness you speak so many things, and those +so pointed, that no other man is able to excel, or +perhaps to reach by study;—they would, instead of +your accusers, become your proselytes. They would +reverence so much sense, and so much good nature +in the same person; and come, like the satyr, to +warm themselves at that fire, of which they were +ignorantly afraid when they stood at a distance. +But you have too great a reputation to be wholly +free from censure: it is a fine which fortune sets +upon all extraordinary persons, and from which you +should not wish to be delivered until you are dead. +I have been used by my critics much more severely, +and have more reason to complain, because I am +deeper taxed for a less estate. I am, ridiculously +enough, accused to be a contemner of universities; +that is, in other words, an enemy of learning; +without the foundation of which, I am sure, no +man can pretend to be a poet. And if this be not +<span class="pgnm" id="page_354"></span> +enough, I am made a detractor from my predecessors, +whom I confess to have been my masters in +the art. But this latter was the accusation of the +best judge, and almost the best poet, in the Latin +tongue. You find Horace complaining, that, for +taxing some verses in Lucilius, he himself was +blamed by others, though his design was no other +than mine now, to improve the knowledge of +poetry; and it was no defence to him, amongst his +enemies, any more than it is for me, that he praised +Lucilius where he deserved it; <i>paginâ laudatur +eâdem</i>. It is for this reason I will be no more +mistaken for my good meaning: I know I honour +Ben Jonson more than my little critics, because, +without vanity I may own, I understand him better<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_2-6">[6]</a>. +As for the errors they pretend to find in me, +I could easily show them, that the greatest part of +them are beauties; and for the rest, I could recriminate +upon the best poets of our nation, if I could +resolve to accuse another of little faults, whom, at +the same time, I admire for greater excellencies. +But I have neither concernment enough upon me to +write any thing in my own defence, neither will I +gratify the ambition of two wretched scribblers, +who desire nothing more than to be answered. I +have not wanted friends, even among strangers, +who have defended me more strongly, than my contemptible +pedant could attack me<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_2-7">[7]</a>. For the other, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_355"></span> +he is only like Fungoso in the play, who follows the +fashion at a distance, and adores the Fastidious Brisk +of Oxford<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_2-8">[8]</a>. You can bear me witness, that I have +not consideration enough for either of them to be +angry. Let Mævius and Bavius admire each other; +I wish to be hated by them and their fellows, by +the same reason for which I desire to be loved by +you. And I leave it to the world, whether their +judgment of my poetry ought to be preferred to +yours; though they are as much prejudiced by their +malice, as I desire you should be led by your kindness, +to be partial to,</p> + +<p class="i1 sig smcap">Sir,</p> +<p class="i2 sig">Your most humble,</p> +<p class="i3 sig">And most faithful servant,</p> +<p class="i4 sig smcap">John Dryden.</p> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnotes:</p> +<ol> +<li><a name="Assig_2-1" id="Assig_2-1"></a>Sir Charles Sedley, noted among "the mob of gentlemen who +wrote with ease," was so highly applauded for his taste and +judgment, that Charles said, "Nature had given him a patent to +be Apollo's viceroy." Some account has been given of this celebrated +courtier, in the introduction to the Essay on Dramatic +Poetry. Dryden was at this time particularly induced to appeal +to the taste of the first among the gay world, by the repeated censures +which had been launched against him from the groves of +Academe. Mr Malone gives the titles of three pamphlets which +had appeared against Dryden. 1. The Censure of the Rota, on +Mr Dryden's Conquest of Granada, printed at Oxford. 2. A +Description of the Academy of the Athenian Virtuoso, with a +discourse held there in vindication of Mr Dryden's Conquest of +Granada, against the Author of the Censure of the Rota. 3. A +Friendly Vindication of Mr Dryden, from the Author of the Censure +of the Rota, printed at Cambridge. Thus assailed by the grave +and the learned, censured for the irregularities of his gay patrons, +which he countenanced although he did not partake, and stigmatized +as a detractor of his predecessors, and a defamer of classical +learning, it was natural for Dryden to appeal to the most accomplished +of those amongst whom he lived, and to whose taste he was +but too strongly compelled to adapt his productions. Sedley, +therefore, as a man of wit and gallantry, is called upon to support +our author against the censures of pedantic severity. Whatever +may be thought of the subject, the appeal is made with all +Dryden's spirit and elegance, and his description of the attic +evenings spent with Sedley and his gay associates, glosses over, +and almost justifies, their occasional irregularities. We have but +too often occasion to notice, with censure, the licentious manners +of the giddy court of Charles; let us not omit its merited commendation. +If the talents of the men of parts of that period were +often ill-directed, and ill-rewarded, let not us, from whom that +gratitude is justly due, forget that they were called forth and stimulated +to exertion, by the countenance and applause of the +great. We, at least, who enjoy the fruit of these exertions, ought +to rejoice, that the courtiers of Charles possessed the taste to countenance +and applaud the genius which was too often perverted by +the profligacy of their example, and left unrewarded amid their +selfish prodigality.</li> + +<li><a name="Assig_2-2" id="Assig_2-2"></a>At this period, seconds in a duel fought, as well as principals.</li> + +<li><a name="Assig_2-3" id="Assig_2-3"></a>The second Dutch war, then raging.</li> + +<li><a name="Assig_2-4" id="Assig_2-4"></a>To whom the tragedy of "Amboyna" is dedicated.</li> + +<li><a name="Assig_2-5" id="Assig_2-5"></a>It is impossible to avoid contrasting this beautiful account of +elegant dissipation with the noted freak of Sir Charles Sedley, to +whom it is addressed. In June 1663, being in company with Lord +Buckhurst and Sir Thomas Ogle, in a tavern in Bowstreet, and +having become furious with intoxication, they not only exposed +themselves, by committing the grossest indecencies in the balcony, +in the sight of the passengers; but, a mob being thus collected, +Sedley stripped himself naked, and proceeded to harangue them in +the grossest and most impious language. The indignation of the +populace being excited, they attempted to burst into the house, +and a desperate riot ensued, in which the orator and his companions +had nearly paid for their frolic with their lives. For this +riot they were indicted in the Court of Common Pleas, and heavily +fined; Sedley in the sum of L. 500. When the Lord Chief Justice, +Sir Robert Hyde, to repress his insolence, asked him if he had ever +read the "Complete Gentleman?" Sedley answered, that he had +read more books than his lordship; a repartee which exhibits more +effrontery than wit. The culprits employed Killigrew and another +courtier to solicit a mitigation of the fine; but, in the true spirit +of court friendship, they begged it for themselves, and extorted +every farthing.</li> + +<li><a name="Assig_2-6" id="Assig_2-6"></a>Our author here shortly repeats what he has said at more +length in his Defence of the Epilogue to the second part of the +Conquest of Granada.</li> + +<li><a name="Assig_2-7" id="Assig_2-7"></a>The pedant Mr Malone conjectures to be Matthew Clifford, +Master of the Charter-house, one of the Duke of Buckingham's +colleagues in writing "The Rehearsal." But the <i>pedant</i> is obviously +the same with the Fastidious Brisk <i>of Oxford</i>, mentioned in the +following sentence, which can hardly apply to Clifford, who was +educated at Cambridge. One Leigh is said by Wood to have +written the Censure of the Rota; and as he was educated at Oxford +and the book printed there, he may be "the contemptible +pedant," though his profession was that of a player in the duke's +company.</li> + +<li><a name="Assig_2-8" id="Assig_2-8"></a>Fungoso and Sir Fastidious Brisk are two characters in "Every +Man Out of his Humour;" the former of whom is represented as +copying the dress and manners of the latter. Dryden seems only +to mean, that one of those pamphleteers was the servile imitator of +the other.</li> +</ol></div> + +<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_356" id="page_356"></a></div> + + +<h3 class="chap">PROLOGUE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Prologues, like bells to churches, toll you in</p> +<p>With chiming verse, till the dull plays begin;</p> +<p>With this sad difference though, of pit and pew,</p> +<p>You damn the poet, but the priest damns you:</p> +<p>But priests can treat you at your own expence,</p> +<p>And gravely call you fools without offence.</p> +<p>Poets, poor devils, have ne'er your folly shown,</p> +<p>But, to their cost, you proved it was their own:</p> +<p>For, when a fop's presented on the stage,</p> +<p>Straight all the coxcombs in the town engage;</p> +<p>For his deliverance and revenge they join,</p> +<p>And grunt, like hogs, about their captive swine.</p> +<p>Your poets daily split upon this shelf,—</p> +<p>You must have fools, yet none will have himself.</p> +<p>Or if, in kindness, you that leave would give,</p> +<p>No man could write you at that rate you live:</p> +<p>For some of you grow fops with so much haste,</p> +<p>Riot in nonsense, and commit such waste,</p> +<p>'Twould ruin poets should they spend so fast.</p> +<p>He, who made this, observed what farces hit,</p> +<p>And durst not disoblige you now with wit.</p> +<p>But, gentlemen, you over-do the mode;</p> +<p>You must have fools out of the common road.</p> +<p>Th' unnatural strained buffoon is only taking;</p> +<p>No fop can please you now of God's own making.</p> +<p>Pardon our poet, if he speaks his mind;</p> +<p>You come to plays with your own follies lined:</p> +<p>Small fools fall on you, like small showers, in vain;</p> +<p>Your own oiled coats keep out all common rain.</p> +<p>You must have Mamamouchi<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_3-1">[1]</a>, such a fop</p> +<p>As would appear a monster in a shop;</p> +<p>He'll fill your pit and boxes to the brim,</p> +<p>Where, rain'd in crowds, you see yourselves in him.</p> +<p><span class="pgnm" id="page_357"></span> +Sure there's some spell, our poet never knew,</p> +<p>In <i>Hullibabilah de</i>, and <i>Chu, chu, chu</i>;</p> +<p>But <i>Marababah sahem</i><a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_3-2">[2]</a> most did touch you;</p> +<p>That is, Oh how we love the Mamamouchi!</p> +<p>Grimace and habit sent you pleased away:</p> +<p>You damned the poet, and cried up the play.</p> +<p class="i1">This thought had made our author more uneasy,</p> +<p>But that he hopes I'm fool enough to please ye.</p> +<p>But here's my grief,—though nature, joined with art,</p> +<p>Have cut me out to act a fooling part,</p> +<p>Yet, to your praise, the few wits here will say,</p> +<p>'Twas imitating you taught Haynes to play.</p> +</div> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnotes:</p> +<ol> +<li><a name="Assig_3-1" id="Assig_3-1"></a>See the introductory remarks on the "Citizen turned Gentleman," of +Ravenscroft, where the jest turns on Jorden's being created a <i>Mamamouchi</i>, +or Turkish paladin, as it is interpreted.</li> + +<li><a name="Assig_3-2" id="Assig_3-2"></a> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trickman.</span> I told him she was woundrous beautiful. Then said he, <i>Marababa +sahem</i>, Ah how much in love am I!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jorden.</span> Marababa sahem, means, how much in love am I?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Yes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jorden.</span> I am beholden to you for telling me, for I ne'er could have thought +that Marababa sahem, should signify, Ah how much in love am I. Ah this +Turkish is an admirable language!</p> + +<p class="citation"><i>Citizen turned Gentleman</i>, Act. IV.</p> + +<p>In the same piece, we are presented with a grand chorus of Turks and +Dervises, who sing, "<i>Hu la baba la chou ba la baba la da.</i>"</p></li> +</ol></div> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_358"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><i>Duke of Mantua.</i><br /> +<i>Prince</i> <span class="smcap">Frederick,</span> <i>his son.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Aurelian,</span> <i>a Roman Gentleman.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Camillo,</span> <i>his friend.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Mario,</span> <i>Governor of Rome.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Ascanio,</span> <i>page of honour to the Prince.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Benito,</span> <i>Servant to</i> <span class="smcap">Aurelian.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Valerio,</span> <i>confidant to the Duke.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Fabio,</span> <i>Servant to</i> <span class="smcap">Mario.</span></p> + +<p class="noind" style="margin-bottom: 0;"><span class="smcap">Sophronia,</span> <i>Abbess of the Torr' di Specchì.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lucretia,</span> <i>a Lady designed to be a Nun.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Hippolita,</span> <i>a Nun.</i></p> +<table style="margin: 0 0 0 0; border-collapse: collapse;" summary="Laura & Violetta"> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Laura,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Violetta</span></td> +<td>}<br />}</td> +<td><i>Sisters, nieces to</i> <span class="smcap">Mario.</span></td></tr> +</table> +<p class="noind" style="margin-top: 0;"><span class="smcap">Frontona,</span> <i>lets Lodgings.</i></p> + +<p><i>SCENE—Rome.</i></p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_359"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">THE ASSIGNATION;</h3> +<p class="ctr">OR,</p> +<h3 class="nomarg">LOVE IN A NUNNERY.</h3> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT I.<br /> +SCENE I.—<i>A Room, a great glass placed.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Benito,</span> with a guitar in his hand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> [<span class="sdm">Bowing to the glass.</span>] Save you, sweet signior +Benito; by my faith I am glad to see you look +so bonnily to-day. Gad, sir, every thing becomes +you to a miracle: your peruke, your clothes, your +hat, your shoe-ties; and, gad, sir, let me tell you, +you become every thing; you walk with such a +grace, and you bow so pliantly!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aurelian.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] Benito, where are you, sirrah?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Sirrah! That my damned master should +call a man of my extraordinary endowments, sirrah! +A man of my endowments? Gad, I ask my +own pardon, I mean a person of my endowments; +for a man of my parts and talents, though he be but +a <i>valet de chambre</i>, is a person; and let me tell my +master—Gad, I frown too, as like a person as any +jack-gentleman of them all; but, gad, when I do +<span class="pgnm" id="page_360"></span> +not frown, I am an absolute beauty, whatever this +glass says to the contrary; and, if this glass deny +it, 'tis a base lying glass; so I'll tell it to its face, +and kick it down into the bargain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] Why, Benito, how long shall we +stay for you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I come, sir.—What the devil would he +have? But, by his favour, I'll first survey my dancing +and my singing. [<span class="sdm">He plays on his guitar, +and dances and sings to the glass.</span>] I think that +was not amiss: I think so. Gad, I can dance +[<span class="sdm">Lays down the guitar.</span>] and play no longer, I am in +such a rapture with myself. What a villanous fate +have I! With all these excellencies, and a profound +wit, and yet to be a serving-man!</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> and <span class="cnm">Camillo.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Why, you slave, you dog, you son of twenty +fathers, am I to be served at this rate eternally? +A pox of your conceited coxcomb!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Nay, pr'ythee, Aurelian, be not angry.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> You do not know this rogue, as I do, Camillo. +Now, by this guitar, and that great looking-glass, +I am certain how he has spent his time. He +courts himself every morning in that glass at least +an hour; there admires his own person, and his parts, +and studies postures and grimaces, to make himself +yet more ridiculous than he was born to be.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> You wrong him, sure.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I do; for he is yet more fool than I can +speak him. I never sent him on a message, but he +runs first to that glass, to practise how he may become +his errand. Speak, is this a lie, sirrah?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I confess, I have some kindness for the +mirror.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> The mirror! there's a touch of his poetry +too; he could not call it a glass. Then the rogue +<span class="pgnm" id="page_361"></span> +has the impudence to make sonnets, as he calls +them; and, which is greater impudence, he sings +them too; there's not a street in all Rome which +he does not nightly disquiet with his villanous serenade: +with that guitar there, the younger brother +of a cittern, he frights away the watch; and for his +violin, it squeaks so lewdly, that Sir Tibert<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_4-1">[1]</a> in the +gutter mistakes him for his mistress. 'Tis a mere +cat-call.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Is this true, Benito?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> to <i>Cam.</i> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] My master, sir, may say +his pleasure; I divert myself sometimes with hearing +him. Alas, good gentleman, 'tis not given to all +persons to penetrate into men's parts and qualities; +but I look on you, sir, as a man of judgment, and +therefore you shall hear me play and sing.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[He takes up the guitar, and begins.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Why, you invincible sot you, will nothing +mend you? Lay it down, or—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> to <i>Cam.</i> Do ye see, sir, this enemy to the +muses? he will not let me hold forth to you. [<span class="sdm">Lays +down the guitar.</span>] O envy and ignorance, whither +will you!—But, gad, before I'll suffer my parts to +be kept in obscurity—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur</span>, What will you do, rascal?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I'll take up the guitar, and suffer heroically. +<span class="sdr">[He plays, <span class="cnm">Aur.</span> kicks.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> What? do you mutiny?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Ay, do, kick till your toes ache; I'll be baffled +in my music by ne'er a foot in Christendom.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I'll put you out of your tune, with a vengeance to you.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_362"></span> +<span class="sdr">[As <span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> kicks harder, <span class="cnm">Benito</span> sings faster, +and sometimes cries out.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> holding <i>Aur.</i> Nay, then, 'tis time to stickle<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_4-2">[2]</a>. +Hold, Aurelian, pr'ythee spare Benito, you know we +have occasion for him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I think that was well kicked.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> And I think that was well sung too.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Enough, Aurelian.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> No, sir; let him proceed to discourage virtue +and see what will come on it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Now to our business. But we must first +instruct Benito.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Be ruled by me, and do not trust him. I +prophesy he'll spoil the whole affair; he has a worm +in his head as long as a conger, a brain so barren of +all sense, and yet so fruitful of foolish plots, that if +he does not all things his own way, yet at least +he'll ever be mingling his designs with yours, and +go halves with you; so that, what with his ignorance, +what with his plotting, he'll be sure to ruin +you with an intention to serve you. For my part, +I had turned him off long since, but that my wise +father commanded the contrary.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Still you speak, as if what we did were +choice, and not necessity. You know their uncle +is suspicious of me, and consequently jealous of all +my servants; but if we employ yours, who is not +suspected, because you are a stranger, I doubt not +to get an assignation with the younger sister.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Well, use your own way, Camillo: but if it +ever succeed with his management—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> You must understand then, Benito, that +this old Signior Mario has two nieces, with one of +which I am desperately in love, and—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside to him.</span>] I understand you already, sir, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_363"></span> +and you desire love reciprocal. Leave your business +in my hands; and, if it succeed not, think me no +wiser than my master.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Pray take me with you. These sisters are +great beauties, and vast fortunes; but, by a clause +in their father's will, if they marry without their +uncle's consent, are to forfeit all. Their uncle, who +is covetous and base to the last degree, takes advantage +of this clause; and, under pretence of not +finding fit matches for them, denies his consent to +all who love them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Denies them marriage! Very good, sir.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> More than this, he refuses access to any +suitor, and immures them in a mean apartment on +the garden side, where he barbarously debars them +from all human society.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Uses them most barbarously! Still better +and better.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> The younger of these sisters, Violetta, I +have seen often in the garden, from the balcony in +this chamber, which looks into it; have divers times +shot tickets on the point of an arrow, which she +has taken; and, by the signs she made me, I find +they were not ill received.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I'll tell you now, just such an amour as this +had I once with a young lady, that—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Quote yourself again, you rogue, and my +feet shall renew their acquaintance with your +buttocks.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Dear Benito, take care to convey this ticket +to Violetta; I saw her just now go by to the next +chapel: be sure to stand ready to give her holy +water, and slip the ticket into the hand of her woman +Beatrix; and take care the elder sister, Laura, +sees you not, for she knows nothing of our amour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> A word to the wise. Have you no service +to Laura? <span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Aur.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_364"></span> +<span class="cnm">Aur.</span> None that I shall trouble you withal; I'll +see first what returns you make from this voyage, +before I put in my venture with you. Away; begone, +Mr Mercury.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I fly, Mr Jupiter. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> This lady, Laura, I have seen from your +balcony, and was seen by her. Methought, too, +she looked with a languishing eye upon me, as who +should say, Are you a man, and have no pity for a +poor distressed virgin? For my part, I never found +so much disposition in myself to love any woman +at first sight. Handsome she is; of that I am certain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> And has wit, I dare assure you; but I have +not heard she has admitted of any gallantry.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Her hour is not come yet; she has not met +with a man to love; when that happens, (as I am +resolved to push my fortune) you shall see that, as +her love warms, her virtue will melt down, and dissolve +in it; for there's no such bawd to a woman, +as her own wit is.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> I look upon the assignation as certain; +will you promise me to go? You and Benito shall +walk in the garden, while I search the nymph +within the shade. One thing I had forgot to tell +you, that our general of the church, the Duke of +Mantua, and the prince his son, are just approaching +the gates of Rome. Will you go see the ceremony +of their entrance?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> With all my heart. They say he has behaved +himself gallantly against the French, at their +return from Naples. Besides, I have a particular +knowledge of young prince Frederick, ever since +he was last at our Venetian carnivals.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Away, then, quickly; lest we miss the +solemnity. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_365"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Laura</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta,</span> striving about a +letter, which <span class="cnm">Laura</span> holds.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Let it go, I say.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I say, let you go.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Nay, sweet sister Laura.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Nay, dear Violetta, it is in vain to contend; +I am resolved I'll see it.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Plucks the paper from <span class="cnm">Violetta.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> But I am resolved you shall not read it. I +know not what authority this is which you assume, +or what privilege a year or two can give you, to +use this sovereignty over me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Do you rebel, young gentlewoman? I'll +make you know I have a double right over you. +One, as I have more years, and the other, as I have +more wit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Though I am not all air and fire, as you are, +yet that little wit I have will serve to conduct my +affairs without a governess.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> No, gentlewoman, but it shall not. Are +you fit, at fifteen, to be trusted with a maidenhead? +It is as much as your betters can manage at full +twenty.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>For 'tis of a nature so subtile,</p> +<p class="i1">That, if it's not luted with care,</p> +<p>The spirit will work through the bottle,</p> +<p class="i1">And vanish away into air.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>To keep it, there nothing so hard is,</p> +<p class="i1">'Twill go betwixt waking and sleeping;</p> +<p>The simple too weak for a guard is,</p> +<p class="i1">And no wit would be plagued with the keeping.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> For aught I see, you are as little to be trusted +<span class="pgnm" id="page_366"></span> +with your madness, as I with my simplicity; and, +therefore, pray restore my letter.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> [<span class="sdm">Reading it.</span>] What's here? An humble petition +for a private meeting? Are you twittering at +that sport already, mistress novice?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> How! I a novice at ripe fifteen? I would +have you to know, that I have killed my man before +I was fourteen, and now am ready for another execution.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> A very forward rose-bud: You open apace, +gentlewoman. I find indeed your desires are quick +enough; but where will you have cunning to carry +on your business with decency and secrecy? Secrecy, +I say, which is a main part of chastity in our sex. +Where wit, to be sensible of the delicacies of love? +the tenderness of a farewell-sigh for an absence? the +joy of a return? the zeal of a pressing hand? the +sweetness of little quarrels, caused and cured by the +excess of love? and, in short, the pleasing disquiets +of the soul, always restless, and wandering up and +down in a paradise of thought, of its own making?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> If I understood not thus much before, I find +you are an excellent instructor; and that argues you +have had a feeling of the cause in your time too, +sister.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> What have I confessed before I was aware! +She'll find out my inclination to that stranger, whom +I have only seen, and to whom I have never spoken—[<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] +No, good Violetta, I never was in love; all +my experience is from plays and romances. But, +who is this man, to whom you have promised an assignation?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> You'll tell my uncle.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I hate my uncle more than you do.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> You know the man, 'tis signior Camillo: His +birth and fortunes are equal to what I can expect; +and he tells me his intentions are honourable.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_367"></span> +<span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Have I not seen him lately in his balcony, +which looks into our garden, with another handsome +gentleman in his company, who seems a stranger?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> They are the same. Do you think it a reasonable +thing, dear Laura, that my uncle should +keep us so strictly, that we must be beholden to +hearsay, to know a young gallant is in the next +house to us?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> 'Tis hard, indeed, to be mewed like hawks, +and never manned: To be locked in like nuns here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> They, that look for nun's flesh in me, shall +be mistaken.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Well, what answer have you returned to this +letter?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> That I would meet him at eight this evening, +in the close walk in the garden, attended only by +Beatrix, my woman.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Who comes with him?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Only his friend's man, Benito; the same who +brought me the letter which you took from me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Stay, let me think a little. Does Camillo, +or this Benito, know your maid Beatrix?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> They have never talked with her; but only +seen her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> 'Tis concluded then. You shall meet your +servant, but I'll be your Beatrix: I'll go instead of +her, and counterfeit your waiting-woman; in the +dark I may easily pass for her. By this means I +shall be present to instruct you, for you are yet a callow +maid: I must teach you to peck a little; you +may come to prey for yourself in time.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> A little teaching will serve my turn: If the +old one left me to myself, I could go near to get my +living.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I find you are eager, and baiting to be gone +already, and I'll not hinder you when your hour approaches. +In the mean time, go in, and sigh, and +<span class="pgnm" id="page_368"></span> +think fondly and ignorantly of your approaching +pleasures:<br /> +Love, in young hearts, is like the must of wine;<br /> +'Tis sweetest then; but elder 'tis more fine. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT II.<br /> + +SCENE I.—<i>The front of a Nunnery.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Prince <span class="cnm">Frederick, Aurelian, Camillo,</span> and <span class="cnm">Ascanio,</span> +the Prince's Page.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> My father's ancient, and may repose himself, +if he pleases, after the ceremony of his entrance; +but we, who are younger, should think it a sin to +spend any part of day-light in a chamber. What are +your ways of living here?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Why, sir, we pass our time, either in conversation +alone, or in love alone, or in love and conversation +together.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Come, explain, explain, my counsel learned +in the laws of living.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> For conversation alone; that's either in +going to court, with a face of business, and there +discoursing of the affairs of Europe, of which Rome, +you know, is the public mart; or, at best, meeting +the virtuosi, and there wearying one another with +rehearsing our own works in prose and poetry.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Away with that dry method, I will have +none on't. To the next.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Love alone, is either plain wenching, where +every courtezan is your mistress, and every man your +rival; or else, what's worse, plain whining after one +woman: that is, walking before her door by day, +and haunting her street by night, with guitars, +dark-lanthorns, and rondaches<a class="ftnt" href="#Assig_4-3">[3]</a>.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_369"></span> +<span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Which, I take it, is, or will he our case, Camillo.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Neither of these will fit my humour: If your +third prove not more pleasant, I shall stick to the old +Almain recreation; the divine bottle, and the bounteous +glass, that tuned up old Horace to his odes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> You shall need to have no recourse to that; +for love and conversation will do your business: +that is, sir, a most delicious courtezan,—I do not +mean down-right punk,—but punk of more than ordinary +sense in conversation; punk in ragou, punk, +who plays on the lute, and sings; and, to sum up all, +punk, who cooks and dresses up herself, with poignant +sauce, to become a new dish every time she is served +up to you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> This I believe, Aurelian, is your method of +living, you talk of it so savourily.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> There is yet another more insipid sort of love +and conversation: As, for example, look you there, +sir; the courtship of our nuns. [<span class="sdm">Pointing to the Nunnery.</span>] +They talk prettily; but, a pox on them, they +raise our appetites, and then starve us. They are +as dangerous as cold fruits without wine, and are +never to be used but where there are abundance of +wenches in readiness, to qualify them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> But yet they are ever at hand, and easy to +come by; and if you'll believe an experienced sinner, +easiness in love is more than half the pleasure +of it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> This way of chatting pleases me; for debauchery, +I hate it; and to love is not in my nature, +except it be my friends. Pray, what do you +call that nunnery?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> 'Tis a house of Benedictines, called the <i>Torre +di Specchi</i>, where only ladies of the best quality +are professed.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Lucretia</span> and <span class="cnm">Hippolita</span> appear at the grate.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_370"></span> +<span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Look you yonder, sir, are two of the pretty +magpies in white and black. If you will lull yourself +into a Platonic dream, you may; but consider +your sport will be dull when you play without stakes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> No matter, I'll fool away an hour of courtship; +for I never was engaged in a serious love, nor +I believe can be. Farewell, gentlemen; at this time +I shall dispense with your attendance;—nay, without +ceremony, because I would be incognito.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Come then, Aurelian, to our own affairs. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> and <span class="cnm">Camillo.</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn">The Prince and <span class="cnm">Ascanio</span> approach.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Lucretia.</span></span>] For what crime, fair creature, +were you condemned to this perpetual prison?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> For chastity and devotion, and two or three +such melancholy virtues: They first brought me +hither, and must now keep me company.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> I should rather have guessed it had been +murder, and that you are veiled for fear of doing +more mischief with those eyes; for, indeed, they +are too sharp to be trusted out of the scabbard.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Cease, I beseech you, to accuse my eyes, +till they have done some execution on your heart.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> But I am out of reach, perhaps.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Trust not to that; they may shoot at a distance, +though they cannot strike you near at hand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> But if they should kill, you are ne'er the +better: There's a grate betwixt us, and you cannot +fetch in the dead quarry.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Provided we destroy the enemy, we do not +value their dead bodies: But you, perhaps, are in +your first error, and think we are rather captives +than warriors; that we come like prisoners to the +grate, to beg the charity of passengers for their love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Ascanio.</span></span>] Enquire, as dextrously as you +<span class="pgnm" id="page_371"></span> +can, what is the name and quality of this charming +creature.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Hippolita.</span></span>] Be sure, if the page approaches +you, to get out of him his master's name.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[The Prince and <span class="cnm">Lucretia</span> seem to talk.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Ascanio.</span></span>] By that short whisper, which +I observed you took with your master, I imagine, +Mr Page, you come to ask a certain question of me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> By this thy question, and by that whisper +with thy lady, (O thou nymph of devotion!) I find +I am to impart a secret, and not to ask one: Therefore, +either confess thou art yet a mere woman under +that veil, and, by consequence, most horribly +inquisitive, or thou shalt lose thy longing, and know +nothing of my master.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> By my virginity, you shall tell first.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> You'll break your oath, on purpose to make +the forfeit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Your master is called—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Your lady is ycleped—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> For decency, in all matters of love, the man +should offer first, you know.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> That needs not, when the damsel is so willing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> But I have sworn not to discover first, that +her name is madam Lucretia; fair, as you see, to a +miracle, and of a most charming conversation; of +royal blood, and niece to his holiness; and, if she +were not espoused to heaven, a mistress for a sovereign +prince.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> After these encomiums, 'twere vain for me +to praise my master: He is only poor prince Frederick, +otherwise called the prince of Mantua; liberal, +and valiant, discreet and handsome, and, in my simple +judgment, a fitter servant for your lady, than his old +father, who is a sovereign.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_372"></span> +<span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Dare you make all this good, you have said +of your master?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Yes, and as much more of myself to you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> I defy you upon't, as my lady's second.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> As my master's, I accept it. The time?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Six this evening.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> The place?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> At this grate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> The weapons?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Hands, and it may be lips.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> 'Tis enough: Expect to hear from me. +<span class="sdr">[They withdraw, and whisper to their Principals. +After the whisper.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Lucretia.</span></span>] Madam, I am glad I know +my enemy; for since it is impossible to see, and not +admire you, the name of Lucretia is the best excuse +for my defeat.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Persons, like prince Frederick, ought not to +assault religious houses, or to pursue chastity and +virtue to their last retreat.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> A monastery is no retreat for chastity; 'tis +only a hiding place for bad faces, where they are +thrust in crowds together, like heaps of rubbish out +of the way, that the world may not be peopled +with deformed persons: And that such, who are out +of play themselves, may pray for a blessing on their +endeavours, who are getting handsome children, and +carrying on the work for public benefit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Then you would put off heaven with your +leavings, and use it like them, who play at cards +alone; take the courts for yourselves, and give the +refuse to the gentlemen.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> You mistake me, madam; I would so contrive +it, that heaven and we might be served at +once. We have occasion for wit and beauty; now +piety and ugliness will do as well for heaven: that +plays at one game, and we at another; and therefore +<span class="pgnm" id="page_373"></span> +heaven may make its hand with the same cards +that we put out.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I could easily convince you, if the argument +concerned me; hut I am one of those, whom, +for want of wit and beauty, you have condemned +to religion; and therefore am your humble servant, +to pray for your handsome wife and children.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Heaven forbid, madam, that I should condemn +you, or indeed any handsome woman, to be +religious! No, madam; the occasions of the world +are great and urgent for such as you; and, for my +part, I am of opinion, that it is as great a sin for a +beauty to enter into a nunnery, as for an ugly woman +to stay out of it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> The cares of the world are not yet upon +you; but as soon as ever you come to be afflicted +with sickness, or visited with a wife, you'll be content +I should pray for you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Any where rather than in a cloyster; for, +truly, I suppose, all your prayers there will be how +to get out of it; and, upon that supposition, madam, +I am come to offer you my service for your +redemption. Come, faith, be persuaded, the church +shall lose nothing by it: I'll take you out, and put +in two or three crooked apostles in your place.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Bell rings within.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Hark, the bell rings; I must leave you: 'tis +a summons to our devotion.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Will you leave me for your prayers, madam? +You may have enough of them at any time, +but remember you cannot have a man so easily.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Well, I'll say my beads for you, and that's +but charity; for I believe I leave you in a most deplorable +condition.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt Women.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Not deplorable neither, but a little altered: +If I could be in love, as I am sure I cannot, it +<span class="pgnm" id="page_374"></span> +should be with her, for I like her conversation +strangely.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Then, as young as I am, sir, I am beforehand +with you; for I am in love already. I would +fain make the first proof of my manhood upon a +nun: I find I have a mighty grudging to holy +flesh.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> I'll ply Lucretia again, as soon as ever her +devotion's over. Methinks these nuns divide their +time most admirably; from love to prayers, from +prayers to love; that is, just so much sin, just so +much godliness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Then I can claim that sister's love by merit. +Half man, half boy; for her half flesh, half spirit.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.—<i>A Street.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> and <span class="cnm">Camillo.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I'll proceed no farther, if Benito goes: I +know his folly will produce some mischief.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> But Violetta desired me, in her note, to +bring him, on purpose to pass the time with her +woman, Beatrix.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> That objection's easily removed: I'll supply +Benito's place; the darkness will prevent discovery; +and, for my discourse, I'll imitate the half +wit and patched breeding of a <i>valet de chambre.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> But how shall we get rid of him?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Let me alone for that.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Benito.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Come, are we ready, gallants? The clock's +upon the stroke of eight.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> But we have altered our resolution; we +go another way to-night.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_375"></span> +<span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I hope you have not broke my assignation?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Why do you hope so?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Because my reputation is engaged in't: I've +stipulated, upon mine honour, that you shall come.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I shall beat you, if you follow me. Go, +sirrah, and adjourn to the great looking-glass, and +let me hear no more from you till to-morrow morning.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Sir, my fidelity, and, if I may be so vain, +my discretion, may stand you in some stead.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Well, come along then; they are brave fellows, +who have challenged us; you shall have fighting +enough, sir.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> How, sir, fighting?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> You may escape with the loss of a leg, or +an arm, or some such transitory limb.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> No, sir; I have that absolute obedience to +your commands, that I will bridle my courage, and +stay at home.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> You took the only way to be rid of him. +There's the wall; behind yon pane of it we'll set +up the ladder.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.—<i>A Night-piece of a Garden.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Laura</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Remember your waiting-woman's part, Laura.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I warrant you, I'll wait on you by night, +as well as I governed you by day.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Hark, I hear footsteps; and now, methinks, +I see something approaching us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> They are certainly the men whom we expect.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_376"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> and <span class="cnm">Camillo.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> I hear womens' voices.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> We are right, I warrant you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Violetta, my love!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> My dear Camillo!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Speak those words again; my own name +never sounded so sweetly to me, as when you spoke +it, and made me happy by adding <i>dear</i> to it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Speak softly then; I have stolen these few +minutes from my watchful uncle and my sister, and +they are as full of danger as they are of love. Something +within me checks me too, and says, I was too +forward in venturing thus to meet you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> You are too fearful rather; and fear's the +greatest enemy to love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> But night will hide my blushes, when I tell +you, I love you much, or I had never trusted my +virtue and my person in your hands.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> The one is sacred, and the other safe; but +this auspicious minute is our first of near converse. +May I not hope that favour, which strangers, in civility, +may claim, even from the most reserved?<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Kisses her hand.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> I fear you'll censure me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Yes, as the blest above tax heaven for making +them so happy. <span class="sdr">[They walk further off.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> [<span class="sdm">Stepping towards <span class="cnm">Laura.</span></span>] Damsel of darkness, +advance, and meet my flames!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> [<span class="sdm">Stepping forward.</span>] Right trusty valet, heard, +but yet unseen, I have advanced one step on reputation.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Now, by laudable custom, I am to love thee +vehemently.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> We should do well to see each other first: +You know 'tis ill taking money without light.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> O, but the coin of love is known by the +<span class="pgnm" id="page_377"></span> +weight only, and you may feel it in the dark: Besides, +you know 'tis prince-like to love without seeing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> But then you may be served as princes are +sometimes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Let us make haste, however, and despatch +a little love out of the way: We may do it now with +ease, and save ourselves a great deal of trouble, if +we take it in time, before it grows too fast upon +our hands.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Fye, no; let us love discreetly: we must +manage our passion, and not love all our love out +at one meeting, but leave some for another time.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I am for applying the plaster while the +wound is green; 'twill heal the better.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Takes her by the hand.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Let go my hand! What crime has the poor +wretch committed, that you press it thus? I remember +no mischief it has done you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> O, 'tis a heinous malefactor, and is pressed +by law, because it will confess nothing. Come, +withdraw a little farther, we have urgent business +with one another.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> 'Twere a shame to quit my ground upon +the first charge; yet if you please to take a truce a +little, I will consent to go behind the lovers, and +listen with you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I wonder you deferred the proposition so +long. I were neither true valet, nor you true woman, +if we could not eves-drop.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[They retire behind the other two, who come forward +upon the Stage.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> [<span class="sdm">Kissing <span class="cnm">Violetta's</span> hand.</span>] Give me another yet, +and then—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> And then will you be satisfied?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> And then I'll ask a thousand more, and +<span class="pgnm" id="page_378"></span> +ne'er be satisfied. Kisses are but thin nourishment; +they are too soon digested, and hungry love craves +more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> You feed a wolf within you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Then feast my love with a more solid diet. +He makes us now a miser's feast, and we forbear to +take our fill. The silent night, and all these downy +hours, were made for lovers: Gently they tread, +and softly measure time, that no rude noise may +fright the tender maid, from giving all her soul to +melting joys.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> You do not love me; if you did, you would not<br /> +Thus urge your satisfaction in my shame;<br /> +At best, I see you would not love me long,<br /> +For they, who plunder, do not mean to stay.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> I haste to take possession of my own.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Ere heaven and holy vows have made it so?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Then witness, heaven, and all these twinkling stars—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Hold, hold, you are distempered with your love;<br /> +Time, place, and strong desires, now swear, not you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Is not love love, without a priest and altars?<br /> +The temples are inanimate, and know not<br /> +What vows are made in them; the priest stands ready<br /> +For his hire, and cares not what hearts he couples;<br /> +Love alone is marriage.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> I never will receive these midnight vows:<br /> +But when I come hereafter to your arms,<br /> +I'll bring you a sincere, full, perfect bliss;<br /> +Then you will thank me that I kept it so,<br /> +And trust my faith hereafter.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> There is your destiny, lover mine: I am to +be honest by infection; my lady will none, you +see.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_379"></span> +<span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Truth is, they are a lost couple, unless they +learn grace by our example. Come, shall we begin +first, and shame them both?<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Takes her by the hand again.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> You will never be warned of this hand, +Benito.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Oh, it is so soft, as it were made on purpose +to take hearts, and handle them without hurting! +These taper fingers too, and even joints so +supple, that methinks I mould them as they pass +through mine: nay, in my conscience, though it +be nonsense to say it, your hand feels white too.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Methinks yours is not very hard, for a serving-man's. +But where, in the name of wonder, +have you learned to talk so courtly? You are a +strange <i>valet de chambre</i>.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> And you are as strange a waiting-woman: +You have so stabbed me with your repartees to-night, +that I should be glad to change the weapon, +to be revenged on you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> These, I suppose, are fragments, which you +learned from your wild master, Aurelian: many a +poor woman has passed through his hands with +these very words. You treat me just like a serving-man, +with the cold meat which comes from your +master's table.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> You could never have suspected me for +using my master's wit, if you had not been guilty of +purloining from your lady. I am told, that Laura, +your mistress's sister, has wit enough to confound a +hundred Aurelians.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I shall do your commendations to Laura for +your compliment.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> And I shall not fair to revenge myself, by +informing Aurelian of yours.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Benito</span> with a Guitar.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> The poor souls shall not lose by the bargain, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_380"></span> +though my foolish gadding masters have disappointed +them. That ladder of ropes was doubtless +left there by the young lady in hope of them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Hark, I hear a noise in the garden.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I fear we are betrayed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Fear nothing, madam, but stand close.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Now, Benito, is the time to hold forth thy +talent, and to set up for thyself. Yes, ladies, you +shall be serenaded, and when I have displayed my +gifts, I'll retire in triumph over the wall, and hug +myself for the adventure.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[He fums on the Guitar.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Let us make haste, sister, and get into covert; +this music will raise the house upon us immediately.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Alas, we cannot; the damn'd musician +stands just in the door where we should pass.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> singing.<br /> +<i><span class="i1">Eveillez vous, belles endormies;</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Eveillez vous: car il est jour:</span><br /> +Mettez la tête a la fenestre,<br /> +Vous entendrez parler d'amour.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> [<span class="sdm">aside to <span class="cnm">Cam.</span></span>] Camillo, this is my incorrigible +rogue; and I dare not call him, Benito, for +fear of discovering myself not to be Benito.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> The alarm is already given through the +house. Ladies, you must be quick: Secure yourselves +and leave us to shift.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt Women.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Within.</span> This way, this way.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I hear them coming; and, as ill luck will +have it, just by that quarter where our ladder is +placed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Let us hide in the dark walk till they are +past.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> But then Benito will be caught, and, being +known to be my man, will betray us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I hear some in the garden: Sure they are the +<span class="pgnm" id="page_381"></span> +ladies, that are taken with my melody. To it again, +Benito; this time I will absolutely enchant them.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Fums again.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur</span>: He is at it again. Why, Benito, are you +mad?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Ah, madam! are you there? This is such a +favour to your poor unworthy servant. <span class="sdr">[Sings.</span><br /> +<i>But still between kissing Amyntas did say,<br /> +Fair Phillis, look up, and you'll turn night to day.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Come away, you insufferable rascal; the +house is up, and will be upon us immediately.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> O gemini, is it you, sir?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Within.</span> This way; follow, follow.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Leave your scraping and croaking, and +step with us into this arbour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Scraping and croaking! 'Sfoot, sir, either +grant I sing and play to a miracle, or I'll justify +my music, though I am caught, and hanged for it.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Mario,</span> and Servants.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Where is this serenading rascal? If I find +him, I'll make him an example to all midnight caterwaulers, +of which this fidler is the loudest.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> O that I durst but play my tune out, to convince +him! Soul of harmony! Is this lewd?<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Plays and sings softly.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Peace, dear Benito: We must flatter him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> [<span class="sdm">singing softly.</span>] <i>Mettez le tête:</i> The notes +which follow are so sweet, sir, I must sing them, +though it be my ruin—<i>Parler d'amour.</i><br /> +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Laura</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta</span> in the Balcony.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Yes, we are safe, sister; but they are yet in +danger.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> They are just upon them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_382"></span> +<span class="cnm">Lau.</span> We must do something: Help, help! +thieves, thieves! we shall be murdered.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Where? Where are they?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Here, sir, at our chamber-door, and we are +run into the balcony for shelter: Dear uncle, come +and help us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Back again quickly: I durst have sworn +they had been in the garden. 'Tis an <i>ignis fatuus</i>, +I think, that leads us from one place to another.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Mario,</span> and Servants.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> They are gone. My dear Camillo, make +haste, and preserve yourself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> May our next meeting prove more propitious!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Bentio.</span></span>] Come, sirrah, I shall make +you sing another note when you are at home.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Such another word, and I'll sing again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Set the ladder, and mount first, you rogue.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Mount first yourself, and fear not my delaying.<br /> +If I am caught, they'll spare me for my playing. +<span class="sdr">[Sings as he goes off.</span><br /> +<i>Vouz entendrez parler d'amour.</i> <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT III.<br /> +SCENE I.—<i>The Front of the Nunnery.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Ascanio,</span> and <span class="cnm">Hippolita,</span> at the Grate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> I see you have kept touch, brother.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> As a man of honour ought, sister, when he +is challenged. And now, according to the laws of +duel, the next thing is to strip, and, instead of seconds, +to search one another.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_383"></span> +<span class="cnm">Hip.</span> We will strip our hands, if you please, brother; +for they are the only weapons we must use.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> That were to invite me to my loss, sister; +I could have made a full meal in the world, and you +would have me take up with hungry commons in +the cloyster. Pray mend my fare, or I am gone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> O, brother, a hand in a cloyster is fare like +flesh in Spain; 'tis delicate, because 'tis scarce. You +may be satisfied with a hand, as well as I am pleased +with the courtship of a boy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> You may begin with me, sister, as Milo +did; by carrying a calf first, you may learn to carry +an ox hereafter. In the mean time produce your +hand, I understand nun's flesh better than you imagine: +Give it me, you shall see how I will worry it. +[<span class="sdm">She gives her hand.</span>] Now could not we thrust out +our lips, and contrive a kiss too?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Yes, we may; but I have had the experience +of it: It will be but half flesh, half iron.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Let's try, however.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Hold, Lucretia's here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Nay, If you come with odds upon me, 'tis +time to call seconds. <span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Ascanio</span> hems.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">The Prince and <span class="cnm">Lucretia</span> appear.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Sir, though your song was pleasant, yet +there was one thing amiss in it,—that was, your rallying +of religion.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Do you speak well of my friend Love, and +I'll try to speak well of your friend Devotion.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I can never speak well of love: 'Twas to +avoid it that I entered here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Then, madam, you have met your man; +for, to confess the truth to you, I have but counterfeited +love, to try you; for I never yet could +love any woman: and, since I have seen you, and +do not, I am certain now I shall 'scape for ever.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_384"></span> +<span class="cnm">Luc.</span> You are the best man in the world, if you +continue this resolution. Pray, then, let us vow +solemnly these two things: the first, to esteem each +other better than we do all the world besides; the +next, never to change our amity to love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Agreed, madam. Shall I kiss your hand +on it?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> That is too like a lover; or if it were not, +the narrowness of the grate will excuse the ceremony.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> No, but it will not, to my knowledge: I +have tried every bar many a fair time over; and at +last have found out one, where a hand may get +through, and be gallanted.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> [<span class="sdm">giving her hand.</span>] There, sir, 'tis a true one.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">kissing it.</span>] This, then, is a seal to our perpetual +friendship, and defiance to all love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> That seducer of virtue.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> That disturber of quiet.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> That madness of youth.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> That dotage of old age.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> That enemy to good humour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> And, to conclude all, that reason of all unreasonable +actions.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> This doctrine is abominable; do not believe +it, sister.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> No; if I do, brother, may I never have comfort +from sweet youth at my extremity.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But remember one article of our friendship, +that though we banish love, we do not mirth, nor +gallantly; for I declare, I am for all extravagancies, +but just loving.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Just my own humour; for I hate gravity +and melancholy next to love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Now it comes into my head, the duke of +Mantua makes an entertainment to night in masquerade: +If you love extravagancy so well, madam, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_385"></span> +I'll put you into the head of one; lay by your nunship +for an hour or two, and come amongst us in +disguise.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> My boy is in the right, madam. Will you +venture? I'll furnish you with masking-habits.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> O my dear sister, never refuse it; I keep +the keys, you know: I'll warrant you we will return +before we are missed. I do so long to have +one fling into the sweet world again, before I die. +Hang it, at worst, it is but one sin more, and then +we will repent for all together.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> But if I catch you in the world, sister, I'll +make you have a better opinion of the flesh and +the devil for ever after.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> If it were known, I were lost for ever.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> How should it be known? You have her +on your side, there, that keeps the keys: And, put +the worst, that you are taken in the world, the +world is a good world to stay in; and there are +certain occasions of waking in a morning, that may +be more pleasant to you than your matins.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Fye, friend, these extravagancies are a breach +of articles in our friendship. But well, for once, +I'll venture to go out: Dancing and singing are +but petty transgressions.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> My lord, here is company approaching; +we shall be discovered.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Adieu, then, <i>jusqu' a revoir</i>; Ascanio shall +be with you immediately, to conduct you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> How will you disguise, sister? Will you be +a man or a woman?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> A woman, brother page, for life: I should +have the strangest thoughts if I once wore breeches.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> A woman, say you? Here is my hand, if +I meet you in place convenient, I'll do my best to +make you one.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_386"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> and <span class="cnm">Camillo.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> But why thus melancholy, with hat pulled +down, and the hand on the region of the heart, just +the reverse of my friend Aurelian, of happy memory?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Faith, Camillo, I am ashamed of it, but +cannot help it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> But to be in love with a waiting-woman! +with an eater of fragments, a simperer at lower end +of a table, with mighty golls, rough-grained, and +red with starching, those discouragers and abaters +of elevated love!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I could love deformity itself, with that +good humour. She, who is armed with gaiety and +wit, needs no other weapon to conquer me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> We lovers are the great creators of wit in +our mistresses. For Beatrix, she is a mere utterer +of yes and no, and has no more sense than what +will just dignify her to be an arrant waiting-woman; +that is, to lie for her lady, and take your money.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> It may be, then, I found her in the exaltation +of her wit; for certainly women have their +good and ill days of talking, as they have of looking.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> But, however, she has done you the courtesy +to drive out Laura; and so one poison has expelled +the other.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Troth, not absolutely neither; for I dote +on Laura's beauty, and on Beatrix's wit: I am +wounded with a forked arrow, which will not easily +be got out.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Not to lose time in fruitless complaints, let +us pursue our new contrivance, that you may see +your two mistresses, and I my one.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> That will not now be difficult: This plot's +so laid, that I defy the devil to make it miss. The +<span class="pgnm" id="page_387"></span> +woman of the house, by which they are to pass to +church, is bribed; the ladies are by her acquainted +with the design; and we need only to be there before +them, and expect the prey, which will undoubtedly +fall into the net.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Your man is made safe, I hope, from doing +us any mischief?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> He has disposed of himself, I thank him, +for an hour or two: The fop would make me believe, +that an unknown lady is in love with him, and +has made him an assignation.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> If he should succeed now, I should have +the worse opinion of the sex for his sake.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Never doubt but he will succeed: Your +brisk fool, that can make a leg, is ever a fine gentleman +among the ladies, because he is just of their +talent, and they understand him better than a wit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Peace, the ladies are coming this way to +the chapel, and their jailor with them: Let them +go by without saluting, to avoid suspicion; and let +us go off to prepare our engine.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Mario, Laura,</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I must have a look before we go. Ah, you +little divine rogue! I'll be with you immediately.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> and <span class="cnm">Camillo.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Look you, sister, there are our friends, but +take no notice.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I saw them. Was not that Aurelian with +Camillo?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Yes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I like him strangely. If his person were +joined with Benito's wit, I know not what would +become of my poor heart.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Fabio,</span> and whispers with <span class="cnm">Mario.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Stay, nieces, I'll but speak a word with +Fabio, and go with you immediately.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_388"></span> +<span class="cnm">Vio.</span> I see, sister, you are infinitely taken with +Benito's wit; but I have heard he is a very conceited +coxcomb.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> They, who told you so, were horribly mistaken. +You shall be judge yourself, Violetta; for, +to confess frankly to you, I have made him a kind +of an appointment.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> How! have you made an assignation to Benito? +A serving-man! a trencher-carrying rascal!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Good words, Violetta! I only sent to him +from an unknown lady near this chapel, that I +might view him in passing by, and see if his person +were answerable to his conversation.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> But how will you get rid of my uncle?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> You see my project; his man Fabio is +bribed by me, to hold him in discourse.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Benito,</span> looking about him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> In my conscience this is he. Lord, what a +monster of a man is there! with such a workiday +rough-hewn face too! for, faith, heaven has not bestowed +the finishing upon it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> It is impossible this should be Benito; yet +he stalks this way. From such a piece of animated +timber, sweet heaven deliver me!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] This must of necessity be the lady +who is in love with me. See, how she surveys my +person! certainly one wit knows another by instinct. +By that old gentleman, it should be the +lady Laura too. Hum! Benito, thou art made for +ever.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> He has the most unpromising face, for a +wit, I ever saw; and yet he had need have a very +good one, to make amends for his face. I am half +cured of him already.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> What means all this surveying, madam? +You bristle up to me, and wheel about me, like a +<span class="pgnm" id="page_389"></span> +turkey-cock that is making love: Faith, how do you +like my person, ha?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I dare not praise it, for fear of the old +compliment, that you should tell me, it is at my +service. But, pray, is your name Benito?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Signior Benito, at your service, madam.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> And have you no brother, or any other of +your name; one that is a wit, attending on signior +Aurelian?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> No, I can assure your ladyship; I myself +am the only wit, who does him the honour,—not to +attend him, but—to bear him company.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> But sure it was another you, that waited +on Camillo in the garden, last night?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> It was no other me, but me signior Benito.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> 'Tis impossible.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> 'Tis most certain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Then I would advise you to go thither +again, and look for the wit which you have left +there, for you have brought very little along with +you. Your voice, methinks, too, is much altered.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Only a little overstrained, or so, with singing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> How slept you, after your adventure?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Faith, lady, I could not sleep one wink, for +dreaming of you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Not sleep for dreaming? When the place +falls, you shall be bull-master-general at court.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> <i>Et tu, Brute!</i> Do you mistake me for a +fool too? Then, I find there's one more of that opinion +besides my master.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Sister, look to yourself, my uncle is returning.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I am glad on't: He has done my business: +He has absolutely cured me. Lord, that I could +be so mistaken!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> I told you what he was.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_390"></span> +<span class="cnm">Lau.</span> He was quite another thing last night: +Never was man so altered in four-and-twenty hours. +A pure clown, mere elementary earth, without the +least spark of soul in him!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> But, tell me truly, are not you in love with +me? Confess the truth: I love plain-dealing: You +shall not find me refractory.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Away, thou animal! I have found thee out +for a high and mighty fool, and so I leave thee.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Come, now I am ready for you; as little +devotion, and as much good huswifery as you please. +Take example by me: I assure you, nobody debauches +me to church, except it be in your company.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Manet <span class="cnm">Benito.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I am undone for ever; What shall I do with +myself? I'll run into some desart, and there I'll +hide my opprobrious head. No, hang it, I wont +neither; all wits have their failings sometimes, and +have the fortune to be thought fools once in their +lives. Sure this is but a copy of her countenance; +for my heart is true to me, and whispers to me, she +loves me still. Well, I'll trust in my own merits, +and be confident.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[A noise of throwing down water within.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Mario, Fabio, Laura,</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> [<span class="sdm">Shaking her clothes.</span>] O, sir, I am wet quite +through my clothes, and am not able to endure it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Was there ever such an insolence?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Send in to see who lives there: I'll make +an example of them.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Frontona.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fab.</span> Here is the woman of the house herself, sir.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fron.</span> Sir, I submit, most willingly, to any punishment +<span class="pgnm" id="page_391"></span> +you shall inflict upon me: For, though I +intended nothing of an affront to these sweet ladies, +yet I can never forgive myself the misfortune, of +which I was the innocent occasion.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> O, I am ready to faint away!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fron.</span> Alas, poor sweet lady, she's young and +tender, sir. I beseech you, give me leave to repair +my offence, with offering myself, and poor house, +for her accommodation.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I know that woman: There's some villanous +plot in this, I'll lay my life on't. Now, Benito, +cast about for thy credit, and recover all again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Go into the coach, nieces, and bid the +coachman drive apace. As for you, mistress, your +smooth tongue shall not excuse you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> By your favour, sir, I'll accept of the gentlewoman's +civility; I cannot stir a step farther.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fron.</span> Come in, sweet buds of beauty, you shall +have a fire in an inner chamber; and if you please +to repose yourself a while, sir, in another room, they +shall come out, and wait on you immediately.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Well, it must be so.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fron</span>. [<span class="sdm">Whispering the Ladies.</span>] Your friends are +ready in the garden, and will be with you as soon +as we have shaken off your uncle.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> A cheat, a cheat! a rank one! I smell it, +old sir, I smell it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> What's the matter with the fellow? Is he +distracted?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> No, 'tis you are more likely to be distracted +but that there goes some wit to the being mad; +and you have not the least grain of wit, to be gulled +thus grossly.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fron.</span> What does the fellow mean?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> The fellow means to detect your villany, +and to recover his lost reputation of a wit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_392"></span> +<span class="cnm">Fron.</span> Why, friend, what villany? I hope my +house is a civil house.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Yes, a very civil one; for my master lay in +of his last clap there, and was treated very civilly, +to my knowledge.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> How's this, how's this?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fron.</span> Come, you are a dirty fellow, and I am +known to be a person that—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Yes, you are known to be a person that—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fron.</span> Speak your worst of me; what person am +I known to be?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Why, if you will have it, you are little better +than a procuress: You carry messages betwixt +party and party:—And, in one word, sir, she's as +arrant a fruit-woman as any is about Rome.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Nay, if she be a fruit-woman, my nieces +shall not enter her doors.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> You had best let them enter, you do not +know how they may fructify in her house: For I +heard her, with these ears, whisper to them, that +their friends were within call.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> This is palpable, this is manifest; I shall +remember you, lady fruiterer; I shall have your baskets +searched when you bring oranges again.—Come +away, nieces; and thanks, honest fellow, for +thy discovery.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Mario</span> and Women.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> <i>Hah couragio! Il diavolo e morto:</i> Now, I +think I have tickled it; this discovery has reinstated +me into the empire of my wit again. Now, in the +pomp of this achievement, will I present myself +before madam Laura, with a—Behold, madam, the +happy restoration of Benito!</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aurelian, Camillo,</span> and <span class="cnm">Frontona,</span> over-hearing +him,</p> + +<p class="dlg">Oh, now, that I had the mirror, to behold myself +in the fulness of my glory! and, oh, that the domineering +<span class="pgnm" id="page_393"></span> +fop, my master, were in presence, that I +might triumph over him! that I might even contemn +the wretched wight, the mortal of a grovelling +soul, and of a debased understanding. [<span class="sdm">He +looks about him, and sees his master.</span>] How the devil +came these three together? Nothing vexes me, but +that I must stand bare to him, after such an enterprise +as this is.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Nay, put on, put on again, sweet sir; why +should you be uncovered before the fop your master, +the wretched wight, the mortal of a grovelling +soul?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Ay, sir, you may make bold with yourself +at your own pleasure: But, for all that, a little bidding +would make me take your counsel, and be covered, +as affairs go now.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> If it be lawful for a man of a debased understanding +to confer with such an exalted wit, +pray what was that glorious achievement, which +wrapt you into such an ecstasy?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> 'Tis a sign you know well how matters go, +by your asking me so impertinent a question.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> [<span class="sdm">Putting off his hat to him.</span>] Sir, I beg of +you, as your most humble master, to be satisfied.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Your servant, sir; at present I am not at +leisure for conference. But hark you, sir, by the +way of friendly advice, one word: Henceforward, +tell me no more of the adventure of the garden, nor +of the great looking-glass.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> You mean the mirror.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Yes, the mirror; tell me no more of that, +except you could behold in it a better, a more discreet, +or a more able face for stratagem, than I can, +when I look there.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> But, to the business; What is this famous +enterprise?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Be satisfied, without troubling me farther, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_394"></span> +the business is done, the rogues are defeated, and +your mistress is secured: If you would know more, +demand it of that criminal [<span class="sdm">Pointing to <span class="cnm">Fron.</span></span>], and +ask her, how she dares appear before you, after such +a signal treachery, or before me, after such an overthrow?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fron.</span> I know nothing, but only that, by your +master's order, I was to receive the two ladies into +my house, and you prevented it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> By my master's order? I'll never believe it. +This is your stratagem, to free yourself, and deprive +me of my reward.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> I'll witness what she says is true.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I am deaf to all asseverations, that make +against my honour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I'll swear it then. We two were the two +rogues, and you the discoverer of our villany.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Then, woe, woe, to poor Benito! I find my +abundance of wit has ruined me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> But come a little nearer: I would not receive +a good office from a servant, but I would reward +him for his diligence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Virtue, sir, is its own reward: I expect +none from you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Since it is so, sir, you shall lose no further +time in my service: Henceforward, pray know me +for your humble servant; for your master I am resolved +to be no longer.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Nay, rather than so, sir, I beseech you let +a good, honest, sufficient beating atone the difference.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> 'Tis in vain.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I am loth to leave you without a guide.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> He's at it again! do you hear, Camillo?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Pr'ythee, Aurelian, be mollified, and beat +him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_395"></span> +<span class="cnm">Fron.</span> Pray, sir, hear reason, and lay it on, for my +sake.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I am obdurate.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> But what will your father say, if you part +with him?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I care not.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Well, sir, since you are so peremptory, remember +I have offered you satisfaction, and so long +my conscience is at ease. What a devil, before I'll +offer myself twice to be beaten, by any master in +Christendom, I'll starve, and that is my resolution; +and so your servant that was, sir.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I am glad I am rid of him; he was my evil +genius, and was always appearing to me, to blast +my undertakings: Let me send him never so far off, +the devil would be sure to put him in my way, +when I had any thing to execute. Come, Camillo, +now we have changed the dice, it may be we shall +have better fortune.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter the Duke of Mantua in masquerade, <span class="cnm">Frederick, +Valerio,</span> and others. On the other side, +enter <span class="cnm">Lucretia, Hippolita,</span> and <span class="cnm">Ascanio.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Asca.</span></span>] The prince I know already, by +your description of his masking habit; but, which +is the duke, his father?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> He whom you see talking with the prince, +and looking this way. I believe he has observed +us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> If he has not, I am resolved we'll make ourselves +as remarkable as we can: I'll exercise my +talent of dancing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> And I mine of singing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_396"></span> +<span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Fred.</span></span>] Do you know the company +which came in last?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> I cannot possibly imagine who they are.—At +least I will not tell you. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> There's something very uncommon in the +air of one of them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Please you, sir, I'll discourse with her, and +see if I can satisfy your highness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Stay, there's a dance beginning, and she +seems as if she would make one.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<h4>SONG AND DANCE.</h4> + +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Long betwixt love and fear Phyllis, tormented,</p> +<p>Shunned her own wish, yet at last she consented:</p> +<p>But loth that day should her blushes discover,</p> +<p class="i1">Come, gentle night, she said,</p> +<p class="i1">Come quickly to my aid,</p> +<p class="i1">And a poor shamefaced maid</p> +<p class="i1">Hide from her lover.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>Now cold as ice I am, now hot as fire,</p> +<p>I dare not tell myself my own desire;</p> +<p>But let day fly away, and let night haste her:</p> +<p class="i1">Grant, ye kind powers above,</p> +<p class="i1">Slow hours to parting love;</p> +<p class="i1">But when to bless we move,</p> +<p class="i1">Bid them fly faster.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza" style="font-style: italic"> +<p>How sweet it is to love, when I discover</p> +<p>That fire, which burns my heart, warming my lover!</p> +<p>'Tis pity love so true should be mistaken:</p> +<p class="i1">But if this night he be</p> +<p class="i1">False or unkind to me,</p> +<p class="i1">Let me die, ere I see</p> +<p class="i1">That I'm forsaken.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_397"></span> +<span class="cnm">Duke</span> [<span class="sdm">After the dance.</span>] My curiosity redoubles; +I must needs hail that unknown vessel, and enquire +whither she's bound, and what freight she carries.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> She's not worth your trouble, sir: She'll +either prove some common courtezan in disguise, +or, at best, some homely person of honour, that +only dances well enough to invite a sight of herself, +and would look ill enough to fright you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> That's maliciously said; all I see of her is +charming, and I have reason to think her face is of +the same piece; at least I'll try my fortune.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> What an unlucky accident is this! If my +father should discover her, she's ruined: If he does +not, yet I have lost her conversation to-night.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Duke approaches <span class="cnm">Lucretia.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> 'Tis the duke himself, who comes to court +you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Peace, I'll fit him; for I have been informed, +to the least tittle, of his actions since he came to +town.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Luc.</span></span>] Madam, the duke of Mantua, +whom you must needs imagine to be in this company, +has sent me to you, to know what kind of +face there is belonging to that excellent shape, and +to those charming motions, which he observed so +lately in your dancing.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Tell his highness, if you please, that there +is a face within the mask, so very deformed, that, +if it were discovered, it would prove the worst visor +of the two; and that, of all men, he ought not to +desire it should be exposed, because then something +would be found amiss in an entertainment, which +he has made so splendid and magnificent.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> The duke, I am sure, would be very proud +of your compliment, but it would leave him more +unsatisfied than before; for, he will find in it so +<span class="pgnm" id="page_398"></span> +much of gallantry, as, being added to your other +graces, will move him to a strange temptation of +knowing you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I should still have the same reason to refuse +him; for 'twere a madness, when I had charmed +him by my motion and converse, to hazard the loss +of that conquest by my eyes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I am on fire 'till I discover her. [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]—At +least, madam, tell me of what family you are.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Will you be satisfied, if I tell you I am of +the Colonne? You have seen Julia of that house?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Then you are she.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Have I not her stature most exactly?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> As near as I remember.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But, by your favour, I have nothing of her +shape; for, if I may be so vain to praise myself, +she's a little thicker in the shoulders, and, besides, +she moves ungracefully.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Then you are not she again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> No, not she: But you have forgotten Emilia +of the Ursini, whom the duke saluted yesterday +at her balcony, when he entered. Her air and motion—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Are the very same with yours. Now I am +sure I know you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But there's too little of her to make a beauty: +My stature is more advantageous.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> You have cozened me again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Well, I find at last I must confess myself: +What think you of Eugenia Beata? The duke +seemed to be infinitely pleased last night, when my +brother presented me to him at the Belvidere.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Now I am certain you are she, for you +have both her stature and her motion.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But, if you remember yourself a little better, +there's some small difference in our wit; for +<span class="pgnm" id="page_399"></span> +she has indeed the air and beauty of a Roman lady, +but all the dulness of a Dutch woman.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I see, madam, you are resolved to conceal +yourself, and I am as fully resolved to know you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> See which of our resolutions will take place.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I come from the duke, and can assure you, +he is of an humour to be obeyed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> And I am of an humour not to obey him. +But why should he be so curious?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> If you would have my opinion, I believe +he is in love with you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Without seeing me?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Without seeing all of you: Love is love, +let it wound us from what part it please; and if he +have enough from your shape and conversation, his +business is done, the more compendiously, without +the face.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But the duke cannot be taken with my conversation, +for he never heard me speak.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] 'Slife, I shall discover myself.—Yes +madam, he stood by <i>incognito</i>, and heard me +speak with you: But—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I wish he had trusted to his own courtship, +and spoke himself; for it gives us a bad impression +of a prince's wit, when we see fools in favour about +his person.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Whatever I am, I have it in commission +from him to tell you, he's in love with you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> The good old gentleman may dote, if he so +pleases; but love, and fifty years old, are stark nonsense.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> But some men, you know, are green at +fifty.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Yes, in their understandings.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> You speak with great contempt of a +prince, who has some reputation in the world.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_400"></span> +<span class="cnm">Luc.</span> No; 'tis you that speak with contempt of +him, by saying he is in love at such an age.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Then, madam, 'tis necessary you should +know him better for his reputation; and that shall +be, though he violate the laws of masquerade, and +force you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> I suspected this from his violent temper. +[<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Sir, the emperor's ambassador is here in +masquerade, and I believe this to be his lady: It +were well if you inquired of him, before you forced +her to discover.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Which is the ambassador?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> That farthermost. <span class="sdr">[Duke retires farther.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> to <i>Luc.</i> Take your opportunity to escape, +while his back is turned, or you are ruined. Ascanio, +wait on her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I am so frighted, I cannot stay to thank +you. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Luc. Asca.</span> and <span class="cnm">Hip.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke</span> to <i>Fred.</i> 'Tis a mistake, the ambassador +knows nothing of her: I'm resolved I'll know it of +herself, ere she shall depart.—Ha! Where is she? I +left her here.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Out of your reach, father mine, I +hope.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> She has either shifted places, or else slipped +out of the assembly.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> I have looked round: She must be gone, +sir.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> She must not be gone, sir. Search for her +every where: I will have her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Has she offended your highness?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Peace, with your impertinent questions. +Come hither, Valerio.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> Sir?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> O, Valerio, I am desperately in love: That +lady, with whom you saw me talking, has—But +<span class="pgnm" id="page_401"></span> +I lose time; she's gone; haste after her,—find her,—bring +her back to me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> If it be possible.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> It must be possible; the quiet of my life +depends upon it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> Which way took she?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Go any way,—every way; ask no questions: +I know no more, but that she must,—must +be had.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Valerio.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Sir, the assembly will observe, that—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Damn the assembly; 'tis a dull insignificant +crowd, now she is not here: Break it up, I'll +stay no longer.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I hope she's safe, and then this +fantastic love of my father's will make us sport to-momorrow.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lucretia, Ascanio,</span> and <span class="cnm">Hippolita.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Now that we are safe at the gate of our +convent, methinks the adventure was not unpleasant.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> And now that I am out of danger, brother, +I may tell you what a novice you are in love, to +tempt a young sister into the wide world, and not +to show her the difference betwixt that and her +cloister. I find I may venture safely with you another +time.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> O, sister, you play the brazen-head with +me,—you give me warning when time's past. But +that was no fit opportunity: I hate to snatch a +morsel of love, and so away. I am for a set-meal, +where I may enjoy my full gust; but, when I once +fall on, you shall find me a brave man upon occasion.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_402"></span> +<span class="cnm">Luc.</span> 'Tis time we were in our cells. Quick, Hippolita; +where's the key?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Here, in my pocket—No, 'tis in my other +pocket:—Ha, 'tis not there neither. I am sure I +put it in one of them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> What should we do, if it should be lost +now?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> I have searched myself all over, and cannot +find it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> A woman can never search herself all over; +let me search you, sister.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Is this a time for raillery? Oh, sweet heaven! +speak comfort quickly; have you found it?<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Here <span class="cnm">Ascanio</span> slips away.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Speak you comfort, madam, and tell me you +have it, for I am too sure that I have none on't.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> O, unfortunate that we are! day's breaking; +the handicrafts' shops begin to open.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Clock strikes.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> The clock strikes two: Within this half +hour we shall be called up to our devotions. Now, +good Ascanio—Alas, he's gone too! we are left +miserable and forlorn.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> We have not so much as one place in the +town for a retreat.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> O, for a miracle in our time of need! that +some kind good-natured saint would take us up, +and heave us over the wall into our cells.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Dear sister, pray, for I cannot: I have been +so sinful in leaving my cloister for the world, that +I am ashamed to trouble my friends above to help +me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Alas, sister, with what face can I pray +then! Yours were but little vanities, but I have +sinned swingingly against my vow; yes, indeed, +sister, I have been very wicked,—for I wished the +ball might be kept perpetually in our cloister, and +<span class="pgnm" id="page_403"></span> +that half the handsome nuns in it might be turned +to men, for the sake of the other.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Well, if I were free from this disgrace, I +would never more set foot beyond the cloister, for +the sake of any man.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> And here I vow, if I get safe within my +cell, I will not think of man again these seven +years.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Ascanio.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Hold, Hippolita, and make no more rash +vows: If you do, as I live, you shall not have the +key.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> The key! why, have you it, brother?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> He does but mock us. I know you have +it not, Ascanio.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> <i>Ecce signum;</i> here it is for you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> O, sweet brother, let me kiss you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Hands off, sweet sister, you must not be +forsworn; you vowed you would not think of a +man these seven years.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Aye, brother, but I was not so hasty but I +had wit enough to cozen the saint to whom I vowed; +for you are but a boy, brother, and will not be +a man these seven years.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But where did you find the key, Ascanio?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> To confess the truth, madam, I stole it +out of Hippolita's pocket, to take the print of it in +wax; for I'll suppose you'll give my master leave to +wait on you in the nunnery-garden, after your abbess +has walked the rounds.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Well, well, good-morrow. When you have +slept, come to the grate for a letter to your lord. +Now will I have the headach, or the megrim, or +some excuse; for I'm resolved I'll not rise to prayers.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_404"></span> +<span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Pray, brother, take care of our masking-habits, +that they may be forthcoming another time.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Sleep, sleep, and dream of me, sister: I'll +make it good, if you dream not too unreasonably.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Thus dangers in our love make joys more dear;<br /> +And pleasure's sweetest when 'tis mixed with fear. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT IV.<br /> + +SCENE I.—<i>A Dressing-chamber.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">The Masking-habits of <span class="cnm">Lucretia</span> and <span class="cnm">Hippolita</span> +laid in a Chair.—Enter <span class="cnm">Frederick</span> and <span class="cnm">Ascanio.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> I never thought I should have loved her. +Is't come to this, after all my boastings and declarations +against it? Sure I loved her before, and did +not know it, till I feared to lose her: There's the +reason. I had never desired her, if my father had +not. This is just the longing of a woman: She never +finds the appetite in herself, till she sees the +meat on another's plate. I'm glad, however, you +took the impression of the key; but 'twas not well +to fright them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Sir, I could not help it; but here's the effect +on't: the workman sat up all night to make it.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Gives a key.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> This key will admit me into the seraglio +of the godly. The monastery has begun the war, +in sallying out upon the world; and therefore 'tis +but just that the world should make reprisals on the +monastery.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Alas, sir, you and Lucretia do but skirmish; +'tis I and Hippolita that make the war: 'Tis +<span class="pgnm" id="page_405"></span> +true, opportunity has been wanting for a battle, but +the forces have been stoutly drawn up on both +sides. As for your concernment, I come just now +from the monastery; and have orders from your Platonic +mistress to tell you, she expects you this evening +in the garden of the nunnery; withal, she delivered +me this letter for you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Give it me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> O, sir, the duke your father! +<span class="sdr">[The Prince takes the letter, and, thinking to +put it up hastily, drops it.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter Duke.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Now, Frederick, not abroad yet?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Your last night's entertainment left me so +weary, sir, that I overslept myself this morning.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I rather envy you than blame you: Our +sleep is certainly the most pleasant portion of our +lives. For my own part, I spent the night waking +and restless.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Has any thing of moment happened to discompose +your highness?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I'll confess my follies to you: I am in love +with a lady I saw last night in masquerade.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> 'Tis strange she should conceal herself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> She has, from my best search; yet I took +exact notice of her masking habit, and described it +to those whom I employed to find her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] 'Sdeath, it lies there unremoved, +and, if he turns himself, full in his eye. Now, now, +'twill be discovered.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> For 'twas extremely remarkable. I remember +very well, 'twas a loose long robe, streaked +black and white, girt with a large silver ribband, +and the vizor was a Moor's face.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">Running to the chair where the habits are +sits down.</span>] +<span class="pgnm" id="page_406"></span> +Sir, I beg pardon of your highness for +this rudeness; I am—O, Oh!—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> What's the matter?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> I am taken so extremely ill o' the sudden, +that I am forced to sit before you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Alas, what's your distemper?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> A most violent griping, which pulls me together +on a heap.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Some cold, I fear, you took last night. +[<span class="sdm">Runs to the door.</span>] Who waits there? Call physicians +to the prince.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Ascanio, remove these quickly. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Ascanio</span> takes away the habits, and Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">Returning.</span>] How do you find yourself?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">Arising.</span>] Much better, sir: That which +pained me is removed. As it came unexpectedly, +so it went as suddenly.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Valerio.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> The air, perhaps, will do you good. If +you have health, you may see those troops drawn +out, which I design for Milan.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Shall I wait your highness?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> No, leave me here with Valerio; I have a +little business, which dispatched, I'll follow you +immediately.—Well, what success, Valerio?<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Frederick.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> Our endeavours are in vain, sir; there has +been inquiry made about all the palaces in Rome, +and neither of the masking habits can be discovered.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Yet it must be a woman of quality. What +paper's that at my foot?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> [<span class="sdm">Taking up the letter.</span>] 'Tis sealed, sir, and +directed to the prince.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">Taking the letter.</span>] 'Tis a woman's, hand. +Has he got a mistress in town so soon? I am resolved +<span class="pgnm" id="page_407"></span> +to open it, though I do not approve my own +curiosity.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Opens and reads it.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><i>Now my fear is over, I can laugh at my last night's +adventure. I find that at fifty all men grow incorrigible, +and lovers especially; for, certainly, never any +creature could be worse treated than your father;</i> +[How's this, Valerio? I am amazed.] <i>and yet the +good, old, out-of-fashion gentleman heard himself rallied +and bore it with all the patience of a Christian +prince.</i> [Now, 'tis plain, the lady in masquerade is +a mistress of my son's, and the undutiful wretch +was in the plot to abuse me.] <i>Ascanio will tell you +the latter part of our misfortune, how hardly we got +into the cloister.</i> [A nun, too! Oh, the devil!] +<i>When we meet next, pray provide to laugh heartily; +for there is subject sufficient for a plentiful fit, and +fop enough to spare for another time.</i></p> +<p class="citation smcap">Lucretia.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> Lucretia! now the mystery is unfolded.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Do you know her?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> When I was last at Rome I saw her often; +she is near kinswoman to the present Pope; and, +before he placed her in this nunnery of Benedictines, +was the most celebrated beauty of the town.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I know I ought to hate this woman, because +she has affronted me thus grossly; but yet, I +cannot help it, I must love her.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> But, sir, you come on too much disadvantage +to be your son's rival.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I am deaf to all considerations: Pr'ythee +do not think of giving a madman counsel. Pity +me, and cure me, if thou canst; but remember, there's +but one infallible medicine,—that's enjoyment.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> I had forgot to tell you, sir, that the governor, +Don Mario, is without, to wait on you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_408"></span> +<span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Desire him to come in.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter Don <span class="cnm">Mario.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> I am come, sir, to beg a favour from your +highness; and 'tis on the behalf of my sister Sophronia, +abbess of the Torr' di Specchi.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> Sir, she's abbess of that very monastery +where your mistress is inclosed. <span class="sdr">[Aside to the Duke.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I should be glad to serve any relation of +yours, Don Mario.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Her request is, that you would be pleased +to grace her chapel this afternoon. There will be +music, and some little ceremony, in the reception +of my two nieces, who are to be placed on pension +there.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Your nieces, I hear, are fair, and great +fortunes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Great vexations, I'm sure they are; being +daily haunted by a company of wild fellows, who +buzz about my house like flies.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Your design seems reasonable: women in +hot countries are like oranges in cold; to preserve +them, they must be perpetually housed. I'll bear +you company to the monastery.—Come, Valerio; +this opportunity is happy beyond our expectation.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Camillo</span> and <span class="cnm">Aurelian.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> He has smarted sufficiently for this offence. +Pr'ythee, dear Aurelian, forgive him. He waits +without, and appears penitent; I'll be responsible +for his future carriage.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> For your sake, then, I receive him into +grace.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_409"></span> +<span class="cnm">Cam.</span> [<span class="sdm">At the door.</span>] Benito, you may appear; +your peace is made.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Benito.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> But it must be upon conditions.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Any conditions, that are reasonable; for, as +I am a wit, sir, I have not eaten—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> You are in the path of perdition already; +that's the principal of our conditions, you are to be +a wit no more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Pray, sir, if it be possible, let me be a little +wit still.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> No, sir; you can make a leg, and dance; +those are no talents of a wit: you are cut out for a +brisk fool, and can be no other.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Pray, sir, let me think I am a wit, or my +heart will break.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> That you will naturally do, as you are a +fool.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Then no farther meddling with adventures, +or contrivances of your own; they are all belonging +to the territories of wit, from whence you are +banished.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> But what if my imagination should really +furnish me with some—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Not a plot, I hope?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> No, sir, no plot; but some expedient then, +to mollify the word, when your invention has +failed you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Think it a temptation of the devil, and believe +it not.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Then farewell all the happiness of my life.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> You know your doom, Benito; and now +you may take your choice, whether you will renounce +wit, or eating.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Well, sir, I must continue my body, at what +rate soever; and the rather, because now there's no +<span class="pgnm" id="page_410"></span> +farther need of me in your adventures; for I was +assured by Beatrix, this morning, that her two mistresses +are to be put in pension, in the nunnery of +Benedictines, this afternoon.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Then I am miserable.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> And you have deferred the telling it, till it +is past time to study for prevention.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Let us run thither immediately, and either +perish in't, or free them. You'll assist me with your +sword?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Yes, if I cannot do it to more purpose with +my counsel. Let us first play the fairest of our +game; 'tis time enough to snatch when we have lost it.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.—<i>A Chapel.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">The <span class="cnm">Duke, Valerio,</span> Attendants. At the other door, +<span class="cnm">Laura, Violetta, Beatrix, Mario.</span> Instrumental +and vocal music; in the time of which, enter +<span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> and <span class="cnm">Camillo.</span> After the music, enter +<span class="cnm">Sophronia, Lucretia, Hippolita,</span> and other +Nuns.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Valerio,</span> who had whispered to him.</span>] I +needed not those marks to know her. She's one +continued excellence; she's all over miracle.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> [<span class="sdm">To the <span class="cnm">Duke.</span></span>] We know, sir, we are not capable +by our entertainment, of adding any thing to +your pleasures; and therefore we must attribute this +favour of your presence, to your piety and devotion.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> You have treated me with harmony so +excellent, that I believed myself among a choir of +angels; especially when I beheld so fair a troop behind +you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> Their beauty, sir, is wholly dedicated to +heaven, and is no way ambitious of a commendation, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_411"></span> +which, from your mouth, might raise a pride +in any other of the sex.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> I am impatient, and can bear no longer. +Let what will happen—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Do you not see your ruin inevitable? Draw +in a holy place! and in the presence of the Duke!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> I do not like Camillo's being here: I must +cut short the ceremony. <span class="sdr">[Whispers <span class="cnm">Sophronia.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Laura</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta.</span></span>] Come, fair +cousins, we hope to make the cloisteral life so +pleasing, that it may be an inducement to you to +quit the wicked world for ever.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> [<span class="sdm">Passing by <span class="cnm">Camillo.</span></span>] Take that, and read +it at your leisure. <span class="sdr">[Conveys a note into his hand.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> A ticket, as I live, Aurelian.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Steal off, and be thankful: if that be my +Beatrix with Laura, she's most confoundedly ugly. +If ever we had come to love-work, and a candle had +been brought us, I had fallen back from that face, +like a buck-rabbit in coupling.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Camillo</span> and <span class="cnm">Aurelian.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> Daughters, the time of our devotion calls +us.—All happiness to your highness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Hippolita.</span></span>] Little thinks my venerable +old love there, that his mistress in masquerade is so +near him. Now do I even long to abuse that fop-gravity +again.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Methinks, he looks on us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Farewell, poor love; I am she, I am, for all +my demure looks, that treated thee so inhumanly +last night.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[She is going off, after <span class="cnm">Sophronia.</span></span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">following her.</span>] Stay, lady; I would speak +with you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Ah! <span class="sdr">[Shrieking.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> How now, daughter? What's the meaning +of that indecent noise you make?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] If I speak to him, he will discover +my voice, and then I am ruined.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_412"></span> +<span class="cnm">Duke.</span> If your name be Lucretia, I have some +business of concernment with you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Sophronia.</span></span>] Dear madam, for heaven's +sake make haste into the cloister; the duke pursues +me on some ill design.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> [<span class="sdm">To the <span class="cnm">Duke.</span></span>] 'Tis not permitted, sir, for +maids, once entered into religion, to hold discourses +here of worldly things.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> But my discourses are not worldly, madam;<br /> +I had a vision in the dead of night,<br /> +Which shewed me this fair virgin in my sleep,<br /> +And told me, that from her I should be taught<br /> +Where to bestow large alms, and great endowments,<br /> +On some near monastery.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> Stay, Lucretia;<br /> +The holy vision's will must be obeyed. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Sophronia</span> and Nuns.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] He does not know me, sure; and +yet I fear religion is the least of his business with +me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I see, madam, beauty will be beauty in any habit;<br /> +Though, I confess, the splendour of a court<br /> +Were a much fitter scene for yours, than is<br /> +A cloistered privacy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> [<span class="sdm">counterfeiting her voice.</span>]<br /> +The world has no temptations for a mind<br /> +So fixed and raised above it;<br /> +This humble cell contains and bounds my wishes:<br /> +My charity gives you my prayers, and that's<br /> +All my converse with human kind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Since when, madam, have the world and +you been upon these equal terms of hostility? Time +was, you have been better friends.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> No doubt I have been vain, and sinful; but +the remembrance of those days cannot be pleasant +<span class="pgnm" id="page_413"></span> +to me now, and therefore, if you please, do not refresh +their memory.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Their memory! you speak as if they were +ages past.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> You think me still what I was once—a vain, +fond, giddy creature: I see, sir, whither your discourses +tend, and therefore take my leave.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Yes, madam, I know you see whither my +discourses tend, and therefore 'twill not be convenient +that you should take your leave. Disguise +yourself no farther; you are known, as well as you +knew me in masquerade.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I am not used enough to the world to interpret +riddles; therefore, once more, heaven keep +you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> This will not do; your voice, your mien, +your stature, betray you for the same I saw last +night: you know the time and place.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> You were not in this chapel, and I am +bound by vow to stir no farther.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> But you had too much wit to keep that +vow.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> If you persist, sir, in this raving madness, +I can bring witness of my innocence. <span class="sdr">[Is going.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> To save that labour, see if you know that +hand, and let that justify you. <span class="sdr">[Shows her letter.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> What do I see! my ruin is inevitable.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> You know you merit it:<br /> +You used me ill, and now are in my power.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But you, I hope, are much too noble to<br /> +Destroy the fame of a poor silly woman?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Then, in few words,—for I am bred a soldier,<br /> +And must speak plain,—it is your love I ask;<br /> +If you deny, this letter is produced;<br /> +You know the consequence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I hope I do not;<br /> +For though there are appearances against me,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_414"></span> +Enough to give you hope I durst not shun you,<br /> +Yet, could you see my heart, 'tis a white virgin-tablet,<br /> +On which no characters of earthly love<br /> +Were ever writ: And, 'twixt the prince and me,<br /> +If there were any criminal affection,<br /> +May heaven this minute—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Swear not; I believe you:<br /> +For, could I think my son had e'er enjoyed you,<br /> +I should not be his rival. Since he has not,<br /> +I may have so much kindness for myself,<br /> +To wish that happiness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> You ask me what I must not grant,<br /> +Nor, if I loved you, would: you know my vow of chastity.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Yet again that senseless argument?<br /> +The vows of chastity can ne'er be broken,<br /> +Where vows of secrecy are kept. Those I'll swear with you.<br /> +But 'tis enough at present, you know my resolution.<br /> +I would persuade, not force, you to my love;<br /> +And to that end I give you this night's respite.<br /> +Consider all, that you may fear or hope;<br /> +And think that on your grant, or your denial,<br /> +Depends a double welfare, yours and mine. <span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> A double ruin, rather, if I grant;<br /> +For what can I expect from such a father,<br /> +When such a son betrays me! Could I think,<br /> +Of all mankind, that Frederick would be base?<br /> +And, with the vanity of vulgar souls,<br /> +Betray a virgin's fame? One, who esteemed him,<br /> +And I much fear did more than barely so—<br /> +But I dare note examine myself farther, for fear of +confessing to my own thoughts, a tenderness of +which he is unworthy.</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm" id="page_415"></span> +Enter <span class="cnm">Hippolita.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> I watched till your old gallant was gone, +to bring you news of your young one. A mischief +on these old dry lovers! they are good for +nothing but tedious talking; well, yonder's the +prince at the grate; I hope I need say no more to +you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I'll come when I've recovered myself a +little. I am a wretched creature, Hippolita! the +letter I writ to the prince—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> I know it,—is fallen into his father's hands +by accident. He's as wretched as you too. Well, +well, it shall be my part to bring you together; +and then, if two young people, that have opportunity, +can be wretched and melancholy—I'll go +before, and meet Ascanio.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I am half unwilling to go, because I must +be accessary to her assignation with Ascanio; but, +for once, I'll meet the prince in the garden-walk: +I am glad, however, that he is less criminal than I +thought him.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE IV. <i>—The Nunnery-Garden.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Hippolita, Ascanio,</span> meeting <span class="cnm">Laura</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> I hear some walking this way.—Who goes +there?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> We are the two new pensioners, Laura and +Violetta.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Go in, to your devotion: These undue +hours of walking savour too much of worldly +thoughts.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Let us retire to the arbour, where, by this +<span class="pgnm" id="page_416"></span> +time, I believe, our friends are.—Good-night, sister.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Good angels guard you. [<span class="sdm">Exeunt <span class="cnm">Lau.</span> and +<span class="cnm">Vio.</span></span>] Now, brother, the coast is clear, and we have +the garden to ourselves. Do you remember how +you threatened me? But that's all one, how good +soever the opportunity may be, so long as we two +resolve to be virtuous.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Speak for yourself, sister, for I am wickedly +inclined. Yet, I confess, I have some remorse +when I consider you are in religion.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> We should do very well to consider that, +both of us; for, indeed, what should young people +do, but think of goodness and religion; especially +when they love one another, and are alone too, brother?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> A curse on't! here comes my lord, and +Lucretia. We might have accomplished all, and +been repenting by this time; yet who the devil +would have thought they should have come so +soon—Ah!<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Sets his teeth.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Who the devil would have put it to the +venture? This is always the fault of you raw pages: +You, that are too young, never use an opportunity; +and we, that are elder, can seldom get one.—Ah!<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Sets her teeth.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Frederick</span> and <span class="cnm">Lucretia.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I believe, indeed, it troubled you to lose +that letter.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> So much, madam, that I can never forgive +myself that negligence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Call it not so, 'twas but a casuality, though, +I confess, the consequence is dangerous; and therefore +have not both of us reason to defy love, when +we see a little gallantry is able to produce so much +mischief?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_417"></span> +<span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Now cannot I, for my heart, +bring out one word against this love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Come, you are mute upon a subject, that is +both easy and pleasant. A man in love is so ridiculous +a creature—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Especially to those that are not.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> True; for to those that are, he cannot be +so: They are like the citizens of Bethlehem, who +never find out one another's madness, because they +are all tainted. But for such ancient fops, as, with +reverence, your father is, what reason can they have +to be in love?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Nay, your old fop's unpardonable, that's +certain. But—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But what? Come, laugh at him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> But I consider he is my father, I can't +laugh at him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But, if it were another, we should see how +you would insult over him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Ay, if it were another—And yet I don't +know neither, 'tis no part of good nature to insult: +A man may be overtaken with a passion, or so; I +know it by myself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> How, by yourself! You are not in love, I +hope?—Oh that he would confess first now! <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> But, if I were, I should be loth to be +laughed at.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Since you are not in love, you may the +better counsel me: What shall we do with this +same troublesome father of yours?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Any thing, but love him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But you know he has me at a bay; my letter +is in his possession, and he may produce it to +my ruin: Therefore, if I did allow him some little +favour, to mollify him—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_418"></span> +<span class="cnm">Fred.</span> How, madam? Would you allow him favours? +I can never consent to it: Not the least +look or smile; they are all too precious, though they +were to save his life.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> What, not your father? Oh that he would +confess he loved me first! <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> What have I done? I shall betray myself, +and confess my love to be laughed at, by this hard-hearted +woman. [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] 'Tis true, madam, I had +forgot; he is, indeed, my father, and therefore you +may use him as kindly as you please.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> He's insensible: Now he enrages me. [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] +What if he proposes to marry me? I am not yet +professed, and 'twould be much to my advantage.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Marry you! I had rather die a thousand +deaths, than suffer it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> This begins to please me. <span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /> +But why should you be so much my enemy?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Your enemy, madam! Why, do you desire +it?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Perhaps I do.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Do it, madam, since it pleases you so well.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But you had rather die, than suffer it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> No, I have changed my mind: I'll live, and +not be concerned at it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Do you contradict yourself so soon? Then +know, sir, I did intend to do it; and I am glad +you have given me advice so agreeable to my inclinations.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Heaven! that you should not find it out! +I delivered your letter on purpose to my father, and +'twas my business, now, to come and mediate for +him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Pray, then, carry him the news of his good +success. Adieu, sweet prince!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Adieu, dear madam.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Hey day! what will this come to? They +<span class="pgnm" id="page_419"></span> +have cozened one another into a quarrel; just like +friends in fencing, a chance thrust comes, and then +they fall to it in earnest.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> You and I, brother, shall never meet upon +even terms, if this be not pieced.—Face about, madam; +turn quickly to your man, or, by all that's virtuous, +I'll call the abbess.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> I must not be so bold with you, sir; but, +if you please, you may turn towards the lady: and, +I suppose, you would be glad I durst speak to you +with more authority, to save the credit of your +willingness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Well, I'll shew her I dare stay, if it be but +to confront her malice.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I am sure I have done nothing to be ashamed +of, that I should need to run away.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Pray give me leave, sir, to ask you but +one question; Why were you so unwilling that she +should be married to your father?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Because then her friendship must wholly +cease.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> But you may have her friendship, when +she is married to him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> What! when another has enjoyed her?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> <i>Victoria, Victoria</i>! he loves you, madam; +let him deny it, if he can.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Fye, fye, loves me, Ascanio! I hope he +would not forswear himself, when he has railed so +much against it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> I hope I may love your mind, madam; I +may love spiritually.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> That's enough, that's enough: Let him love +the mind without the body, if he can.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Ay, ay, when the love is once come so far, +that spiritual mind will never leave pulling, and +pulling, till it has drawn the beastly body after it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Well, madam, since I must confess it,—though +<span class="pgnm" id="page_420"></span> +I expect to be laughed at, after my railing +against love,—I do love you all over, both soul and +body.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Lord, sir, what a tigress have you provoked! +you may see she takes it to the death, that +you have made this declaration.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> I thought where all her anger was: Why +do you not rail, madam? Why do you not banish +him? the prince expects it; he has dealt honestly, +he has told you his mind, and you may +make your worst on't.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Because he does expect it, I am resolved, +I'll neither satisfy him nor you: I will neither +rail nor laugh: Let him make his worst of that, +now.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> If I understand you right, madam, I am +happy beyond either my deserts or expectation.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> You may give my words what interpretation +you please, sir; I shall not envy you their +meaning in the kindest sense. But we are near the +jessamine walk, there we may talk with greater +freedom, because 'tis farther from the house.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> I wait you, madam. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE V.</h4> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Aurelian,</span> with a dark lanthorn. <span class="cnm">Camillo</span> and <span class="cnm">Benito.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> So, we are safe got over into the nunnery-garden; +for what's to come, trust love and fortune.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> This must needs be the walk she mentioned; +yet, to be sure, I'll hold the lanthorn while you +read the ticket.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> [<span class="sdm">Reads.</span>] <i>I prepared this ticket, hoping to +see you in the chapel: Come this evening over the garden +wall, on the right hand, next the Tiber.</i></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> We are right, I see.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_421"></span> +<span class="cnm">Cam.</span> <i>Bring only your discreet Benito with you, +and I will meet you attended by my faithful Beatrix.</i></p> +<p class="citation smcap">Violetta.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Discreet Benito! Did you hear, sir?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Mortify thyself for that vain thought; +and, without enquiring into the mystery of these +words, which I assure thee were not meant to +thee, plant thyself by that ladder without motion, +to secure our retreat; and be sure to make no +noise.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> But, sir, in case that—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Honest Benito, no more questions: <i>Basta</i> is +the word. Remember, thou art only taken with us, +because thou hast a certain evil dæmon, who conducts +thy actions, and would have been sure, by +some damned accident or other, to have brought +thee hither to disturb us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> I hear whispering not far from us, and I +think 'tis Violetta's voice.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Ben.</span></span>] Retire to your post; avoid, +good Satan. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Ben.</span></span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Laura,</span> with a dark lanthorn hid, and <span class="cnm">Violetta.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Ours is the honour of the field, madam; +we are here before you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Softly, dear friend; I think I hear some walking +in the garden.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Rather, let us take this opportunity for +your escape from hence; all things are here in readiness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> This is the second time we ever have met; +let us discourse, and know each other better first; +that's the way to make sure of some love beforehand; +for, as the world goes, we know not how +little we may have when we are married.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_422"></span> +<span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Losses of opportunity are fatal in war, you +know, and love's a kind of warfare.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> I shall keep you yet a while from close +fighting.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> But, do you know what an hour in love +is worth? 'Tis more precious than an age of ordinary +life; 'tis the very quintessence and extract of +it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> I do not like your chemical preparation of +love; yours is all spirit, and will fly too soon; I +must see it fixed, before I trust you. But we are +near the arbour: Now our out-guards are set, let us +retire a little, if you please; there we may walk +more freely.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Lau.</span></span>] My lady's woman, methinks you +are very reserved to-night: Pray, advance into the +lists; though I have seen your countenance by day, +I can endure to hear you talk by night. Be cunning, +and set your wit to show, which is your best +commodity: It will help the better to put off that +drug, your face.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> The coarsest ware will serve such customers +as you are: Let it suffice, Mr Serving-man, that I +have seen you too. Your face is the original of the +ugliest vizors about town; and for wit, I would advise +you to speak reverently of it, as a thing you +are never like to understand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Sure, Beatrix, you came lately from looking +in your glass, and that has given you a bad opinion +of all faces; but since when am I become so notorious +a fool?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Since yesterday; for t'other night you talked +like a man of sense: I think your wit comes to +you, as the sight of owls does, only in the dark.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Why, when did you discourse by day with +me?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> You have a short memory. This afternoon +<span class="pgnm" id="page_423"></span> +in the great street. Do you remember when you +talked with Laura?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> But what was that to Beatrix?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] 'Slife, I had forgot that I am Beatrix. +But pray, when did you find me out to be so ugly?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> This afternoon, in the chapel.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> That cannot be; for I well remember you +were not there, Benito: I saw none but Camillo, and +his friend, the handsome stranger.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside</span>] Curse on't, I have betrayed myself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I find you are an impostor: you are not the +same Benito: your language has nothing of the +serving-man.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> And yours, methinks, has not much of the +waiting-woman.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> My lady is abused, and betrayed by you: +But I am resolved, I'll discover who you are. [<span class="sdm">Holds +out a lanthorn to him.</span>] How! the stranger?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Nay, madam, if you are good at that, I'll +match you there too. [<span class="sdm">Holds out his lanthorn.</span>] O prodigy! +Is Beatrix turned to Laura?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Now the question is, which of us two is the +greatest cheat?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> That's hardly to be tried, at so short warning: +Let's marry one another, and then, twenty to +one, in a twelvemonth we shall know.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Marry! Are you at that so soon, signior? +Benito and Beatrix, I confess, had some acquaintance; +but Aurelian and Laura are mere strangers.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> That ground I have gotten as Benito, I am +resolved I'll keep as Aurelian. If you will take +state upon you, I have treated you with ceremony +already; for I have wooed you by proxy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> But you would not be contented to bed me +so; or give me leave to put the sword betwixt us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Yes, upon condition you'll remove it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_424"></span> +<span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Pray let our friends be judge of it; if you +please, we'll find them in the arbour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Content; I am then sure of the verdict, because +the jury is bribed already. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE VI.</h4> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Benito</span> meeting <span class="cnm">Frederick, Ascanio, Lucretia,</span> +and <span class="cnm">Hippolita.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Knowing my own merits, as I do, 'tis not +impossible, but some of these harlotry nuns may +love me. Oh, here's my master! now if I could +but put this into civil terms, so as to ask his leave, +and not displease him—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> I hear one talking, sir, just by us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I am stolen from my post, sir, but for one +minute only, to demand permission of you, since it +is not in our articles, that if any of these nuns +should cast an eye, or so—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> 'Slife, we are betrayed; but I'll make this +rascal sure. <span class="sdr">[Draws and runs at him.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Help! murder, murder! <span class="sdr">[Runs off.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> and <span class="cnm">Camillo; Laura</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta</span> +after them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> That was Benito's voice: We are ruined.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> O, here they are, we must make our way. +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Aur.</span> and the Prince make a pass or two confusedly, +and fight off the stage. The Women +shriek.</span><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Never fear, ladies.—Come on, sir; I am +your man.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> [<span class="sdm">Stepping back.</span>] This is the prince's page, I +know his voice.—Ascanio?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> Signior Camillo?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_425"></span> +<span class="cnm">Cam.</span> If the prince be here, 'tis Aurelian is engaged +with him. Let us run in quickly, and prevent +the mischief.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[All go off. A little clashing within. After +which they all re-enter.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Aur.</span></span>] I hope you are not wounded.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> No, sir; but infinitely grieved, that—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> No more; 'twas a mistake: But which way +can we escape? the abbess is coming; I see the +lights.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> You cannot go by the gate, then. Ah me, +unfortunate!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> But over the wall you may: We have a +ladder ready.—Adieu, ladies.—Curse on this ill +luck, when we had just persuaded them to go with +us!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Farewell, sweet Lucretia.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Good-night, Aurelian.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Ay, it might have proved a good one: Faith, +shall I stay yet, and make it one, in spite of the abbess, +and all her works?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> The abbess is just here; you will be<br /> +Caught in the spiritual trap, if you should tarry.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> That will be time enough, when we two marry. +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt severally.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">ACT V. SCENE I.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Sophronia, Lucretia, Laura,</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> By this, then, it appears you all are guilty;<br /> +Only your ignorance of each others crimes<br /> +Caused first that tumult, and this discovery.<br /> +Good heavens, that I should live to see this day!<br /> +Methinks these holy walls, the cells, the cloisters,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_426"></span> +Should all have struck a secret horror on you:<br /> +And when, with unchaste thoughts,<br /> +You trod these lonely walks, you should have looked,<br /> +The venerable ghost of our first foundress<br /> +Should, with spread arms, have met you in her shroud,<br /> +And frighted you from sin.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Alas! you need not aggravate our crimes;<br /> +We know them to be great beyond excuse,<br /> +And have no hope, but only from your mercy.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Love is, indeed, no plea within these walls;<br /> +But, since we brought it hither, and were forced,<br /> +Not led by our own choice, to this strict life—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Too hard for our soft youth, and bands of love,<br /> +Which we before had knit—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Pity your blood,<br /> +Which runs within our veins; and since heav'n puts it<br /> +In your sole power to ruin or to save,<br /> +Protect us from the sordid avarice<br /> +Of our domestic tyrant, who deserves not<br /> +That we should call him uncle, or your brother.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> If, as I might, with justice I should punish,<br /> +No penance could be rigorous enough;<br /> +But I am willing to be more indulgent.<br /> +None of you are professed: And, since I see<br /> +You are not fit for higher happiness,<br /> +You may have what you think the world can give you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Let us adore you, madam!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> You, Lucretia,<br /> +I shall advise within.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> But for us, madam?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> For you, dear nieces, I have long considered<br /> +The injuries you suffer from my brother,<br /> +And I rejoice it is in me to help you:<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_427"></span> +I will endeavour, from this very hour,<br /> +To put you both into your lovers' hands,<br /> +Who, by your own confession, have deserved you;<br /> +But so as (though 'tis done by my connivance)<br /> +It shall not seem to be with my consent.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> You do an act of noble charity,<br /> +And may just heaven reward it!</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hippolita,</span> and whispers <span class="cnm">Lucretia.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> Oh, you're a faithful portress of a cloister!<br /> +What is't you whisper to Lucretia?<br /> +On your obedience tell me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Since you must know, madam,<br /> +I have received a courtship from the prince<br /> +Of Mantua. The rest Hippolita may speak.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> His page, Ascanio, is at the grate,<br /> +To know, from him, how you had scaped this danger;<br /> +And brings with him those habits—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> I find that here has been a long commerce. +What habits?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> I blush to tell you, madam; they were +masking habits, in which we went abroad.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> O strange impiety! Well, I conclude<br /> +You are no longer for religious clothing;<br /> +You would infect our order.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> [<span class="sdm">Kneeling.</span>] Madam, you promised us forgiveness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> I have done; for 'tis indeed too late to chide.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> With Ascanio there are two gentlemen; +Aurelian and Camillo, I think they call themselves, +who came to me, recommended from the prince, and +desired to speak with Laura and Violetta.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> I think they are your lovers, nieces.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Madam, they are.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> But, for fear of discovery from your uncle, +<span class="pgnm" id="page_428"></span> +Mario, whose house, you know, joins to the monastery, +are both in masquerade.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> This opportunity must not be lost. +<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Laura</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta.</span></span><br /> +You two shall take the masking habits instantly,<br /> +And, in them, scape your jealous uncle's eyes.<br /> +When you are happy, make me so, by hearing your success. +<span class="sdr">[Kisses them. Exeunt <span class="cnm">Lau.</span> and <span class="cnm">Vio.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> A sudden thought is sprung within my mind,<br /> +Which, by the same indulgence you have shown,<br /> +May make me happy too. I have not time<br /> +To tell you now, for fear I lose this opportunity.<br /> +When I return from speaking with Ascanio,<br /> +I shall declare the secrets of my love,<br /> +And crave your farther help.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> In all that virtue will permit, you shall not +fail to find it. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Lucretia.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> Madam, the foolish fellow, whom we took, +grows troublesome; what shall we do with him?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> Send for the magistrate; he must be punished—<br /> +Yet, hold; that would betray the other secret.<br /> +Let him be strait turned out, on this condition,<br /> +That he presume not ever to disclose<br /> +He was within these walls. I'll speak with him.<br /> +Come, and attend me to him. <span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Sophronia.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> You fit to be an abbess! We, that live out +of the world, should, at least, have the common +sense of those that live far from town; if a pedlar +comes by them once a year, they will not let him go, +without providing themselves with what they want.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit after <span class="cnm">Sophronia.</span></span><br /></p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_429"></span></div> + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.—<i>The Street.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aurelian, Camillo, Laura, Violetta;</span> +all in Masking-habits.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> This generosity of the abbess is never to +be forgot; and it is the more to be esteemed, because +it was the less to be expected.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> At length, my Camillo, I see myself safe +within your arms; and yet, methinks, I can never +be enough secure of you; for now, I have nothing +else to fear, I am afraid of you; I fear your constancy. +They say possession is so dangerous to +lovers, that more of them die of surfeits than of +fasting.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> You'll be rambling too, Aurelian; I do not +doubt it, if I would let you; but I'll take care to be +as little a wife, and as much a mistress to you, as is +possible: I'll be sure to be always pleasant, and +never suffer you to be cloyed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> You are certainly in the right: Pleasantness +of humour makes a wife last in the sweetmeat, +when it will no longer in the fruit. But, pray, let's +make haste to the next honest priest that can say +grace to us, and take our appetites while they are +coming.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> That way leads to the Austin-Friars; there +lives a father of my acquaintance.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I have heard of him; he has a mighty stroke +at matrimonies, and mumbles them over as fast, +as if he were teaching us to forget them all the +while.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Benito,</span> and overhears the last speech.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> <i>Cappari</i>; that is the voice of madam Laura. +Now, Benito, is the time to repair the lost honour +<span class="pgnm" id="page_430"></span> +of thy wit, and to blot out the last adventure of the +nunnery.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> That way I hear company; let us go about +by this other street, and shun them.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> That voice I know too; 'tis the younger sister's, +Violetta's, Now have these two most treacherously +conveyed themselves out of the nunnery, +for my master and Camillo, and given up their persons +to those lewd rascals in masquerade; but I'll +prevent them. Help there! thieves and ravishers! +villainous maskers! stop, robbers! stop, ravishers!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> We are pursued that way, let's take this +street.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Save yourselves, and leave us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> We'll rather die, than leave you.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter, at several doors, Duke of <span class="cnm">Mantua</span> and +Guards, and Don <span class="cnm">Mario</span> and Servants, with +Torches.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> So, now the way is shut up on both sides. +We'll die merrily, however:—have at the fairest.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> and <span class="cnm">Camillo</span> fall upon the Duke's +Guards, and are seized behind by <span class="cnm">Mario's</span> +Servants. At the drawing of Swords, <span class="cnm">Benito</span> +runs off.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Are these insolencies usually committed +in Rome by night? It has the fame of a well-governed +city; and methinks, Don Mario, it does +somewhat reflect on you to suffer these disorders.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> They are not to be hindered in the Carnival: +You see, sir, they have assumed the privilege +of maskers.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Aur.</span></span>] If my uncle know us, we are +ruined; therefore be sure you do not speak.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> How then can we be satisfied this was not +a device of masking, rather than a design of ravishing?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_431"></span> +<span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Their accuser is fled, I saw him run at the +beginning of the scuffle; but I'll examine the ladies.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Now we are lost. +<span class="sdr">[Duke coming near <span class="cnm">Laura,</span> takes notice of her +habit.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] 'Tis the same, 'tis the same; I +know Lucretia by her habit: I'm sure I am not +mistaken.—Now, sir, you may cease your examination, +I know the ladies.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Cam.</span></span>] How the devil does he know +them?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> 'Tis alike to us; they are lost both ways.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">Taking <span class="cnm">Laura</span> aside.</span>] Madam, you may +confess yourself to me. Whatever your design was +in leaving the nunnery, your reputation shall be +safe. I'll not discover you, provided you grant me +the happiness I last requested.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> I know not, sir, how you could possibly +come to know me, or of my design in quitting the +nunnery; but this I know, that my sister and myself +are both unfortunate, except your highness be +pleased to protect us from our uncle; at least, not +to discover us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> His holiness, your uncle, shall never be acquainted +with your flight, on condition you will +wholly renounce my son, and give yourself to me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Alas, sir, for whom do you mistake me?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I mistake you not, madam: I know you +for Lucretia. You forget that your disguise betrays +you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Then, sir, I perceive I must disabuse you: +If you please to withdraw a little, that I may not +be seen by others, I will pull off my mask, and discover +to you, that Lucretia and I have no resemblance, +but only in our misfortunes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> 'Tis in vain, madam, this dissembling: I +<span class="pgnm" id="page_432"></span> +protest, if you pull off your mask, I will hide my +face, and not look upon you, to convince you that +I know you.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Benito.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> So, now the fray is over, a man may appear +again with safety.—Oh, the rogues are caught, I +see, and the damsels delivered. This was the effect +of my valour at the second hand.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Look, look, Camillo! it was my perpetual +fool that caused all this; and now he stands yonder, +laughing at his mischief, as the devil is pictured, +grinning behind the witch upon the gallows.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Mario.</span></span>] I see, sir, you have got your +women, and I am glad on't: I took them just flying +from the nunnery.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Lau.</span></span>] You see that fellow knows you +too.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Were these women flying from a nunnery?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> These women? heyday! then, it seems, +you do not know they are your nieces.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> His nieces, say you? Take heed, fellow, +you shall he punished severely, if you mistake.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Speak to Benito in time, Aurelian.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> The devil's in him; he's running down-hill +full speed, and there's no stopping him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> My nieces?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> Your nieces? Why, do you doubt it? I +praise heaven I never met but with two half-wits in +my life, and my master's one of them; I will not +name the other at this time.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I say, they are not they.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> I am sure they are Laura and Violetta; and +that those two rogues were running away with +them, and that, I believe, with their consent.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> Sister, 'tis in vain to deny ourselves; you see +our ill fortune pursues us unavoidably. [<span class="sdm">Turning +<span class="pgnm" id="page_433"></span> +up her mask.</span>] +Yes, sir, we are Laura and Violetta, +whom you have made unhappy by your tyranny.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> [<span class="sdm">Turning up her mask.</span>] And these two gentlemen +are no ravishers, but—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> How, no ravishers? Yes, to my knowledge +they are—[<span class="sdm">As he speaks, <span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> pulls off his +mask.</span>] No ravishers, as madam Laura was saying; +but two as honest gentlemen as e'er broke bread. +My own dear master, and so forth!<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Runs to <span class="cnm">Aur.</span> +who thrusts him back.</span></p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Valerio,</span> and whispers the Duke, giving him +a paper; which he reads, and seems pleased.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> Aurelian and Camillo! I'll see you in safe +custody; and, for these fugitives, go, carry them +to my sister, and desire her to have a better care of +her kinswomen.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> We shall live yet to make you refund our +portions. Farewell, Camillo; comfort yourself; remember +there's but a wall betwixt us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> And I'll cut through that wall with vinegar, +but I'll come to you, Aurelian.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I'll cut through the grates with aquafortis, +but I'll meet you. Think of these things, and despair, +and die, old gentleman.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> and <span class="cnm">Camillo</span> are carried off on +one side, and <span class="cnm">Laura</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta</span> on the +other.</span><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> All things go cross to men of sense: Would +I had been born with the brains of a shop-keeper, +that I might have thriven without knowing why I +did so. Now, must I follow my master to the prison, +and, like an ignorant customer that comes to +buy, must offer him my backside, tell him I trust to +his honesty, and desire him to please himself, and +so be satisfied.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_434"></span> +<span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Val.</span></span>] I am overjoyed; I'll see her immediately: +Now my business with Don Mario is at +an end, I need not desire his company to introduce +me to the abbess; this assignation from Lucretia +shows me a nearer way.—Noble Don Mario, it +was my business, when this accident happened in +the street, to have made you a visit; but now I am +prevented by an occasion which calls me another +way.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> I receive the intention of that honour as +the greatest happiness that could befal me: In the +meantime, if my attendance—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> By no means, sir, I must of necessity go +in private; and therefore, if you please, you shall +omit the ceremony.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mar.</span> A happy even to your highness.—Now +will I go to my sister, the abbess, before I sleep, +and desire her to take more care of her flock, or, +for all our relation, I shall make complaint, and endeavour +to ease her of her charge.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> So, now we are alone, what said Lucretia?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> When first I pressed her to this assignation,<br /> +She spoke like one in doubt what she should do;<br /> +She demurred much upon the decency of it,<br /> +And somewhat too she seemed to urge, of her<br /> +Engagement to the prince: In short, sir,<br /> +I perceived her wavering, and closed with the opportunity.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> O, when women are once irresolute, betwixt +the former love and the new one, they are sure to +come over to the latter. The wind, their nearest +likeness, seldom chops about to return into the old +corner.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> In conclusion, she consented to the interview; +and for the rest, I urged it not, for I suppose +she will hear reason sooner from your mouth than +mine.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_435"></span> +<span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Her letter is of the same tenor with her +discourse, full of doubts and doubles; like a hunted +hare when she is near tired. The garden, you say, +is the place appointed?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> It is, sir; and the next half hour the time. +But, sir, I fear the prince your son will never bear +the loss of her with patience.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> 'Tis no matter; let the young gallant storm +to-night, to-morrow he departs from Rome.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> That, sir, will be severe.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> He has already received my commands to +travel into Germany. I know it stung him to the +quick, but he's too dangerous a rival: the soldiers +love him too; when he's absent they will respect +me more. But I defer my happiness too long; dismiss +my guards there.<br /> +<span class="sdr">[Exeunt Guards.</span><br /> +The pleasures of old age brook no delay;<br /> +Seldom they come, and soon they fly away. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.</h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Frederick</span> and <span class="cnm">Ascanio.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> 'Tis true, he is my father; but when nature<br /> +Is dead in him, why should it live in me?<br /> +What have I done that I am banished Rome,<br /> +The world's delight, and my soul's joy, Lucretia,<br /> +And sent to reel with midnight beasts in Almain!<br /> +I cannot, will not, bear it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> I'm sure you need not, sir; the army is all +yours; they wish a youthful monarch, and will resent +your injuries.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Heaven forbid it! and yet I cannot lose Lucretia.<br /> +There's something I would do, and yet would shun<br /> +The ill, that must attend it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_436"></span> +<span class="cnm">Asca.</span> You must resolve, for the time presses. She +told me, this hour, she had sent for your father: +what she means I know not, for she seemed doubtful, +and would not tell me her intention.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> If she be false—yet, why should I suspect +her? Yet why should I not? She's a woman; +that includes ambition and inconstancy; then, she's +tempted high: 'twere unreasonable to expect she +should be faithful: Well, something I have resolved, +and will about it instantly; and if my friends prove +faithful, I shall prevent the worst.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aurelian</span> and <span class="cnm">Camillo,</span> guarded.</p> + +<p class="dlg">Aurelian and Camillo? How came you thus attended?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> You may guess at the occasion, sir; pursuing +the adventure which brought us to meet you +in the garden, we were taken by Don Mario.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> And, as the devil would have it, when both +we and our mistresses were in expectation of a more +pleasing lodging.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Faith, that's very hard, when a man has +charged and primed, and taken aim, to be hindered +of his shoot.—Soldiers, release these gentlemen, I'll +answer it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cap.</span> Sir, we dare not disobey our orders.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> I'll stand betwixt you and danger. In the +mean time take this, as an acknowledgment of the +kindness you do me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cap.</span> Ay, marry, there's rhetoric in gold: who +can deny these arguments: Sir, you may dispose of +our prisoners as you please; we'll use your name, if +we are called in question.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Do so. Goodnight, good soldiers. [<span class="sdm">Exeunt +soldiers.</span>] Now, gentlemen, no thanks; you'll find +occasion instantly to reimburse me of my kindness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_437"></span> +<span class="cnm">Cam.</span> Nothing but want of liberty could have +hindered us from serving you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Meet me within this half hour, at our monastery; +and if, in the mean time, you can pick up +a dozen of good fellows, who dare venture their +lives bravely, bring them with you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I hope the cause is bad too, otherwise we +shall not deserve your thanks. May it be for demolishing +that cursed monastery!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Come, Ascanio, follow me. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt severally.</span></p> + + +<h4 class="scn">SCENE IV.—<i>The Nunnery Garden.</i></h4> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Duke</span> and <span class="cnm">Lucretia.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> In making this appointment,<br /> +I go too far, for one of my profession;<br /> +But I have a divining soul within me,<br /> +Which tells me, trust reposed in noble natures<br /> +Obliges them the more.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I come to be commanded, not to govern:<br /> +Those few soft words, you sent me, have quite altered<br /> +My rugged nature; if it still be violent,<br /> +'Tis only fierce and eager to obey you;<br /> +Like some impetuous flood, which, mastered once,<br /> +With double force bends backward.<br /> +The place of treaty shows you strongest here;<br /> +For still the vanquished sues for peace abroad,<br /> +While the proud victor makes his terms at home.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> That peace, I see, will not be hard to make,<br /> +When either side shows confidence of noble dealing<br /> +From the other.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> And this, sure, is our case, since both are met alone.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> 'Tis mine, sir, more than yours.<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_438"></span> +To meet you single, shows I trust your virtue;<br /> +But you appear distrustful of my love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> You wrong me much; I am not.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Excuse me, sir, you keep a curb upon me;<br /> +You awe me with a letter, which you hold<br /> +As hostage of my love; and hostages<br /> +Are ne'er required but from suspected faith.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> We are not yet in terms of perfect peace;<br /> +Whene'er you please to seal the articles,<br /> +Your pledge shall be restored.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> That were the way to keep us still at distance;<br /> +For what we fear, we cannot truly love.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> But how can I be then secure, that, when<br /> +Your fear is o'er, your love will still continue?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Make trial of my gratitude; you'll find<br /> +I can acknowledge kindness.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> But that were to forego the faster hold,<br /> +To take a loose, and weaker.<br /> +Would you not judge him mad, who held a lion<br /> +In chains of steel, and changed them for a twine?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> But love is soft,<br /> +Not of the lion's nature, but the dove's;<br /> +An iron chain would hang too heavy on a tender neck.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Since on one side there must be confidence,<br /> +Why may not I expect, as well as you,<br /> +To have it plac'd in me? Repose your trust<br /> +Upon my royal word.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> As 'tis the privilege of womankind,<br /> +That men should court our love,<br /> +And make the first advances; so it follows,<br /> +That you should first oblige; for 'tis our weakness<br /> +Gives us more cause of fear, and therefore you,<br /> +Who are the stronger sex, should first secure it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> But, madam, as you talk of fear from me,<br /> +I may as well suspect design from you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_439"></span> +<span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Design! of giving you my love more freely;<br /> +Of making you a title to my heart,<br /> +Where you by force would reign.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> O that I could believe you! But your words<br /> +Are not enough disorder'd for true love;<br /> +They are not plain, and hearty, as are mine;<br /> +But full of art, and close insinuation:<br /> +You promise all, but give me not one proof<br /> +Of love before; not the least earnest of it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> And what is then this midnight conversation?<br /> +These silent hours divided from my sleep?<br /> +Nay, more, stolen from my prayers with sacrilege,<br /> +And here transferred to you? This guilty hand,<br /> +Which should be used in dropping holy beads,<br /> +But now bequeathed to yours? This heaving heart,<br /> +Which only should be throbbing for my sins,<br /> +But which now beats uneven time for you?<br /> +These are my arts! and these are my designs!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I love you more, Lucretia, than my soul;<br /> +Nay, than yours too; for I would venture both,<br /> +That I might now enjoy you; and if what<br /> +You ask me, did not make me fear to lose you,<br /> +Though it were even my life, you should not be denied it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Then I will ask no more.<br /> +Keep still my letter, to upbraid me with it:<br /> +To say, when I am sullied with your lust,<br /> +And fit to be forsaken,—Go, Lucretia,<br /> +To your first love; for this, for this, I leave you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Oh, madam, never think that day can come!</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> It must, it will; I read it in your looks;<br /> +You will betray me, when I'm once engaged.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> If not my faith, your beauty will secure you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> My beauty is a flower upon the stalk,<br /> +Goodly to see; but, gathered for the scent,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_440"></span> +And once with eagerness pressed to your nostrils,<br /> +The sweets drawn out, 'tis thrown with scorn away.<br /> +But I am glad I find you out so soon;<br /> +I simply loved, and meant (with shame I own it)<br /> +To trust my virgin honour in your hands.<br /> +I asked not wealth for hire; and, but by chance,<br /> +(I wonder that I thought on't) begged one trial,<br /> +And, but for form, to have pretence to yield,<br /> +And that you have denied me. Farewell! I could<br /> +Have loved you, and yet, perhaps, I—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> O speak, speak out, and do not drown that word;<br /> +It seemed as if it would have been a kind one;<br /> +And yours are much too precious to be lost.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Perhaps—I cannot yet leave loving you.<br /> +There 'twas. But I recalled it in my mind,<br /> +And made it false before I gave it air.<br /> +Once more, farewell—I wo'not,—<br /> +Now I can say I wo'not, wo'not love you. <span class="sdr">[Going.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> You shall; and this shall be the seal of my affection. +<span class="sdr">[Gives the letter.</span><br /> +There take it, my Lucretia: I give it with more joy,<br /> +Than I with grief received it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Good night; I'll thank you for't some other time.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> You'll not abuse my love?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> No; but secure my honour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I'll force it from your hands. <span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Lucretia</span> runs.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Help, help, or I am ravished! help, for heaven's sake!</p> + +<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Hippolita, Laura,</span> and <span class="cnm">Violetta,</span> within, at several +places.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Within.</span> Help, help Lucretia! they bear away Lucretia +by force.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_441"></span> +<span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I think there's a devil in every corner.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Valerio.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> Sir, the design was laid on purpose for you, +and all the women placed to cry. Make haste +away; avoid the shame, for heaven's sake.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> [<span class="sdm">going.</span>] O, I could fire this monastery!</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Frederick</span> and <span class="cnm">Ascanio.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">[<span class="sdm"><span class="cnm">Frederick,</span> entering, speaks as to some behind him.</span>]</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Pain of your lives, let none of you presume +to enter but myself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> My son!—O, I could burst with spite, and +die with shame, to be thus apprehended! this is the +baseness and cowardice of guilt: an army now +were not so dreadful to me as that son, o'er whom +the right of nature gives me power.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Sir, I am come—</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> To laugh at first, and then to blaze abroad,<br /> +The weakness and the follies of your father.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Val.</span> Sir, he has men in arms attending him.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I know my doom then. You have taken +a popular occasion; I am now a ravisher of chastity, +fit to be made prisoner first, and then deposed.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> You will not hear me, sir.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> No, I confess I have deserved my fate;<br /> +For, what had these grey hairs to do with love?<br /> +Or, if the unseemly folly would possess me,<br /> +Why should I chuse to make my son my rival?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Sir, you may add, you banished me from Rome,<br /> +And, from the light of it, Lucretia's eyes.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Nay, if thou aggravat'st my crimes, thou giv'st<br /> +Me right to justify them: thou doubly art my slave,<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_442"></span> +Both son and subject. I can do thee no wrong,<br /> +Nor hast thou right to arraign or punish me:<br /> +But thou inquir'st into thy father's years;<br /> +Thy swift ambition could not stay my death,<br /> +But must ride post to empire. Lead me now;<br /> +Thy crimes have made me guiltless to myself,<br /> +And given me face to bear the public scorn.<br /> +You have a guard without?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> I have some friends.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Speak plainly your intent.<br /> +I love not a sophisticated truth,<br /> +With an allay of lie in't.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">Kneeling.</span>]<br /> +This is not, sir, the posture of a rebel,<br /> +But of a suppliant; if the name of son<br /> +Be too much honour to me.<br /> +What first I purpos'd, I scarce know myself.<br /> +Love, anger, and revenge, then rolled within me,<br /> +And yet, even then, I was not hurried farther<br /> +Than to preserve my own.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Your own! What mean you?</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> My love, and my Lucretia, which I thought,<br /> +In my then boiling passion, you pursued<br /> +With some injustice, and much violence;<br /> +This led me to repel that force by force.<br /> +'Twas easy to surprise you, when I knew<br /> +Of your intended visit.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Thank my folly.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> But reason now has reassumed its place,<br /> +And makes me see how black a crime it is<br /> +To use a force upon my prince and father.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> You give me hope you will resign Lucretia.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> Ah no; I never can resign her to you:<br /> +But, sir, I can my life; which, on my knees,<br /> +I tender, as the atoning sacrifice:<br /> +Or if your hand (because you are a father)<br /> +<span class="pgnm" id="page_43"></span> +Be loth to take away that life you gave,<br /> +I will redeem your crime, by making it<br /> +My own: So you shall still be innocent, and I<br /> +Die blessed, and unindebted for my being.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> O Frederick, you are too much a son, +<span class="sdr">[Embracing him.</span><br /> +And I too little am a father: you,<br /> +And you alone, have merited Lucretia;<br /> +'Tis now my only grief,<br /> +I can do nothing to requite this virtue:<br /> +For to restore her to you,<br /> +Is not an act of generosity,<br /> +But a scant, niggard justice; yet I love her<br /> +So much, that even this little, which I do,<br /> +Is like the bounty of an usurer;<br /> +High to be priz'd from me,<br /> +Because 'tis drawn from such a wretched mind.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> You give me now a second, better life; +<span class="sdr">[Kissing his hand.</span><br /> +But,—that the gift may be more easy to you,—<br /> +Consider, sir, Lucretia did not love you,—<br /> +I fear to say, ne'er would.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> You do well to help me to o'ercome that difficulty:<br /> +I'll weigh that, too, hereafter. For a love,<br /> +So violent as mine, will ask long time,<br /> +And much of reason, to effect the cure.<br /> +My present care shall be to make you happy;<br /> +For that will make my wish impossible,<br /> +And then the remedies will be more easy.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Sophronia, Lucretia, Violetta, Laura, Hippolita.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> I have, with joy, o'erheard this happy change,<br /> +And come with blessings to applaud your conquest<br /> +Over the greatest of mankind, yourself.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_444"></span> +<span class="cnm">Duke.</span> I hope 'twill be a full and lasting one.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Thus, let me kneel, and pay my thanks and duty, +<span class="sdr">[Kneeling.</span><br /> +Both to my prince and father.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Duke.</span> Rise, rise, too charming maid, for yet I cannot<br /> +Call you my daughter: that first name, Lucretia,<br /> +Hangs on my lips, and would be still pronounced.<br /> +Look not too kindly on me; one sweet glance,<br /> +Perhaps, would ruin both: therefore, I'll go<br /> +And try to get new strength to bear your eyes.<br /> +'Till then, farewell. Be sure you love my Frederick,<br /> +And do not hate his father. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt Duke and <span class="cnm">Valerio.</span></span></p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fred.</span> [<span class="sdm">At the door.</span>] Now, friends, you may appear.</p> + +<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aurelian, Camillo, Benito.</span></p> + +<p class="dlg">Your pardon, madam, that we thus intrude<br /> +On holy ground: yourself best know it could not<br /> +Be avoided, and it shall be my care it be excused.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> Though sovereign princes bear a privilege<br /> +Of entering when they please within our walls,<br /> +In others 'tis a crime past dispensation;<br /> +And therefore, to avoid a public scandal,<br /> +Be pleased, sir, to retire, and quit this garden.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> We shall obey you, madam; but that we +may do it with less regret, we hope you will give +these ladies leave to accompany us.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> They shall.<br /> +And, nieces, for myself, I only ask you<br /> +To justify my conduct to the world,<br /> +That none may think I have betrayed a trust,<br /> +But freed you from a tyranny.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> Our duty binds us to acknowledge it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cam.</span> And our gratitude to witness it.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vio.</span> With a holy and lasting remembrance of +your favour.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_445"></span> +<span class="cnm">Fred.</span> And it shall be my care, either by reason to +bend your uncle's will, or, by my father's interest, +to force your dowry from his hands.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ben.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Aur.</span></span>] Pray, sir, let us make haste over +these walls again; these gardens are unlucky to me; +I have lost my reputation of music in one of them, +and of wit in the other.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Lau.</span></span>] Now, Laura, you may take your +choice betwixt the two Benito's, and consider whether +you had rather he should serenade you in the +garden, or I in bed to-night.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lau.</span> You may be sure I shall give sentence for +Benito; for the effect of your serenading would be +to make me pay the music nine months hence.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hip.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Asca.</span></span>] You see, brother, here's a general +gaol-delivery: there has been a great deal of bustle +and disturbance in the cloister to-night; enough to +distract a soul which is given up, like me, to contemplation: +and therefore, if you think fit, I could +even be content to retire, with you, into the world; +and, by way of penance, to marry you; which, as +husbands and wives go now, is a greater mortification +than a nunnery.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asca.</span> No, sister; if you love me, keep to your +monastery: I'll come now and then to the grate, +and beg you a recreation. But I know myself so +well, that if I had you one twelvemonth in the +world, I should run myself into a cloister, to be rid +of you.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Soph.</span> Nieces, once more farewell. Adieu, Lucretia:<br /> +My wishes and my prayers attend you all.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> to <i>Fred.</i> I am so fearful,<br /> +That, though I gladly run to your embraces,<br /> +Yet, venturing in the world a second time,<br /> +Methinks I put to sea in a rough storm,<br /> +With shipwrecks round about me.</p> + +<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm" id="page_446"></span> +<span class="cnm">Fred.</span> My dear, be kinder to yourself and me,<br /> +And let not fear fright back our coming joys;<br /> +For we, at length, stand reconciled to fate:<br /> +And now to fear, when to such bliss we move,<br /> +Were not to doubt our fortune, but our love. <span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p> + +<div><span class="pgnm" id="page_447"></span></div> + +<h3 class="chap">EPILOGUE</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<table summary="Epilogue"> +<tr><td> +<p>Some have expected, from our bills to-day,</p> +<p>To find a satire in our poet's play.</p> +<p>The zealous route from Coleman-street did run,</p> +<p>To see the story of the Friar and Nun;</p> +<p>Or tales, yet more ridiculous to hear,</p> +<p>Vouched by their vicar of ten pounds a-year,—</p> +<p>Of Nuns, who did against temptation pray,</p> +<p>And discipline laid on the pleasant way:</p> +<p>Or that, to please the malice of the town,</p> +<p>Our poet should in some close cell have shown</p> +<p>Some sister, playing at content alone:</p> +<p>This they did hope; the other side did fear;</p> +<p>And both, you see, alike are cozened here.</p> +<p>Some thought the title of our play to blame;</p> +<p>They liked the thing, but yet abhorred the name:</p> +<p>Like modest punks, who all you ask afford,</p> +<p>But, for the world, they would not name that word.</p> +<p>Yet, if you'll credit what I heard him say,</p> +<p>Our poet meant no scandal in his play;</p> +<p>His Nuns are good, which on the stage are shown,</p> +<p>And, sure, behind our scenes you'll look for none.</p> +</td><td> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +}<br /> +}<br /> +} +</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<div class="ftnt"> +<p>Footnotes:</p> +<ol> +<li><a name="Assig_4-1" id="Assig_4-1"></a>A common name for a cat, being that by which the representative +of the feline race is distinguished in the History of Reynard +the Fox. See Shakespeare's <i>Romeo and Juliet.</i></li> +<li><a name="Assig_4-2" id="Assig_4-2"></a>v<i>Stickle.</i> To interfere.</li> +<li><a name="Assig_4-3" id="Assig_4-3"></a><i>Rondaches.</i> Targets or bucklers. These were a part of the +equipment of a serenader. See that of Quevedo's Night Adventurer.</li> +</ol></div> + +<h3>END OF THE FOURTH VOLUME.</h3> + + +<p>EDINBURGH:<br /> +Printed by James Ballantyne.</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works Of John Dryden, Volume 4 (of +18), by John Dryden + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN *** + +***** This file should be named 15349-h.htm or 15349-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/3/4/15349/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Works Of John Dryden, Volume 4 (of 18) + Almanzor And Almahide, Marriage-a-la-Mode, The Assignation + +Author: John Dryden + +Commentator: Walter Scott + + +Release Date: March 13, 2005 [EBook #15349] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + THE + + WORKS + + OF + + JOHN DRYDEN, + + NOW FIRST COLLECTED + + _IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES._ + + + + ILLUSTRATED + + WITH NOTES, + + HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY, + + AND + + A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR, + + BY + + WALTER SCOTT, ESQ. + + + + VOL. IV. + + LONDON: + + PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET, + + BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH. + + + 1808. + + + * * * * * + + + CONTENTS + + OF + + VOLUME FOURTH. + +Almanzor and Almahide, or the Conquest of Granada by the Spaniards, a + Tragedy, Part First + Epistle Dedicatory to the Duke of York + Of Heroic Plays, an Essay + Part II + Defence of the Epilogue; or an Essay on the Dramatic Poetry of + the last Age + + +Marriage-a-la-Mode, a Comedy + Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Rochester + + +The Assignation, or Love in a Nunnery, a Comedy + Epistle Dedicatory to Sir Charles Sedley, Bart. + + + * * * * * + + + ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE: + + OR, THE + + CONQUEST OF GRANADA + + BY THE + + _SPANIARDS._ + + A TRAGEDY. + + + _--Major rerum mihi nascitur ordo; + Majus opus moveo._ + VIRG. AENEID. + + + + + THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. + + +This play,--for the two parts only constitute an entire drama betwixt +them,--seems to have been a favourite with Dryden, as well as with the +public. In the Essay upon Heroic Plays, as well as in the dedication, +the character of Almanzor is dwelt upon with that degree of +complacency which an author experiences in analyzing a successful +effort of his genius. Unquestionably the gross improbability of a +hero, by his single arm, turning the tide of battle as he lists, did +not appear so shocking in the age of Dryden, as in ours. There is no +doubt, that, while personal strength and prowess were of more +consequence than military skill and conduct, the feats of a single man +were sometimes sufficient to determine the fate of an engagement, more +especially when exerted by a knight, sheathed in complete mail, +against the heartless and half-armed mass, which constituted the +feudal infantry. Those, who have perused Barbour's History of Robert +Bruce, Geoffrey de Vinsauf's account of the wars of Richard Coeur de +Lion, or even the battles detailed by Froissart and Joinville, are +familiar with instances of breaches defended, and battles decided, by +the prowess of a single arm. The leader of a feudal army was expected +by his followers not only to point out the path to victory but to lead +the way in person. It is true, that the military art had been changed +in this particular long before the days of Dryden. Complete armour was +generally laid aside; fire-arms had superseded the use of the lance +and battle-axe; and, above all, the universal institution of standing +armies had given discipline and military skill their natural and +decisive superiority over untaught strength, and enthusiastic valour. +But the memory of what had been, was still familiar to the popular +mind, and preserved not only by numerous legends and traditions, but +also by the cast of the fashionable works of fiction. It is, indeed, +curious to remark, how many minute remnants of a system of ancient +manners can be traced long after it has become totally obsolete. Even +down to the eighteenth century, the portrait of every soldier of rank +was attired in complete armour, though, perhaps, he never saw a suit +of mail excepting in the Tower of London; and on the same principle of +prescriptive custom, Addison was the first poet who ventured to +celebrate a victorious general for skill and conduct, instead of such +feats as are appropriated to Guy of Warwick, or Bevis of Hampton. The +fashion of attributing mighty effects to individual valour being thus +prevalent, even in circumstances when every one knew the supposition +to be entirely gratuitous, the same principle, with much greater +propriety, continued to be applied in works of fiction, where the +scene was usually carried back to times in which the personal strength +of a champion really had some efficacy. It must be owned, however, +that the authors of the French romances carried the influence of +individual strength and courage beyond all bounds of modesty and +reason. In the Grand Cyrus, Artamenes, upon a moderate computation, +exterminates with his own hand, in the course of the work, at least a +hundred thousand fighting men. These monstrous fictions, however, +constituted the amusement of the young and the gay[1], in the age of +Charles II., and from one of these very books Dryden admits his having +drawn, at least in part, the character of his Moorish warrior. The +public was, therefore, every way familiarised with such chivalrous +exploits as those of Almanzor; and if they did not altogether command +the belief, at least they did not revolt the imagination, of an +audience: And this must certainly be admitted as a fair apology for +the extravagance of his heroic achievements. + +But, it is not only the actual effects of Almanzor's valour, which +appear to us unnatural, but also the extraordinary principles and +motives by which those exertions are guided. Here also, we must look +back to the Gothic romances, and to those of Scudery and Calprenede. +In fact, the extravagance of sentiment is no less necessary than the +extravagance of achievement to constitute a true knight errant; and +such is Almanzor. Honour and love were the sole deities worshipped by +this extraordinary race, who, though their memory and manners are +preserved chiefly in works of fiction, did once exist in real life, +and actually conducted armies, and governed kingdoms, upon principles +as strained and hyperbolical as those of the Moorish champion. If +Almanzor, at the command of his mistress, aids his hated rival to the +destruction of his own hopes, he only discharges the duty of a good +knight, who was bound to sacrifice himself, and all his hopes and +wishes, at the slightest command of her, to whom he had vowed his +service, and who, in the language of chivalry, was to him as the soul +is to the body. The reader may recollect the memorable invasion of +England by James IV. of Scotland, in which he hazarded and actually +lost his own life, and the flower of his nobility, because the queen +of France, who called him her knight, had commanded him to march three +miles on English ground for her sake. + +Less can be said to justify the extravagant language in which Almanzor +threatens his enemies, and vaunts his own importance. This is not +common in the heroes of romance, who are usually as remarkable for +their modesty of language as for their prowess; and still more seldom +does, in real life, a vain-glorious boaster vindicate by his actions +the threats of his tongue. It is true, that men of a fervent and +glowing character are apt to strain their speech beyond the modesty of +ordinary conversation, and display, in their language, the fire which +glows in their bosoms; but the subject of their effusions is usually +connected not with their own personal qualities, or feats, but with +some extraneous object of their pursuit, or admiration. Thus, the +burst of Hotspur concerning the pursuit of honour paints his +enthusiastic character; but it would be hard to point out a passage +indicating that exuberant confidence in his own prowess, and contempt +of every one else, so liberally exhibited by Almanzor. Instances of +this defect are but too thickly sown through the piece; for example +the following rant. + + If from thy hands alone my death can be, + I am immortal, and a God to thee. + If I would kill thee now, thy fate's so low, + That I must stoop ere I can give the blow. + But mine is fixed so far above thy crown, + That all thy men, + Piled on thy back, can never pull it down. + But, at my ease, thy destiny I send, + By ceasing from this hour to be thy friend. + Like heaven, I need but only to stand still; + And, not concurring to thy life, I kill. + Thou canst no title to my duty bring; + I am not thy subject, and my soul's thy king. + Farewell! When I am gone, + There's not a star of thine dare stay with thee: + I'll whistle thy tame fortune after me; + And whirl fate with me wheresoe'er I fly, + As winds drive storms before them in the sky. + +This curious passage did not escape the malicious criticism of Settle, +who, besides noticing the extravagant egotism of the hero, questions, +with some probability, whether Abdalla would have chosen to scale +Almanzor's fate, at the risque of the personal consequences of having +all his men piled on his own back. In the same scene, Almanzor is so +unreasonable as to tell his rival, + + --Thou shalt not dare + To be so impudent as to despair. + +And again, + + What are ten thousand subjects, such as they? + If I am scorned, I'll take myself away. + +Dryden's apology for these extravagancies seems to be, that Almanzor +is in a passion. But, although talking nonsense is a common effect of +passion, it seems hardly one of those consequences adapted to shew +forth the character of a hero in theatrical representation. + +It must be owned, however, that although the part of Almanzor contains +these and other bombastic passages, there are many also which convey +what the poet desired to represent--the aspirations of a mind so +heroic as almost to surmount the bonds of society and even the very +laws of the universe, leaving us often in doubt whether the vehemence +of the wish does not even disguise the impossibility of its +accomplishment. + + Good heaven! thy book of fate before me lay, + But to tear out the journal of this day. + Or, if the order of the world below + Will not the gap of one whole day allow, + Give me that minute when she made her vow. + That minute, even the happy from their bliss might give, + And those, who live in grief, a shorter time would live. + So small a link, if broke, the eternal chain + Would, like divided waters, join again. + It wonnot be; the fugitive is gone, + Pressed by the crowd of following minutes on: + That precious moment's out of nature fled, + And in the heap of common rubbish laid, + Of things that once have been, and now decayed. + +In the less inflated parts, the ideas are usually as just, as +ingenious and beautiful; for example. + + No; there is a necessity in fate. + Why still the brave bold man is fortunate; + He keeps his object ever full in sight, + And that assurance holds him firm and right. + True, 'tis a narrow path that leads to bliss, } + But right before there is no precipice; } + Fear makes men look aside, and then their footing miss. } + +The character of Almanzor is well known as the original of Drawcansir, +in "The Rehearsal," into whose mouth parodies of some of Dryden's most +extravagant flights have been put by the duke of Buckingham. +Shaftesbury also, whose family had smarted under Dryden's satire, +attempts to trace the applause bestowed on the "Conquest of Granada" +to what he calls "the correspondence and relation between our _Royal +Theatre_ and popular _Circus_, or _Bear-Garden_. For, in the former of +these assemblys, 'tis undeniable that, at least, the two upper +regions, or galleries, contain such spectators as indifferently +frequent each place of sport. So that 'tis no wonder we hear such +applause resounded on the victories of an _Almanzor_, when the same +parties had possibly no later than the day before bestowed their +applause as freely on the victorious _Butcher_, the hero of another +stage." _Miscellaneous Reflections. Miscell. 5._ + +The other personages of the drama sink into Lilliputians, beside +the gigantic Almanzor, although the under plot of the loves of +Ozmyn and Benzayda is beautiful in itself, and ingeniously managed. +The virtuous Almahide is a fit object for the adoration of +Almanzor; but her husband is a poor pageant of royalty. As +for Lyndaraxa, her repeated and unparalleled treachery can only be +justified by the extreme imbecility of her lovers. + +The plot of the play is, in part, taken from history. During +the last years of its existence, Granada, the poor remnant of the +Moorish empire in Spain, was torn to pieces with intestine discord, +and assailed without by the sword of the Christians. The history +of the civil wars of Granada, affirmed to be translated into Spanish +from the Arabian, gives a romantic, but not altogether fabulous +account of their discord. But a romance in the French taste, +called Almahide, seems to have been the chief source from which +our author drew his plot. + +In the conduct of the story there is much brilliancy of event. The +reader, or spectator, is never allowed to repose on the scene before +him; and although the changes of fortune are too rapid to be either +probable, or altogether pleasing, yet they arrest the attention by +their splendour and importance, and interest us in spite of our more +sober judgment. The introduction of the ghost of Almanzor's mother +seems to have been intended to shew how the hero could support even an +interview with an inhabitant of the other world. At least, the +professed purpose of her coming might have been safely trusted to the +virtue of Almahide, and her power over her lover. It afforded an +opportunity, however, to throw in some fine poetry, of which Dryden +has not failed to avail himself. Were it not a peculiar attribute of +the heroic drama, it might be mentioned as a defect, that during the +siege of the last possession of the Spanish Moors, by an enemy hated +for his religion, and for his success, the principle of patriotism is +hardly once alluded to through the whole piece. The fate, or the +wishes, of Almahide, Lyndaraxa, and Benzayda, are all that interest +the Moorish warriors around them, as if the Christian was not +thundering at their gates, to exterminate at once their nation and +religion. Indeed, so essentially necessary are the encouragements of +beauty to military achievement, that we find queen Isabella ordering +to the field of battle a _corps de reserve_ of her maids of honour to +animate the fighting warriors with their smiles, and counteract the +powerful charms of the Moorish damsels. Nor is it an inferior fault, +that, although the characters are called Moors, there is scarce any +expression, or allusion, which can fix the reader's attention upon +their locality, except an occasional interjection to Alha, or Mahomet. + +If, however, the reader can abstract his mind from the qualities now +deemed essential to a play, and consider the Conquest of Granada as a +piece of romantic poetry, there are few compositions in the English +language, which convey a more lively and favourable display of the +magnificence of fable, of language, and of action, proper to that +style of composition. Amid the splendid ornaments of the structure we +lose sight of occasional disproportion and incongruity; and, at an +early age particularly, there are few poems which make a more deep +impression upon the imagination, than the Conquest of Granada. + +The two parts of this drama were brought out in the same season, +probably in winter, 1669, or spring, 1670. They were received with +such applause, that Langbaine conceives their success to have been the +occasion of Dryden's undervaluing his predecessors in dramatic +writing. The Conquest of Granada was not printed till 1672. + + +Footnote: +1. There is something ludicrous in the idea of a beauty, or a + gallant, of that gay and licentious court poring over a work of + five or six folio volumes by way of amusement; but such was the + taste of the age, that Fynes Morison, in his precepts to + travellers, can "think no book better for his pupils' discourse + than Amadis of Gaule; for the knights errant and the ladies of + court do therein exchange courtly speeches." + + + + + TO + + HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS + + THE + + DUKE[1]. + + +SIR, + +Heroic poesy has always been sacred to princes, and to heroes. Thus +Virgil inscribed his AEneids to Augustus Caesar; and of latter ages, +Tasso and Ariosto dedicated their poems to the house of Este. It is +indeed but justice, that the most excellent and most profitable kind +of writing should be addressed by poets to such persons, whose +characters have, for the most part, been the guides and patterns of +their imitation; and poets, while they imitate, instruct. The feigned +hero inflames the true; and the dead virtue animates the living. +Since, therefore, the world is governed by precept and example, and +both these can only have influence from those persons who are above +us; that kind of poesy, which excites to virtue the greatest men, is +of the greatest use to human kind. + +It is from this consideration, that I have presumed to dedicate to +your royal highness these faint representations of your own worth and +valour in heroick poetry: Or, to speak more properly, not to dedicate, +but to restore to you those ideas, which in the more perfect part of +my characters I have taken from you. Heroes may lawfully be delighted +with their own praises, both as they are farther incitements to their +virtue, and as they are the highest returns which mankind can make +them for it. + +And certainly, if ever nation were obliged, either by the conduct, the +personal[2] valour, or the good fortune of a leader, the English are +acknowledging, in all of them, to your royal highness. Your whole life +has been a continued series of heroick actions; which you began so +early, that you were no sooner named in the world, but it was with +praise and admiration. Even the first blossoms of your youth paid us +all that could be expected from a ripening manhood. While you +practised but the rudiments of war, you out-went all other captains; +and have since found none to surpass, but yourself alone. The opening +of your glory was like that of light: You shone to us from afar; and +disclosed your first beams on distant nations: Yet so, that the lustre +of them was spread abroad, and reflected brightly on your native +country. You were then an honour to it, when it was a reproach to +itself. When the fortunate usurper sent his arms to Flanders, many of +the adverse party were vanquished by your fame, ere they tried your +valour.[3] The report of it drew over to your ensigns whole troops and +companies of converted rebels, and made them forsake successful +wickedness, to follow an oppressed and exiled virtue. Your reputation +waged war with the enemies of your royal family, even within their +trenches; and the more obstinate, or more guilty of them, were forced +to be spies over those whom they commanded, lest the name of York +should disband that army, in whose fate it was to defeat the +Spaniards, and force Dunkirk to surrender. Yet, those victorious +forces of the rebels were not able to sustain your arms. Where you +charged in person you were a conqueror. It is true, they afterwards +recovered courage; and wrested that victory from others which they had +lost to you; and it was a greater action for them to rally, than it +was to overcome. Thus, by the presence of your royal highness, the +English on both sides remained victorious and that army, which was +broken by your valour, became a terror to those for whom they +conquered. Then it was, that at the cost of other nations you informed +and cultivated that valour, which was to defend your native country, +and to vindicate its honour from the insolence of our encroaching +neighbours. When the Hollanders, not contented to withdraw themselves +from the obedience which they owed their lawful sovereign, affronted +those by whose charity they were first protected; and, being swelled +up to a pre-eminence of trade, by a supine negligence on our side, and +a sordid parsimony on their own, dared to dispute the sovereignty of +the seas, the eyes of three nations were then cast upon you; and by +the joint suffrage of king and people, you were chosen to revenge +their common injuries; to which, though you had an undoubted title by +your birth, you had a greater by your courage. Neither did the success +deceive our hopes and expectations: The most glorious victory which +was gained by our navy in that war, was in the first engagement; +wherein, even by the confession of our enemies, who ever palliate +their own losses, and diminish our advantages, your absolute triumph +was acknowledged: You conquered at the Hague, as entirely as at +London; and the return of a shattered fleet, without an admiral, left +not the most impudent among them the least pretence for a false +bonfire, or a dissembled day of public thanksgiving. All our +achievements against them afterwards, though we sometimes conquered, +and were never overcome, were but a copy of that victory, and they +still fell short of their original: somewhat of fortune was ever +wanting, to fill up the title of so absolute a defeat; or perhaps the +guardian angel of our nation was not enough concerned when you were +absent, and would not employ his utmost vigour for a less important +stake, than the life and honour of a royal admiral. + +And if, since that memorable day,[4] you have had leisure to enjoy in +peace the fruits of so glorious a reputation; it was occasion only has +been wanting to your courage, for that can never be wanting to +occasion. The same ardour still incites you to heroick actions, and +the same concernment for all the interests of your king and brother +continues to give you restless nights, and a generous emulation for +your own glory. You are still meditating on new labours for yourself, +and new triumphs for the nation; and when our former enemies again +provoke us, you will again solicit fate to provide you another navy to +overcome, and another admiral to be slain. You will then lead forth a +nation eager to revenge their past injuries; and, like the Romans, +inexorable to peace, till they have fully vanquished. Let our enemies +make their boast of a surprise,[5] as the Samnities did of a +successful stratagem; but the _Furcae Caudinae_ will never be forgiven +till they are revenged. I have always observed in your royal highness +an extreme concernment for the honour of your country; it is a passion +common to you with a brother, the most excellent of kings; and in your +two persons are eminent the characters which Homer has given us of +heroick virtue; the commanding part in Agamemnon, and the executive in +Achilles. And I doubt not from both your actions, but to have abundant +matter to fill the annals of a glorious reign, and to perform the part +of a just historian to my royal master, without intermixing with it +any thing of the poet. + +In the mean time, while your royal highness is preparing fresh +employments for our pens, I have been examining my own forces, and +making trial of myself, how I shall be able to transmit you to +posterity. I have formed a hero, I confess, not absolutely perfect, +but of an excessive and over-boiling courage; but Homer and Tasso are +my precedents. Both the Greek and the Italian poet had well +considered, that a tame hero, who never transgresses the bounds of +moral virtue, would shine but dimly in an epic poem; the strictness of +those rules might well give precepts to the reader, but would +administer little of occasion to the writer. But a character of an +eccentrick virtue is the more exact image of human life, because he is +not wholly exempted from its frailties; such a person is Almanzor, +whom I present, with all humility, to the patronage of your royal +highness. I designed in him a roughness of character, impatient of +injuries, and a confidence of himself, almost approaching to an +arrogance. But these errors are incident only to great spirits; they +are moles and dimples, which hinder not a face from being beautiful, +though that beauty be not regular; they are of the number of those +amiable imperfections which we see in mistresses, and which we pass +over without a strict examination, when they are accompanied with +greater graces. And such in Almanzor are a frank and noble openness of +nature, an easiness to forgive his conquered enemies, and to protect +them in distress; and, above all, an inviolable faith in his +affection. + +This, sir, I have briefly shadowed to your royal highness, that you +may not be ashamed of that hero, whose protection you undertake. +Neither would I dedicate him to so illustrious a name, if I were +conscious to myself that he did or said any thing which was wholly +unworthy of it. However, since it is not just that your royal highness +should defend or own what possibly may be my error, I bring before you +this accused Almanzor in the nature of a suspected criminal. By the +suffrage of the most and best he already is acquitted; and by the +sentence of some, condemned. But as I have no reason to stand to the +award of my enemies, so neither dare I trust the partiality of my +friends: I make my last appeal to your royal highness, as to a +sovereign tribunal. Heroes should only be judged by heroes; because +they only are capable of measuring great and heroick actions by the +rule and standard of their own. If Almanzor has failed in any point of +honour, I must therein acknowledge that he deviates from your royal +highness, who are the pattern of it. But if at any time he fulfils the +parts of personal valour, and of conduct, of a soldier, and of a +general; or, if I could yet give him a character more advantageous +than what he has, of the most unshaken friend, the greatest of +subjects, and the best of masters, I should then draw to all the world +a true resemblance of your worth and virtues; at least, as far as they +are capable of being copied by the mean abilities of, + + SIR, + + Your royal highness's + Most humble, and + Most obedient servant, + JOHN DRYDEN. + + +Footnotes: +1. James Duke of York, afterwards James II. + +2. Although the valour of the unfortunate James II. seems to have sunk + with his good fortune, there is no reason to question his having + merited the compliment in the text. The Duke of Buckingham, in his + memoirs, has borne witness to the intrepidity with which he + encountered the dangers of his desperate naval actions with the + Dutch. Captain Carlton, who was also an eye-witness of his + deportment on that occasion, says, that while the balls were flying + thickly around, the Duke of York was wont to rub his hands, and + exclaim chearfully to his captain, "Spragge, Spragge, they follow + us fast." + +3. When General Lockhart commanded the troops of the Protector in + Flanders, the Duke of York was a volunteer in the Spanish army, and + was present at the defeat, which the latter received before + Dunkirk, 17th of June, 1658. + +4. The defeat of the Dutch off Harwich, 3d June, 1665, in which their + Admiral, Obdam, was blown up, eighteen of their ships taken, and + fourteen destroyed. + +5. The author seems to refer to the burning of the English ships at + Chatham, by the Dutch Admiral De Ruyter. + + + + + OF + + HEROIC PLAYS. + + AN ESSAY. + + +Whether heroic verse ought to be admitted into serious plays, is not +now to be disputed: it is already in possession of the stage, and I +dare confidently affirm, that very few tragedies, in this age, shall +be received without it. All the arguments which are formed against it, +can amount to no more than this, that it is not so near conversation +as prose, and therefore not so natural. But it is very clear to all +who understand poetry, that serious plays ought not to imitate +conversation too nearly. If nothing were to be raised above that +level, the foundation of poetry would be destroyed. And if you once +admit of a latitude, that thoughts may be exalted, and that images and +actions may be raised above the life, and described in measure without +rhyme, that leads you insensibly from your own principles to mine: you +are already so far onward of your way, that you have forsaken the +imitation of ordinary converse. You are gone beyond it; and to +continue where you are, is to lodge in the open fields, betwixt two +inns. You have lost that which you call natural, and have not acquired +the last perfection of art. But it was only custom which cozened us so +long; we thought, because Shakespeare and Fletcher went no farther, +that there the pillars of poetry were to be erected; that, because +they excellently described passion without rhime, therefore rhime was +not capable of describing it. But time has now convinced most men of +that error. It is indeed so difficult to write verse, that the +adversaries of it have a good plea against many, who undertook that +task, without being formed by art or nature for it. Yet, even they who +have written worst in it, would have written worse without it: They +have cozened many with their sound, who never took the pains to +examine their sense. In fine, they have succeeded; though, it is true, +they have more dishonoured rhime by their good success, than they have +done by their ill. But I am willing to let fall this argument: It is +free for every man to write, or not to write, in verse, as he judges +it to be, or not to be, his talent; or as he imagines the audience +will receive it. + +For heroic plays, in which only I have used it without the mixture of +prose, the first light we had of them, on the English theatre, was +from the late Sir William D'Avenant. It being forbidden him in the +rebellious times to act tragedies and comedies, because they contained +some matter of scandal to those good people, who could more easily +dispossess their lawful sovereign, than endure a wanton jest, he was +forced to turn his thoughts another way, and to introduce the examples +of moral virtue, writ in verse, and performed in recitative music. The +original of this music, and of the scenes which adorned his work, he +had from the Italian operas; but he heightened his characters, as I +may probably imagine, from the example of Corneille and some French +poets. In this condition did this part of poetry remain at his +majesty's return; when, growing bolder, as being now owned by a public +authority, he reviewed his "Siege of Rhodes," and caused it be acted +as a just drama. But as few men have the happiness to begin and finish +any new project, so neither did he live to make his design perfect: +There wanted the fulness of a plot, and the variety of characters to +form it as it ought; and, perhaps, something might have been added to +the beauty of the style. All which he would have performed with more +exactness, had he pleased to have given us another work of the same +nature. For myself and others, who come after him, we are bound, with +all veneration to his memory, to acknowledge what advantage we +received from that excellent groundwork which he laid: And, since it +is an easy thing to add to what already is invented, we ought all of +us, without envy to him, or partiality to ourselves, to yield him the +precedence in it. + +Having done him this justice, as my guide, I may do myself so much, as +to give an account of what I have performed after him. I observed +then, as I said, what was wanting to the perfection of his "Siege of +Rhodes;" which was design, and variety of characters. And in the midst +of this consideration by mere accident, I opened the next book that +lay by me, which was "Ariosto," in Italian; and the very first two +lines of that poem gave me light to all I could desire; + + _Le donne, i cavalier, l'arme, gli amori, + Le cortesie, l'audaci imprese io canto,_ &c. + +For the very next reflection which I made was this, that an heroic +play ought to be an imitation, in little, of an heroic poem; and, +consequently, that love and valour ought to be the subject of it. Both +these Sir William D'Avenant had begun to shadow; but it was so, as +first discoverers draw their maps, with headlands, and promontories, +and some few outlines of somewhat taken at a distance, and which the +designer saw not clearly. The common drama obliged him to a plot well +formed and pleasant, or, as the ancients call it, one entire and great +action. But this he afforded not himself in a story, which he neither +filled with persons, nor beautified with characters, nor varied with +accidents. The laws of an heroic poem did not dispense with those of +the other, but raised them to a greater height, and indulged him a +farther liberty of fancy, and of drawing all things as far above the +ordinary proportion of the stage, as that is beyond the common words +and actions of human life; and, therefore, in the scanting of his +images and design, he complied not enough with the greatness and +majesty of an heroic poem. + +I am sorry I cannot discover my opinion of this kind of writing, +without dissenting much from his, whose memory I love and honour. But +I will do it with the same respect to him, as if he were now alive, +and overlooking my paper while I write. His judgment of an heroic poem +was this: "That it ought to be dressed in a more familiar and easy +shape; more fitted to the common actions and passions of human life; +and, in short, more like a glass of nature, shewing us ourselves in +our ordinary habits and figuring a more practicable virtue to us, than +was done by the ancients or moderns." Thus he takes the image of an +heroic poem from the drama, or stage poetry; and accordingly intended +to divide it into five books, representing the same number of acts; +and every book into several cantos, imitating the scenes which compose +our acts. + +But this, I think, is rather a play in narration, as I may call it, +than an heroic poem. If at least you will not prefer the opinion of a +single man to the practice of the most excellent authors, both of +ancient and latter ages. I am no admirer of quotations; but you shall +hear, if you please, one of the ancients delivering his judgment on +this question; it is Petronius Arbiter, the most elegant, and one of +the most judicious authors of the Latin tongue; who, after he had +given many admirable rules for the structure and beauties of an epic +poem, concludes all in these following words:-- + +_"Non enim res gestae versibus comprehendendae sunt, quod longe melius +historici faciunt: sed, per ambages deorumque ministeria, +praecipitanaus est liber spiritus, ut potius furentis animi vaticinatio +appareat, quam religiosae orationis, sub testibus, fides."_ + +In which sentence, and his own essay of a poem, which immediately he +gives you, it is thought he taxes Lucan, who followed too much the +truth of history, crowded sentences together, was too full of points, +and too often offered at somewhat which had more of the sting of an +epigram, than of the dignity and state of an heroic poem. Lucan used +not much the help of his heathen deities: There was neither the +ministry of the gods, nor the precipitation of the soul, nor the fury +of a prophet (of which my author speaks), in his _Pharsalia_; he +treats you more like a philosopher than a poet, and instructs you in +verse, with what he had been taught by his uncle Seneca in prose. In +one word, he walks soberly afoot, when he might fly. Yet Lucan is not +always this religious historian. The oracle of Appius and the +witchcraft of Erictho, will somewhat atone for him, who was, indeed, +bound up by an ill-chosen and known argument, to follow truth with +great exactness. For my part, I am of opinion, that neither Homer, +Virgil, Statius, Ariosto, Tasso, nor our English Spencer, could have +formed their poems half so beautiful, without those gods and spirits, +and those enthusiastic parts of poetry, which compose the most noble +parts of all their writings. And I will ask any man who loves heroic +poetry (for I will not dispute their tastes who do not), if the ghost +of Polydorus in Virgil, the Enchanted Wood in Tasso, and the Bower of +Bliss in Spencer (which he borrows from that admirable Italian) could +have been omitted, without taking from their works some of the +greatest beauties in them. And if any man object the improbabilities +of a spirit appearing, or of a palace raised by magic; I boldly answer +him, that an heroic poet is not tied to a bare representation of what +is true, or exceeding probable; but that he may let himself loose to +visionary objects and to the representation of such things, as, +depending not on sense, and therefore not to be comprehended by +knowledge, may give him a freer scope for imagination. It is enough +that, in all ages and religions, the greatest part of mankind have +believed the power of magic, and that there are spirits or spectres +which have appeared. This, I say, is foundation enough for poetry; and +I dare farther affirm, that the whole doctrine of separated beings, +whether those spirits are incorporeal substances, (which Mr Hobbes, +with some reason, thinks to imply a contradiction) or that they are a +thinner and more aerial sort of bodies, (as some of the fathers have +conjectured) may better be explicated by poets than by philosophers or +divines. For their speculations on this subject are wholly poetical; +they have only their fancy for their guide; and that, being sharper in +an excellent poet, than it is likely it should in a phlegmatic, heavy +gownman, will see farther in its own empire, and produce more +satisfactory notions on those dark and doubtful problems. + +Some men think they have raised a great argument against the use of +spectres and magic in heroic poetry, by saying they are unnatural; but +whether they or I believe there are such things, is not material; it +is enough that, for aught we know, they may be in nature; and whatever +is, or may be, is not properly unnatural. Neither am I much concerned +at Mr Cowley's verses before "Gondibert," though his authority is +almost sacred to me: It is true, he has resembled the old epic poetry +to a fantastic fairy-land; but he has contradicted himself by his own +example: For he has himself made use of angels and visions in his +"Davideis," as well as Tasso in his "Godfrey." + +What I have written on this subject will not be thought a digression +by the reader, if he please to remember what I said in the beginning +of this essay, that I have modelled my heroic plays by the rules of an +heroic poem. And if that be the most noble, the most pleasant, and the +most instructive way of writing in verse, and withal the highest +pattern of human life, as all poets have agreed, I shall need no other +argument to justify my choice in this imitation. One advantage the +drama has above the other, namely, that it represents to view what the +poem only does relate; and, _Segnius irritant animum demissa per +aures, quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus_, as Horace tells us. + +To those who object my frequent use of drums and trumpets, and my +representations of battles, I answer, I introduced them not on the +English stage: Shakespeare used them frequently; and though Jonson +shews no battle in his "Catiline," yet you hear from behind the scenes +the sounding of trumpets, and the shouts of fighting armies. But, I +add farther, that these warlike instruments, and even their +presentations of fighting on the stage, are no more than necessary to +produce the effects of an heroic play; that is, to raise the +imagination of the audience and to persuade them, for the time, that +what they behold on the theatre is really performed. The poet is then +to endeavour an absolute dominion over the minds of the spectators; +for, though our fancy will contribute to its own deceit, yet a writer +ought to help its operation: And that the Red Bull has formerly done +the same, is no more an argument against our practice, than it would +be for a physician to forbear an approved medicine, because a +mountebank has used it with success. + +Thus I have given a short account of heroic plays. I might now, with +the usual eagerness of an author, make a particular defence of this. +But the common opinion (how unjust soever) has been so much to my +advantage, that I have reason to be satisfied, and to suffer with +patience all that can be urged against it. + +For, otherwise, what can be more easy for me, than to defend the +character of Almanzor, which is one great exception that is made +against the play? 'Tis said, that Almanzor is no perfect pattern of +heroic virtue, that he is a contemner of kings, and that he is made to +perform impossibilities. + +I must therefore avow, in the first place, from whence I took the +character. The first image I had of him, was from the Achilles of +Homer; the next from Tasso's Rinaldo, (who was a copy of the former) +and the third from the Artaban of Monsieur Calpranede, who has +imitated both. The original of these, Achilles, is taken by Homer for +his hero; and is described by him as one, who in strength and courage +surpassed the rest of the Grecian army; but, withal, of so fiery a +temper, so impatient of an injury, even from his king and general, +that when his mistress was to be forced from him by the command of +Agamemnon, he not only disobeyed it, but returned him an answer full +of contumely, and in the most opprobrious terms he could imagine; they +are Homer's words which follow, and I have cited but some few amongst +a multitude. + + [Greek: Oinobares, kynos ommat' echon, kradien d' elaphoio.] + --Il. a. v. 225. + + [Greek: Demoboros basileus,] &c. --Il. a. v. 231. + +Nay, he proceeded so far in his insolence, as to draw out his sword, +with intention to kill him; + + [Greek: Elketo d' ek koleoio mega xiphos.] + --Il. a. v. 194. + +and, if Minerva had not appeared, and held his hand, he had executed +his design; and it was all she could do to dissuade him from it. The +event was, that he left the army, and would fight no more. Agamemnon +gives his character thus to Nestor; + + [Greek: All' hod' aner ethelei peri panton emmenai allon, + Panton men krateein ethelei, pantessi d' anassein.] + --Il. a. v. 287, 288 + +and Horace gives the same description of him in his Art of Poetry. + + _--Honoratum si forte reponis Achillem, + Inpiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer, + Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis._ + +Tasso's chief character, Rinaldo, was a man of the same temper; for, +when he had slain Gernando in his heat of passion, he not only refused +to be judged by Godfrey, his general, but threatened that if he came +to seize him, he would right himself by arms upon him; witness these +following lines of Tasso: + + _Venga egli, o mundi, io terro fermo il piede: + Giudici fian tra noi la sorte, e l'arme; + Fera tragedia vuol che s'appresenti, + Per lor diporto, alle nemiche genti._ + +You see how little these great authors did esteem the point of honour, +so much magnified by the French, and so ridiculously aped by us. They +made their heroes men of honour; but so, as not to divest them quite +of human passions and frailties: they content themselves to shew you, +what men of great spirits would certainly do when they were provoked, +not what they were obliged to do by the strict rules of moral virtue. +For my own part, I declare myself for Homer and Tasso, and am more in +love with Achilles and Rinaldo, than with Cyrus and Oroondates. I +shall never subject my characters to the French standard, where love +and honour are to be weighed by drams and scruples: Yet, where I have +designed the patterns of exact virtues, such as in this play are the +parts of Almahide, of Ozmyn, and Benzayda, I may safely challenge the +best of theirs. + +But Almanzor is taxed with changing sides: and what tie has he on him +to the contrary? He is not born their subject whom he serves, and he +is injured by them to a very high degree. He threatens them, and +speaks insolently of sovereign power; but so do Achilles and Rinaldo, +who were subjects and soldiers to Agamemnon and Godfrey of Bulloigne. +He talks extravagantly in his passion; but, if I would take the pains +to quote an hundred passages of Ben Jonson's Cethegus, I could easily +shew you, that the rhodomontades of Almanzor are neither so irrational +as his, nor so impossible to be put in execution; for Cethegus +threatens to destroy nature, and to raise a new one out of it; to kill +all the senate for his part of the action; to look Cato dead; and a +thousand other things as extravagant he says, but performs not one +action in the play. + +But none of the former calumnies will stick; and, therefore, it is at +last charged upon me, that Almanzor does all things; or if you will +have an absurd accusation, in their nonsense who make it, that he +performs impossibilities: they say, that being a stranger, he appeases +two fighting factions, when the authority of their lawful sovereign +could not. This is indeed the most improbable of all his actions, but +it is far from being impossible. Their king had made himself +contemptible to his people, as the history of Granada tells us; and +Almanzor, though a stranger, yet was already known to them by his +gallantry in the Juego de torros, his engagement on the weaker side, +and more especially by the character of his person and brave actions, +given by Abdalla just before; and, after all, the greatness of the +enterprise consisted only in the daring, for he had the king's guards +to second him: But we have read both of Caesar, and many other +generals, who have not only calmed a mutiny with a word, but have +presented themselves single before an army of their enemies; which +upon sight of them has revolted from their own leaders, and come over +to their trenches. In the rest of Almanzor's actions you see him for +the most part victorious; but the same fortune has constantly attended +many heroes, who were not imaginary. Yet, you see it no inheritance to +him; for, in the first place, he is made a prisoner; and, in the last, +defeated, and not able to preserve the city from being taken. If the +history of the late Duke of Guise be true, he hazarded more, and +performed not less in Naples, than Almanzor is feigned to have done in +Granada. + +I have been too tedious in this apology; but to make some +satisfaction, I will leave the rest of my play exposed to the +criticks, without defence. + +The concernment of it is wholly passed from me, and ought to be in +them who have been favourable to it, and are somewhat obliged to +defend their opinions That there are errors in it, I deny not; + + _Ast opere in tanto fas est obrepere somnum._ + +But I have already swept the stakes: and, with the common good fortune +of prosperous gamesters, can be content to sit quietly; to hear my +fortune cursed by some, and my faults arraigned by others; and to +suffer both without reply. + + + + + ON + + MR DRYDEN'S PLAY, + + THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. + + + The applause I gave among the foolish crowd + Was not distinguished, though I clapped aloud: + Or, if it had, my judgment had been hid: + I clapped for company, as others did. + Thence may be told the fortune of your play; + Its goodness must be tried another way. + Let's judge it then, and, if we've any skill, + Commend what's good, though we commend it ill. + There will be praise enough; yet not so much, + As if the world had never any such: + Ben Johnson, Beaumont, Fletcher, Shakespeare, are, + As well as you, to have a poet's share. + You, who write after, have, besides, this curse, + You must write better, or you else write worse. + To equal only what was writ before, + Seems stolen, or borrowed from the former store. + Though blind as Homer all the ancients be, + 'Tis on their shoulders, like the lame, we see. + Then not to flatter th' age, nor flatter you, + (Praises, though less, are greater when they're true,) + You're equal to the best, out-done by you; + Who had out-done themselves, had they lived now. + + VAUGHAN[1]. + + +Footnote: +1. John, Lord Vaughan, eldest surviving son of Richard, Earl of + Carbery. + + + + + PROLOGUE + + TO THE FIRST PART, + + SPOKEN BY + + MRS ELLEN GWYN, + + IN A BROAD-BRIMMED HAT, AND WAIST-BELT.[1] + + + This jest was first of the other house's making, + And, five times tried, has never failed of taking; + For 'twere a shame a poet should be killed + Under the shelter of so broad a shield. + This is that hat, whose very sight did win ye + To laugh and clap as though the devil were in ye. + As then, for Nokes, so now I hope you'll be + So dull, to laugh once more for love of me. + I'll write a play, says one, for I have got + A broad-brimmed hat, and waist-belt, towards a plot. + Says the other, I have one more large than that. + Thus they out-write each other--with a hat! + The brims still grew with every play they writ; + And grew so large, they covered all the wit. + Hat was the play; 'twas language, wit, and tale: + Like them that find meat, drink, and cloth in ale. + What dulness do these mongrel wits confess, + When all their hope is acting of a dress! + Thus, two the best comedians of the age + Must be worn out, with being blocks o' the stage; + Like a young girl, who better things has known, + Beneath their poet's impotence they groan. + See now what charity it was to save! + They thought you liked, what only you forgave; + And brought you more dull sense, dull sense much worse + Than brisk gay nonsense, and the heavier curse. + They bring old iron, and glass upon the stage, + To barter with the Indians of our age. + Still they write on, and like great authors show; } + But 'tis as rollers in wet gardens grow } + Heavy with dirt, and gathering as they go. } + May none, who have so little understood, + To like such trash, presume to praise what's good! + And may those drudges of the stage, whose fate + Is damned dull farce more dully to translate, + Fall under that excise the state thinks fit + To set on all French wares, whose worst is wit. + French farce, worn out at home, is sent abroad; + And, patched up here, is made our English mode. + Henceforth, let poets, ere allowed to write, + Be searched, like duelists before they fight, + For wheel-broad hats, dull honour, all that chaff, + Which makes you mourn, and makes the vulgar laugh: + For these, in plays, are as unlawful arms, + As, in a combat, coats of mail, and charms. + + +Footnote: +1. There is a vague tradition, that, in this grotesque dress, (for the + brims of the hat were as broad as a cart-wheel,) Nell Gwyn had the + good fortune first to attract the attention of her royal lover. + Where the jest lay, is difficult to discover: it seems to have + originated with the duke of York's players. + + + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + + MAHOMET BOABDELIN, _the last king of Granada._ + _Prince_ ABDALLA, _his brother._ + ABDELMELECH, _chief of the Abencerrages._ + ZULEMA, _chief of the Zegrys._ + ABENAMAR, _an old Abencerrago._ + SELIN, _an old Zegry._ + OZMYN, _a brave young Abencerrago, son to Abenamar._ + HAMET, _brother to Zulema, a Zegry._ + GOMEL, _a Zegry._ + ALMANZOR. + FERDINAND, _king of Spain._ + _Duke of_ ARCOS, _his General._ + _Don_ ALONZO D'AGUILAR, _a Spanish Captain._ + + ALMAHIDE, _Queen of Granada._ + LYNDARAXA, _Sister of_ ZULEMA, _a Zegry Lady._ + BENZAYDA, _Daughter to_ SELIN. + ESPERANZA, _Slave to the Queen._ + HALYMA, _Slave to_ LYNDARAXA. + ISABELLA, _Queen of Spain._ + + _Messengers, Guards, Attendants, Men, and Women._ + +SCENE.--_Granada, and the Christian Camp besieging it._ + + + + + ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE, + + OR, THE + + CONQUEST OF GRANADA. + + THE FIRST PART. + + +ACT I. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, ABDELMELECH, _and Guards._ + +_Boab._ Thus, in the triumphs of soft peace, I reign; +And, from my walls, defy the powers of Spain; +With pomp and sports my love I celebrate, +While they keep distance, and attend my state.-- +Parent to her, whose eyes my soul enthral, [_To_ ABEN. +Whom I, in hope, already father call, +Abenamar, thy youth these sports has known, +Of which thy age is now spectator grown; +Judge-like thou sit'st, to praise, or to arraign +The flying skirmish of the darted cane: +But, when fierce bulls run loose upon the place, +And our bold Moors their loves with danger grace, +Then heat new-bends thy slacken'd nerves again, +And a short youth runs warm through every vein. + +_Aben._ I must confess the encounters of this day +Warmed me indeed, but quite another way,-- +Not with the fire of youth; but generous rage, +To see the glories of my youthful age +So far out-done. + +_Abdelm._ Castile could never boast, in all its pride; +A pomp so splendid, when the lists, set wide, +Gave room to the fierce bulls, which wildly ran +In Sierra Ronda, ere the war began; +Who, with high nostrils snuffing up the wind, +Now stood the champion of the savage kind. +Just opposite, within the circled place, +Ten of our bold Abencerrages race +(Each brandishing his bull-spear in his hand,) +Did their proud jennets gracefully command. +On their steel'd heads their demi-lances wore +Small pennons, which their ladies' colours bore. +Before this troop did warlike Ozmyn go; +Each lady, as he rode, saluting low; +At the chief stands, with reverence more profound, +His well-taught courser, kneeling, touched the ground; +Thence raised, he sidelong bore his rider on, +Still facing, till he out of sight was gone. + +_Boab._ You praise him like a friend; and I confess, +His brave deportment merited no less. + +_Abdelm._ Nine bulls were launched by his victorious arm, +Whose wary jennet, shunning still the harm, +Seemed to attend the shock, and then leaped wide: +Mean while, his dext'rous rider, when he spied +The beast just stooping, 'twixt the neck and head +His lance, with never-erring fury, sped. + +_Aben._ My son did well, and so did Hamet too; +Yet did no more than we were wont to do; +But what the stranger did was more than man. + +_Abdelm._ He finished all those triumphs we began. +One bull, with curled black head, beyond the rest, +And dew-laps hanging from his brawny chest, +With nodding front a while did daring stand, +And with his jetty hoof spurned back the sand; +Then, leaping forth, he bellowed out aloud: +The amazed assistants back each other crowd, +While monarch-like he ranged the listed field; +Some tossed, some gored, some trampling down he killed. +The ignobler Moors from far his rage provoke +With woods of darts, which from his sides he shook. +Mean time your valiant son, who had before +Gained fame, rode round to every Mirador; +Beneath each lady's stand a stop he made, +And, bowing, took the applauses which they paid. +Just in that point of time, the brave unknown +Approached the lists. + +_Boab._ I marked him, when alone +(Observed by all, himself observing none) +He entered first, and with a graceful pride +His fiery Arab dextrously did guide, +Who, while his rider every stand surveyed, +Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade; +Not moving forward, yet, with every bound, +Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground. +What after passed +Was far from the Ventanna where I sate, +But you were near, and can the truth relate. [_To_ ABDELM. + +_Abdelm._ Thus while he stood, the bull, who saw his foe, +His easier conquests proudly did forego; +And, making at him with a furious bound, +From his bent forehead aimed a double wound. +A rising murmur ran through all the field, +And every lady's blood with fear was chilled: +Some shrieked, while others, with more helpful care, +Cried out aloud,--Beware, brave youth, beware! +At this he turned, and, as the bull drew near, +Shunned, and received him on his pointed spear: +The lance broke short, the beast then bellowed loud, +And his strong neck to a new onset bowed. +The undaunted youth +Then drew; and, from his saddle bending low, +Just where the neck did to the shoulders grow, +With his full force discharged a deadly blow. +Not heads of poppies (when they reap the grain) +Fall with more ease before the labouring swain, +Than fell this head: +It fell so quick, it did even death prevent, +And made imperfect bellowings as it went. +Then all the trumpets victory did sound, +And yet their clangors in our shouts were drown'd. + [_A confused noise within. + +Boab._ The alarm-bell rings from our Alhambra walls, +And from the streets sound drums and ataballes. + [_Within, a bell, drums, and trumpets._ + + _Enter a Messenger._ + +How now? from whence proceed these new alarms? + +_Mess._ The two fierce factions are again in arms; +And, changing into blood the day's delight, +The Zegrys with the Abencerrages fight; +On each side their allies and friends appear; +The Macas here, the Alabezes there: +The Gazuls with the Bencerrages join, +And, with the Zegrys, all great Gomel's line. + +_Boab._ Draw up behind the Vivarambla place; +Double my guards,--these factions I will face; +And try if all the fury they can bring, +Be proof against the presence of their king. [_Exit_ BOAB. + + _The Factions appear: At the head of the Abencerrages,_ OZMYN; _at + the head of the Zegrys,_ ZULEMA, HAMET, GOMEL, _and_ SELIN: ABENAMAR + _and_ ABDELMELECH, _joined with the Abencerrages._ + +_Zul._ The faint Abencerrages quit their ground: +Press them; put home your thrusts to every wound. + +_Abdelm._ Zegry, on manly force our line relies; +Thine poorly takes the advantage of surprise: +Unarmed and much out-numbered we retreat; +You gain no fame, when basely you defeat. +If thou art brave, seek nobler victory; +Save Moorish blood; and, while our bands stand by, +Let two and two an equal combat try. + +_Ham._ 'Tis not for fear the combat we refuse, +But we our gained advantage will not lose. + +_Zul._ In combating, but two of you will fall; +And we resolve we will dispatch you all. + +_Ozm._ We'll double yet the exchange before we die, +And each of ours two lives of yours shall buy. + + ALMANZOR _enters betwixt them, as they stand ready to engage._ + +_Alm._ I cannot stay to ask which cause is best; +But this is so to me, because opprest. [_Goes to the Aben._ + + _To them_ BOABDELIN _and his guards, going betwixt them._ + +_Boab._ On your allegiance, I command you stay; +Who passes here, through me must make his way; +My life's the Isthmus; through this narrow line +You first must cut, before those seas can join. +What fury, Zegrys, has possessed your minds? +What rage the brave Abencerrages blinds? +If of your courage you new proofs would show, +Without much travel you may find a foe. +Those foes are neither so remote nor few, +That you should need each other to pursue. +Lean times and foreign wars should minds unite; +When poor, men mutter, but they seldom fight. +O holy Alha! that I live to see +Thy Granadines assist their enemy! +You fight the christians' battles; every life +You lavish thus, in this intestine strife, +Does from our weak foundations take one prop, +Which helped to hold our sinking country up. + +_Ozm._ 'Tis fit our private enmity should cease; +Though injured first, yet I will first seek peace. + +_Zul._ No, murderer, no; I never will be won +To peace with him, whose hand has slain my son. + +_Ozm._ Our prophet's curse +On me, and all the Abencerrages light, +If, unprovoked, I with your son did fight. + +_Abdelm._ A band of Zegrys ran within the place, +Matched with a troop of thirty of our race. +Your son and Ozmyn the first squadrons led, +Which, ten by ten, like Parthians, charged and fled. +The ground was strowed with canes where we did meet, +Which crackled underneath our coursers' feet: +When Tarifa (I saw him ride a part) +Changed his blunt cane for a steel-pointed dart, +And, meeting Ozmyn next,-- +Who wanted time for treason to provide,-- +He basely threw it at him, undefied. + +_Ozm._ [_Shewing his arms._] +Witness this blood--which when by treason sought, +That followed, sir, which to myself I ought. + +_Zul._ His hate to thee was grounded on a grudge, +Which all our generous Zegrys just did judge: +Thy villain-blood thou openly didst place +Above the purple of our kingly race. + +_Boab._ From equal stems their blood both houses draw, +They from Morocco, you from Cordova. + +_Ham._ Their mongrel race is mixed with Christian breed; +Hence 'tis that they those dogs in prisons feed. + +_Abdelm._ Our holy prophet wills, that charity +Should even to birds and beasts extended be: +None knows what fate is for himself designed; +The thought of human chance should make us kind. + +_Gom._ We waste that time we to revenge should give: +Fall on: let no Abencerrago live. + [_Advancing before the rest of his party._ ALMANZOR + _advancing on the other side, and describing a + line with his sword._ + +_Almanz._ Upon thy life pass not this middle space; +Sure death stands guarding the forbidden place. + +_Gom._ To dare that death, I will approach yet nigher; +Thus,--wert thou compassed in with circling fire. [_They fight._ + +_Boab._ Disarm them both; if they resist you, kill. + [ALMANZOR, _in the midst of the guards, kills_ + GOMEL, _and then is disarmed._ + +_Almanz._ Now you have but the leavings of my will. + +_Boab._ Kill him! this insolent unknown shall fall, +And be the victim to atone you all. + +_Ozm._ If he must die, not one of us will live: +That life he gave for us, for him we give. + +_Boab._ It was a traitor's voice that spoke those words; +So are you all, who do not sheath your swords. + +_Zul._ Outrage unpunished, when a prince is by, +Forfeits to scorn the rights of majesty: +No subject his protection can expect, +Who what he owes himself does first neglect. + +_Aben._ This stranger, sir, is he, +Who lately in the Vivarambla place +Did, with so loud applause, your triumphs grace. + +_Boab._ The word which I have given, I'll not revoke; +If he be brave, he's ready for the stroke. + +_Almanz._ No man has more contempt than I of breath, +But whence hast thou the right to give me death? +Obeyed as sovereign by thy subjects be, +But know, that I alone am king of me. +I am as free as nature first made man, +Ere the base laws of servitude began, +When wild in woods the noble savage ran. + +_Boab._ Since, then, no power above your own you know, +Mankind should use you like a common foe; +You should be hunted like a beast of prey: +By your own law I take your life away. + +_Almanz._ My laws are made but only for my sake; +No king against himself a law can make. +If thou pretend'st to be a prince like me, +Blame not an act, which should thy pattern be. +I saw the oppressed, and thought it did belong +To a king's office to redress the wrong: +I brought that succour, which thou ought'st to bring, +And so, in nature, am thy subjects' king. + +_Boab._ I do not want your counsel to direct +Or aid to help me punish or protect. + +_Almanz._ Thou want'st them both, or better thou would'st know, +Than to let factions in thy kingdom grow. +Divided interests, while thou think'st to sway, +Draw, like two brooks, thy middle stream away: +For though they band and jar, yet both combine +To make their greatness by the fall of thine. +Thus, like a buckler, thou art held in sight, +While they behind thee with each other fight. + +_Boab._ Away, and execute him instantly! [_To his Guards._ + +_Almanz._ Stand off; I have not leisure yet to die. + + _To them, enter_ ABDALLA _hastily._ + +_Abdal._ Hold, sir! for heaven's sake hold! +Defer this noble stranger's punishment, +Or your rash orders you will soon repent. + +_Boab._ Brother, you know not yet his insolence. + +_Abdal._ Upon yourself you punish his offence: +If we treat gallant strangers in this sort, +Mankind will shun the inhospitable court; +And who, henceforth, to our defence will come, +If death must be the brave Almanzor's doom? +From Africa I drew him to your aid, +And for his succour have his life betrayed. + +_Boab._ Is this the Almanzor whom at Fez you knew, +When first their swords the Xeriff brothers drew? + +_Abdal._ This, sir, is he, who for the elder fought, +And to the juster cause the conquest brought; +Till the proud Santo, seated on the throne, +Disdained the service he had done to own: +Then to the vanquished part his fate he led; +The vanquished triumphed, and the victor fled. +Vast is his courage, boundless is his mind, +Rough as a storm, and humorous as wind: +Honour's the only idol of his eyes; +The charms of beauty like a pest he flies; +And, raised by valour from a birth unknown, +Acknowledges no power above his own. [BOABDELIN _coming to_ ALMANZOR. + +_Boab._ Impute your danger to our ignorance; +The bravest men are subject most to chance: +Granada much does to your kindness owe; +But towns, expecting sieges, cannot show +More honour, than to invite you to a foe. + +_Almanz._ I do not doubt but I have been to blame: +But, to pursue the end for which I came, +Unite your subjects first; then let us go, +And pour their common rage upon the foe. + +_Boab._ [_to the Factions._] +Lay down your arms, and let me beg you cease +Your enmities. + +_Zul._ We will not hear of peace, +Till we by force have first revenged our slain. + +_Abdelm._ The action we have done we will maintain. + +_Selin._ Then let the king depart, and we will try +Our cause by arms. + +_Zul._ For us and victory. + +_Boab._ A king entreats you. + +_Almanz._ What subjects will precarious kings regard? +A beggar speaks too softly to be heard: +Lay down your arms! 'tis I command you now. +Do it--or, by our prophet's soul I vow, +My hands shall right your king on him I seize. +Now let me see whose look but disobeys. + +_All._ Long live king Mahomet Boabdelin! + +_Almanz._ No more; but hushed as midnight silence go: +He will not have your acclamations now. +Hence, you unthinking crowd!-- + [_The Common People go off on both parties._ +Empire, thou poor and despicable thing, +When such as these make or unmake a king! + +_Abdal._ How much of virtue lies in one great soul, [_Embracing him._ +Whose single force can multitudes controul! [_A trumpet within._ + + _Enter a Messenger._ + +_Messen._ The Duke of Arcos, sir, +Does with a trumpet from the foe appear. + +_Boab._ Attend him; he shall have his audience here. + + _Enter the Duke of_ ARCOS. + +_D. Arcos._ The monarchs of Castile and Arragon +Have sent me to you, to demand this town. +To which their just and rightful claim is known. + +_Boab._ Tell Ferdinand, my right to it appears +By long possession of eight hundred years: +When first my ancestors from Afric sailed, +In Rodrique's death your Gothic title failed. + +_D. Arcos._ The successors of Rodrique still remain, +And ever since have held some part of Spain: +Even in the midst of your victorious powers, +The Asturias, and all Portugal, were ours. +You have no right, except you force allow; +And if yours then was just, so ours is now. + +_Boab._ 'Tis true from force the noblest title springs; +I therefore hold from that, which first made kings. + +_D. Arcos._ Since then by force you prove your title true, +Ours must be just, because we claim from you. +When with your father you did jointly reign, +Invading with your Moors the south of Spain, +I, who that day the Christians did command, +Then took, and brought you bound to Ferdinand. + +_Boab._ I'll hear no more; defer what you would say; +In private we'll discourse some other day. + +_D. Arcos._ Sir, you shall hear, however you are loth, +That, like a perjured prince, you broke your oath: +To gain your freedom you a contract signed, +By which your crown you to my king resigned, +From thenceforth as his vassal holding it, +And paying tribute such as he thought fit; +Contracting, when your father came to die, +To lay aside all marks of royalty, +And at Purchena privately to live, +Which, in exchange, king Ferdinand did give. + +_Boab._ The force used on me made that contract void. + +_D. Arcos._ Why have you then its benefits enjoyed? +By it you had not only freedom then, +But, since, had aid of money and of men; +And, when Granada for your uncle held, +You were by us restored, and he expelled. +Since that, in peace we let you reap your grain, +Recalled our troops, that used to beat your plain; +And more-- + +_Almanz._ Yes, yes, you did, with wonderous care, +Against his rebels prosecute the war, +While he secure in your protection slept; +For him you took, but for yourself you kept. +Thus, as some fawning usurer does feed, +With present sums, the unwary spendthrift's need, +You sold your kindness at a boundless rate, +And then o'erpaid the debt from his estate; +Which, mouldering piecemeal, in your hands did fall, +Till now at last you come to swoop it all. + +_D. Arcos._ The wrong you do my king, I cannot bear; +Whose kindness you would odiously compare.-- +The estate was his; which yet, since you deny, +He's now content, in his own wrong, to buy. + +_Almanz._ And he shall buy it dear! What his he calls, +We will not give one stone from out these walls. + +_Boab._ Take this for answer, then,-- +Whate'er your arms have conquered of my land, +I will, for peace, resign to Ferdinand.-- +To harder terms my mind I cannot bring; +But, as I still have lived, will die a king. + +_D. Arcos._ Since thus you have resolved, henceforth prepare +For all the last extremities of war: +My king his hope from heaven's assistance draws. + +_Almanz._ The Moors have heaven, and me, to assist their cause. + [_Exit_ ARCOS. + + _Enter_ ESPERANZA. + +_Esper._ Fair Almahide, +(Who did with weeping eyes these discords see, +And fears the omen may unlucky be,) +Prepares a zambra to be danced this night. +In hope soft pleasures may your minds unite. + +_Boab._ My mistress gently chides the fault I made: +But tedious business has my love delayed,-- +Business which dares the joys of kings invade. + +_Almanz._ First let us sally out, and meet the foe. + +_Abdal._ Led on by you, we on to triumph go. + +_Boab._ Then with the day let war and tumult cease; +The night be sacred to our love and peace: +'Tis just some joys on weary kings should wait; +'Tis all we gain by being slaves to state. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT II. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ ABDALLA, ABDELMELECH, OZMYN, ZULEMA, _and_ HAMET, _as + returning from the sally._ + +_Abdal._ This happy day does to Granada bring +A lasting peace, and triumphs to the king!-- +The two fierce factions will no longer jar, +Since they have now been brothers in the war. +Those who, apart, in emulation fought, +The common danger to one body brought; +And, to his cost, the proud Castilian finds +Our Moorish courage in united minds. + +_Abdelm._ Since to each others aid our lives we owe, +Lose we the name of faction, and of foe; +Which I to Zulema can bear no more, +Since Lyndaraxa's beauty I adore. + +_Zul._ I am obliged to Lyndaraxa's charms, +Which gain the conquest I should lose by arms; +And wish my sister may continue fair, +That I may keep a good, +Of whose possession I should else despair. + +_Ozm._ While we indulge our common happiness, +He is forgot, by whom we all possess; +The brave Almanzor, to whose arms we owe +All that we did, and all that we shall do; +Who, like a tempest, that out-rides the wind, +Made a just battle ere the bodies joined. + +_Abdelm._ His victories we scarce could keep in view, +Or polish them so fast as he rough-drew. + +_Abdal._ Fate, after him, below with pain did move, +And victory could scarce keep pace above: +Death did at length so many slain forget, +And lost the tale, and took them by the great. + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR, _with the Duke of_ ARCOS, _prisoner._ + +_Hamet._ See, here he comes, +And leads in triumph him, who did command +The vanquished army of king Ferdinand. + +_Almanz._ [_To the Duke._] +Thus far your master's arms a fortune find +Below the swelled ambition of his mind; +And Alha shuts a misbeliever's reign +From out the best and goodliest part of Spain. +Let Ferdinand Calabrian conquests make, +And from the French contested Milan take; +Let him new worlds discover to the old, +And break up shining mountains, big with gold; +Yet he shall find this small domestic foe, +Still sharp and pointed, to his bosom grow. + +_D. Arcos._ Of small advantages too much you boast; +You beat the out-guards of my master's host: +This little loss, in our vast body, shows +So small, that half have never heard the news. +Fame's out of breath, ere she can fly so far, +To tell them all, that you have e'er made war. + +_Almanz._ It pleases me your army is so great; +For now I know there's more to conquer yet. +By heaven! I'll see what troops you have behind: +I'll face this storm, that thickens in the wind; +And, with bent forehead, full against it go, +'Till I have found the last and utmost foe. + +_D. Arcos._ Believe, you shall not long attend in vain: +To-morrow's dawn shall cover all the plain; +Bright arms shall flash upon you from afar, +A wood of lances, and a moving war. +But I, unhappy, in my bonds, must yet +Be only pleased to hear of your defeat, +And with a slave's inglorious ease remain, +'Till conquering Ferdinand has broke my chain. + +_Almanz._ Vain man, thy hopes of Ferdinand are weak! +I hold thy chain too fast for him to break. +But, since thou threaten'st us, I'll set thee free, +That I again may fight, and conquer thee. + +_D. Arcos._ Old as I am, I take thee at thy word, +And will to-morrow thank thee with my sword. + +_Almanz._ I'll go, and instantly acquaint the king, +And sudden orders for thy freedom bring. +Thou canst not be so pleased at liberty, +As I shall be to find thou darest be free. + [_Exeunt_ ALMANZOR, ARCOS, _and the rest, excepting + only_ ABDALLA _and_ ZULEMA. + +_Abdal._ Of all those Christians who infest this town, +This duke of Arcos is of most renown. + +_Zul._ Oft have I heard, that, in your father's reign, +His bold adventurers beat the neighbouring plain; +Then under Ponce Leon's name he fought, +And from our triumphs many prizes brought; +Till in disgrace from Spain at length he went, +And since continued long in banishment. + +_Abdal._ But, see, your beauteous sister does appear. + + _Enter_ LYNDARAXA. + +_Zul._ By my desire she came to find me here. + [ZULEMA _and_ LYNDARAXA _whisper; then_ ZUL. + _goes out, and_ LYNDAR. _is going after._ + +_Abdal._ Why, fairest Lyndaraxa, do you fly [_Staying her._ +A prince, who at your feet is proud to die? + +_Lyndar._ Sir, I should blush to own so rude a thing, [_Staying._ +As 'tis to shun the brother of my king. + +_Abdal._ In my hard fortune, I some ease should find, +Did your disdain extend to all mankind. +But give me leave to grieve, and to complain, +That you give others what I beg in vain. + +_Lyndar._ Take my esteem, if you on that can live; +For, frankly, sir, 'tis all I have to give: +If from my heart you ask or hope for more, +I grieve the place is taken up before. + +_Abdal._ My rival merits you.-- +To Abdelmelech I will justice do; +For he wants worth, who dares not praise a foe. + +_Lyndar._ That for his virtue, sir, you make defence, +Shows in your own a noble confidence. +But him defending, and excusing me, +I know not what can your advantage be. + +_Abdal._ I fain would ask, ere I proceed in this, +If, as by choice, you are by promise his? + +_Lyndar._ The engagement only in my love does lie, +But that's a knot which you can ne'er untie. + +_Abdal._ When cities are besieged, and treat to yield, +If there appear relievers from the field, +The flag of parley may be taken down, +Till the success of those without is known; + +_Lyndar._ Though Abdelmelech has not yet possest, +Yet I have sealed the treaty in my breast. + +_Abdal._ Your treaty has not tied you to a day; +Some chance might break it, would you but delay. +If I can judge the secrets of your heart, +Ambition in it has the greatest part; +And wisdom, then, will shew some difference, +Betwixt a private person, and a prince. + +_Lyndar._ Princes are subjects still.-- +Subject and subject can small difference bring: +The difference is 'twixt subjects and a king. +And since, sir, you are none, your hopes remove; +For less than empire I'll not change my love. + +_Abdal._ Had I a crown, all I should prize in it, +Should be the power to lay it at your feet. + +_Lyndar._ Had you that crown, which you but wish, not hope, +Then I, perhaps, might stoop, and take it up. +But till your wishes and your hopes agree, +You shall be still a private man with me. + +_Abdal._ If I am king, and if my brother die,-- + +_Lyndar._ Two if's scarce make one possibility. + +_Abdal._ The rule of happiness by reason scan; +You may be happy with a private man. + +_Lyndar._ That happiness I may enjoy, 'tis true; +But then that private man must not be you. +Where'er I love, I'm happy in my choice; +If I make you so, you shall pay my price. + +_Abdal._ Why would you be so great? + +_Lyndar._ Because I've seen, +This day, what 'tis to hope to be a queen.-- +Heaven, how you all watched each motion of her eye! +None could be seen while Almahide was by, +Because she is to be--her majesty!-- +Why would I be a queen? Because my face +Would wear the title with a better grace. +If I became it not, yet it would be +Part of your duty, then, to flatter me. +These are but half the charms of being great; +I would be somewhat, that I know not yet:-- +Yes! I avow the ambition of my soul, +To be that one to live without controul! +And that's another happiness to me, +To be so happy as but one can be. + +_Abdal._ Madam,--because I would all doubts remove,-- +Would you, were I a king, accept my love? + +_Lyndar._ I would accept it; and, to shew 'tis true, +From any other man as soon as you. + +_Abdal._ Your sharp replies make me not love you less; +But make me seek new paths to happiness.-- +What I design, by time will best be seen: +You may be mine, and yet may be a queen. +When you are so, your word your love assures. + +_Lyndar._ Perhaps not love you,--but I will be yours.-- + [_He offers to take her hand, and kiss it._ +Stay, sir, that grace I cannot yet allow; +Before you set the crown upon my brow.-- +That favour which you seek, +Or Abdelmelech, or a king, must have; +When you are so, then you may be my slave. + [_Exit; but looks smiling back on him._ + +_Abdal._ Howe'er imperious in her words she were, +Her parting looks had nothing of severe; +A glancing smile allured me to command, +And her soft fingers gently pressed my hand: +I felt the pleasure glide through every part; +Her hand went through me to my very heart. +For such another pleasure, did he live, +I could my father of a crown deprive.-- +What did I say?-- +Father!--That impious thought has shocked my mind: +How bold our passions are, and yet how blind!-- +She's gone; and now, +Methinks, there is less glory in a crown: +My boiling passions settle, and go down. +Like amber chafed, when she is near, she acts; +When farther oft, inclines, but not attracts. + + _Enter_ ZULEMA. + +Assist me, Zulema, if thou wouldst be +That friend thou seem'st, assist me against me. +Betwixt my love and virtue I am tossed; +This must be forfeited, or that be lost. +I could do much to merit thy applause,-- +Help me to fortify the better cause; +My honour is not wholly put to flight, +But would, if seconded, renew the fight. + +_Zul._ I met my sister, but I do not see +What difficulty in your choice can be: +She told me all; and 'tis so plain a case, +You need not ask what counsel to embrace. + +_Abdal._ I stand reproved, that I did doubt at all; +My waiting virtue staid but for thy call: +'Tis plain that she, who, for a kingdom, now +Would sacrifice her love, and break her vow, +Not out of love, but interest, acts alone, +And would, even in my arms, lie thinking of a throne. + +_Zul._ Add to the rest, this one reflection more: +When she is married, and you still adore, +Think then,--and think what comfort it will bring,-- +She had been mine, +Had I but only dared to be a king! + +_Abdal._ I hope you only would my honour try; +I'm loth to think you virtue's enemy. + +_Zul._ If, when a crown and mistress are in place, +Virtue intrudes, with her lean holy face, +Virtue's then mine, and not I virtue's foe. +Why does she come where she has nought to do? +Let her with anchorites, not with lovers, lie; +Statesmen and they keep better company. + +_Abdal._ Reason was given to curb our head-strong will. + +_Zul._ Reason but shews a weak physician's skill; +Gives nothing, while the raging fit does last, +But stays to cure it, when the worst is past. +Reason's a staff for age, when nature's gone; +But youth is strong enough to walk alone, + +_Abdal._ In cursed ambition I no rest should find, +But must for ever lose my peace of mind. + +_Zul._ Methinks that peace of mind were bravely lost; +A crown, whate'er we give, is worth the cost. + +_Abdal._ Justice distributes to each man his right; +But what she gives not, should I take by might? + +_Zul._ If justice will take all, and nothing give, +Justice, methinks, is not distributive. + +_Abdal._ Had fate so pleased, I had been eldest born, +And then, without a crime, the crown had worn!-- + +_Zul._ Would you so please, fate yet a way would find; +Man makes his fate according to his mind. +The weak low spirit, fortune makes her slave; +But she's a drudge, when hectored by the brave: +If fate weaves common thread, he'll change the doom, +And with new purple spread a nobler loom. + +_Abdal._ No more!--I will usurp the royal seat; +Thou, who hast made me wicked, make me great. + +_Zul._ Your way is plain: the death of Tarifa +Does on the king our Zegrys' hatred draw; +Though with our enemies in show we close, +'Tis but while we to purpose can be foes. +Selin, who heads us, would revenge his son; +But favour hinders justice to be done. +Proud Ozmyn with the king his power maintains, +And, in him, each Abencerrago reigns. + +_Abdal._ What face of any title can I bring? + +_Zul._ The right an eldest son has to be king. +Your father was at first a private man, +And got your brother ere his reign began; +When, by his valour, he the crown had won, +Then you were born a monarch's eldest son. + +_Abdal._ To sharp-eyed reason this would seem untrue; +But reason I through love's false optics view. + +_Zul._ Love's mighty power has led me captive too; +I am in it unfortunate as you. + +_Abdal._ Our loves and fortunes shall together go; +Thou shalt be happy, when I first am so. + +_Zul._ The Zegrys at old Selin's house are met, +Where, in close council, for revenge they sit: +There we our common interest will unite; +You their revenge shall own, and they your right. +One thing I had forgot, which may import: +I met Almanzor coming back from court, +But with a discomposed and speedy pace, +A fiery colour kindling all his face: +The king his prisoner's freedom has denied, +And that refusal has provoked his pride. + +_Abdal._ 'Would he were ours!-- +I'll try to gild the injustice of his cause, +And court his valour with a vast applause. + +_Zul._ The bold are but the instruments o'the wise; +They undertake the dangers we advise: +And, while our fabric with their pains we raise, +We take the profit, and pay them with praise. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT III. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ ABDALLA. + +_Almanz._ That he should dare to do me this disgrace!-- +Is fool, or coward, writ upon my face? +Refuse my prisoner!--I such means will use, +He shall not have a prisoner to refuse. + +_Abdal._ He said, you were not by your promise tied; +That he absolved your word, when he denied. + +_Almanz._ He break my promise, and absolve my vow! +'Tis more than Mahomet himself can do!-- +The word, which I have given, shall stand like fate; +Not like the king's, that weather-cock of state. +He stands so high, with so unfixed a mind, +Two factions turn him with each blast of wind: +But now, he shall not veer! my word is past; +I'll take his heart by the roots, and hold it fast. + +_Abdal._ You have your vengeance in your hand this hour; +Make me the humble creature of your power: +The Granadines will gladly me obey; +(Tired with so base and impotent a sway) +And, when I shew my title, you shall see, +I have a better right to reign than he. + +_Almanz._ It is sufficient that you make the claim; +You wrong our friendship when your right you name. +When for myself I fight, I weigh the cause; +But friendship will admit of no such laws: +That weighs by the lump; and, when the cause is light, +Puts kindness in to set the balance right. +True, I would wish my friend the juster side; +But, in the unjust, my kindness more is tried: +And all the opposition I can bring, +Is, that I fear to make you such a king. + +_Abdal._ The majesty of kings we should not blame, +When royal minds adorn the royal name; +The vulgar, greatness too much idolize, +But haughty subjects it too much despise. + +_Almanz._ I only speak of him, +Whom pomp and greatness sit so loose about, +That he wants majesty to fill them out. + +_Abdal._ Haste, then, and lose no time!-- +The business must be enterprised this night: +We must surprise the court in its delight. + +_Almanz._ For you to will, for me 'tis to obey: +But I would give a crown in open day; +And, when the Spaniards their assault begin, +At once beat those without, and these within. [_Exit_ ALMANZ. + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH. + +_Abdelm._ Abdalla, hold!--There's somewhat I intend +To speak, not as your rival, but your friend. + +_Abdal._ If as a friend, I am obliged to hear; +And what a rival says I cannot fear. + +_Abdelm._ Think, brave Abdalla, what it is you do: +Your quiet, honour, and our friendship too, +All for a fickle beauty you forego. +Think, and turn back, before it be too late. +Behold in me the example of your fate: +I am your sea-mark; and, though wrecked and lost, +My ruins stand to warn you from the coast. + +_Abdal._ Your counsels, noble Abdelmelech, move +My reason to accept them, not my love. +Ah, why did heaven leave man so weak defence, +To trust frail reason with the rule of sense! +'Tis over-poised and kicked up in the air, +While sense weighs down the scale, and keeps it there; +Or, like a captive king, 'tis borne away, +And forced to countenance its own rebels' sway. + +_Abdelm._ No, no; our reason was not vainly lent; +Nor is a slave, but by its own consent: +If reason on his subject's triumph wait, +An easy king deserves no better fate. + +_Abdal._ You speak too late; my empire's lost too far: +I cannot fight. + +_Abdelm._ Then make a flying war; +Dislodge betimes, before you are beset. + +_Abdal._ Her tears, her smiles, her every look's a net. +Her voice is like a Syren's of the land; +And bloody hearts lie panting in her hand. + +_Abdelm._ This do you know, and tempt the danger still? + +_Abdal._ Love, like a lethargy, has seized my will. +I'm not myself, since from her sight I went; +I lean my trunk that way, and there stand bent. +As one, who, in some frightful dream, would shun +His pressing foe, labours in vain to run; +And his own slowness, in his sleep, bemoans, +With thick short sighs, weak cries, and tender groans, +So I-- + +_Abdelm._ Some friend, in charity, should shake, +And rouse, and call you loudly till you wake. +Too well I know her blandishments to gain, +Usurper-like, till settled in her reign; +Then proudly she insults, and gives you cares, +And jealousies, short hopes, and long despairs. +To this hard yoke you must hereafter bow, +Howe'er she shines all golden to you now. + +_Abdul._ Like him, who on the ice +Slides swiftly on, and sees the water near, +Yet cannot stop himself in his career, +So am I carried. This enchanted place, +Like Circe's isle, is peopled with a race +Of dogs and swine; yet, though their fate I know, +I look with pleasure, and am turning too. + [LYNDARAXA _passes over the Stage._ + +_Abdelm._ Fly, fly, before the allurements of her face, +Ere she return with some resistless grace, +And with new magic cover all the place. + +_Abdal._ I cannot, will not,--nay, I would not fly: +I'll love, be blind, be cozened till I die; +And you, who bid me wiser counsel take, +I'll hate, and, if I can, I'll kill you for her sake. + +_Abdelm._ Even I, that counselled you, that choice approve: +I'll hate you blindly, and her blindly love. +Prudence, that stemmed the stream, is out of breath: +And to go down it is the easier death. + + LYNDARAXA _re-enters, and smiles on_ ABDALLA. [_Exit_ ABDALLA. + +_Abdelm._ That smile on Prince Abdalla seems to say, +You are not in your killing mood to day: +Men brand, indeed, your sex with cruelty, +But you are too good to see poor lovers die. +This god-like pity in you I extol; +And more, because, like heaven's, 'tis general. + +_Lyndar._ My smile implies not that I grant his suit: +'Twas but a bare return of his salute. + +_Abdelm._ It said, you were engaged, and I in place; +But, to please both, you would divide the grace. + +_Lyndar._ You've cause to be contented with your part, +When he has but the look, and you the heart. + +_Abdelm._ In giving but that look, you give what's mine: +I'll not one corner of a glance resign. +All's mine; and I am covetous of my store: +I have not love enough, I'll tax you more. + +_Lyndar._ I gave not love; 'twas but civility: +He is a prince; that's due to his degree. + +_Abdelm._ That prince you smiled on is my rival still, +And should, if me you loved, be treated ill. + +_Lyndar._ I know not how to show so rude a spite. + +_Abdelm._ That is, you know not how to love aright; +Or, if you did, you would more difference see +Betwixt our souls, than 'twixt our quality. +Mark, if his birth makes any difference, +If to his words it adds one grain of sense. +That duty, which his birth can make his due, +I'll pay, but it shall not be paid by you: +For, if a prince courts her whom I adore, +He is my rival, and a prince no more. + +_Lyndar._ And when did I my power so far resign. +That you should regulate each look of mine? + +_Abdelm._ Then, when you gave your love, you gave that power. + +_Lyndar._ 'Twas during pleasure, 'tis revoked this hour. +Now, call me false, and rail on womankind,-- +'Tis all the remedy you're like to find. + +_Abdelm._ Yes, there's one more; +I'll hate you, and this visit is my last. + +_Lyndar._ Do't, if you can; you know I hold you fast: +Yet, for your quiet, would you could resign +Your love, as easily as I do mine. + +_Abdelm._ Furies and hell, how unconcerned she speaks! +With what indifference all her vows she breaks! +Curse on me, but she smiles! + +_Lyndar._ That smile's a part of love, and all's your due: +I take it from the prince, and give it you. + +_Abdelm._ Just heaven, must my poor heart your May-game prove, +To bandy, and make children's play in love? [_Half crying._ +Ah! how have I this cruelty deserved? +I, who so truly and so long have served! +And left so easily! oh cruel maid! +So easily! it was too unkindly said. +That heart, which could so easily remove, +Was never fixed, nor rooted deep in love. + +_Lyndar._ You lodged it so uneasy in your breast, +I thought you had been weary of the guest. +First, I was treated like a stranger there; +But, when a household friend I did appear, +You thought, it seems, I could not live elsewhere. +Then, by degrees, your feigned respect withdrew; +You marked my actions, and my guardian grew. +But I am not concerned your acts to blame: +My heart to yours but upon liking came; +And, like a bird, whom prying boys molest, +Stays not to breed, where she had built her nest. + +_Abdelm._ I have done ill, +And dare not ask you to be less displeased; +Be but more angry, and my pain is eased. + +_Lyndar._ If I should be so kind a fool, to take +This little satisfaction which you make, +I know you would presume some other time +Upon my goodness, and repeat your crime. + +_Abdelm._ Oh never, never, upon no pretence; +My life's too short to expiate this offence. + +_Lyndar._ No, now I think on't, 'tis in vain to try; +'Tis in your nature, and past remedy. +You'll still disquiet my too loving heart: +Now we are friends 'tis best for both to part. [_He takes her hand._ + +_Abdelm._ By this--Will you not give me leave to swear? + +_Lyndar._ You would be perjured if you should, I fear: +And, when I talk with Prince Abdalla next, +I with your fond suspicions shall be vext. + +_Abdelm._ I cannot say I'll conquer jealousy, +But, if you'll freely pardon me, I'll try. + +_Lyndar._ And, till you that submissive servant prove, +I never can conclude you truly love. + + _To them, the_ KING, ALMAHIDE, ABENAMAR, ESPERANZA, _Guards, + Attendants._ + +_Boab._ Approach, my Almahide, my charming fair, +Blessing of peace, and recompence of war. +This night is yours; and may your life still be +The same in joy, though not solemnity. + + THE ZAMBRA DANCE. + + SONG. + + I. + + _Beneath a myrtle shade, + Which love for none, but happy lovers made, + I slept; and straight my love before me brought + Phyllis, the object of my waking thought. + Undressed she came my flames to meet, + While love strewed flowers beneath her feet; + Flowers which, so pressed by her, became more sweet._ + + II. + + _From the bright vision's head + A careless veil of lawn was loosely spread:_ + _From her white temples fell her shaded hair + Like cloudy sunshine, not too brown nor fair; + Her hands, her lips, did love inspire; + Her every grace my heart did fire: + But most her eyes, which languished with desire._ + + III. + + _Ah, charming fair, said I, + How long can you my bliss and yours deny? + By nature and by love, this lonely shade + Was for revenge of suffering lovers made. + Silence and shades with love agree; + Both shelter you and favour me: + You cannot blush, because I cannot see._ + + IV. + + _No, let me die, she said, + Rather than lose the spotless name of maid!-- + Faintly, methought, she spoke; for all the while + She bid me not believe her, with a smile. + Then die, said I: She still denied; + And is it thus, thus, thus, she cried, + You use a harmless maid?--and so she died!_ + + V. + + _I waked, and straight I knew, + I loved so well, it made my dream prove true: + Fancy, the kinder mistress of the two, + Fancy had done what Phyllis would not do! + Ah, cruel nymph, cease your disdain, + While, I can dream you scorn in vain,-- + Asleep or waking you must ease my pain._ + [After the dance, a tumultuous noise of drums + and trumpets. + + _To them_ OZMYN; _his sword drawn._ + +_Ozm._ Arm, quickly arm; yet all, I fear, too late; +The enemy's already at the gate. + +_Boab._ The Christians are dislodged; what foe is near? + +_Ozm._ The Zegrys are in arms, and almost here: +The streets with torches shine, with shoutings ring, +And Prince Abdalla is proclaimed the king. +What man could do, I have already done, +But bold Almanzor fiercely leads them on. + +_Aben._ The Alhambra yet is safe in my command; [_To the King._ +Retreat you thither, while their shock we stand. + +_Boab._ I cannot meanly for my life provide; +I'll either perish in't, or stem this tide. +To guard the palace, Ozmyn, be your care: +If they o'ercome, no sword will hurt the fair. + +_Ozm._ I'll either die; or I'll make good the place. + +_Abdelm._ And I with these will bold Almanzor face. + [_Exeunt all but the Ladies. An alarum within._ + +_Almah._ What dismal planet did my triumphs light! +Discord the day, and death does rule the night: +The noise my soul does through my senses wound. + +_Lyndar._ Methinks it is a noble, sprightly sound, +The trumpet's clangor, and the clash of arms! +This noise may chill your blood, but mine it warms. + [_Shouting and clashing of swords within._ +We have already passed the Rubicon; +The dice are mine; now, fortune, for a throne! + [_A shout within, and clashing of swords afar off._ +The sound goes farther off, and faintly dies; +Curse of this going back, these ebbing cries! +Ye winds, waft hither sounds more strong and quick; +Beat faster, drums, and mingle deaths more thick. +I'll to the turrets of the palace go, +And add new fire to those that fight below: +Thence, hero-like, with torches by my side, +(Far be the omen, though) my love will guide. +No; like his better fortune I'll appear, +With open arms, loose veil, and flowing hair, +Just flying forward from my rolling sphere: +My smiles shall make Abdalla more than man; +Let him look up, and perish if he can. [_Exit._ + + _An alarum nearer: Then Enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ SELIN, _at the head of + the Zegrys_; OZMYN _Prisoner._ + +_Almanz._ We have not fought enough; they fly too soon; +And I am grieved the noble sport is done. +This only man, of all whom chance did bring [_Pointing to_ OZMYN. +To meet my arms, was worth the conquering. +His brave resistance did my fortune grace; +So slow, so threatning forward he gave place. +His chains be easy, and his usage fair. + +_Selin._ I beg you would commit him to my care. + +_Almanz._ Next, the brave Spaniard free without delay; +And with a convoy send him safe away. [_Exit a Guard._ + + _To them_ HAMET _and others._ + +_Hamet._ The king by me salutes you; and, to show +That to your valour he his crown does owe, +Would from your mouth I should the word receive, +And that to these you would your orders give. + +_Almanz._ He much o'er-rates the little I have done. + [ALMANZOR _goes to the door, and there seems to give out + orders, by sending people several ways._ + +_Selin_ to _Ozmyn._ Now, to revenge the murder of my son, +To morrow for thy certain death prepare; +This night I only leave thee to despair. + +_Ozmyn._ Thy idle menaces I do not fear: +My business was to die or conquer here. +Sister, for you I grieve I could no more: +My present state betrays my want of power; +But, when true courage is of force bereft, +Patience, the only fortitude, is left. [_Exit with_ SELIN. + +_Almah._ Ah, Esperanza, what for me remains +But death, or, worse than death, inglorious chains! + +_Esper._ Madam, you must not to despair give place; +Heaven never meant misfortune to that face. +Suppose there were no justice in your cause, +Beauty's a bribe that gives her judges laws. +That you are brought to this deplored estate, +Is but the ingenious flattery of your fate; +Fate fears her succour, like an alms, to give; +And would you, God-like, from yourself should live. + +_Almah._ Mark but how terribly his eyes appear! +And yet there's something roughly noble there, +Which, in unfashioned nature, looks divine, +And, like a gem, does in the quarry shine. + [ALMANZOR _returns; she falls at his feet, being + veiled._ + +_Almah._ Turn, mighty conqueror, turn your face this way, +Do not refuse to hear the wretched pray! + +_Almanz._ What business can this woman have with me? + +_Almah._ That of the afflicted to the Deity. +So may your arms success in battle find; +So may the mistress of your vows be kind, +If you have any; or, if you have none, +So may your liberty be still your own! + +_Almanz._ Yes, I will turn my face, but not my mind: +You bane and soft destruction of mankind, +What would you have with me? + +_Almah._ I beg the grace [_Unveiling._ +You would lay by those terrors of your face. +Till calmness to your eyes you first restore, +I am afraid, and I can beg no more. + +_Almanz._ [_Looking fixedly on her._] +Well; my fierce visage shall not murder you. +Speak quickly, woman; I have much to do. + +_Almah._ Where should I find the heart to speak one word? +Your voice, sir, is as killing as your sword. +As you have left the lightning of your eye, +So would you please to lay your thunder by. + +_Almanz._ I'm pleased and pained, since first her eyes I saw, +As I were stung with some tarantula. +Arms, and the dusty field, I less admire, +And soften strangely in some new desire; +Honour burns in me not so fiercely bright, +But pale as fires when mastered by the light: +Even while I speak and look, I change yet more, +And now am nothing that I was before. +I'm numbed, and fixed, and scarce my eye-balls move: +I fear it is the lethargy of love! +'Tis he; I feel him now in every part: +Like a new lord he vaunts about my heart; +Surveys, in state, each corner of my breast, +While poor fierce I, that was, am dispossessed. +I'm bound; but I will rouse my rage again; +And, though no hope of liberty remain, +I'll fright my keeper when I shake my chain. +You are-- [_Angrily._ + +_Almah._ I know I am your captive, sir. + +_Almanz._ You are--You shall--And I can scarce forbear-- + +_Almah._ Alas! + +_Almanz._ 'Tis all in vain; it will not do: [_Aside._ +I cannot now a seeming anger show: +My tongue against my heart no aid affords; +For love still rises up, and choaks my words. + +_Almah._ In half this time a tempest would be still. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis you have raised that tempest in my will. +I wonnot love you; give me back my heart; +But give it, as you had it, fierce and brave. +It was not made to be a woman's slave, +But, lion-like, has been in desarts bred, +And, used to range, will ne'er be tamely led. +Restore its freedom to my fettered will, +And then I shall have power to use you ill. + +_Almah._ My sad condition may your pity move; +But look not on me with the eyes of love:-- +I must be brief, though I have much to say. + +_Almanz._ No, speak; for I can hear you now all day. +Her sueing sooths me with a secret pride: [_Softly._ +A suppliant beauty cannot be denied: [_Aside._ +Even while I frown, her charms the furrows seize; +And I'm corrupted with the power to please. + +_Almah._ Though in your worth no cause of fear I see, +I fear the insolence of victory; +As you are noble, sir, protect me then +From the rude outrage of insulting men. + +_Almanz._ Who dares touch her I love? I'm all o'er love: +Nay, I am love; love shot, and shot so fast, +He shot himself into my breast at last. + +_Almah._ You see before you her, who should be queen, +Since she is promised to Boabdelin. + +_Almanz._ Are you beloved by him? O wretched fate, +First that I love at all; then, loved too late! +Yet, I must love! + +_Almah._ Alas, it is in vain; +Fate for each other did not us ordain. +The chances of this day too clearly show +That heaven took care that it should not be so. + +_Almanz._ Would heaven had quite forgot me this one day! +But fate's yet hot-- +I'll make it take a bent another way. + [_He walks swiftly and discomposedly, studying._ +I bring a claim which does his right remove; +You're his by promise, but you're mine by love. +'Tis all but ceremony which is past; +The knot's to tie which is to make you fast. +Fate gave not to Boabdelin that power; +He wooed you but as my ambassador. + +_Almah._ Our souls are tied by holy vows above. + +_Almanz._ He signed but his: but I will seal my love. +I love you better, with more zeal than he. + +_Almah._ This day +I gave my faith to him, he his to me. + +_Almanz._ Good heaven, thy book of fate before me lay, +But to tear out the journal of this day: +Or, if the order of the world below +Will not the gap of one whole day allow, +Give me that minute when she made her vow! +That minute, ev'n the happy from their bliss might give; +And those, who live in grief, a shorter time would live. +So small a link, if broke, the eternal chain +Would, like divided waters, join again.-- +It wonnot be; the fugitive is gone, +Prest by the crowd of following minutes on: +That precious moment's out of nature fled, +And in the heap of common rubbish laid, +Of things that once have been, and are decayed. + +_Almah._ Your passion, like a fright, suspends my pain; +It meets, o'erpowers, and beats mine back again: +But as, when tides against the current flow, +The native stream runs its own course below, +So, though your griefs possess the upper part, +My own have deeper channels in my heart. + +_Almanz._ Forgive that fury which my soul does move; +'Tis the essay of an untaught first love: +Yet rude, unfashioned truth it does express; +'Tis love just peeping in a hasty dress. +Retire, fair creature, to your needful rest; +There's something noble labouring in my breast: +This raging fire, which through the mass does move, +Shall purge my dross, and shall refine my love. + [_Exeunt_ ALMAHIDE _and_ ESPERANZA. +She goes, and I like my own ghost appear; +It is not living when she is not here. + + _To him_ ABDALLA _as King, attended._ + +_Abdal._ My first acknowledgments to heaven are due; +My next, Almanzor, let me pay to you. + +_Almanz._ A poor surprise, and on a naked foe, +Whatever you confess, is all you owe; +And I no merit own, or understand +That fortune did you justice by my hand: +Yet, if you will that little service pay +With a great favour, I can shew the way. + +_Abdal._ I have a favour to demand of you; +That is, to take the thing for which you sue. + +_Almanz._ Then, briefly, thus: when I the Albayzyn won, +I found the beauteous Almahide alone, +Whose sad condition did my pity move; +And that compassion did produce my love. + +_Abdal._ This needs no suit; in justice, I declare. +She is your captive by the right of war. + +_Almanz._ She is no captive then; I set her free; +And, rather than I will her jailor be, +I'll nobly lose her in her liberty. + +_Abdal._ Your generosity I much approve; +But your excess of that shows want of love. + +_Almanz._ No, 'tis the excess of love which mounts so high, +That, seen far off, it lessens to the eye. +Had I not loved her, and had set her free, +That, sir, had been my generosity; +But 'tis exalted passion, when I show +I dare be wretched, not to make her so: +And, while another passion fills her breast, +I'll be all wretched rather than half blest. + +_Abdal._ May your heroic act so prosperous be, +That Almahide may sigh you set her free. + + _Enter_ ZULEMA. + +_Zul._ Of five tall towers which fortify this town, +All but the Alhambra your dominion own: +Now, therefore, boldly I confess a flame, +Which is excused in Almahide's name. +If you the merit of this night regard, +In her possession I have my reward. + +_Almanz._ She your reward! why, she's a gift so great, +That I myself have not deserved her yet; +And therefore, though I won her with my sword, +I have, with awe, my sacrilege restored. + +_Zul._ What you deserve +I'll not dispute, because I do not know; +This only I will say, she shall not go. + +_Almanz._ Thou, single, art not worth my answering: +But take what friends, what armies thou canst bring; +What worlds; and, when you are united all, +Then will I thunder in your ears,--She shall. + +_Zul._ I'll not one tittle of my right resign.-- +Sir, your implicit promise made her mine; +When I, in general terms, my love did show, +You swore our fortunes should together go. + +_Abdal._ The merits of the cause I'll not decide, +But, like my love, I would my gift divide. +Your equal titles then no longer plead; +But one of you, for love of me, recede. + +_Almanz._ I have receded to the utmost line, +When, by my free consent, she is not mine: +Then let him equally recede with me, +And both of us will join to set her free. + +_Zul._ If you will free your part of her, you may; +But, sir, I love not your romantic way. +Dream on, enjoy her soul, and set that free; +I'm pleased her person should be left for me. + +_Almanz._ Thou shalt not wish her thine; thou shalt not dare +To be so impudent, as to despair. + +_Zul._ The Zegrys, sir, are all concerned to see +How much their merit you neglect in me. + +_Hamet._ Your slighting Zulema, this very hour +Will take ten thousand subjects from your power. + +_Almanz._ What are ten thousand subjects such as they? +If I am scorned--I'll take myself away. + +_Abdal._ Since both cannot possess what both pursue, +I grieve, my friend, the chance should fall on you; +But when you hear what reason I can urge-- + +_Almanz._ None, none that your ingratitude can purge. +Reason's a trick, when it no grant affords; +It stamps the face of majesty on words. + +_Abdal._ Your boldness to your services I give: +Now take it, as your full reward,--to live. + +_Almanz._ To live! +If from thy hands alone my death can be, +I am immortal, and a god to thee. +If I would kill thee now, thy fate's so low, +That I must stoop ere I can give the blow: +But mine is fixed so far above thy crown, +That all thy men, +Piled on thy back, can never pull it down: +But, at my ease, thy destiny I send, +By ceasing from this hour to be thy friend. +Like heaven, I need but only to stand still. +And, not concurring to thy life, I kill. +Thou canst no title to my duty bring; +I'm not thy subject, and my soul's thy king. +Farewell. When I am gone, +There's not a star of thine dare stay with thee: +I'll whistle thy tame fortune after me; +And whirl fate with me wheresoe'er I fly, +As winds drive storms before them in the sky. [_Exit._ + +_Zul._ Let not this insolent unpunished go; +Give your commands; your justice is too slow. + [ZULEMA, HAMET, _and others are going after him._ + +_Abdal._ Stay, and what part he pleases let him take: +I know my throne's too strong for him to shake. +But my fair mistress I too long forget; +The crown I promised is not offered yet. +Without her presence all my joys are vain, +Empire a curse, and life itself a pain. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, _and Guards._ + +_Boab._ Advise, or aid, but do not pity me: +No monarch born can fall to that degree. +Pity descends from kings to all below; +But can, no more than fountains, upward flow. +Witness, just heaven, my greatest grief has been, +I could not make your Almahide a queen. + +_Aben._ I have too long the effects of fortune known, +Either to trust her smiles, or fear her frown. +Since in their first attempt you were not slain, +Your safety bodes you yet a second reign. +The people like a headlong torrent go, +And ev'ry dam they break, or overflow; +But, unopposed, they either lose their force, +Or wind, in volumes, to their former course. + +_Boab._ In walls we meanly must our hopes inclose, +To wait our friends, and weary out our foes: +While Almahide +To lawless rebels is exposed a prey, +And forced the lustful victor to obey. + +_Aben._ One of my blood, in rules of virtue bred! +Think better of her, and believe she's dead. + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR. + +_Boab._ We are betrayed, the enemy is here; +We have no farther room to hope or fear. + +_Almanz._ It is indeed Almanzor whom you see, +But he no longer is your enemy. +You were ungrateful, but your foes were more; +What your injustice lost you, theirs restore. +Make profit of my vengeance while you may, +My two-edged sword can cut the other way.-- +I am your fortune, but am swift like her, +And turn my hairy front if you defer: +That hour, when you deliberate, is too late; +I point you the white moment of your fate. + +_Aben._ Believe him sent as prince Abdalla's spy; +He would betray us to the enemy. + +_Almanz_, Were I, like thee, in cheats of state grown old, +(Those public markets, where, for foreign gold, +The poorest prince is to the richest sold) +Then thou mightst think me fit for that low part; +But I am yet to learn the statesman's art. +My kindness and my hate unmasked I wear; +For friends to trust, and enemies to fear. +My heart's so plain, +That men on every passing through may look, +Like fishes gliding in a crystal brook; +When troubled most, it does the bottom shew, +'Tis weedless all above, and rockless all below. + +_Aben._ Ere he be trusted, let him then be tried; +He may be false, who once has changed his side. + +_Almanz._ In that you more accuse yourselves than me; +None who are injured can inconstant be. +You were inconstant, you, who did the wrong; +To do me justice does to me belong. +Great souls by kindness only can be tied; +Injured again, again I'll leave your side. +Honour is what myself, and friends, I owe; +And none can lose it who forsake a foe. +Since, then, your foes now happen to be mine, +Though not in friendship, we'll in interest join: +So while my loved revenge is full and high, +I'll give you back your kingdom by the by. + +_Boab._ That I so long delayed what you desire, [_Embracing him._ +Was, not to doubt your worth, but to admire. + +_Almanz._ This counsellor an old man's caution shows, +Who fears that little, he has left, to lose: +Age sets a fortune; while youth boldly throws. +But let us first your drooping soldiers cheer; +Then seek out danger, ere it dare appear: +This hour I fix your crown upon your brow; +Next hour fate gives it, but I give it now. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II. + + _Enter_ LYNDARAXA. + +_Lyndar._ O, could I read the dark decrees of fate, +That I might once know whom to love, or hate! +For I myself scarce my own thoughts can guess, +So much I find them varied by success. +As in some weather-glass, my love I hold; +Which falls or rises with the heat or cold.-- +I will be constant yet, if fortune can; +I love the king,--let her but name the man. + + _Enter_ HALYMA. + +_Hal._ Madam, a gentleman, to me unknown, +Desires that he may speak with you alone. + +_Lyndar._ Some message from the king.--Let him appear. + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH; _who throws off his disguise.--She starts._ + +_Abdelm._ I see you are amazed that I am here: +But let at once your fear and wonder end. +In the usurper's guards I found a friend, +Who led me safe to you in this disguise. + +_Lyndar._ Your danger brings this trouble in my eyes.-- +But what affair this 'venturous visit drew? + +_Abdelm._ The greatest in the world,--the seeing you. + +_Lyndar._ The courage of your love I so admire, +That, to preserve you, you shall straight retire. + [_She leads him to the door._ +Go, dear! each minute does new dangers bring; +You will be taken, I expect the king. + +_Abdelm._ The king!--the poor usurper of an hour: +His empire's but a dream of kingly power.-- +I warn you, as a lover and a friend, +To leave him, ere his short dominion end: +The soldier I suborned will wait at night, +And shall alone be conscious of your flight. + +_Lyndar._ I thank you, that you so much care bestow; +But, if his reign be short, I need not go. +For why should I expose my life, and yours, +For what, you say, a little time assures? + +_Abdelm_, My danger in the attempt is very small; +And, if he loves you, yours is none at all. +But, though his ruin be as sure as fate, +Your proof of love to me would come too late. +This trial I in kindness would allow; +'Tis easy; if you love me, show it now. + +_Lyndar._ It is because I love you, I refuse; +For all the world my conduct would accuse, +If I should go with him I love away; +And, therefore, in strict virtue, I will stay. + +_Abdelm._ You would in vain dissemble love to me; +Through that thin veil your artifice I see. +You would expect the event, and then declare; +But do not, do not drive me to despair: +For, if you now refuse with me to fly, +Rather than love you after this, I'll die; +And, therefore, weigh it well before you speak; +My king is safe, his force within not weak. + +_Lyndar._ The counsel, you have given me, may be wise; +But, since the affair is great, I will advise. + +_Abdelm._ Then that delay I for denial take. [_Is going._ + +_Lyndar._ Stay; you too swift an exposition make. +If I should go, since Zulema will stay, +I should my brother to the king betray. + +_Abdelm._ There is no fear; but, if there were, I see +You value still your brother more than me.-- +Farewell! some ease I in your falsehood find; +It lets a beam in, that will clear my mind: +My former weakness I with shame confess, +And, when I see you next, shall love you less. [_Is going again._ + +_Lyndar._ Your faithless dealings you may blush to tell: [_Weeping._ +This is a maid's reward, who loves too well.-- [_He looks back._ +Remember that I drew my latest breath, +In charging your unkindness with my death. + +_Abdelm._ [_coming back_] +Have I not answered all you can invent, +Even the least shadow of an argument? + +_Lyndar._ You want not cunning what you please to prove, +But my poor heart knows only how to love; +And, finding this, you tyrannize the more: +'Tis plain, some other mistress you adore; +And now, with studied tricks of subtlety, +You come prepared to lay the fault on me. [_Wringing her hands._ +But, oh, that I should love so false a man! + +_Abdelm._ Hear me, and then disprove it, if you can. + +_Lyndar._ I'll hear no more; your breach of faith is plain: +You would with wit your want of love maintain. +But, by my own experience, I can tell, +They, who love truly, cannot argue well.-- +Go faithless man! +Leave me alone to mourn my misery; +I cannot cease to love you, but I'll die. + [_Leans her head on his arm._ + +_Abdelm._ What man but I so long unmoved could hear [_Weeping._ +Such tender passion, and refuse a tear!-- +But do not talk of dying any more, +Unless you mean that I should die before. + +_Lyndar._ I fear your feigned repentance comes too late; +I die, to see you still thus obstinate: +But yet, in death my truth of love to show, +Lead me; if I have strength enough, I'll go. + +_Abdelm._ By heaven, you shall not go! I will not be +O'ercome in love or generosity. +All I desire, to end the unlucky strife, +Is but a vow, that you will be my wife. + +_Lyndar._ To tie me to you by a vow is hard; +It shows, my love you as no tie regard.-- +Name any thing but that, and I'll agree. + +_Abdelm._ Swear, then, you never will my rival's be. + +_Lyndar._ Nay, pr'ythee, this is harder than before.-- +Name any thing, good dear, but that thing more. + +_Abdelm._ Now I too late perceive I am undone; +Living and seeing, to my death I run. +I know you false, yet in your snares I fall; +You grant me nothing, and I grant you all. + +_Lyndar._ I would grant all; but I must curb my will, +Because I love to keep you jealous still. +In your suspicion I your passion find; +But I will take a time to cure your mind. + +_Halyma._ O, madam, the new king is drawing near! + +_Lyndar._ Haste quickly hence, lest he should find you here! + +_Abdelm._ How much more wretched than I came, I go! +I more my weakness and your falsehood know; +And now must leave you with my greatest foe! [_Exit_ ABDELM. + +_Lyndar._ Go!--How I love thee heaven can only tell: +And yet I love thee, for a subject, well.-- +Yet whatsoever charms a crown can bring, +A subject's greater than a little king. +I will attend till time this throne secure; +And, when I climb, my footing shall be sure.-- [_Music without._ +Music! and, I believe, addressed to me. + + SONG. + + I. + + _Wherever I am, and whatever I do, + My Phyllis is still in my mind; + When angry, I mean not to Phyllis to go, + My feet, of themselves, the way find: + Unknown to myself I am just at her door, + And, when I would rail, I can bring out no more + Than, Phyllis too fair and unkind!_ + + II. + + _When Phyllis I see, my heart bounds in my breast, + And the love I would stifle is shown; + But asleep, or awake, I am never at rest, + When from my eyes Phyllis is gone. + Sometimes a sad dream does delude my sad mind; + But, alas! when I wake, and no Phyllis I find, + How I sigh to myself all alone!_ + + III. + + _Should a king be my rival in her I adore, + He should offer his treasure in vain: + O, let me alone to be happy and poor, + And give me my Phyllis again! + Let Phyllis be mine, and but ever be kind, + I could to a desart with her be confined, + And envy no monarch his reign._ + + IV. + + _Alas! I discover too much of my love, + And she too well knows her own power! + She makes me each day a new martyrdom prove, + And makes me grow jealous each hour: + But let her each minute torment my poor mind, + I had rather love Phyllis, both false and unkind. + Than ever be freed from her power._ + + _Enter_ ABDALLA, _with guards._ + +_Abdal._ Now, madam, at your feet a king you see; +Or, rather, if you please, a sceptered slave: +'Tis just you should possess the power you gave. +Had love not made me yours, I yet had been +But the first subject to Boabdelin. +Thus heaven declares the crown I bring your due; +And had forgot my title, but for you. + +_Lyndar._ Heaven to your merits will, I hope, be kind; +But, sir, it has not yet declared its mind. +'Tis true, it holds the crown above your head; +But does not fix it 'till your brother's dead. + +_Abdal._ All, but the Alhambra, is within my power; +And that my forces go to take this hour. + +_Lyndar._ When, with its keys, your brother's head you bring, +I shall believe you are indeed a king. + +_Abdal._ But since the events of all things doubtful are, +And, of events, most doubtful those of war; +I beg to know before, if fortune frown, +Must I then lose your favour with my crown? + +_Lyndar._ You'll soon return a conqueror again; +And, therefore, sir, your question is in vain. + +_Abdul._ I think to certain victory I move; +But you may more assure it, by your love. +That grant will make my arms invincible. + +_Lyndar._ My prayers and wishes your success foretell.-- +Go then, and fight, and think you fight for me; +I wait but to reward your victory. + +_Abdal._ But if I lose it, must I lose you too? + +_Lyndar._ You are too curious, if you more would know. +I know not what my future thoughts will be: +Poor women's thoughts are all _extempore_. +Wise men, indeed, +Beforehand a long chain of thoughts produce; +But ours are only for our present use. + +_Abdal._ Those thoughts, you will not know, too well declare. +You mean to wait the final doom of war. + +_Lyndar._ I find you come to quarrel with me now; +Would you know more of me than I allow? +Whence are you grown that great divinity, +That with such ease into my thoughts can pry? +Indulgence does not with some tempers suit; +I see I must become more absolute. + +_Abdal._ I must submit, +On what hard terms soe'er my peace be bought. + +_Lyndar._ Submit!--you speak as you were not in fault.-- +'Tis evident the injury is mine; +For why should you my secret thoughts divine? + +_Abdal._ Yet if we might be judged by reason's laws-- + +_Lyndar._ Then you would have your reason judge my cause!-- +Either confess your fault, or hold your tongue; +For I am sure I'm never in the wrong. + +_Abdal._ Then I acknowledge it. + +_Lyndar._ Then I forgive. + +_Abdal._ Under how hard a law poor lovers live! +Who, like the vanquished, must their right release, +And with the loss of reason buy their peace.-- [_Aside._ +Madam, to show that you my power command, +I put my life and safety in your hand:-- +Dispose of the Albayzyn as you please, +To your fair hands I here resign the keys. + +_Lyndar._ I take your gift, because your love it shows, +And faithful Selin for alcade chuse. + +_Abdal._ Selin, from her alone your orders take.-- +This one request, yet, madam, let me make, +That, from those turrets, you the assault will see; +And crown, once more, my arms with victory. + [_Exeunt, leading her out._ + [SELIN _remains with_ GAZUL _and_ REDUAN, + _his servants._ + +_Selin._ Gazul, go tell my daughter that I wait-- +You Reduan, bring the prisoner to his fate. [_Exeunt_ GAZ. _and_ RED. +Ere of my charge I will possession take, +A bloody sacrifice I mean to make: +The manes of my son shall smile this day, +While I, in blood, my vows of vengeance pay. + + _Enter at one door_ BENZAYDA, _with_ GAZUL; _at the other,_ OZMYN + _bound, with_ REDUAN. + +_Selin._ I sent, Benzayda, to glad your eyes: +These rites we owe your brother's obsequies.-- +You two [_To_ GAZ. _and_ RED.] the cursed Abencerrago bind: +You need no more to instruct you in my mind. + [_They bind him to a corner of the stage._ + +_Benz._ In what sad object am I called to share? +Tell me, what is it, sir, you here prepare? + +_Selin._ 'Tis what your dying brother did bequeath; +A scene of vengeance, and a pomp of death! + +_Benz._ The horrid spectacle my soul does fright: +I want the heart to see the dismal sight. + +_Selin._ You are my principal invited guest, +Whose eyes I would not only feed, but feast: +You are to smile at his last groaning breath, +And laugh to see his eye-balls roll in death; +To judge the lingering soul's convulsive strife, +When thick short breath catches at parting life. + +_Benz._ And of what marble do you think me made? + +_Selin._ What! can you be of just revenge afraid? + +_Benz._ He killed my brother in his own defence. +Pity his youth, and spare his innocence. + +_Selin._ Art thou so soon to pardon murder won? +Can he be innocent, who killed my son? +Abenamar shall mourn as well as I; +His Ozmyn, for my Tarifa, shall die. +But since thou plead'st so boldly, I will see +That justice, thou would'st hinder, done by thee. +Here, [_Gives her his sword._] take the sword, and do a sister's part: +Pierce his, fond girl, or I will pierce thy heart. + +_Ozm._ To his commands I join my own request; +All wounds from you are welcome to my breast: +Think only, when your hand this act has done, +It has but finished what your eyes begun. +I thought, with silence, to have scorned my doom; +But now your noble pity has o'ercome; +Which I acknowledge with my latest breath,-- +The first whoe'er began a love in death. + +_Benz._ to _Selin._ Alas, what aid can my weak hand afford? +You see I tremble when I touch a sword: +The brightness dazzles me, and turns my sight; +Or, if I look, 'tis but to aim less right. + +_Ozm._ I'll guide the hand which must my death convey; +My leaping heart shall meet it half the way. + +_Selin_ to _Benz._ Waste not the precious time in idle breath. + +_Benz._ Let me resign this instrument of death. + [_Giving the sword to her father, and then pulling it back._ +Ah, no! I was too hasty to resign: +'Tis in your hand more mortal than in mine. + + _Enter_ HAMET. + +_Hamet._ The king is from the Alhambra beaten back, +And now preparing for a new attack; +To favour which, he wills, that instantly +You reinforce him with a new supply. + +_Selin_ to _Benz._ Think not, although my duty calls me hence, +That with the breach of yours I will dispense. +Ere my return, see my commands you do: +Let me find Ozmyn dead, and killed by you.-- +Gazul and Reduan, attend her still; +And, if she dares to fail, perform my will. + [_Exeunt_ SELIN _and_ HAMET. + [BENZAYDA _looks languishing on him, with her + sword down_; GAZUL _and_ REDUAN _standing + with drawn swords by her._ + +_Ozm._ Defer not, fair Benzayda, my death: +Looking on you, +I should but live to sigh away my breath. +My eyes have done the work they had to do: +I take your image with me, which they drew; +And, when they close, I shall die full of you. + +_Benz._ When parents their commands unjustly lay, +Children are privileged to disobey; +Yet from that breach of duty I am clear, +Since I submit the penalty to bear. +To die, or kill you, is the alternative; +Rather than take your life, I will not live. + +_Ozm._ This shows the excess of generosity; +But, madam, you have no pretence to die. +I should defame the Abencerrages race, +To let a lady suffer in my place. +But neither could that life, you would bestow, +Save mine; nor do you so much pity owe +To me, a stranger, and your house's foe. + +_Benz._ From whencesoe'er their hate our houses drew, +I blush to tell you, I have none for you. +'Tis a confession which I should not make, +Had I more time to give, or you to take: +But, since death's near, and runs with so much force, +We must meet first, and intercept his course. + +_Ozm._ Oh, how unkind a comfort do you give! +Now I fear death again, and wish to live. +Life were worth taking, could I have it now; +But 'tis more good than heaven can e'er allow +To one man's portion, to have life and you. + +_Benz._ Sure, at our births, +Death with our meeting planets danced above, +Or we were wounded by a mourning love!-- [_Shouts within._ + +_Red._ The noise returns, and doubles from behind; +It seems as if two adverse armies joined.-- +Time presses us. + +_Gaz._ If longer you delay, +We must, though loth, your father's will obey. + +_Ozm._ Haste, madam, to fulfil his hard commands. +And rescue me from their ignoble hands. +Let me kiss yours, when you my wound begin, +Then easy death will slide with pleasure in. + +_Benz._ Ah, gentle soldiers, some short time allow! + [_To_ GAZ. _and_ RED. +My father has repented him ere now; +Or will repent him, when he finds me dead. +My clue of life is twined with Ozmyn's thread. + +_Red._ 'Tis fatal to refuse her, or obey.-- +But where is our excuse? what can we say? + +_Benz._ Say any thing. +Say, that to kill the guiltless you were loth; +Or if you did, say, I would kill you both. + +_Gaz._ To disobey our orders is to die.-- +I'll do't,--who dares oppose it? + +_Red._ That dare I. [REDUAN _stands before_ OZMYN, _and fights with_ + GAZUL. BENZAYDA _unbinds_ OZMYN, _and gives him + her sword._ + +_Benz._ Stay not to see the issue of the fight; [RED. _kills_ GAZ. +But haste to save yourself by speedy flight. + [OZMYN _kneels to kiss her hand._ + +_Ozm._ Did all mankind against my life conspire. +Without this blessing I would not retire.-- +But madam, can I go and leave you here? +Your father's anger now for you I fear: +Consider you have done too much to stay. + +_Benz._ Think not of me, but fly yourself away. + +_Red._ Haste quickly hence; the enemies are nigh! +From every part I see the soldiers fly. +The foes not only our assailants beat, +But fiercely sally out on their retreat, +And, like a sea broke loose, come on amain. + + _Enter_ ABENAMAR, _and a party with their swords drawn, driving in + some of the enemies._ + +_Aben._ Traitors, you hope to save yourselves in vain!-- +Your forfeit lives shall for your treason pay; +And Ozmyn's blood shall be revenged this day. + +_Ozm._ No, sir, your Ozmyn lives; and lives to own + [_Kneeling to his father._ +A father's piety to free his son. + +_Aben._ My Ozmyn!--O, thou blessing of my age! [_Embracing him._ +And art thou safe from their deluded rage!-- +Whom must I praise for thy deliverance? +Was it thy valour, or the work of chance? + +_Ozm._ Nor chance, nor valour, could deliver me; +But 'twas a noble pity set me free.-- +My liberty, and life, +And what your happiness you're pleased to call, +We to this charming beauty owe it all. + +_Aben._ Instruct me, visible divinity!-- [_To her._ +Instruct me by what name to worship thee! +For to thy virtue I would altars raise, +Since thou art much above all human praise. +But see,-- + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR, _his sword bloody, leading in_ ALMAHIDE _attended + by_ ESPERANZA. + +My other blessing, Almahide, is here!-- +I'll to the king, and tell him she is near: +You, Ozmyn, on your fair deliverer wait, +And with your private joys the public celebrate. + [_Exeunt_ ABEN. OZM. _and_ BENZ. + +_Almanz._ The work is done; now, madam, you are free; +At least, if I can give you liberty: +But you have chains which you yourself have chose; +And, O, that I could free you too from those! +But you are free from force, and have full power +To go, and kill my hopes and me, this hour.-- +I see, then, you will go; but yet my toil +May he rewarded with a looking while. + +_Almah._ Almanzor can from every subject raise +New matter for our wonder and his praise. +You bound and freed me; but the difference is, +That showed your valour; but your virtue this. + +_Almanz._ Madam, you praise a funeral victory, +At whose sad pomp the conqueror must die. + +_Almah._ Conquest attends Almanzor every where; +I am too small a foe for him to fear: +But heroes still must be opposed by some, +Or they would want occasion to o'ercome. + +_Almanz._ Madam, I cannot on bare praises live: +Those, who abound in praises, seldom give. + +_Almah._ While I to all the world your worth make known, +May heaven reward the pity you have shown! + +_Almanz._ My love is languishing, and starved to death; +And would you give me charity--in breath? +Prayers are the alms of churchmen to the poor: +They send's to heaven, but drive us from their door. + +_Almah._ Cease, cease a suit +So vain to you, and troublesome to me, +If you will have me think that I am free. +If I am yet a slave, my bonds I'll bear; +But what I cannot grant, I will not hear. + +_Almanz._ You will not hear!--You must both hear and grant; +For, madam, there's an impudence in want. + +_Almah._ Your way is somewhat strange to ask relief +You ask with threatening, like a begging thief.-- +Once more, Almanzor, tell me, am I free? + +_Almanz._ Madam, you are, from all the world,--but me!-- +But as a pirate, when he frees the prize +He took from friends, sees the rich merchandize, +And, after he has freed it, justly buys; +So, when I have restored your liberty-- +But then, alas, I am too poor to buy! + +_Almah._ Nay, now you use me just as pirates do: +You free me; but expect a ransom too. + +_Almanz._ You've all the freedom that a prince can have; +But greatness cannot be without a slave. +A monarch never can in private move, +But still is haunted with officious love. +So small an inconvenience you may bear; +'Tis all the fine fate sets upon the fair. + +_Almah._ Yet princes may retire, whene'er they please, +And breathe free air from out their palaces: +They go sometimes unknown, to shun their state; +And then, 'tis manners not to know or wait. + +_Almanz._ If not a subject then, a ghost I'll be; +And from a ghost, you know, no place is free. +Asleep, awake, I'll haunt you every where; +From my white shroud groan love into your ear: +When in your lover's arms you sleep at night, +I'll glide in cold betwixt, and seize my right: +And is't not better, in your nuptial bed, +To have a living lover than a dead? + +_Almah._ I can no longer bear to be accused, +As if what I could grant you, I refused. +My father's choice I never will dispute; +And he has chosen ere you moved your suit. +You know my case; if equal you can be, +Plead for yourself, and answer it for me. + +_Almanz._ Then, madam, in that hope you bid me live; +I ask no more than you may justly give: +But in strict justice there may favour be, +And may I hope that you have that for me? + +_Almah._ Why do you thus my secret thoughts pursue, +Which, known, hurt me, and cannot profit you? +Your knowledge but new troubles does prepare, +Like theirs who curious in their fortunes are. +To say, I could with more content be yours, +Tempts you to hope; but not that hope assures. +For since the king has right, +And favoured by my father in his suit, +It is a blossom which can bear no fruit. +Yet, if you dare attempt so hard a task, +May you succeed; you have my leave to ask. + +_Almanz._ I can with courage now my hopes pursue, +Since I no longer have to combat you. +That did the greatest difficulty bring; +The rest are small, a father and a king! + +_Almah._ Great souls discern not when the leap's too wide, +Because they only view the farther side. +Whatever you desire, you think is near; +But, with more reason, the event I fear. + +_Almanz._ No; there is a necessity in fate, +Why still the brave bold man is fortunate: +He keeps his object ever full in sight, +And that assurance holds him firm and right. +True, 'tis a narrow path that leads to bliss, +But right before there is no precipice: +Fear makes men look aside, and then their footing miss. + +_Almah._ I do your merit all the right I can; +Admiring virtue in a private man: +I only wish the king may grateful be, +And that my father with my eyes may see. +Might I not make it as my last request,-- +Since humble carriage suits a suppliant best,-- +That you would somewhat of your fierceness hide-- +That inborn fire--I do not call it pride? + +_Almanz._ Born, as I am, still to command, not sue, +Yet you shall see that I can beg for you; +And if your father will require a crown, +Let him but name the kingdom, 'tis his own. +I am, but while I please, a private man; +I have that soul which empires first began. +From the dull crowd, which every king does lead, +I will pick out whom I will chuse to head: +The best and bravest souls I can select, +And on their conquered necks my throne erect. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT V. SCENE I. + + ABDALLA _alone, under the walls of the Albayzyn._ + +_Abdal._ While she is mine, I have not yet lost all, +But in her arms shall have a gentle fall: +Blest in my love, although in war o'ercome, +I fly, like Antony from Actium, +To meet a better Cleopatra here.-- +You of the watch! you of the watch! appear. + +_Sold._ [_above._] Who calls below? What's your demand? + +_Abdal._ 'Tis I: +Open the gate with speed; the foe is nigh. + +_Sold._ What orders for admittance do you bring? + +_Abdal._ Slave, my own orders; look, and know the king. + +_Sold._ I know you; but my charge is so severe, +That none, without exception, enter here. + +_Abdal._ Traitor, and rebel! thou shalt shortly see +Thy orders are not to extend to me. + +_Lyndar._ [_above._] What saucy slave so rudely does exclaim, +And brands my subject with a rebel's name? + +_Abdal._ Dear Lyndaraxa, haste; the foes pursue. + +_Lyndar._ My lord, the Prince Abdalla, is it you? +I scarcely can believe the words I hear; +Could you so coarsely treat my officer? + +_Abdal._ He forced me; but the danger nearer draws: +When I am entered, you shall know the cause. + +_Lyndar._ Entered! Why, have you any business here? + +_Abdal._ I am pursued, the enemy is near. + +_Lyndar._ Are you pursued, and do you thus delay +To save yourself? Make haste, my lord, away. + +_Abdal._ Give me not cause to think you mock my grief: +What place have I, but this, for my relief? + +_Lyndar._ This favour does your handmaid much oblige, +But we are not provided for a siege: +My subjects few; and their provision thin; +The foe is strong without, we weak within. +This to my noble lord may seem unkind, +But he will weigh it in his princely mind; +And pardon her, who does assurance want +So much, she blushes when she cannot grant. + +_Abdal._ Yes, you may blush; and you have cause to weep. +Is this the faith you promised me to keep? +Ah yet, if to a lover you will bring +No succour, give your succour to a king. + +_Lyndar._ A king is he, whom nothing can withstand; +Who men and money can with ease command. +A king is he, whom fortune still does bless; +He is a king, who does a crown possess. +If you would have me think that you are he, +Produce to view your marks of sovereignty; +But if yourself alone for proof you bring, +You are but a single person, not a king. + +_Abdal._ Ungrateful maid, did I for this rebel? +I say no more; but I have loved too well. + +_Lyndar._ Who but yourself did that rebellion move: +Did I e'er promise to receive your love? +Is it my fault you are not fortunate? +I love a king, but a poor rebel hate. + +_Abdal._ Who follow fortune, still are in the right; +But let me be protected here this night. + +_Lyndar._ The place to-morrow will be circled round; +And then no way will for your flight be found. + +_Abdal._ I hear my enemies just coming on; [_Trampling within._ +Protect me but one hour, till they are gone. + +_Lyndar._ They'll know you have been here; it cannot be; +That very hour you stay, will ruin me: +For if the foe behold our interview, +I shall be thought a rebel too, like you. +Haste hence; and, that your flight may prosperous prove, +I'll recommend you to the powers above. [_Exit_ LYND. _from above._ + +_Abdal._ She's gone: Ah, faithless and ungrateful maid!-- +I hear some tread; and fear I am betrayed. +I'll to the Spanish king; and try if he, +To countenance his own right, will succour me: +There is more faith in Christian dogs, than thee. [_Exit._ + + _Enter_ OZMYN, BENZAYDA, _and_ ABENAMAR. + +_Benz._ I wish +(To merit all these thanks) I could have said, +My pity only did his virtue aid; +'Twas pity, but 'twas of a love-sick maid. +His manly suffering my esteem did move; +That bred compassion, and compassion love. + +_Ozm._ O blessing sold me at too cheap a rate! +My danger was the benefit of fate. [_To his father._ +But that you may my fair deliverer know, +She was not only born our house's foe, +But to my death by powerful reasons led; +At least, in justice, she might wish me dead. + +_Aben._ But why thus long do you her name conceal? + +_Ozm._ To gain belief for what I now reveal: +Even thus prepared, you scarce can think it true, +The saver of my life from Selin drew +Her birth; and was his sister whom I slew. + +_Aben._ No more; it cannot, was not, must not be: +Upon my blessing, say not it was she. +The daughter of the only man I hate! +Two contradictions twisted in a fate! + +_Ozm._ The mutual hate, which you and Selin bore, +Does but exalt her generous pity more. +Could she a brother's death forgive to me, +And cannot you forget her family? +Can you so ill requite the life I owe, +To reckon her, who gave it, still your foe? +It lends too great a lustre to her line, +To let her virtue ours so much out-shine. + +_Aben._ Thou gav'st her line the advantage which they have, +By meanly taking of the life they gave. +Grant that it did in her a pity shew; +But would my son be pitied by a foe? +She has the glory of thy act defaced: +Thou kill'dst her brother; but she triumphs last: +Poorly for us our enmity would cease; +When we are beaten, we receive a peace. + +_Benz._ If that be all in which you disagree, +I must confess 'twas Ozmyn conquered me. +Had I beheld him basely beg his life, +I should not now submit to be his wife; +But when I saw his courage death controul, +I paid a secret homage to his soul; +And thought my cruel father much to blame, +Since Ozmyn's virtue his revenge did shame. + +_Aben._ What constancy can'st thou e'er hope to find +In that unstable, and soon conquered mind? +What piety can'st thou expect from her, +Who could forgive a brother's murderer? +Or, what obedience hop'st thou to be paid, +From one who first her father disobeyed? + +_Ozm._ Nature, that bids us parents to obey, +Bids parents their commands by reason weigh; +And you her virtue by your praise did own, +Before you knew by whom the act was done. + +_Aben._ Your reasons speak too much of insolence; +Her birth's a crime past pardon or defence. +Know, that as Selin was not won by thee, +Neither will I by Selin's daughter be. +Leave her, or cease henceforth to be my son: +This is my will; and this I will have done. [_Exit_ ABEN. + +_Ozm._ It is a murdering will, +That whirls along with an impetuous sway, +And, like chain-shot, sweeps all things in its way. +He does my honour want of duty call; +To that, and love, he has no right at all. + +_Benz._ No, Ozmyn, no; it is a much less ill +To leave me, than dispute a father's will: +If I had any title to your love, +Your father's greater right does mine remove: +Your vows and faith I give you back again, +Since neither can be kept without a sin. + +_Ozm._ Nothing but death my vows can give me back: +They are not yours to give, nor mine to take. + +_Benz._ Nay, think not, though I could your vows resign, +My love or virtue could dispense with mine. +I would extinguish your unlucky fire, +To make you happy in some new desire: +I can preserve enough for me and you, +And love, and be unfortunate, for two. + +_Ozm._ In all that's good and great +You vanquish me so fast, that in the end +I shall have nothing left me to defend. +From every post you force me to remove; +But let me keep my last entrenchment, love. + +_Benz._ Love then, my Ozmyn; I will be content [_Giving her hand._ +To make you wretched by your own consent: +Live poor, despised, and banished for my sake, +And all the burden of my sorrows take; +For, as for me, in whatsoe'er estate, +While I have you, I must be fortunate. + +_Ozm._ Thus then, secured of what we hold most dear, +(Each other's love) we'll go--I know not where. +For where, alas, should we our flight begin? +The foe's without; our parents are within. + +_Benz._ I'll fly to you, and you shall fly to me; +Our flight but to each other's arms shall be. +To providence and chance permit the rest; +Let us but love enough, and we are blest. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II. + + _Enter_ BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, ABDELMELECH, _Guards:_ ZULEMA _and_ + HAMET, _Prisoners._ + +_Abdelm._ They are Lyndaraxa's brothers; for her sake, +Their lives and pardon my request I make. + +_Boab._ Then, Zulema and Hamet, live; but know, +Your lives to Abdelmelech's suit you owe. + +_Zul._ The grace received so much my hope exceeds, +That words come weak and short to answer deeds. +You've made a venture, sir, and time must shew, +If this great mercy you did well bestow. + +_Boab._ You, Abdelmelech, haste before 'tis night, +And close pursue my brother in his flight. + [_Exeunt_ ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, _and_ HAMET. + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR, ALMAHIDE, _and_ ESPERANZA. + +But see, with Almahide +The brave Almanzor comes, whose conquering sword +The crown, it once took from me, has restored. +How can I recompence so great desert! + +_Almanz._ I bring you, sir, performed in every part, +My promise made; your foes are fled or slain; +Without a rival, absolute you reign. +Yet though, in justice, this enough may be, +It is too little to be done by me: +I beg to go, +Where my own courage and your fortune calls, +To chase these misbelievers from our walls. +I cannot breathe within this narrow space; +My heart's too big, and swells beyond the place. + +_Boab._ You can perform, brave warrior, what you please; +Fate listens to your voice, and then decrees. +Now I no longer fear the Spanish powers; +Already we are free, and conquerors. + +_Almanz._ Accept, great king, to-morrow, from my hand, +The captive head of conquered Ferdinand. +You shall not only what you lost regain, +But o'er the Biscayan mountains to the main, +Extend your sway, where never Moor did reign. + +_Aben._ What, in another, vanity would seem, +Appears but noble confidence in him; +No haughty boasting, but a manly pride; +A soul too fiery, and too great to guide: +He moves excentric, like a wandering star, +Whose motion's just, though 'tis not regular. + +_Boab._ It is for you, brave man, and only you, +Greatly to speak, and yet more greatly do. +But, if your benefits too far extend, +I must be left ungrateful in the end: +Yet somewhat I would pay, +Before my debts above all reckoning grow, +To keep me from the shame of what I owe. +But you +Are conscious to yourself of such desert, +That of your gift I fear to offer part. + +_Almanz._ When I shall have declared my high request, +So much presumption there will be confest, +That you will find your gifts I do not shun; +But rather much o'er-rate the service done. + +_Boab._ Give wing to your desires, and let 'em fly, +Secure they cannot mount a pitch too high. +So bless me, Alha, both in peace and war, +As I accord, whate'er your wishes are. + +_Almanz._ Emboldened by the promise of a prince, + [_Putting one knee to the ground._ +I ask this lady now with confidence. + +_Boab._ You ask the only thing I cannot grant. + [_The King and_ ABENAMAR _look amazedly on + each other._ +But, as a stranger, you are ignorant +Of what by public fame my subjects know; +She is my mistress. + +_Aben._ --And my daughter too. + +_Almanz._ Believe, old man, that I her father knew: +What else should make Almanzor kneel to you?-- +Nor doubt, sir, but your right to her was known: +For had you had no claim but love alone, +I could produce a better of my own. + +_Almah._ [_softly to him._] +Almanzor, you forget my last request: +Your words have too much haughtiness expressed. +Is this the humble way you were to move? + +_Almanz._ [_to her._] +I was too far transported by my love. +Forgive me; for I had not learned to sue +To any thing before, but heaven and you.-- +Sir, at your feet, I make it my request-- [_To the King._ + [_First line kneeling: second, rising, and boldly._ +Though, without boasting, I deserve her best; +For you her love with gaudy titles sought, +But I her heart with blood and dangers bought. + +_Boab._ The blood, which you have shed in her defence, +Shall have in time a fitting recompence: +Or, if you think your services delayed, +Name but your price, and you shall soon be paid. + +_Almanz._ My price!--why, king, you do not think you deal +With one who sets his services to sale? +Reserve your gifts for those who gifts regard; +And know, I think myself above reward. + +_Boab._ Then sure you are some godhead; and our care +Must be to come with incense and with prayer. + +_Almanz._ As little as you think yourself obliged, +You would be glad to do't, when next besieged. +But I am pleased there should be nothing due; +For what I did was for myself, not you. + +_Boab._ You with contempt on meaner gifts look down; +And, aiming at my queen, disdain my crown. +That crown, restored, deserves no recompence. +Since you would rob the fairest jewel thence. +Dare not henceforth ungrateful me to call; +Whate'er I owed you, this has cancelled all. + +_Almanz._ I'll call thee thankless, king, and perjured both: +Thou swor'st by Alha, and hast broke thy oath. +But thou dost well; thou tak'st the cheapest way; +Not to own services thou canst not pay. + +_Boab._ My patience more than pays thy service past; +But now this insolence shall be thy last. +Hence from my sight! and take it as a grace, +Thou liv'st, and art but banished from the place. + +_Almanz._ Where'er I go, there can no exile be; +But from Almanzor's sight I banish thee: +I will not now, if thou wouldst beg me, stay; +But I will take my Almahide away. +Stay thou with all thy subjects here; but know, +We leave thy city empty when we go. [_Takes_ ALMAHIDE'S _hand._ + +_Boab._ Fall on; take; kill the traitor. + [_The Guards fall on him; he makes at the King + through the midst of them, and falls upon + him; they disarm him, and rescue the King._ + +_Almanz._ --Base and poor, +Blush that thou art Almanzor's conqueror. + [ALMAHIDE _wrings her hands, then turns and + veils her face._ +Farewell, my Almahide! +Life of itself will go, now thou art gone, +Like flies in winter, when they lose the sun. + [ABENAMAR _whispers the King a little, then + speaks aloud._ + +_Aben._ Revenge, and taken so secure a way, +Are blessings which heaven sends not every day. + +_Boab._ I will at leisure now revenge my wrong; +And, traitor, thou shalt feel my vengeance long: +Thou shalt not die just at thy own desire, +But see my nuptials, and with rage expire. + +_Almanz._ Thou darest not marry her while I'm in sight: +With a bent brow thy priest and thee I'll fright; +And in that scene, +Which all thy hopes and wishes should content, +The thought of me shall make thee impotent. + [_He is led off by Guards._ + +_Boab._ As some fair tulip, by a storm oppressed, [_To_ ALMAH. +Shrinks up, and folds its silken arms to rest; +And, bending to the blast, all pale and dead, +Hears, from within, the wind sing round its head,-- +So, shrouded up, your beauty disappears: +Unveil, my love, and lay aside your fears. +The storm, that caused your fright, is passed and done. + [ALMAHIDE _unveiling, and looking round for_ + ALMANZOR. + +_Almah._ So flowers peep out too soon, and miss the sun. + [_Turning from him._ + +_Boab._ What mystery in this strange behaviour lies? + +_Almah._ Let me for ever hide these guilty eyes, +Which lighted my Almanzor to his tomb; +Or, let them blaze, to show me there a room. + +_Boab._ Heaven lent their lustre for a nobler end; +A thousand torches must their light attend, +To lead you to a temple and a crown. +Why does my fairest Almahide frown? +Am I less pleasing then I was before, +Or, is the insolent Almanzor more? + +_Almah._ I justly own that I some pity have, +Not for the insolent, but for the brave. + +_Aben._ Though to your king your duty you neglect, +Know, Almahide, I look for more respect: +And, if a parent's charge your mind can move, +Receive the blessing of a monarch's love. + +_Almah._ Did he my freedom to his life prefer, +And shall I wed Almanzor's murderer? +No, sir; I cannot to your will submit; +Your way's too rugged for my tender feet. + +_Aben._ You must be driven where you refuse to go; +And taught, by force, your happiness to know. + +_Almah._ To force me, sir, is much unworthy you, + [_Smiling scornfully._ +And, when you would, impossible to do. +If force could bend me, you might think, with shame, +That I debase the blood from whence I came. +My soul is soft, which you may gently lay +In your loose palm; but, when 'tis pressed to stay, +Like water, it deludes your grasp, and slips away. + +_Boab._ I find I must revoke what I decreed: +Almanzor's death my nuptials must precede. +Love is a magic which the lover ties; +But charms still end when the magician dies. +Go; let me hear my hated rival's dead; [_To his Guard._ +And, to convince my eyes, bring back his head. + +_Almah._ Go on: I wish no other way to prove +That I am worthy of Almanzor's love. +We will in death, at least, united be: +I'll shew you I can die as well as he. + +_Boab._ What should I do! when equally I dread +Almanzor living and Almanzor dead!-- +Yet, by your promise, you are mine alone. + +_Almah._ How dare you claim my faith, and break your own? + +_Aben._ This for your virtue is a weak defence: +No second vows can with your first dispense. +Yet, since the king did to Almanzor swear, +And in his death ungrateful may appear, +He ought, in justice, first to spare his life, +And then to claim your promise as his wife. + +_Almah._ Whate'er my secret inclinations be, +To this, since honour ties me, I agree: +Yet I declare, and to the world will own, +That, far from seeking, I would shun the throne. +And with Almanzor lead a humble life: +There is a private greatness in his wife. + +_Boab._ That little love I have, I hardly buy; +You give my rival all, while you deny: +Yet, Almahide, to let you see your power, +Your loved Almanzor shall be free this hour. +You are obeyed; but 'tis so great a grace, +That I could wish me in my rival's place. + [_Exeunt_ KING _and_ ABENAMAR. + +_Almah._ How blessed was I before this fatal day, +When all I knew of love, was to obey! +'Twas life becalmed, without a gentle breath; +Though not so cold, yet motionless as death. +A heavy quiet state; but love, all strife, +All rapid, is the hurricane of life. +Had love not shewn me, I had never seen +An excellence beyond Boabdelin. +I had not, aiming higher, lost my rest; +But with a vulgar good been dully blest: +But, in Almanzor, having seen what's rare, +Now I have learnt too sharply to compare; +And, like a favourite quickly in disgrace, +Just knew the value ere I lost the place. + + _To her_ ALMANZOR, _bound and guarded._ + +_Almanz._ I see the end for which I'm hither sent, +To double, by your sight, my punishment. +There is a shame in bonds I cannot bear; +Far more than death, to meet your eyes I fear. + +_Almah._ That shame of long continuance shall not be: + [_Unbinding him._ +The king, at my entreaty, sets you free. + +_Almanz._ The king! my wonder's greater than before; +How did he dare my freedom to restore? +He like some captive lion uses me; +He runs away before he sets me free, +And takes a sanctuary in his court: +I'll rather lose my life than thank him for't. + +_Almah._ If any subject for your thanks there be, +The king expects them not, you owe them me. +Our freedoms through each other's hands have past; +You give me my revenge in winning last. + +_Almanz._ Then fate commodiously for me has done; +To lose mine there where I would have it won. + +_Almah._ Almanzor, you too soon will understand, +That what I win is on another's hand. +The king (who doomed you to a cruel fate) +Gave to my prayers both his revenge and hate; +But at no other price would rate your life, +Than my consent and oath to be his wife. + +_Almanz._ Would you, to save my life, my love betray? +Here; take me; bind me; carry me away; +Kill me! I'll kill you if you disobey. [_To the Guards._ + +_Almah._ That absolute command your love does give, +I take, and charge you by that power to live. + +_Almanz._ When death, the last of comforts, you refuse, +Your power, like heaven upon the damned, you use; +You force me in my being to remain, +To make me last, and keep me fresh for pain. +When all my joys are gone, +What cause can I for living longer give, +But a dull, lazy habitude to live? + +_Almah._ Rash men, like you, and impotent of will, +Give chance no time to turn, but urge her still; +She would repent; you push the quarrel on, +And once because she went, she must be gone. + +_Almanz._ She shall not turn; what is it she can do, +To recompense me for the loss of you? + +_Almah_, Heaven will reward your worth some better way: +At least, for me, you have but lost one day. +Nor is't a real loss which you deplore; +You sought a heart that was engaged before. +'Twas a swift love which took you in his way; +Flew only through your heart, but made no stay: +'Twas but a dream, where truth had not a place; +A scene of fancy, moved so swift a pace, +And shifted, that you can but think it was;-- +Let then, the short vexatious vision pass. + +_Almanz._ My joys, indeed, are dreams; but not my pain: +'Twas a swift ruin, but the marks remain. +When some fierce fire lays goodly buildings waste, +Would you conclude +There had been none, because the burning's past? + +_Almah._ It was your fault that fire seized all your breast; +You should have blown up some to save the rest: +But 'tis, at worst, but so consumed by fire, +As cities are, that by their fall rise higher. +Build love a nobler temple in my place; +You'll find the fire has but enlarged your space. + +_Almanz._ Love has undone me; I am grown so poor, +I sadly view the ground I had before, +But want a stock, and ne'er can build it more. + +_Almah._ Then say what charity I can allow; +I would contribute if I knew but how. +Take friendship; or, if that too small appear, +Take love,--which sisters may to brothers bear. + +_Almanz._ A sister's love! that is so palled a thing, +What pleasure can it to a lover bring? +'Tis like thin food to men in fevers spent; +Just keeps alive, but gives no nourishment. +What hopes, what fears, what transports can it move? +'Tis but the ghost of a departed love. + +_Almah._ You, like some greedy cormorant, devour +All my whole life can give you in an hour. +What more I can do for you is to die, +And that must follow, if you this deny. +Since I gave up my love, that you might live, +You, in refusing life, my sentence give. + +_Almanz._ Far from my breast be such an impious thought! +Your death would lose the quiet mine had sought. +I'll live for you, in spite of misery; +But you shall grant that I had rather die. +I'll be so wretched, filled with such despair, +That you shall see, to live was more to dare. + +_Almah._ Adieu, then, O my soul's far better part! +Your image sticks so close, +That the blood follows from my rending heart. +A last farewell! +For, since a last must come, the rest are vain, +Like gasps in death, which but prolong our pain. +But, since the king is now a part of me, +Cease from henceforth to be his enemy. +Go now, for pity go! for, if you stay, +I fear I shall have something still to say. +Thus--I for ever shut you from my sight. [_Veils._ + +_Almanz._ Like one thrust out in a cold winters night, +Yet shivering underneath your gate I stay; +One look--I cannot go before 'tis day.-- + [_She beckons him to be gone._ +Not one--Farewell: Whate'er my sufferings be +Within, I'll speak farewell as loud as she: +I will not be out-done in constancy.-- [_She turns her back._ +Then like a dying conqueror I go; +At least I have looked last upon my foe. +I go--but, if too heavily I move, +I walk encumbered with a weight of love. +Fain I would leave the thought of you behind, +But still, the more I cast you from my mind, +You dash, like water, back, when thrown against the wind. [_Exit._ + + _As he goes off, the_ KING _meets him with_ ABENAMAR; _they stare at + each other without saluting._ + +_Boab._ With him go all my fears: A guard there wait, +And see him safe without the city gate. + + _To them_ ABDELMELECH. + +Now, Abdelmelech, is my brother dead? + +_Abdelm._ Th' usurper to the Christian camp is fled; +Whom as Granada's lawful king they own, +And vow, by force, to seat him on the throne. +Mean time the rebels in the Albayzyn rest; +Which is in Lyndaraxa's name possest. + +_Boab._ Haste and reduce it instantly by force. + +_Abdelm._ First give me leave to prove a milder course. +She will, perhaps, on summons yield the place. + +_Boab._ We cannot to your suit refuse her grace. + [_One enters hastily, and whispers_ ABENAMAR. + +_Aben._ How fortune persecutes this hoary head! +My Ozmyn is with Selin's daughter fled. +But he's no more my son: +My hate shall like a Zegry him pursue, +'Till I take back what blood from me he drew. + +_Boab._ Let war and vengeance be to-morrow's care; +But let us to the temple now repair. +A thousand torches make the mosque more bright: +This must be mine and Almahide's night. +Hence, ye importunate affairs of state, +You should not tyrannize on love, but wait. +Had life no love, none would for business live; +Yet still from love the largest part we give; +And must be forced, in empire's weary toil, +To live long wretched, to be pleased a while. [_Exeunt._ + + + EPILOGUE. + + Success, which can no more than beauty last, + Makes our sad poet mourn your favours past: + For, since without desert he got a name, + He fears to lose it now with greater shame. + Fame, like a little mistress of the town, + Is gained with ease, but then she's lost as soon: + For, as those tawdry misses, soon or late, + Jilt such as keep them at the highest rate; + And oft the lacquey, or the brawny clown, + Gets what is hid in the loose-bodied gown,-- + So, fame is false to all that keep her long; + And turns up to the fop that's brisk and young. + Some wiser poet now would leave fame first; + But elder wits are, like old lovers, cursed: + Who, when the vigour of their youth is spent, + Still grow more fond, as they grow impotent. + This, some years hence, our poet's case may prove; + But yet, he hopes, he's young enough to love. + When forty comes, if e'er he live to see + That wretched, fumbling age of poetry, + 'Twill be high time to bid his muse adieu:-- + Well may he please himself, but never you. + Till then, he'll do as well as he began, + And hopes you will not find him less a man. + Think him not duller for this year's delay; + He was prepared, the women were away; + And men, without their parts, can hardly play. + If they, through sickness, seldom did appear, + Pity the virgins of each theatre: + For, at both houses, 'twas a sickly year! + And pity us, your servants, to whose cost, + In one such sickness, nine whole months are lost. + Their stay, he fears, has ruined what he writ: + Long waiting both disables love and wit. + They thought they gave him leisure to do well; + But, when they forced him to attend, he fell! + Yet, though he much has failed, he begs, to-day, + You will excuse his unperforming play: + Weakness sometimes great passion does express; + He had pleased better, had he loved you less. + + + * * * * * + + + ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE: + + OR, THE + + CONQUEST OF GRANADA + + BY THE + + _SPANIARDS._ + + A TRAGEDY. + + THE SECOND PART. + + + _--Stimulos dedit aemula virtus._ + LUCAN. + + + + + PROLOGUE + + TO THE SECOND PART. + + +They, who write ill, and they, who ne'er durst write, +Turn critics, out of mere revenge and spite: +A playhouse gives them fame; and up there starts, +From a mean fifth-rate wit, a man of parts. +(So common faces on the stage appear; +We take them in, and they turn beauties here.) +Our author fears those critics as his fate; +And those he fears, by consequence must hate, +For they the traffic of all wit invade, +As scriveners draw away the bankers' trade. +Howe'er, the poet's safe enough to day, +They cannot censure an unfinished play. +But, as when vizard-mask appears in pit, +Straight every man, who thinks himself a wit, +Perks up, and, managing his comb with grace, +With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face; +That done, bears up to th' prize, and views each limb, +To know her by her rigging and her trim; +Then, the whole noise of fops to wagers go,-- +"Pox on her, 'tmust be she;" and--"damme, no!"-- +Just, so, I prophesy, these wits to-day +Will blindly guess at our imperfect play; +With what new plots our Second Part is filled, +Who must be kept alive, and who be killed. +And as those vizard-masks maintain that fashion, +To soothe and tickle sweet imagination; +So our dull poet keeps you on with masking, +To make you think there's something worth your asking. +But, when 'tis shown, that, which does now delight you, +Will prove a dowdy, with a face to fright you. + + + + + ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE, + + OR, THE + + CONQUEST OF GRANADA. + + THE SECOND PART. + + +ACT I + +SCENE I.--_A Camp._ + + _Enter_ KING FERDINAND, QUEEN ISABELLA, ALONZO D'AGUILAR; + _Attendants, Men and Women._ + +_K. Ferd._ At length the time is come, when Spain shall be +From the long yoke of Moorish tyrants free. +All causes seem to second our design, +And heaven and earth in their destruction join. +When empire in its childhood first appears, +A watchful fate o'ersees its tender years; +Till, grown more strong, it thrusts and stretches out, +And elbows all the kingdoms round about: +The place thus made for its first breathing free, +It moves again for ease and luxury; +Till, swelling by degrees, it has possessed +The greater space, and now crowds up the rest; +When, from behind, there starts some petty state, +And pushes on its now unwieldy fate; +Then down the precipice of time it goes, +And sinks in minutes, which in ages rose. + +_Q. Isabel._ Should bold Columbus in his search succeed, +And find those beds in which bright metals breed; +Tracing the sun, who seems to steal away, +That, miser-like, he might alone survey +The wealth which he in western mines did lay,-- +Not all that shining ore could give my heart +The joy, this conquered kingdom will impart; +Which; rescued from these misbelievers' hands, +Shall now, at once, shake off its double bands: +At once to freedom and true faith restored, +Its old religion and its ancient lord. + +_K. Ferd._ By that assault which last we made, I find, +Their courage is with their success declined: +Almanzor's absence now they dearly buy, +Whose conduct crowned their arms with victory. + +_Alonzo._ Their king himself did their last sally guide; +I saw him, glistering in his armour, ride +To break a lance in honour of his bride: +But other thoughts now fill his anxious breast; +Care of his crown his love has dispossest. + + _To them_ ABDALLA. + +_Q. Isabel._ But see, the brother of the Moorish king: +He seems some news of great import to bring. + +_K. Ferd._ He brings a spacious title to our side: +Those, who would conquer, must their foes divide. + +_Abdal._ Since to my exile you have pity shown, +And given me courage yet to hope a throne; +While you without our common foes subdue, +I am not wanting to myself or you; +But have, within, a faction still alive, +Strong to assist, and secret to contrive, +And watching each occasion to foment +The people's fears into a discontent; +Which, from Almanzor's loss, before were great, +And now are doubled by their late defeat: +These letters from their chiefs the news assures. + [_Gives letters to the_ KING. + +_K. Ferd._ Be mine the honour, but the profit yours. + + _To them the_ DUKE OF ARCOS, _with_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA, + _Prisoners._ + +_K. Ferd._ That tertia of Italians did you guide, +To take their post upon the river side? + +_D. Arcos._ All are according to your orders placed: +My chearful soldiers their intrenchments haste; +The Murcian foot hath ta'en the upper ground, +And now the city is beleaguered round. + +_K. Ferd._ Why is not then their leader here again? + +_D. Arcos._ The master of Alcantara is slain; +But he, who slew him, here before you stands: +It is that Moor whom you behold in bands. + +_K. Ferd._ A braver man I had not in my host; +His murderer shall not long his conquest boast: +But, Duke of Arcos, say, how was he slain? + +_D. Arcos._ Our soldiers marched together on the plain; +We two rode on, and left them far behind, +Till, coming where we found the valley wind, +We saw these Moors; who, swiftly as they could, +Ran on to gain the covert of a wood. +This we observed; and, having crossed their way, +The lady, out of breath, was forced to stay: +The man then stood, and straight his faulchion drew; +Then told us, we in vain did those pursue, +Whom their ill fortune to despair did drive, +And yet, whom we should never take alive. +Neglecting this, the master straight spurred on; +But the active Moor his horse's shock did shun, +And, ere his rider from his reach could go, +Finished the combat with one deadly blow. +I, to revenge my friend, prepared to fight; +But now our foremost men were come in sight, +Who soon would have dispatched him on the place, +Had I not saved him from a death so base, +And brought him to attend your royal doom. + +_K. Ferd._ A manly face, and in his age's bloom; +But, to content the soldiers, he must die: +Go, see him executed instantly. + +_Q. Isabel._ Stay; I would learn his name before he go: +You, Prince Abdalla, may the prisoner know. + +_Abdal._ Ozmyn's his name, and he deserves his fate; +His father heads the faction which I hate: +But much I wonder, that with him I see +The daughter of his mortal enemy. + +_Benz._ 'Tis true, by Ozmyn's sword my brother fell; +But 'twas a death he merited too well. +I know a sister should excuse his fault; +But you know too, that Ozmyn's death he sought, + +_Abdal._ Our prophet has declared, by the event, +That Ozmyn is reserved for punishment; +For, when he thought his guilt from danger clear, +He, by new crimes, is brought to suffer here. + +_Benz._ In love, or pity, if a crime you find, +We two have sinned above all human kind. + +_Ozm._ Heaven in my punishment has done a grace; +I could not suffer, in a better place: +That I should die by Christians it thought good, +To save your father's guilt, who sought my blood. [_To her._ + +_Benz._ Fate aims so many blows to make us fall, +That 'tis in vain to think to ward them all: +And, where misfortunes great and many are, +Life grows a burden, and not worth our care. + +_Ozm._ I cast it from me, like a garment torn, +Ragged, and too indecent to be worn: +Besides, there is contagion in my fate, [_To_ BENZ. +It makes your life too much unfortunate.-- +But, since her faults are not allied to mine, +In her protection let your favour shine. +To you, great queen, I make this last request, +(Since pity dwells in every royal breast) +Safe, in your care, her life and honour be: +It is a dying lover's legacy. + +_Benz._ Cease, Ozmyn, cease so vain a suit to move; +I did not give you on those terms my love. +Leave me the care of me; for, when you go, +My love will soon instruct me what to do. + +_Q. Isabel._ Permit me, sir, these lovers' doom to give: +My sentence is, they shall together live. +The courts of kings +To all distressed should sanctuaries be, +But most to lovers in adversity. +Castile and Arragon, +Which long against each other war did move, +My plighted lord and I have joined by love; +And, if to add this conquest heaven thinks good, +I would not have it stained with lovers' blood. + +_K. Ferd._ Whatever Isabella shall command +Shall always be a law to Ferdinand. + +_Benz._ The frowns of fate we will no longer fear. +Ill fate, great queen, can never find us here. + +_Q. Isabel._ Your thanks some other time I will receive: +Henceforward safe in my protection live. +Granada is for noble loves renowned: +Her best defence is in her lovers found. +Love's an heroic passion, which can find +No room in any base degenerate mind: +It kindles all the soul with honour's fire, +To make the lover worthy his desire. +Against such heroes I success should fear, +Had we not too an host of lovers here. +An army, of bright beauties come with me; +Each lady shall her servant's actions see: +The fair and brave on each side shall contest; +And they shall overcome, who love the best. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_The Alhambra._ + + _Enter_ ZULEMA. + +_Zul._ True, they have pardoned me; but do they know +What folly 'tis to trust a pardoned foe? +A blush remains in a forgiven face: +It wears the silent tokens of disgrace. +Forgiveness to the injured does belong; +But they ne'er pardon, who have done the wrong. +My hopeful fortunes lost! and, what's above +All I can name or think, my ruined love! +Feigned honesty shall work me into trust, +And seeming penitence conceal my lust. +Let heaven's great eye of Providence now take +One day of rest, and ever after wake. + + _Enter_ BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, _and Guards._ + +_Boab._ Losses on losses! as if heaven decreed +Almanzor's valour should alone succeed. + +_Aben._ Each sally we have made, since he is gone, +Serves but to pull our speedy ruin on. + +_Boab._ Of all mankind, the heaviest fate he bears, +Who the last crown of sinking empire wears. +No kindly planet of his birth took care: +Heaven's outcast, and the dross of every star! + [_A tumultuous noise within._ + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH. + +What new misfortunes do these cries presage? + +_Abdelm._ They are the effects of the mad people's rage. +All in despair tumultuously they swarm: +The fairest streets already take the alarm; +The needy creep from cellars under ground; +To them new cries from tops of garrets sound; +The aged from the chimneys seek the cold; +And wives from windows helpless infants hold. + +_Boab._ See what the many-headed beast demands.-- [_Exit_ ABDELM. +Cursed is that king, whose's honour's in their hands. +In senates, either they too slowly grant, +Or saucily refuse to aid my want; +And, when their thrift has ruined me in war, +They call their insolence my want of care. + +_Aben._ Cursed be their leaders, who that rage foment, +And veil, with public good, their discontent: +They keep the people's purses in their hands, +And hector kings to grant their wild demands; +But to each lure, a court throws out, descend, +And prey on those they promised to defend. + +_Zul._ Those kings, who to their wild demands consent, +Teach others the same way to discontent. +Freedom in subjects is not, nor can be; +But still, to please them, we must call them free. +Propriety, which they their idol make, +Or law, or law's interpreters, can shake. + +_Aben._ The name of commonwealth is popular; +But there the people their own tyrants are. + +_Boab._ But kings, who rule with limited command, +Have players' sceptres put into their hand. +Power has no balance, one side still weighs down, +And either hoists the commonwealth or crown; +And those, who think to set the scale more right, +By various turnings but disturb the weight. + +_Aben._ While people tug for freedom, kings for power, +Both sink beneath some foreign conqueror: +Then subjects find too late they were unjust, +And want that power of kings, they durst not trust. + + _To them_ ABDELMELECH. + +_Abdelm._ The tumult now is high, and dangerous grown: +The people talk of rendering up the town; +And swear that they will force the king's consent. + +_Boab._ What counsel can this rising storm prevent? + +_Abdelm._ Their fright to no persuasions will give ear: +There's a deaf madness in a people's fear. + + _Enter a Messenger._ + +_Mess._ Their fury now a middle course does take; +To yield the town, or call Almanzor back. + +_Boab._ I'll rather call my death.-- +Go and bring up my guards to my defence: +I'll punish this outrageous insolence. + +_Aben._ Since blind opinion does their reason sway, +You must submit to cure them their own way. +You to their fancies physic must apply; +Give them that chief on whom they most rely. +Under Almanzor prosperously they fought; +Almanzor, therefore, must with prayers be brought. + + _Enter a second Messenger._ + +_2 Mess._ Haste all you can their fury to assuage: +You are not safe from their rebellious rage. + + _Enter a third Messenger._ + +_3 Mess._ This minute, if you grant not their desire, +They'll seize your person, and your palace fire. + +_Abdelm._ Your danger, sir, admits of no delay. + +_Boab._ In tumults people reign, and kings obey.-- +Go and appease them with the vow I make, +That they shall have their loved Almanzor back. [_Exit_ ABDEL. +Almanzor has the ascendant o'er my fate; +I'm forced to stoop to one I fear and hate: +Disgraced, distressed, in exile, and alone, +He's greater than a monarch on his throne: +Without a realm, a royalty he gains; +Kings are the subjects over whom he reigns. + [_A shout of acclamations within._ + +_Aben._ These shouts proclaim the people satisfied. + +_Boab._ We for another tempest must provide. +To promise his return as I was loth, +So I want power now to perform my oath. +Ere this, for Afric he is sailed from Spain. + +_Aben._ The adverse winds his passage yet detain; +I heard, last night, his equipage did stay +At a small village, short of Malaga. + +_Boab._ Abenamar, this evening thither haste; +Desire him to forget his usage past: +Use all your rhetoric, promise, flatter, pray. + + _To them_ ALMAHIDE, _attended._ + +_Aben._ Good fortune shows you yet a surer way: +Nor prayers nor promises his mind will move; +'Tis inaccessible to all, but love. + +_Boab._ Oh, thou hast roused a thought within my breast, +That will for ever rob me of my rest. +Ah jealousy, how cruel is thy sting! +I, in Almanzor, a loved rival bring! +And now, I think, it is an equal strife, +If I my crown should hazard, or my wife. +Where, marriage, is thy cure, which husbands boast, +That in possession their desire is lost? +Or why have I alone that wretched taste, +Which, gorged and glutted, does with hunger last? +Custom and duty cannot set me free, +Even sin itself has not a charm for me. +Of married lovers I am sure the first, +And nothing but a king could be so curst. + +_Almah._ What sadness sits upon your royal heart? +Have you a grief, and must not I have part? +All creatures else a time of love possess; +Man only clogs with cares his happiness: +And, while he should enjoy his part of bliss, +With thoughts of what may be, destroys what is. + +_Boab._ You guess aright; I am oppressed with grief, +And 'tis from you that I must seek relief. [_To the company._ +Leave us; to sorrow there's a reverence due: +Sad kings, like suns eclipsed, withdraw from view. + [_The Attendants go off, and chairs are set for + the King and Queen._ + +_Almah._ So, two kind turtles, when a storm is nigh, +Look up, and see it gathering in the sky: +Each calls his mate, to shelter in the groves, +Leaving, in murmur, their unfinished loves: +Perched on some drooping branch, they sit alone, +And coo, and hearken to each other's moan. + +_Boab._ Since, Almahide, you seem so kind a wife, + [_Taking her by the hand._ +What would you do to save a husband's life? + +_Almah._ When fate calls on that hard necessity, +I'll suffer death, rather than you shall die. + +_Boab._ Suppose your country should in danger be; +What would you undertake to set it free? + +_Almah._ It were too little to resign my breath: +My own free hand should give me nobler death. + +_Boab._ That hand, which would so much for glory do, +Must yet do more; for it must kill me too. +You must kill me, for that dear country's sake; +Or, what's all one, must call Almanzor back. + +_Almah._ I see to what your speech you now direct; +Either my love or virtue you suspect. +But know, that, when my person I resigned, +I was too noble not to give my mind. +No more the shadow of Almanzor fear; +I have no room, but for your image, here. + +_Boab._ This, Almahide, would make me cease to mourn, +Were that Almanzor never to return: +But now my fearful people mutiny; +Their clamours call Almanzor back, not I. +Their safety, through my ruin, I pursue; +He must return, and must be brought by you. + +_Almah._ That hour, when I my faith to you did plight, +I banished him for ever from my sight. +His banishment was to my virtue due; +Not that I feared him for myself, but you. +My honour had preserved me innocent: +But I would, your suspicion to prevent; +Which, since I see augmented in your mind, +I yet more reason for his exile find. + +_Boab._ To your entreaties he will yield alone. +And on your doom depend my life and throne. +No longer, therefore, my desires withstand; +Or, if desires prevail not, my command. + +_Almah._ In his return, too sadly I foresee +The effects of your returning jealousy. +But your command I prize above my life; +'Tis sacred to a subject and a wife: +If I have power, Almanzor shall return. + +_Boab._ Cursed be that fatal hour when I was born! + [_Letting go her hand, and starting up._ +You love, you love him; and that love reveal, +By your too quick consent to his repeal. +My jealousy had but too just a ground; +And now you stab into my former wound. + +_Almah._ This sudden change I do not understand. +Have you so soon forgot your own command? + +_Boab._ Grant that I did the unjust injunction lay, +You should have loved me more than to obey. +I know you did this mutiny design; +But I'll your love-plot quickly countermine. +Let my crown go; he never shall return; +I, like a phoenix, in my nest will burn. + +_Almah._ You please me well; that in one common fate +You wrap yourself, and me, and all your state. +Let us no more of proud Almanzor hear: +'Tis better once to die, than still to fear; +And better many times to die, than be +Obliged, past payment, to an enemy. + +_Boab._ 'Tis better; but you wives have still one way: +Whene'er your husbands are obliged, you pay. + +_Almah._ Thou, heaven, who know'st it, judge my innocence!-- +You, sir, deserve not I should make defence. +Yet, judge my virtue by that proof I gave, +When I submitted to be made your slave. + +_Boab._ If I have been suspicious or unkind, +Forgive me; many cares distract my mind: +Love, and a crown! +Two such excuses no one man e'er had; +And each of them enough to make me mad: +But now my reason reassumes its throne, +And finds no safety when Almanzor's gone. +Send for him then; I'll be obliged, and sue; +'Tis a less evil than to part with you. +I leave you to your thoughts; but love me still! +Forgive my passion, and obey my will. [_Exit_ BOABDELIN. + + ALMAHIDE _solus._ + +My jealous lord will soon to rage return; +That fire, his fear rakes up, does inward burn. +But heaven, which made me great, has chose for me, +I must the oblation for my people be. +I'll cherish honour, then, and life despise; +What is not pure, is not for sacrifice. +Yet for Almanzor I in secret mourn! +Can virtue, then, admit of his return? +Yes; for my love I will by virtue square; +My heart's not mine, but all my actions are. +I'll like Almanzor act; and dare to be +As haughty, and as wretched too, as he. +What will he think is in my message meant? +I scarcely understand my own intent: +But, silk-worm like, so long within have wrought, +That I am lost in my own web of thought. [_Exit_ ALMAHIDE. + + +ACT II. + +SCENE I.--_A Wood._ + + _Enter_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA. + +_Ozm._ 'Tis true, that our protection here has been +The effect of honour in the Spanish queen; +But, while I as a friend continue here, +I to my country must a foe appear. + +_Benz._ Think not, my Ozmyn, that we here remain +As friends, but prisoners to the power of Spain. +Fortune dispenses with your country's right; +But you desert your honour in your flight. + +_Ozm._ I cannot leave you here, and go away; +My honour's glad of a pretence to stay. + [_A noise within,_--Follow, follow, follow!-- + + _Enter_ SELIN, _his sword drawn, as pursued._ + +_Selin._ I am pursued, and now am spent and done; +My limbs suffice me not with strength to run. +And, if I could, alas! what can I save? +A year, the dregs of life too, from the grave. + [_Sits down on the ground._ +Here will I sit, and here attend my fate, +With the same hoary majesty and state, +As Rome's old senate for the Gauls did wait. + +_Benz._ It is my father; and he seems distressed. + +_Ozm._ My honour bids me succour the oppressed; +That life he sought, for his I'll freely give; +We'll die together, or together live. + +_Benz._ I'll call more succour, since the camp is near, +And fly on all the wings of love and fear. [_Exit_ BENZ. + + _Enter_ ABENAMAR, _and four or five Moors. He looks and finds_ + SELIN. + +_Aben._ You've lived, and now behold your latest hour. + +_Selin._ I scorn your malice, and defy your power. +A speedy death is all I ask you now; +And that's a favour you may well allow. + +_Ozm._ [_shewing himself._] +Who gives you death, shall give it first to me; +Fate cannot separate our destiny.-- [_Knows his father._ +My father here! then heaven itself has laid +The snare, in which my virtue is betrayed. + +_Aben._ Fortune, I thank thee! thou hast kindly done, +To bring me back that fugitive, my son; +In arms too? fighting for my enemy!-- +I'll do a Roman justice,--thou shalt die! + +_Ozm._ I beg not you my forfeit life would save; +Yet add one minute to that breath you gave. +I disobeyed you, and deserve my fate; +But bury in my grave two houses' hate. +Let Selin live; and see your justice done +On me, while you revenge him for his son: +Your mutual malice in my death may cease, +And equal loss persuade you both to peace. + +_Aben._ Yes, justice shall be done on him and thee.-- +Haste and dispatch them both immediately. [_To a soldier._ + +_Ozm._ If you have honour,--since you nature want,-- +For your own sake my last petition grant; +And kill not a disarmed, defenceless foe, +Whose death your cruelty, or fear, will show. +My father cannot do an act so base:-- +My father!--I mistake;--I meant, who was. + +_Aben._ Go, then, dispatch him first who was my son! + +_Ozm._ Swear but to save his life, I'll yield my own. + +_Aben._ Nor tears, nor prayers, thy life, or his, shall buy. + +_Ozm._ Then, sir, Benzayda's father shall not die!-- + [_Putting himself before_ SELIN. +And, since he'll want defence when I am gone, +I will, to save his life, defend my own. + +_Aben._ This justice, parricides, like thee, should have!-- + [ABEN. _and his party attack them both._ OZM. + _parries his father's thrusts, and thrusts + at the others._ + + _Enter_ BENZAYDA, _with_ ABDALLA, _the Duke of_ ARCOS, _and + Spaniards._ + +_Benz._ O, help my father! and my Ozmyn save! + +_Abdal._ Villains, that death you have deserved is near! + +_Ozm._ Stay, prince! and know, I have a father here!-- + [_Stops_ ABDALLA'S _hand._ +I were that parricide, of whom he spoke, +Did not my piety prevent your stroke. + +_D. Arcos._ to _Aben._ +Depart, then, and thank heaven you had a son. + +_Aben._ I am not with these shows of duty won. + +_Ozm._ to his _Father._ +Heaven knows, I would that life, you seek, resign; +But, while Benzayda lives, it is not mine. +Will you yet pardon my unwilling crime? + +_Aben._ By no entreaties, by no length of time, +Will I be won; but, with my latest breath, +I'll curse thee here, and haunt thee after death. + [_Exit_ ABEN. _with his party._ + +_Ozm._ Can you be merciful to that degree, [_Kneeling to_ SELIN. +As to forgive my father's faults in me? +Can you forgive +The death of him I slew in my defence, +And from the malice separate the offence? +I can no longer be your enemy: +In short, now kill me, sir, or pardon me. [_Offers him his sword._ +In this your silence my hard fate appears. + +_Selin._ I'll answer you, when I can speak for tears. +But, till I can, +Imagine what must needs be brought to pass; [_Embraces him._ +My heart's not made of marble, nor of brass. +Did I for you a cruel death prepare, +And have you, have you made my life your care! +There is a shame contracted by my faults, +Which hinders me to speak my secret thoughts. +And I will tell you--when the shame's removed-- +You are not better by my daughter loved.-- +Benzayda be yours.--I can no more. + +_Ozm._ Blessed be that breath which does my life restore! + [_Embracing his knees._ + +_Benz._ I hear my father now; these words confess +That name, and that indulgent tenderness. + +_Selin._ Benzayda, I have been too much to blame; +But let your goodness expiate my shame: +You Ozmyn's virtue did in chains adore, +And part of me was just to him before.-- +My son!-- + +_Ozm._ My father!-- + +_Selin._ Since by you I live, +I, for your sake, your family forgive. +Let your hard father still my life pursue, +I hate not him, but for his hate to you; +Even that hard father yet may one day be +By kindness vanquished, as you vanquished me; +Or, if my death can quench to you his rage, +Heaven makes good use of my remaining age. + +_Abdal._ I grieve your joys are mingled with my cares; +But all take interest in their own affairs; +And, therefore, I must ask how mine proceed. + +_Selin._ They now are ripe, and but your presence need: +For Lyndaraxa, faithless as the wind, +Yet to your better fortunes will be kind; +For, hearing that the Christians own your cause, +From thence the assurance of a throne she draws. +And since Almanzor, whom she most did fear, +Is gone, she to no treaty will give ear; +But sent me her unkindness to excuse. + +_Abdal._ You much surprise me with your pleasing news. + +_Selin._ But, sir, she hourly does the assault expect, +And must be lost if you her aid neglect: +For Abdelmelech loudly does declare, +He'll use the last extremities of war, +If she refuse the fortress to resign. + +_Abdal._ The charge of hastening this relief be mine. + +_Selin._ This while I undertook, whether beset, +Or else by chance, Abenamar I met; +Who seemed, in haste, returning to the town. + +_Abdal._ My love must in my diligence be shown.-- +And [_To_ ARCOS.] as my pledge of faith to Spain, this hour +I'll put the fortress in your master's power. + +_Selin._ An open way from hence to it there lies, +And we with ease may send in large supplies, +Free from the shot and sallies of the town. + +_D. Arcos._ Permit me, sir, to share in your renown; +First to my king I will impart the news, +And then draw out what succours we shall use. + [_Exit Duke of_ ARCOS. + +_Abdal._ [_Aside._] +Grant that she loves me not, at least I see +She loves not others, if she loves not me.-- +'Tis pleasure, when we reap the fruit of pain: +'Tis only pride, to be beloved again. +How many are not loved, who think they are! +Yet all are willing to believe the fair; +And, though 'tis beauty's known and obvious cheat, +Yet man's self-love still favours the deceit. [_Exit_ ABDAL. + +_Selin._ Farewell, my children! equally so dear, +That I myself am to myself less near: +While I repeat the dangers of the war, +Your mutual safety be each other's care. +Your father, Ozmyn, till the war be done, +As much as honour will permit, I'll shun: +If by his sword I perish, let him know +It was, because I would not be his foe. + +_Ozm._ Goodness and virtue all your actions guide; +You only err in choosing of your side. +That party I, with honour, cannot take; +But can much less the care of you forsake: +I must not draw my sword against my prince, +But yet may hold a shield in your defence. +Benzayda, free from danger, here shall stay, +And for a father and a lover pray. + +_Benz._ No, no! I gave not on those terms my heart, +That from my Ozmyn I should ever part: +That love I vowed, when you did death attend, +'Tis just that nothing but my death should end. +What merchant is it, who would stay behind, +His whole stock ventured to the waves and wind? +I'll pray for both, but both shall be in sight; +And heaven shall hear me pray, and see you fight. + +_Selin._ No longer, Ozmyn, combat a design, +Where so much love, and so much virtue join. + +_Ozm._ [_To_ BENZ.] +Then conquer, and your conquest happy be, +Both to yourself, your father, and to me.-- +With bended knees our freedom we'll demand +Of Isabel, and mighty Ferdinand: +Then while the paths of honour we pursue, +We'll interest heaven for us, in right of you. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_The Albayzyn._ + + _An alarm within; then Soldiers running over the stage. Enter_ + ABDELMELECH, _victorious, with Soldiers._ + +_Abdelm._ 'Tis won, 'tis won! and Lyndaraxa, now, +Who scorned to treat, shall to a conquest bow. +To every sword I free commission give; +Fall on, my friends, and let no rebel live. +Spare only Lyndaraxa; let her be +In triumph led, to grace my victory. +Since by her falsehood she betrayed my love, +Great as that falsehood my revenge shall prove.-- + + _Enter_ LYNDARAXA, _as frightened, attended by women._ + +Go, take the enchantress, bring her to me bound! + +_Lyndar._ Force needs not, where resistance is not found: +I come, myself, to offer you my hands; +And, of my own accord, invite your bands. +I wished to be my Abdelmelech's slave; +I did but wish,--and easy fortune gave. + +_Abdelm._ O, more than woman false!--but 'tis in vain.-- +Can you ere hope to be believed again? +I'll sooner trust the hyaena, than your smile; +Or, than your tears, the weeping crocodile. +In war and love none should be twice deceived; +The fault is mine if you are now believed. + +_Lyndar._ Be overwise, then, and too late repent; +Your crime will carry its own punishment. +I am well pleased not to be justified; +I owe no satisfaction to your pride. +It will be more advantage to my fame, +To have it said, I never owned a flame. + +_Abdelm._ 'Tis true, my pride has satisfied itself: +I have at length escaped the deadly shelf. +The excuses you prepare will be in vain, +Till I am fool enough to love again. + +_Lyndar._ Am I not loved? + +_Abdelm._ I must with shame avow, +I loved you once;--but do not love you now. + +_Lyndar._ Have I for this betrayed Abdalla's trust? +You are to me, as I to him, unjust. [_Angrily._ + +_Abdelm._ 'Tis like you have done much for love of me, +Who kept the fortress of my enemy. + +_Lyndar._ 'Tis true, I took the fortress from his hand; +But, since, have kept it in my own command. + +_Abdelm._ That act your foul ingratitude did show. + +_Lyndar._ You are the ungrateful, since 'twas kept for you. + +_Abdelm._ 'Twas kept indeed; but not by your intent: +For all your kindness I may thank the event. +Blush, Lyndaraxa, for so gross a cheat: +'Twas kept for me,--when you refused to treat! [_Ironically._ + +_Lyndar._ Blind man! I knew the weakness of the place: +It was my plot to do your arms this grace. +Had not my care of your renown been great, +I loved enough to offer you to treat. +She, who is loved, must little lets create; +But you bold lovers are to force your fate. +This force, you used, my maiden blush will save; +You seemed to take, what secretly I gave. +I knew we must be conquered; but I knew +What confidence I might repose in you. +I knew, you were too grateful to expose +My friends, and soldiers, to be used like foes. + +_Abdelm._ Well, though I love you not, their lives shall be +Spared out of pity and humanity.-- +Alferez, [_To a Soldier._] go, and let the slaughter cease. + [_Exit the Alferez._ + +_Lyndar._ Then must I to your pity owe my peace? +Is that the tenderest term you can afford? +Time was, you would have used another word. + +_Abdelm._ Then, for your beauty I your soldiers spare: +For, though I do not love you, you are fair. + +_Lyndar._ That little beauty why did heaven impart, +To please your eyes, but not to move your heart! +I'll shroud this gorgon from all human view, +And own no beauty, since it charms not you! +Reverse your orders, and your sentence give; +My soldiers shall not from my beauty live. + +_Abdelm._ Then, from your friendship they their lives shall gain; +Tho' love be dead, yet friendship does remain. + +_Lyndar._ That friendship, which from withered love does shoot, +Like the faint herbage on a rock, wants root. +Love is a tender amity, refined: +Grafted on friendship it exalts the kind. +But when the graff no longer does remain, +The dull stock lives, but never bears again. + +_Abdelm._ Then, that my friendship may not doubtful prove,-- +Fool that I am to tell you so!--I love. +You would extort this knowledge from my breast, +And tortured me so long that I confest. +Now I expect to suffer for my sin; +My monarchy must end, and yours begin. + +_Lyndar._ Confess not love, but spare yourself that shame, +And call your passion by some other name. +Call this assault, your malice, or your hate; +Love owns no acts so disproportionate. +Love never taught this insolence you shew, +To treat your mistress like a conquered foe. +Is this the obedience which my heart should move! +This usage looks more like a rape than love. + +_Abdelm._ What proof of duty would you I should give? + +_Lyndar._ 'Tis grace enough to let my subjects live! +Let your rude soldiers keep possession still; +Spoil, rifle, pillage,--any thing but kill. +In short, sir, use your fortune as you please; +Secure my castle, and my person seize; +Let your true men my rebels hence remove; +I shall dream on, and think 'tis all your love! + +_Abdelm._ You know too well my weakness and your power: +Why did heaven make a fool a conqueror! +She was my slave, 'till she by me was shewn +How weak my force was, and how strong her own. +Now she has beat my power from every part, +Made her way open to my naked heart: [_To a Soldier._ +Go, strictly charge my soldiers to retreat: +Those countermand who are not entered yet. +On peril of your lives leave all things free. [_Exit Soldier._ +Now, madam, love Abdalla more than me. +I only ask, in duty you would bring +The keys of our Albayzyn to the king: +I'll make your terms as gentle as you please. + [_Trumpets sound a charge within, and soldiers shout._ +What shouts, and what new sounds of war are these? + +_Lyndar._ Fortune, I hope, has favoured my intent, [_Aside._ +Of gaining time, and welcome succours sent. + + _Enter the Alferez._ + +_Alferez._ All's lost, and you are fatally deceived: +The foe is entered, and the place relieved. +Scarce from the walls had I drawn off my men, +When, from their camp, the enemy rushed in, +And prince Abdalla entered first the gate. + +_Abdelm._ I am betrayed, and find it now too late. +When your proud soul to flatteries did descend, [_To her._ +I might have known it did some ill portend. +The weary seaman stormy weather fears, +When winds shift often, and no cause appears. +You by my bounty live-- +Your brothers, too, were pardoned for my sake, +And this return your gratitude does make. + +_Lyndar._ My brothers best their own obligement know; +Without your charging me with what they owe. +But, since you think the obligement is so great, +I'll bring a friend to satisfy my debt. [_Looking behind._ + +_Abdelm._ Thou shalt not triumph in thy base design; +Though not thy fort, thy person shall be mine. + [_He goes to take her: She runs and cries out help._ + + _Enter_ ABDALLA, _Duke of_ ARCOS, _and Spaniards._ ABDELMELECH + _retreats fighting, and is pursued by the adverse party off the + stage. The alarm within._ + + _Enter again_ ABDALLA _and the Duke of_ ARCOS, _with_ LYNDARAXA. + +_D. Arcos._ Bold Abdelmelech twice our Spaniards faced, +Though much out-numbered; and retreated last. + +_Abdal._ Your beauty, as it moves no common fire, [_To_ LYNDARAXA. +So it no common courage can inspire. +As he fought well, so had he prospered too, +If, madam, he, like me, had fought for you. + +_Lyndar._ Fortune, at last, has chosen with my eyes; +And, where I would have given it, placed the prize. +You see, sir, with what hardship I have kept +This precious gage, which in my hands you left. +But 'twas the love of you which made me fight, +And gave me courage to maintain your right. +Now, by experience, you my faith may find, +And are to thank me that I seemed unkind. +When your malicious fortune doomed your fall, +My care restrained you then from losing all; +Against your destiny I shut the gate, +And gathered up the shipwrecks of your fate; +I, like a friend, did even yourself withstand, +From throwing all upon a losing hand. + +_Abdal._ My love makes all your acts unquestioned go, +And sets a sovereign stamp on all you do. +Your love I will believe with hood-winked eyes;-- +In faith, much merit in much blindness lies. +But now, to make you great as you are fair, +The Spaniards an imperial crown prepare. + +_Lyndar._ That gift's more welcome, which with you I share. +Let us no time in fruitless courtship lose, +But sally out upon our frighted foes. +No ornaments of power so please my eyes, +As purple, which the blood of princes dies. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_The Alhambra._ + + BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, ALMAHIDE, _and Guards, &c. The Queen wearing a + scarf._ + +_Aben._ My little journey has successful been, +The fierce Almanzor will obey the queen. +I found him, like Achilles on the shore, +Pensive, complaining much, but threatening more; +And, like that injured Greek, he heard our woes, +Which, while I told, a gloomy smile arose +From his bent brows: And still, the more he heard, +A more severe and sullen joy appeared. +But, when he knew we to despair were driven, +Betwixt his teeth he muttered thanks to heaven. + +_Boab._ How I disdain this aid! which I must take, +Not for my own, but Almahide's sake. + +_Aben._ But when he heard it was the queen who sent, +That her command repealed his banishment, +He took the summons with a greedy joy, +And asked me how she would his sword employ: +Then bid me say, her humblest slave would come, +From her fair mouth with joy to take his doom. + +_Boab._ Oh that I had not sent you! though it cost +My crown! though I, and it, and all were lost! + +_Aben._ While I, to bring this news, came on before, +I met with Selin-- + +_Boab._ I can hear no more. + + _Enter_ HAMET. + +_Hamet._ Almanzor is already at the gate, +And throngs of people on his entrance wait. + +_Boab._ Thy news does all my faculties surprise; +He bears two basilisks in those fierce eyes; +And that tame daemon, which should guard my throne, +Shrinks at a genius greater than his own. + [_Exit_ BOAB. _with_ ABEN. _and Guards._ + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR; _seeing_ ALMAHIDE _approach him, he speaks._ + +_Almanz._ So Venus moves, when to the Thunderer, +In smiles or tears, she would some suit prefer; +When with her cestus girt, +And drawn by doves, she cuts the liquid skies, +And kindles gentle fires where'er she flies: +To every eye a goddess is confest, +By all the heavenly nation she is blest, +And each with secret joy admits her to his breast.-- +Madam your new commands I come to know, +If yet you can have any where I go. [_To her bowing._ +If to the regions of the dead they be, +You take the speediest course to send by me. + +_Almah._ Heaven has not destined you so soon to rest: +Heroes must live to succour the distrest. + +_Almanz._ To serve such beauty all mankind should live; +And, in our service, our reward you give. +But stay me not in torture, to behold +And ne'er enjoy. As from another's gold +The miser hastens, in his own defence, +And shuns the sight of tempting excellence; +So, having seen you once so killing fair, +A second sight were but to move despair. +I take my eyes from what too much would please, +As men in fevers famish their disease. + +_Almah._ No; you may find your cure an easier way, +If you are pleased to seek it,--in your stay. +All objects lose by too familiar view, +When that great charm is gone, of being new; +By often seeing me, you soon will find +Defects so many, in my face and mind, +That to be freed from love you need not doubt; +And, as you looked it in, you'll look it out. + +_Almanz._ I rather, like weak armies, should retreat, +And so prevent my more entire defeat. +For your own sake in quiet let me go; +Press not too far on a despairing foe: +I may turn back, and armed against you move, +With all the furious train of hopeless love. + +_Almah._ Your honour cannot to ill thoughts give way, +And mine can run no hazard by your stay. + +_Almanz._ Do you then think I can with patience see +That sovereign good possessed, and not by me? +No; I all day shall languish at the sight, +And rave on what I do not see all night; +My quick imagination will present +The scenes and images of your content. + +_Almah._ These are the day-dreams which wild fancy yields, +Empty as shadows are, that fly o'er fields. +Oh, whither would this boundless fancy move! +'Tis but the raging calenture of love. +Like a distracted passenger you stand, +And see, in seas, imaginary land, +Cool groves, and flowery meads; and while you think +To walk, plunge in, and wonder that you sink. + +_Almanz._ Love's calenture too well I understand; +But sure your beauty is no fairy-land! +Of your own form a judge you cannot be; +For, glow-worm like, you shine, and do not see. + +_Almah._ Can you think this, and would you go away? + +_Almanz._ What recompence attends me, if I stay? + +_Almah._ You know I am from recompence debarred, +But I will grant your merit a reward; +Your flame's too noble to deserve a cheat, +And I too plain to practise a deceit. +I no return of love can ever make, +But what I ask is for my husband's sake; +He, I confess, has been ungrateful too, +But he and I are ruined if you go: +Your virtue to the hardest proof I bring;-- +Unbribed, preserve a mistress and a king. + +_Almanz._ I'll stop at nothing that appears so brave: +I'll do't, and now I no reward will have. +You've given my honour such an ample field, +That I may die, but that shall never yield. +Spite of myself I'll stay, fight, love, despair; +And I can do all this, because I dare. +Yet I may own one suit-- +That scarf, which, since by you it has been borne, +Is blessed, like relicks which by saints were worn. + +_Almah._ Presents like this my virtue durst not make, +But that 'tis given you for my husband's sake. [_Gives the scarf._ + +_Almanz._ This scarf to honourable rags I'll wear, +As conquering soldiers tattered ensigns bear; +But oh, how much my fortune I despise, +Which gives me conquest, while she love denies! [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT III. + +SCENE I.--_The Alhambra._ + + _Enter_ ALMAHIDE _and_ ESPERANZA. + +_Esper._ Affected modesty has much of pride; +That scarf he begged, you could not have denied; +Nor does it shock the virtue of a wife, +When given that man, to whom you owe your life. + +_Almah._ Heaven knows, from all intent of ill 'twas free, +Yet it may feed my husband's jealousy; +And for that cause I wish it were not done. + + _To them_ BOABDELIN, _and walks apart._ + +See, where he comes, all pensive and alone; +A gloomy fury has o'erspread his face: +'Tis so! and all my fears are come to pass. + +_Boab._ Marriage, thou curse of love, and snare of life, [_Aside_ +That first debased a mistress to a wife! +Love, like a scene, at distance should appear, +But marriage views the gross-daubed landscape near. +Love's nauseous cure! thou cloyest whom thou should'st please; +And, when thou cur'st, then thou art the disease. +When hearts are loose, thy chain our bodies ties; +Love couples friends, but marriage enemies. +If love like mine continues after thee, +'Tis soon made sour, and turned by jealousy; +No sign of love in jealous men remains, +But that which sick men have of life--their pains. + +_Almah._ Has my dear lord some new affliction had? [_Walking to him._ +Have I done any thing that makes him sad? + +_Boab._ You! nothing: You! But let me walk alone. + +_Almah._ I will not leave you till the cause be known: +My knowledge of the ill may bring relief. + +_Boab._ Thank ye; you never fail to cure my grief! +Trouble me not, my grief concerns not you. + +_Almah._ While I have life, I will your steps pursue. + +_Boab._ I'm out of humour now; you must not stay. + +_Almah._ I fear it is that scarf I gave away. + +_Boab._ No, 'tis not that; but speak of it no more: +Go hence! I am not what I was before. + +_Almah._ Then I will make you so; give me your hand! +Can you this pressing and these tears withstand? + +_Boab._ Oh heaven, were she but mine, or mine alone! + [_Sighing, and going off from her._ +Ah, why are not the hearts of women known! +False women to new joys unseen can move; +There are no prints left in the paths of love, +All goods besides by public marks are known; +But what we most desire to keep, has none. + +_Almah._ Why will you in your breast your passion crowd, + [_Approaching him._ +Like unborn thunder rolling in a cloud? +Torment not your poor heart, but set it free, +And rather let its fury break on me. +I am not married to a god; I know, +Men must have passions, and can bear from you. +I fear the unlucky present I have made! + +_Boab._ O power of guilt! how conscience can upbraid! +It forces her not only to reveal, +But to repeat what she would most conceal! + +_Almah._ Can such a toy, and given in public too-- + +_Boab._ False woman, you contrived it should be so. +That public gift in private was designed +The emblem of the love you meant to bind. +Hence from my sight, ungrateful as thou art! +And, when I can, I'll banish thee my heart. [_She weeps._ + + _To them_ ALMANZOR _wearing the Scarf. He sees her weep._ + +_Almanz._ What precious drops are those, +Which silently each other's track pursue, +Bright as young diamonds in their infant dew? +Your lustre you should free from tears maintain, +Like Egypt, rich without the help of rain. +Now cursed be he who gave this cause of grief; +And double cursed, who does not give relief! + +_Almah._ Our common fears, and public miseries, +Have drawn these tears from my afflicted eyes. + +_Almanz._ Madam, I cannot easily believe +It is for any public cause you grieve. +On your fair face the marks of sorrow lie; +But I read fury in your husband's eye: +And, in that passion, I too plainly find +That you're unhappy, and that he's unkind. + +_Almah._ Not new-made mothers greater love express +Than he, when with first looks their babes they bless; +Not Heaven is more to dying martyrs kind, +Nor guardian angels to their charge assigned. + +_Boab._ O goodness counterfeited to the life! +O the well-acted virtue of a wife! +Would you with this my just suspicions blind? +You've given me great occasion to be kind! +The marks, too, of your spotless love appear; +Witness the badge of my dishonour there. + [_Pointing to_ ALMANZOR'S _scarf._ + +_Almanz._ Unworthy owner of a gem so rare! +Heavens! why must he possess, and I despair? +Why is this miser doomed to all this store; +He, who has all, and yet believes he's poor? + +_Almah._ [_to_ ALMANZ.] +You're much too bold, to blame a jealousy +So kind in him, and so desired by me. +The faith of wives would unrewarded prove, +Without those just observers of our love. +The greater care the higher passion shows; +We hold that clearest we most fear to lose. +Distrust in lovers is too warm a sun, +But yet 'tis night in love when that is gone; +And in those climes which most his scorching know, +He makes the noblest fruits and metals grow. + +_Almanz._ Yes; there are mines of treasure in your breast, +Seen by that jealous sun, but not possest. +He, like a devil, among the blest above, +Can take no pleasure in your heaven of love. +Go, take her; and thy causeless fears remove; [_To the King._ +Love her so well, that I with rage may die: +Dull husbands have no right to jealousy: +If that's allowed, it must in lovers be. + +_Boab._ The succour, which thou bring'st me, makes thee bold: +But know, without thy aid, my crown I'll hold; +Or, if I cannot, I will fire the place, +Of a full city make a naked space. +Hence, then, and from a rival set me free! +I'll do, I'll suffer any thing but thee. + +_Almanz._ I wonnot go; I'll not be forced away: +I came not for thy sake; nor do I stay. +It was the queen who for my aid did send; +And 'tis I only can the queen defend: +I, for her sake, thy sceptre will maintain; +And thou, by me, in spite of thee, shalt reign. + +_Boab._ Had I but hope I could defend this place +Three days, thou should'st not live to my disgrace +So small a time; +Might I possess my Almahide alone, +I would live ages out ere they were gone. +I should not be of love or life bereft; +All should be spent before, and nothing left. + +_Almah._ [_to_ BOAB.] As for your sake I for Almanzor sent, +So, when you please, he goes to banishment. +You shall, at last, my loyalty approve: +I will refuse no trial of my love. + +_Boab._ How can I think you love me, while I see +That trophy of a rival's victory? +I'll tear it from his side. + +_Almanz._ I'll hold it fast +As life, and when life's gone, I'll hold this last; +And if thou tak'st it after I am slain, +I'll send my ghost to fetch it back again. + +_Almah._ When I bestowed that scarf, I had not thought, +Or not considered it might be a fault; +But, since my lord's displeased that I should make +So small a present, I command it back. +Without delay the unlucky gift restore; +Or, from this minute, never see me more. + +_Almanz._ The shock of such a curse I dare not stand: + [_Pulling it off hastily, and presenting it to her._ +Thus I obey your absolute command. [_She gives it to the King._ +Must he the spoils of scorn'd Almanzor wear?-- +May Turnus' fate be thine, who dared to bear +The belt of murdered Pallas! from afar +Mayest thou be known, and be the mark of war! +Live, just to see it from thy shoulders torn +By common hands, and by some coward worn. [_An alarm within._ + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, HAMET, ABENAMAR; _their swords drawn._ + +_Abdelm._ Is this a time for discord or for grief? +We perish, sir, without your quick relief. +I have been fooled, and am unfortunate; +The foes pursue their fortune and our fate. + +_Zul._ The rebels with the Spaniards are agreed. + +_Boab._ Take breath; my guards shall to the fight succeed. + +_Aben._ [_to_ ALMANZOR.] +Why stay you, sir? the conquering foe is near: +Give us their courage, and give them our fear. + +_Hamet._ Take arms, or we must perish in your sight. + +_Almanz._ I care not: perish: for I will not fight, +I wonnot lift an arm in his defence: +And yet I wonnot stir one foot from hence. +I to your king's defence his town resign; +This only spot, whereon I stand, is mine.-- +Madam, be safe, and lay aside your fear, [_To the Queen_ +You are as in a magic circle here. + +_Boab._ To our own valour our success we'll owe. +Haste, Hamet, with Abenamar to go; +You two draw up, with all the speed you may, +Our last reserves, and yet redeem the day. + [_Exeunt_ HAMET _and_ ABENAMAR _one way, the + King the other, with_ ABDELMELECH, _&c. + Alarm within._ + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH, _his sword drawn._ + +_Abdelm._ Granada is no more! the unhappy king +Venturing too far, ere we could succour bring, +Was by the duke of Arcos prisoner made, +And, past relief, is to the fort conveyed. + +_Almanz._ Heaven, thou art just! go, now despise my aid. + +_Almah._ Unkind Almanzor, how am I betrayed! +Betrayed by him in whom I trusted most! +But I will ne'er outlive what I have lost. +Is this your succour, this your boasted love! +I will accuse you to the saints above! +Almanzor vowed he would for honour fight, +And lets my husband perish in my sight. + [_Exeunt_ ALMAHIDE _and_ ESPERANZA. + +_Almanz._ Oh, I have erred; but fury made me blind; +And, in her just reproach, my fault I find! +I promised even for him to fight, whom I-- +But since he's loved by her, he must not die. +Thus, happy fortune comes to me in vain, +When I myself must ruin it again. + + _To him_ ABENAMAR, HAMET, ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, _Soldiers._ + +_Aben._ The foe has entered the Vermillion towers; +And nothing but the Alhambra now is ours. + +_Almanz._ Even that's too much, except we may have more; +You lost it all to that last stake before. +Fate, now come back; thou canst not farther get; +The bounds of thy libration here are set. +Thou know'st this place, +And, like a clock wound up, strik'st here for me; +Now, Chance, assert thy own inconstancy, +And, Fortune, fight, that thou may'st Fortune be!-- +They come: here, favoured by the narrow place, [_A noise within._ +I can, with few, their gross battalion face. +By the dead wall, you, Abdelmelech, wind; +Then charge, and their retreat cut off behind. [_Exeunt._ + [_An alarm within._ + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR _and his Party, with_ ABDALLA _prisoner._ + +_Almanz._ You were my friend: and to that name I owe [_To_ ABDAL. +The just regard, which you refused to show. +Your liberty I frankly would restore, +But honour now forbids me to do more. +Yet, sir, your freedom in your choice shall be, +When you command to set your brother free. + +_Abdal._ The exchange, which you propose, with joy I take; +An offer easier than my hopes could make. +Your benefits revenge my crimes to you, +For I my shame in that bright mirror view. + +_Almanz._ No more; you give me thanks you do not owe: +I have been faulty, and repent me now. +But, though our penitence a virtue be, +Mean souls alone repent in misery; +The brave own faults when good success is given, +For then they come on equal terms to heaven. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_The Albayzyn._ + + _Enter_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA. + +_Benz._ I see there's somewhat which you fear to tell; +Speak quickly, Ozmyn, is my father well? +Why cross you thus your arms, and shake your head? +Kill me at once, and tell me he is dead. + +_Ozm._ I know not more than you; but fear not less; +Twice sinking, twice I drew him from the press: +But the victorious foe pursued so fast, +That flying throngs divided us at last. +As seamen parting in a general wreck, +When first the loosening planks begin to crack; +Each catches one, and straight are far disjoined, +Some borne by tides, and others by the wind; +So, in this ruin, from each other rent, +With heaved-up hands we mutual farewells sent: +Methought his eyes, when just I lost his view, +Were looking blessings to be sent to you. + +_Benz._ Blind queen of Chance, to lovers too severe, +Thou rulest mankind, but art a tyrant there! +Thy widest empire's in a lover's breast: +Like open seas, we seldom are at rest. +Upon thy coasts our wealth is daily cast; +And thou, like pirates, mak'st no peace to last. + + _To them_ LYNDARAXA, _Duke of Arcos, and Guards._ + +_D. Arcos._ We were surprised when least we did suspect, +And justly suffered by our own neglect. + +_Lyndar._ No; none but I have reason to complain! +So near a kingdom, yet 'tis lost again! +O, how unequally in me were joined +A creeping fortune, with a soaring mind! +O lottery of fate! where still the wise +Draw blanks of fortune, and the fools the prize! +These cross, ill-shuffled lots from heaven are sent, +Yet dull Religion teaches us content; +But when we ask it where the blessing dwells, +It points to pedant colleges, and cells; +There shows it rude, and in a homely dress, +And that proud Want mistakes for happiness. [_A trumpet within._ + + _Enter_ ZULEMA. + +Brother! what strange adventure brought you here? + +_Zul._ The news I bring will yet more strange appear. +The little care you of my life did show, +Has of a brother justly made a foe; +And Abdelmelech who that life did save, +As justly has deserved that life he gave. + +_Lyndar._ Your business cools, while tediously it stays +On the low theme of Abdelmelech's praise. + +_Zul._ This I present from Prince Abdalla's hands. + [_Delivers a letter, which she reads._ + +_Lyndar._ He has proposed, (to free him from his bands) +That, with his brother, an exchange be made. + +_D. Arcos._ It proves the same design which we had laid. +Before the castle let a bar be set; +And when the captives on each side are met, +With equal numbers chosen for their guard, +Just at the time the passage is unbarred, +Let both at once advance, at once be free. + +_Lyndar._ The exchange I will myself in person see. + +_Benz._ I fear to ask, yet would from doubt be freed,-- +Is Selin captive, sir, or is he dead? + +_Zul._ I grieve to tell you what you needs must know,-- +He is a prisoner to his greatest foe; +Kept with strong guards in the Alhambra tower; +Without the reach even of Almanzor's power. + +_Ozm._ With grief and shame I am at once opprest. + +_Zul._ You will be more, when I relate the rest. +To you I from Abenamar am sent, [_To_ OZMYN. +And you alone can Selin's death prevent. +Give up yourself a prisoner in his stead; +Or, ere to-morrow's dawn, believe him dead. + +_Benz._ Ere that appear, I shall expire with grief. + +_Zul._ Your action swift, your counsel must be brief. + +_Lyndar._ While for Abdalla's freedom we prepare, +You in each other's breast unload your care. + [_Exeunt all but_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA. + +_Benz._ My wishes contradictions must imply; +You must not go; and yet he must not die. +Your reason may, perhaps, the extremes unite; +But there's a mist of fate before my sight. + +_Ozm._ The two extremes too distant are, to close; +And human wit can no mid way propose. +My duty therefore shows the nearest way +To free your father, and my own obey. + +_Benz._ Your father, whom, since yours, I grieve to blame, +Has lost, or quite forgot, a parent's name; +And, when at once possessed of him and you, +Instead of freeing one, will murder two. + +_Ozm._ Fear not my life; but suffer me to go: +What cannot only sons with parents do! +'Tis not my death my father does pursue; +He only would withdraw my love from you. + +_Benz._ Now, Ozmyn, now your want of love I see; +For would you go, and hazard losing me? + +_Ozm._ I rather would ten thousand lives forsake; +Nor can you e'er believe the doubt you make. +This night I with a chosen band will go, +And, by surprise, will free him from the foe. + +_Benz._ What foe! ah whither would your virtue fall! +It is your father whom the foe you call. +Darkness and rage will no distinction make, +And yours may perish for my father's sake. + +_Ozm._ Thus, when my weaker virtue goes astray. +Yours pulls it back, and guides me in the way: +I'll send him word, my being shall depend +On Selin's life, and with his death shall end. + +_Benz._ 'Tis that, indeed, would glut your father's rage: +Revenge on Ozmyn's youth, and Selin's age. + +_Ozm._ Whate'er I plot, like Sysiphus, in vain +I heave a stone, that tumbles down again. + +_Benz._ This glorious work is then reserved for me: +He is my father, and I'll set him free. +These chains my father for my sake does wear: +I made the fault; and I the pains will bear. + +_Ozm._ Yes; you no doubt have merited these pains; +Those hands, those tender limbs, were made for chains! +Did I not love you, yet it were too base +To let a lady suffer in my place. +Those proofs of virtue you before did show, +I did admire; but I must envy now. +Your vast ambition leaves no fame for me, +But grasps at universal monarchy. + +_Benz._ Yes, Ozmyn, I shall still this palm pursue; +I will not yield my glory even to you. +I'll break those bonds in which my father's tied, +Or, if I cannot break them, I'll divide. +What, though my limbs a woman's weakness show, +I have a soul as masculine as you; +And when these limbs want strength my chains to wear, +My mind shall teach my body how to bear. [_Exit_ BENZ. + +_Ozm._ What I resolve, I must not let her know; +But honour has decreed she must not go. +What she resolves, I must prevent with care; +She shall not in my fame or danger share. +I'll give strict order to the guards which wait, +That, when she comes, she shall not pass the gate. +Fortune, at last, has run me out of breath; +I have no refuge but the arms of death: +To that dark sanctuary I will go; +She cannot reach me when I lie so low. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE III.--_The Albayzyn._ + + _Enter, on one side_, ALMANZOR, ABDALLA, ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, HAMET. + _On the other side, the Duke of_ ARCOS, BOABDELIN, LYNDARAXA, _and + their Party. After which the bars are opened; and at the same time_ + BOABDELIN _and_ ABDALLA _pass by each other, each to his Party; + when_ ABDALLA _is passed on the other side, the Duke of_ ARCOS + _approaches the bars, and calls to_ ALMANZOR. + +_D. Arcos._ The hatred of the brave with battles ends, +And foes, who fought for honour, then are friends. +I love thee, brave Almanzor, and am proud +To have one hour when love may be allowed. +This hand, in sign of that esteem, I plight; +We shall have angry hours enough to fight. [_Giving his hand._ + +_Almanz._ The man who dares, like you, in fields appear, +And meet my sword, shall be my mistress here. +If I am proud, 'tis only to my foes; +Rough but to such who virtue would oppose. +If I some fierceness from a father drew, +A mother's milk gives me some softness too. + +_D. Arcos._ Since first you took, and after set me free, +(Whether a sense of gratitude it be, +Or some more secret motion of my mind, +For which I want a name that's more than kind) +I shall be glad, by whate'er means I can, +To get the friendship of so brave a man; +And would your unavailing valour call, +From aiding those whom heaven has doomed to fall. +We owe you that respect, +Which to the gods of foes besieged was shown, +To call you out before we take your town. + +_Almanz._ Those whom we love, we should esteem them too, +And not debauch that virtue which we woo. +Yet, though you give my honour just offence, +I'll take your kindness in the better sense; +And, since you for my safety seem to fear, +I, to return your bribe, should wish you here. +But, since I love you more than you do me, +In all events preserve your honour free; +For that's your own, though not your destiny. + +_D. Arcos._ Were you obliged in honour by a trust, +I should not think my own proposals just; +But since you fight for an unthankful king, +What loss of fame can change of parties bring? + +_Almanz._ It will, and may with justice too be thought, +That some advantage in that change I sought. +And though I twice have changed for wrongs received, +That it was done for profit none believed. +The king's ingratitude I knew before; +So that can be no cause of changing more. +If now I stand, when no reward can be, +'Twill show the fault before was not in me. + +_D. Arcos._ Yet there is a reward to valour due, +And such it is as may be sought by you; +That beauteous queen, whom you can never gain, +While you secure her husband's life and reign. + +_Almanz._ Then be it so; let me have no return + [_Here_ LYNDARAXA _comes near, and hears them._ +From him but hatred, and from her but scorn. +There is this comfort in a noble fate, +That I deserve to be more fortunate. +You have my last resolve; and now, farewell: +My boding heart some mischief does foretell; +But what it is, heaven will not let me know. +I'm sad to death, that I must be your foe. + +_D. Arcos._ Heaven, when we meet, if fatal it must be +To one, spare him, and cast the lot on me. [_They retire._ + +_Lyndar._ Ah, what a noble conquest were this heart! +I am resolved I'll try my utmost art: +In gaining him, I gain that fortune too, +Which he has wedded, and which I but woo. +I'll try each secret passage to his mind, +And love's soft bands about his heart-strings wind. +Not his vowed constancy shall 'scape my snare; +While he without resistance does prepare, +I'll melt into him ere his love's aware. + [_She makes a gesture of invitation to_ ALMANZOR, + _who returns again_. + +_Lyndar._ You see, sir, to how strange a remedy +A persecuted maid is forced to fly: +Who, much distressed, yet scarce has confidence +To make your noble pity her defence. + +_Almanz._ Beauty, like yours, can no protection need; +Or, if it sues, is certain to succeed. +To whate'er service you ordain my hand, +Name your request, and call it your command. + +_Lyndar._ You cannot, sir, but know, that my ill fate +Has made me loved with all the effects of hate: +One lover would, by force, my person gain; +Which one, as guilty, would by force detain. +Rash Abdelmelech's love I cannot prize, +And fond Abdalla's passion I despise. +As you are brave, so you are prudent too; +Advise a wretched woman what to do. + +_Almanz._ Have courage, fair one, put your trust in me; +You shall, at least, from those you hate, be free. +Resign your castle to the king's command, +And leave your love concernments in my hand. + +_Lyndar._ The king, like them, is fierce, and faithless too; +How can I trust him who has injured you? +Keep for yourself, (and you can grant no less) +What you alone are worthy to possess. +Enter, brave sir; for, when you speak the word, +These gates will open of their own accord; +The genius of the place its lord will meet, +And bend its tow'ry forehead to your feet. +That little citadel, which now you see, +Shall, then, the head of conquered nations be; +And every turret, from your coming, rise +The mother of some great metropolis. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis pity, words, which none but gods should hear, +Should lose their sweetness in a soldier's ear: +I am not that Almanzor whom you praise; +But your fair mouth can fair ideas raise:-- +I am a wretch, to whom it is denied +To accept, with honour, what I wish with pride; +And, since I light not for myself, must bring +The fruits of all my conquests to the king. + +_Lyndar._ Say rather to the queen, to whose fair name +I know you vow the trophies of your fame. +I hope she is as kind as she is fair; +Kinder than inexperienced virgins are +To their first loves; (though she has loved before, +And that first innocence is now no more:) +But, in revenge, she gives you all her heart, +(For you are much too brave to take a part.) +Though, blinded by a crown, she did not see +Almanzor greater than a king could be, +I hope her love repairs her ill-made choice: +Almanzor cannot be deluded twice. + +_Almanz._ No, not deluded; for none count their gains, +Who, like Almanzor, frankly give their pains. + +_Lyndar._ Almanzor, do not cheat yourself, nor me; +Your love is not refined to that degree: +For, since you have desires, and those not blest, +Your love's uneasy, and at little rest. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis true, my own unhappiness I see; +But who, alas, can my physician be? +Love, like a lazy ague, I endure, +Which fears the water, and abhors the cure. + +_Lyndar._ 'Tis a consumption, which your life does waste, +Still flattering you with hope, till help be past; +But, since of cure from her you now despair, +You, like consumptive men, should change your air: +Love somewhere else; 'tis a hard remedy, +But yet you owe yourself so much, to try. + +_Almanz._ My love's now grown so much a part of me, +That life would, in the cure, endangered be: +At least, it like a limb cut off would show; +And better die than like a cripple go. + +_Lyndar._ You must be brought like madmen to their cure, +And darkness first, and next new bonds endure: +Do you dark absence to yourself ordain, +And I, in charity, will find the chain. + +_Almanz._ Love is that madness which all lovers have; +But yet 'tis sweet and pleasing so to rave: +'Tis an enchantment, where the reason's bound; +But Paradise is in the enchanted ground; +A palace, void of envy, cares and strife, +Where gentle hours delude so much of life. +To take those charms away, and set me free, +Is but to send me into misery; +And prudence, of whose cure so much you boast, +Restores those pains, which that sweet folly lost. + +_Lyndar._ I would not, like philosophers, remove, +But show you a more pleasing shape of love. +You a sad, sullen, froward love did see; +I'll show him kind, and full of gaiety. +In short, Almanzor, it shall be my care +To show you love; for you but saw despair. + +_Almanz._ I, in the shape of love, despair did see; +You, in his shape, would show inconstancy. + +_Lyndar._ There's no such thing as constancy you call; +Faith ties not hearts; 'tis inclination all. +Some wit deformed, or beauty much decayed, +First constancy in love a virtue made. +From friendship they that land-mark did remove, +And falsely placed it on the bounds of love. +Let the effects of change be only tried; +Court me, in jest, and call me Almahide: +But this is only counsel I impart, +For I, perhaps, should not receive your heart. + +_Almanz._ Fair though you are +As summer mornings, and your eyes more bright +Than stars that twinkle in a winter's night; +Though you have eloquence to warm and move +Cold age, and praying hermits, into love; +Though Almahide with scorn rewards my care,-- +Yet, than to change, 'tis nobler to despair. +My love's my soul; and that from fate is free; +'Tis that unchanged and deathless part of me. + +_Lyndar._ The fate of constancy your love pursue! +Still to be faithful to what's false to you. + [_Turns from him, and goes off angrily._ + +_Almanz._ Ye gods, why are not hearts first paired above, +But some still interfere in others' love! +Ere each for each by certain marks are known, +You mould them up in haste, and drop them down; +And, while we seek what carelessly you sort, +You sit in state, and make our pains your sport. + [_Exeunt on both sides._ + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ ABENAMAR, _and Soldier._ + +_Aben._ Haste and conduct the prisoner to my sight. + [_Exit Soldier, and immediately enters with_ SELIN + _bound._ + +_Aben._ Did you, according to my orders, write? [_To_ SELIN +And have you summoned Ozmyn to appear? + +_Selin._ I am not yet so much a slave to fear, +Nor has your son deserved so ill of me, +That by his death or bonds I would be free. + +_Aben._ Against thy life thou dost the sentence give; +Behold how short a time thou hast to live. + +_Selin._ Make haste, and draw the curtain while you may; +You but shut out the twilight of my day. +Beneath the burden of my age I bend: +You kindly ease me ere my journey's end. + [_To them a Soldier with_ OZMYN; OZMYN _kneels._ + +_Aben._ to _Selin._ It is enough, my promise makes you free; +Resign your bonds, and take your liberty. + +_Ozm._ Sir, you are just, and welcome are these bands; +'Tis all the inheritance a son demands. + +_Selin._ Your goodness, O my Ozmyn, is too great; +I am not weary of my fetters yet: +Already, when you move me to resign, +I feel them heavier on your feet than mine. + + _Enter another Soldier._ + +_Sold._ A youth attends you in the outer room, +Who seems in haste, and does from Ozmyn come. + +_Aben._ Conduct him in.-- + +_Ozm._ Sent from Benzayda, I fear, to me. + + _To them_ BENZAYDA, _in the habit of a man._ + +_Benz._ My Ozmyn here! + +_Ozm._ Benzayda! 'tis she!-- +Go youth, I have no business for thee here; +Go to the Albayzyn, and attend me there. +I'll not be long away; I pray thee go, +By all our love and friendship-- + +_Benz._ Ozmyn, no: +I did not take on me this bold disguise, +For ends so low, to cheat your watchmen's eyes. +When I attempted this, it was to do +An action, to be envied even by you; +But you, alas, have been too diligent, +And what I purposed fatally prevent! +Those chains, which for my father I would bear, +I take with less content to find you here; +Except your father will that mercy show, +That I may wear them both for him and you. + +_Aben._ I thank thee, fortune! thou hast, in one hour, +Put all I could have asked thee in my power. +My own lost wealth thou giv'st not only back, +But driv'st upon my coast my pirate's wreck. + +_Selin._ With Ozmyn's kindness I was grieved before, +But yours, Benzayda, has' undone me more. + +_Aben._ to a _Soldier._ +Go fetch new fetters, and the daughter bind. + +_Ozm._ Be just at least, sir, though you are not kind: +Benzayda is not as a prisoner brought, +But comes to suffer for another's fault. + +_Aben._ Then, Ozmyn, mark, that justice which I do, +I, as severely, will exact from you: +The father is not wholly dead in me; +Or you may yet revive it, if it be. +Like tapers new blown out, the fumes remain, +To catch the light, and bring it back again. +Benzayda gave you life, and set you free; +For that, I will restore her liberty. + +_Ozm._ Sir, on my knees I thank you. + +_Aben._ Ozmyn, hold; +One part of what I purpose is untold: +Consider, then, it on your part remains, +When I have broke, not to resume your chains. +Like an indulgent father, I have paid +All debts, which you, my prodigal, have made. +Now you are clear, break off your fond design, +Renounce Benzayda, and be wholly mine. + +_Ozm._ Are these the terms? Is this the liberty? +Ah, sir, how can you so inhuman be? +My duty to my life I will prefer; +But life and duty must give place to her. + +_Aben._ Consider what you say, for, with one breath, +You disobey my will, and give her death. + +_Ozm._ Ah, cruel father, what do you propose! +Must I then kill Benzayda, or must lose? +I can do neither; in this wretched state. +The least that I can suffer is your hate; +And yet that's worse than death: Even while I sue, +And choose your hatred, I could die for you. +Break quickly, heart, or let my blood be spilt +By my own hand, to save a father's guilt. + +_Benz._ Hear me, my lord, and take this wretched life, +To free you from the fear of Ozmyn's wife. +I beg but what with ease may granted be, +To spare your son, and kill your enemy; +Or, if my death's a grace too great to give, +Let me, my lord, without my Ozmyn live. +Far from your sight and Ozmyn's let me go, +And take from him a care, from you a foe. + +_Ozm._ How, my Benzayda! can you thus resign +That love, which you have vowed so firmly mine? +Can you leave me for life and liberty? + +_Benz._ What I have done will show that I dare die; +But I'll twice suffer death, and go away, +Rather than make you wretched by my stay: +By this my father's freedom will be won; +And to your father I restore a son. + +_Selin._ Cease, cease, my children, your unhappy strife, +Selin will not be ransomed by your life. +Barbarian, thy old foe defies thy rage; [_To_ ABEN. +Turn, from their youth, thy malice to my age. + +_Benz._ Forbear, dear father! for your Ozmyn's sake, +Do not such words to Ozmyn's father speak. + +_Ozm._ Alas, 'tis counterfeited rage; he strives +But to divert the danger from our lives: +For I can witness, sir, and you might see, +How in your person he considered me. +He still declined the combat where you were; +And you well know it was not out of fear. + +_Benz._ Alas, my lord, where can your vengeance fall? +Your justice will not let it reach us all. +Selin and Ozmyn both would sufferers be; +And punishment's a favour done to me. +If we are foes, since you have power to kill, +'Tis generous in you not to have the will; +But, are we foes? Look round, my lord, and see; +Point out that face which is your enemy. +Would you your hand in Selin's blood embrue? +Kill him unarmed, who, armed, shunned killing you? +Am I your foe? Since you detest my line, +That hated name of Zegry I resign: +For you, Benzayda will herself disclaim; +Call me your daughter, and forget my name. + +_Selin._ This virtue would even savages subdue; +And shall it want the power to vanquish you? + +_Ozm._ It has, it has; I read it in his eyes; +'Tis now not anger, 'tis but shame denies; +A shame of error, that great spirits find, +When keeps down virtue struggling in the mind. + +_Aben._ Yes, I am vanquished! The fierce conflict's past, +And shame itself is now o'ercome at last. +'Twas long before my stubborn mind was won; +But, melting once, I on the sudden run; +Nor can I hold my headlong kindness more, +Than I could curb my cruel rage before. + [_Runs to_ BENZ., _and embraces her._ +Benzayda, 'twas your virtue vanquished me; +That could alone surmount my cruelty. + [_Runs to_ SELIN, _and unbinds him._ +Forgive me, Selin, my neglect of you; +But men, just waking, scarce know what they do. + +_Ozm._ O father! + +_Benz._ Father! + +_Aden._ Dare I own that name! +Speak, speak it often, to remove my shame. [_They all embrace him._ +O Selin, O my children, let me go! +I have more kindness than I yet can show. +For my recovery I must shun your sight; +Eyes used to darkness cannot bear the light. + [_He runs in, they following him._ + + +SCENE II.--_The Albayzyn._ + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR, ABDELMELECH, _Soldiers._ + +_Almanz._ 'Tis war again, and I am glad 'tis so; +Success shall now by force and courage go. +Treaties are but the combat of the brain, +Where still the stronger lose, and weaker gain. + +_Abdelm._ On this assault, brave sir, which we prepare, +Depends the sum and fortune of the war. +Encamped without the fort the Spaniard lies, +And may, in spite of us, send in supplies. +Consider yet, ere we attack the place, +What 'tis to storm it in an army's face. + +_Almanz._ The minds of heroes their own measures are, +They stand exempted from the rules of war. +One loose, one sally of the hero's soul, +Does all the military art controul; +While timorous wit goes round, or fords the shore, +He shoots the gulph, and is already o'er; +And, when the enthusiastic fit is spent, +Looks back amazed at what he underwent. [_Exeunt._ + [_An alarum within._ + + _Re-enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ ABDELMELECH, _with their Soldiers._ + +_Abdelm._ They fly, they fly; take breath and charge again. + +_Almanz._ Make good your entrance, and bring up more men. +I feared, brave friend, my aid had been too late. + +_Abdelm._ You drew us from the jaws of certain fate. +At my approach, +The gate was open, and the draw-bridge down; +But, when they saw I stood, and came not on, +They charged with fury on my little band, +Who, much o'erpowered, could scarce the shock withstand. + +_Almanz._ Ere night we shall the whole Albayzyn gain. +But see, the Spaniards march along the plain +To its relief; you, Abdelmelech, go, +And force the rest, while I repulse the foe. [_Exit_ ALMANZOR. + + _Enter_ ABDALLA, _and some few Soldiers, who seem fearful._ + +_Abdal._ Turn cowards, turn! there is no hope in flight; +You yet may live, if you but dare to fight. +Come, you brave few, who only fear to fly, +We're not enough to conquer, but to die. + +_Abdelm._ No, prince, that mean advantage I refuse; +'Tis in your power a nobler fate to choose. +Since we are rivals, honour does command +We should not die, but by each other's hand. +Retire; and, if it prove my destiny [_To his men._ +To fall, I charge you let the prince go free. + [_The Soldiers depart on both sides._ + +_Abdal._ O, Abdelmelech, that I knew some way +This debt of honour, which I owe, to pay! +But fate has left this only means for me, +To die, and leave you Lyndaraxa free. + +_Abdelm._ He, who is vanquished and is slain, is blest; +The wretched conqueror can ne'er have rest; +But is reserved a harder fate to prove. +Bound in the fetters of dissembled love. + +_Abdal._ Now thou art base, and I deserve her more; +Without complaint I will to death adore. +Dar'st thou see faults, and yet dost love pretend? +I will even Lyndaraxa's crimes defend. + +_Abdelm._ Maintain her cause, then, better than thy own,-- +Than thy ill got, and worse defended throne. + [_They fight,_ ABDALLA _falls._ + +_Abdelm._ Now ask your life. + +_Abdal._ 'Tis gone; that busy thing, +The soul, is packing up, and just on wing, +Like parting swallows, when they seek the spring: +Like them, at its appointed time, it goes, +And flies to countries more unknown than those. + + _Enter_ LYNDARAXA _hastily, sees them, and is going out again._ + ABDELMELECH _stops her._ + +_Abdelm._ No, you shall stay, and see a sacrifice, +Not offered by my sword, but by your eyes. +From those he first ambitious poison drew, +And swelled to empire from the love of you. +Accursed fair! +Thy comet-blaze portends a prince's fate; +And suffering subjects groan beneath thy weight. + +_Abdal._ Cease, rival, cease! +I would have forced you, but it wonnot be; +I beg you now, upbraid her not for me. +You, fairest, to my memory be kind! [_To_ LYNDAR. +Lovers like me your sex will seldom find. +When I usurped a crown for love of you, +I then did more, than, dying, now I do. +I'm still the same as when my love begun; +And, could I now this fate foresee or shun, +Would yet do all I have already done. [_Dies._ + [_She puts her handkerchief to her eyes._ + +_Abdelm._ Weep on, weep on, for it becomes you now; +These tears you to that love may well allow. +His unrepenting soul, if it could move +Upward in crimes, flew spotted with your love; +And brought contagion to the blessed above. + +_Lyndar._ He's gone, and peace go with a constant mind! +His love deserved I should have been more kind; +But then your love and greater worth I knew: +I was unjust to him, but just to you. + +_Abdelm._ I was his enemy, and rival too, +Yet I some tears to his misfortune owe: +You owe him more; weep then, and join with me: +So much is due even to humanity. + +_Lyndar._ Weep for this wretch, whose memory I hate! +Whose folly made us both unfortunate! +Weep for this fool, who did my laughter move! +This whining, tedious, heavy lump of love! + +_Abdelm._ Had fortune favoured him, and frowned on me, +I then had been that heavy fool, not he: +Just this had been my funeral elegy. +Thy arts and falsehood I before did know, +But this last baseness was concealed till now; +And 'twas no more than needful to be known; +I could be cured by such an act alone. +My love, half blasted, yet in time would shoot; +But this last tempest rends it to the root. + +_Lyndar._ These little piques, which now your anger move, +Will vanish, and are only signs of love. +You've been too fierce; and, at some other time, +I should not with such ease forgive your crime: +But, in a day of public joy like this, +I pardon, and forget whate'er's amiss. + +_Abdelm._ These arts have oft prevailed, but must no more: +The spell is ended, and the enchantment o'er. +You have at last destroyed, with much ado, +That love, which none could have destroyed, but you. +My love was blind to your deluding art; +But blind men feel, when stabbed so near the heart. + +_Lyndar._ I must confess there was some pity due; +But I concealed it out of love to you. + +_Abdelm._ No, Lyndaraxa; 'tis at last too late: +Our loves have mingled with too much of fate. +I would, but cannot now, myself deceive: +O that you still could cheat, and I believe! + +_Lyndar._ Do not so light a quarrel long pursue: +You grieve your rival was less loved than you. +'Tis hard, when men of kindness must complain! + +_Abdelm._ I'm now awake, and cannot dream again. + +_Lyndar._ Yet hear-- + +_Abdelm._ No more; nothing my heart can bend: +That queen, you scorned, you shall this night attend. +Your life the king has pardoned for my sake; +But on your pride I some revenge must take. +See now the effects of what your arts designed! +Thank your inconstant and ambitious mind. +'Tis just that she, who to no love is true, +Should be forsaken, and contemned, like you. + +_Lyndar._ All arts of injured women I will try: +First I will be revenged; and then I'll die. +But like some falling tower, +Whose seeming firmness does the sight beguile, +So hold I up my nodding head a while, +Till they come under; and reserve my fall, +That with my ruins I may reach them all, + +_Abdelm._ Conduct her hence. [_Exit_ LYNDAR. _guarded._ + + _Enter a Soldier._ + +_Sold._ Almanzor is victorious without fight; +The foes retreated when he came in sight. +Under the walls, this night, his men are drawn, +And mean to seek the Spaniard with the dawn. + +_Abdelm._ The sun's declined: +Command the watch be set without delay, +And in the fort let bold Benducar stay.-- [_Exit Sold._ +I'll haste to court, where solitude I'll fly, +And herd, like wounded deer, in company. +But oh, how hard a passion to remove, +When I must shun myself, to 'scape from love! [_Exit._ + + +SCENE III.--_A Gallery in the Alhambra._ + + ZULEMA, HAMET. + +_Hamet._ I thought your passion for the queen was dead, +Or that your love had, with your hopes, been fled. + +_Zul._ 'Twas like a fire within a furnace pent: +I smothered it, and kept it long from vent; +But, fed with looks, and blown with sighs so fast, +It broke a passage through my lips at last. + +_Hamet._ Where found you confidence your suit to move? +Our broken fortunes are not fit to love. +Well; you declared your love:--What followed then? + +_Zul._ She looked as judges do on guilty men, +When big with fate they triumph in their dooms, +And smile before the deadly sentence comes. +Silent I stood, as I were thunder-struck; +Condemned and executed with a look. + +_Hamet._ You must, with haste, some remedy prepare: +Now you are in, you must break through the snare. + +_Zul._ She said, she would my folly yet conceal; +But vowed my next attempt she would reveal. + +_Hamet._ 'Tis dark; and in this lonely gallery, +Remote from noise, and shunning every eye, +One hour each evening she in private mourns, +And prays, and to the circle then returns. + +_Zul._ These lighted tapers show the time is nigh. +Perhaps my courtship will not be in vain: +At least, few women will of force complain. + + _At the other end of the Gallery, enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ ESPERANZA. + +_Hamet._ Almanzor, and with him +The favourite slave of the sultana queen. + +_Zul._ Ere they approach, let us retire unseen, +And watch our time when they return again: +Then force shall give, if favour does deny; +And, that once done, we'll to the Spaniards fly. + [_Exeunt_ ZUL. _and_ HAMET. + +_Almanz._ Now stand; the apartment of the queen is near; +And, from this place, your voice will reach her ear. + [ESPERANZA _goes out._ + + SONG, IN TWO PARTS. + + I. + + He. _How unhappy a lover am I, + While I sigh for my Phillis in vain; + All my hopes of delight + Are another man's right, + Who is happy, while I am in pain!_ + + II. + + She. _Since her honour allows no relief, + But to pity the pains which you bear, + 'Tis the best of your fate + In a hopeless estate, + To give o'er, and betimes to despair._ + + III. + + He. _I have tried the false med'cine in vain; + For I wish what I hope not to win: + From without, my desire + Has no food to its fire; + But it burns and consumes me within._ + + IV. + + She. _Yet, at least, 'tis a pleasure to know + That you are not unhappy alone: + For the nymph you adore + Is as wretched, and more; + And counts all your sufferings her own._ + + V. + + He. _O ye gods, let me suffer for both; + At the feet of my Phyllis I'll lie: + I'll resign up my breath, + And take pleasure in death + To be pitied by her when I die._ + + VI. + + She. _What her honour denied you in life, + In her death she will give to your love. + Such flame as is true + After fate will renew, + For the souls to meet closer above._ + + _Enter_ ESPERANZA _again, after the Song._ + +_Almanz._ Accept this diamond, till I can present +Something more worthy my acknowledgement. +And now farewell: I will attend, alone, +Her coming forth; and make my sufferings known. [_Exit_ ESPERANZA. +A hollow wind comes whistling through that door, +And a cold shivering seizes me all o'er; +My teeth, too, chatter with a sudden fright:-- +These are the raptures of too fierce delight, +The combat of the tyrants, hope and fear; +Which hearts, for want of field-room, cannot bear. +I grow impatient;--this, or that's the room:-- +I'll meet her;--now methinks, I her her come. + [_He goes to the door; the Ghost of his Mother + meets him: He starts back: The Ghost stands + in the door._ +Well may'st thou make thy boast, whate'er thou art! +Thou art the first e'er made Almanzor start. +My legs +Shall bear me to thee in their own despite: +I'll rush into the covert of thy night, +And pull thee backward, by the shroud, to light; +Or else I'll squeeze thee, like a bladder, there, +And make thee groan thyself away to air. [_The Ghost retires._ +So, thou art gone! Thou canst no conquest boast: +I thought what was the courage of a ghost.-- +The grudging of my ague yet remains; +My blood, like icicles, hangs in my veins, +And does not drop:--Be master of that door, +We two will not disturb each other more. +I erred a little, but extremes may join; +That door was hell's, but this is heaven's and mine. + [_Goes to the other door, and is met again by the Ghost._ +Again! by heaven, I do conjure thee, speak! +What art thou, spirit? and what dost thou seek? + [_The Ghost comes on softly after the conjuration; + and_ ALMANZOR _retires to the middle of the + stage._ + +_Ghost._ I am the ghost of her who gave thee birth; +The airy shadow of her mouldering earth. +Love of thy father me through seas did guide; +On seas I bore thee, and on seas I died. +I died; and for my winding sheet a wave +I had, and all the ocean for my grave. +But, when my soul to bliss did upward move, +I wandered round the crystal walls above; +But found the eternal fence so steeply high, +That, when I mounted to the middle sky, +I flagged, and fluttered down, and could not fly. +Then, from the battlements of the heavenly tower, +A watchman angel bid me wait this hour; +And told me, I had yet a task assigned, +To warn that little pledge I left behind; +And to divert him, ere it were too late, +From crimes unknown, and errors of his fate. + +_Almanz._ Speak, holy shade; thou parent-form, speak on! [_Bowing._ +Instruct thy mortal-elemented son; +For here I wander, to myself unknown. +But O, thou better part of heavenly air, +Teach me, kind spirit, since I'm still thy care, +My parents' names: +If I have yet a father, let me know +To whose old age my humble youth must bow, +And pay its duty, if he mortal be, +Or adoration, if a mind, like thee. + +_Ghost._ Then, what I may, I'll tell.-- +From ancient blood thy father's lineage springs, +Thy mother's thou deriv'st from stems of kings. +A Christian born, and born again that day, +When sacred water washed thy sins away. +Yet, bred in errors, thou dost misemploy +That strength heaven gave thee, and its flock destroy. + +_Almanz._ By reason, man a godhead may discern, +But how he should be worshipped cannot learn. + +_Ghost._ Heaven does not now thy ignorance reprove, +But warns thee from known crimes of lawless love. +That crime thou knowest, and, knowing, dost not shun, +Shall an unknown and greater crime pull on: +But if, thus warned, thou leav'st this cursed place, +Then shalt thou know the author of thy race. +Once more I'll see thee; then my charge is done. +Far hence, upon the mountains of the moon, +Is my abode; where heaven and nature smile, +And strew with flowers the secret bed of Nile. +Blessed souls are there refined, and made more bright, +And, in the shades of heaven, prepared for light. [_Exit Ghost._ + +_Almanz._ O heaven, how dark a riddle's thy decree, +Which bounds our wills, yet seems to leave them free! +Since thy fore-knowledge cannot be in vain, +Our choice must be what thou didst first ordain. +Thus, like a captive in an isle confined, +Man walks at large, a prisoner of the mind: +Wills all his crimes, while heaven the indictment draws, +And, pleading guilty, justifies the laws. +Let fate be fate; the lover and the brave +Are ranked, at least, above the vulgar slave. +Love makes me willing to my death to run; +And courage scorns the death it cannot shun. + + _Enter_ ALMAHIDE _with a taper._ + +_Almah._ My light will sure discover those who talk.-- +Who dares to interrupt my private walk? + +_Almanz._ He, who dares love, and for that love must die, +And, knowing this, dares yet love on, am I. + +_Almah._ That love which you can hope, and I can pay, +May be received and given in open day: +My praise and my esteem you had before; +And you have bound yourself to ask no more. + +_Almanz._ Yes, I have bound myself; but will you take +The forfeit of that bond, which force did make? + +_Almah._ You know you are from recompence debarred; +But purest love can live without reward. + +_Almanz._ Pure love had need be to itself a feast; +For, like pure elements, 'twill nourish least. + +_Almah._ It therefore yields the only pure content; +For it, like angels, needs no nourishment. +To eat and drink can no perfection be; +All appetite implies necessity. + +_Almanz._ 'Twere well, if I could like a spirit live; +But, do not angels food to mortals give? +What if some demon should my death foreshow, +Or bid me change, and to the Christians go; +Will you not think I merit some reward, +When I my love above my life regard? + +_Almah._ In such a case your change must be allowed: +I would myself dispense with what you vowed. + +_Almanz._ Were I to die that hour when I possess, +This minute shall begin my happiness. + +_Almah._ The thoughts of death your passion would remove; +Death is a cold encouragement to love. + +_Almanz._ No; from my joys I to my death would run, +And think the business of my life well done: +But I should walk a discontented ghost, +If flesh and blood were to no purpose lost. + +_Almah._ You love me not, Almanzor; if you did, +You would not ask what honour must forbid. + +_Almanz._ And what is honour, but a love well hid? + +_Almah._ Yes, 'tis the conscience of an act well done, +Which gives us power our own desires to shun; +The strong and secret curb of headlong will; +The self-reward of good, and shame of ill. + +_Almanz._ These, madam, are the maxims of the day, +When honour's present, and when love's away. +The duty of poor honour were too hard, +In arms all day, at night to mount the guard. +Let him, in pity, now to rest retire; +Let these soft hours be watched by warm desire. + +_Almah._ Guards, who all day on painful duty keep, +In dangers are not privileged to sleep. + +_Almanz._ And with what dangers are you threatened here? +Am I, alas! a foe for you to fear? +See, madam, at your feet this enemy; [_Kneels._ +Without your pity and your love I die. + +_Almah._ Rise, rise, and do not empty hopes pursue; +Yet think that I deny myself, not you. + +_Almanz._ A happiness so high I cannot bear: +My love's too fierce, and you too killing fair. +I grow enraged to see such excellence!-- +If words, so much disordered, give offence, +My love's too full of zeal to think of sense. +Be you like me; dull reason hence remove, +And tedious forms, and give a loose to love. +Love eagerly; let us be gods to-night; +And do not, with half yielding, clash delight. + +_Almah._ Thou strong seducer, opportunity! +Of womankind, half are undone by thee! +Though I resolve I will not be misled, +I wish I had not heard what you have said! +I cannot be so wicked to comply; +And, yet, am most unhappy to deny! +Away! + +_Almanz._ I will not move me from this place: +I can take no denial from that face! + +_Almah._ If I could yield,--but think not that I will,-- +You and myself I in revenge should kill; +For I should hate us both, when it were done, +And would not to the shame of life be won. + +_Almanz._ Live but to-night, and trust to-morrow's mind: +Ere that can come, there's a whole life behind. +Methinks, already crowned with joys I lie, +Speechless and breathless, in an ecstasy! +Not absent in one thought: I am all there: +Still close, yet wishing still to be more near. + +_Almah._ Deny your own desires; for it will be +Too little now to be denied by me. +Will he, who does all great, all noble seem, +Be lost and forfeit to his own esteem? +Will he, who may with heroes claim a place, +Belie that fame, and to himself be base? +Think how august and godlike you did look, +When my defence, unbribed, you undertook; +But, when an act so brave you disavow, +How little, and how mercenary now! + +_Almanz._ Are, then, my services no higher prized? +And can I fall so low, to be despised? + +_Almah._ Yes; for whatever may be bought, is low; +And you yourself, who sell yourself, are so. +Remember the great act you did this day: +How did your love to virtue then give way! +When you gave freedom to my captive lord,-- +That rival who possessed what you adored,-- +Of such a deed what price can there be made? +Think well; is that an action to be paid? +It was a miracle of virtue shown; +And wonders are with wonder paid alone. +And would you all that secret joy of mind, +Which great souls only in great actions find, +All that, for one tumultuous minute lose? + +_Almanz_, I would that minute before ages chuse. +Praise is the pay of heaven for doing good; +But love's the best return for flesh and blood. + +_Almah._ You've moved my heart so much, I can deny +No move; but know, Almanzor, I can die. +Thus far my virtue yields; if I have shown +More love than what I ought, let this atone. [_Going to stab herself._ + +_Almanz._ Hold, hold! +Such fatal proofs of love you shall not give: +Deny me; hate me; both are just,--but live! +Your virtue I will ne'er disturb again; +Nor dare to ask, for fear I should obtain. + +_Almah._ 'Tis generous to have conquered your desire; +You mount above your wish, and lose it higher. +There's pride in virtue, and a kindly heat; +Not feverish, like your love, but full as great. +Farewell; and may our loves hereafter be +But image-like, to heighten piety. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis time I should be gone.-- +Alas! I am but half converted yet; +All I resolve, I with one look forget; +And, like a lion, whom no arts can tame, +Shall tear even those, who would my rage reclaim. [_Exeunt severally._ + [ZULEMA _and_ HAMET _watch_ ALMANZOR; _and + when he is gone, go in after the Queen._ + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH _and_ LYNDARAXA. + +_Lyndar._ It is enough, you've brought me to this place: +Here stop, and urge no further my disgrace. +Kill me; in death your mercy will be seen, +But make me not a captive to the queen. + +_Abdelm._ 'Tis therefore I this punishment provide: +This only can revenge me on your pride. +Prepare to suffer what you shun in vain; +And know, you now are to obey, not reign. + + _Enter_ ALMAHIDE _shrieking; her hair loose; she runs over the + stage._ + +_Almah._ Help, help, O heaven, some help! + + _Enter_ ZULEMA _and_ HAMET. + +_Zul._ Make haste before, +And intercept her passage to the door. + +_Abdelm._ Villains, what act are you attempting here! + +_Almah._ I thank thee, heaven! some succour does appear. + [_As_ ABDELMELECH _is going to help the Queen,_ + LYNDARAXA _pulls out his sword, and holds it._ + +_Abdelm._ With what ill fate my good design is curst! + +_Zul._ We have no time to think; dispatch him first. + +_Abdelm._ O for a sword! [_They make at_ ABDELMELECH; _he goes off at + one door, while the Queen escapes at the + other._ + +_Zul._ Ruined! + +_Hamet._ Undone! + +_Lyndar._ And, which is worst of all, +He is escaped. + +_Zul._ I hear them loudly call. + +_Lyndar._ Your fear will lose you; call as loud as they: +I have not time to teach you what to say. +The court will in a moment all be here; +But second what I say, and do not fear. +Call help; run that way; leave the rest to me. + [ZUL. _and_ HAMET _retire, and within cry,_--Help! + + _Enter, at several doors, the King_, ABENAMAR, SELIN, OZMYN, + ALMANZOR, _with Guards attending_ BOABDELIN. + +_Boab._ What can the cause of all this tumult be? +And what the meaning of that naked sword? + +_Lyndar._ I'll tell, when fear will so much breath afford.-- +The queen and Abdelmelech--'Twill not out-- +Even I, who saw it, of the truth yet doubt, +It seems so strange. + +_Almanz._ Did she not name the queen? +Haste; speak. + +_Lyndar._ How dare I speak what I have seen?-- +With Hamet, and with Zulema I went, +To pay both theirs, and my acknowledgment +To Almahide, and by her mouth implore +Your clemency, our fortunes to restore. +We chose this hour, which we believed most free, +When she retired from noise and company. +The ante-chamber past, we gently knocked, +Unheard it seems, but found the lodgings locked, +In duteous silence while we waited there, +We first a noise, and then long whispers hear; +Yet thought it was the queen at prayers alone, +Till she distinctly said,--If this were known, +My love, what shame, what danger would ensue! +Yet I,--and sighed,--could venture more for you! + +_Boab._ O heaven, what do I hear! + +_Almanz._ Let her go on. + +_Lyndar._ And how,--then murmured in a bigger tone +Another voice,--and how should it be known? +This hour is from your court attendants free; +The king suspects Almanzor, but not me. + +_Zul._ I find her drift; Hamet, be confident; [_At the door._ +Second her words, and fear not the event. + + ZULEMA _and_ HAMET _enter. The King embraces them._ + +_Boab._ Welcome, my only friends;--behold in me, +O kings, behold the effects of clemency! +See here the gratitude of pardoned foes! +That life, I gave them, they for me expose! + +_Hamet._ Though Abdelmelech was our friend before, +When duty called us, he was so no more. + +_Almanz._ Damn your delay!--you torturers, proceed! +I will not hear one word but Almahide. + +_Boab._ When you, within, the traitor's voice did hear, +What did you then? + +_Zul._ I durst not trust my ear; +But, peeping through the key-hole, I espied +The queen, and Abdelmelech by her side; +She on the couch, he on her bosom lay; +Her hand about his neck his head did stay, +And from his forehead wiped the drops away. + +_Boab._ Go on, go on, my friends, to clear my doubt; +I hope I shall have life to hear you out. + +_Zul_ What had been, sir, you may suspect too well; +What followed, modesty forbids to tell: +Seeing what we had thought beyond belief, +Our hearts so swelled with anger and with grief, +That, by plain force, we strove the door to break. +He, fearful, and with guilt, or love, grown weak, +Just as we entered, 'scaped the other way; +Nor did the amazed queen behind him stay. + +_Lyndar._ His sword, in so much haste, he could not mind; +But left this witness of his crime behind. + +_Boab._ O proud, ungrateful, faithless womankind! +How changed, and what a monster am I made! +My love, my honour, ruined and betrayed! + +_Almanz._ Your love and honour! mine are ruined worse:-- +Furies and hell!--What right have you to curse? +Dull husband as you are, +What can your love, or what your honour, be? +I am her lover, and she's false to me. + +_Boab._ Go; when the authors of my shame are found, +Let them be taken instantly and bound: +They shall be punished as our laws require: +'Tis just, that flames should be condemned to fire. +This, with the dawn of morning shall be done. + +_Aben._ You haste too much her execution. +Her condemnation ought to be deferred; +With justice, none can be condemned unheard. + +_Boab._ A formal process tedious is, and long; +Besides, the evidence is full and strong. + +_Lyndar._ The law demands two witnesses; and she +Is cast, for which heaven knows I grieve, by three. + +_Ozm._ Hold, sir! since you so far insist on law, +We can from thence one just advantage draw: +That law, which dooms adultresses to die, +Gives champions, too, to slandered chastity. + +_Almanz._ And how dare you, who from my bounty live, +Intrench upon my love's prerogative? +Your courage in your own concernments try; +Brothers are things remote, while I am by. + +_Ozm._ I knew not you thus far her cause would own, +And must not suffer you to fight alone: +Let two to two in equal combat join; +You vindicate her person, I her line. + +_Lyndar._ Of all mankind, Almanzor has least right +In her defence, who wrong'd his love, to fight. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis false: she is not ill, nor can she be; +She must be chaste, because she's loved by me. + +_Zul._ Dare you, what sense and reason prove, deny? + +_Almanz._ When she's in question, sense and reason lie. + +_Zul._ For truth, and for my injured sovereign, +What I have said, I will to death maintain. + +_Ozm._ So foul a falsehood, whoe'er justifies, +Is basely born, and, like a villain, lies. +In witness of that truth, be this my gage. + [_Takes a ring from his finger._ + +_Hamet._ I take it; and despise a traitor's rage. + +_Boab._ The combat's yours.--A guard the lists surround; +Then raise a scaffold in the encompassed ground, +And, by it, piles of wood; in whose just fire, +Her champions slain, the adultress shall expire. + +_Aben._ We ask no favour, but what arms will yield. + +_Boab._ Choose, then, two equal judges of the field: +Next morning shall decide the doubtful strife, +Condemn the unchaste, or quit the virtuous wife. + +_Almanz._ But I am both ways cursed: +For Almahide must die, if I am slain; +Or for my rival I the conquest gain. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT V. SCENE I. + + ALMANZOR _solus._ + +I have outfac'd myself; and justified, +What I knew false, to all the world beside. +She was as faithless as her sex could be; +And, now I am alone, she's so to me. +She's fallen! and, now, where shall we virtue find? +She was the last that stood of womankind. +Could she so holily my flames remove, +And fall that hour to Abdelmelech's love? +Yet her protection I must undertake; +Not now for love, but for my honour's sake, +That moved me first, and must oblige me still: +My cause is good, however her's be ill. +I'll leave her, when she's freed; and let it be +Her punishment, she could be false to me. + + _To him_ ABDELMELECH, _guarded._ + +_Abdelm._ Heaven is not heaven, nor are there deities +There is some new rebellion in the skies. +All that was good and holy is dethroned, +And lust and rapine are for justice owned. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis true; what justice in that heaven can be, +Which thus affronts me with the sight of thee? +Why must I be from just revenge debarred? +Chains are thy arms, and prisons are thy guard: +The death, thou diest, may to a husband be +A satisfaction; but 'tis none to me. +My love would justice to itself afford; +But now thou creep'st to death below my sword. + +_Abdelm._ This threatening would show better were I free. + +_Almanz._ No; wert thou freed, I would not threaten thee; +This arm should then--but now it is too late! +I could redeem thee to a nobler fate. +As some huge rock, +Rent from its quarry, does the waves divide, +So I +Would souse upon thy guards, and dash them wide: +Then, to my rage left naked and alone, +Thy too much freedom thou should'st soon bemoan: +Dared like a lark, that, on the open plain +Pursued and cuffed, seeks shelter now in vain; +So on the ground wouldst thou expecting lie, +Not daring to afford me victory. +But yet thy fate's not ripe; it is decreed, +Before thou diest, that Almahide be freed. +My honour first her danger must remove, +And then revenge on thee my injured love. [_Exeunt severally._ + + +SCENE II. + + _The_ SCENE _changes to the Vivarambla, and appears + filled with Spectators; a Scaffold hung with black._ + + _Enter the_ QUEEN _guarded, with_ ESPERANZA. + +_Almah._ See how the gazing people crowd the place, +All gaping to be filled with my disgrace. [_A shout within._ +That shout, like the hoarse peals of vultures, rings, +When over fighting fields they beat their wings.-- +Let never woman trust in innocence, +Or think her chastity its own defence; +Mine has betrayed me to this public shame, +And virtue, which I served, is but a name. + +_Esper._ Leave then that shadow, and for succour fly +To Him we serve, the Christian's Deity. +Virtue's no god, nor has she power divine: +But He protects it, who did first enjoin. +Trust then in Him; and from his grace implore +Faith to believe, what rightly we adore. + +_Almah._ Thou Power unknown, if I have erred, forgive! +My infancy was taught what I believe. +But if the Christians truly worship thee, +Let me thy Godhead in thy succour see: +So shall thy justice in my safety shine, +And all my days, which thou shalt add, be thine! + + _Enter the_ KING, ABENAMAR, LYNDARAXA, BENZAYDA: _then_ ABDELMELECH + _guarded; and after him_ SELIN _and_ ALABEZ, _as Judges of the + Field._ + +_Boab._ You, judges of the field, first take your place.-- +The accusers and accused bring face to face. +Set guards, and let the lists be opened wide; +And may just heaven assist the juster side! + +_Almah._ What! not one tender look, one passing word? +Farewell, my much unkind, but still loved lord! +Your throne was for my humble fate too high, +And therefore heaven thinks fit that I should die. +My story be forgot, when I am dead, +Lest it should fright some other from your bed; +And, to forget me, may you soon adore +Some happier maid,--yet none could love you more. +But may you never think me innocent, +Lest it should cause you trouble to repent. + +_Boab._ 'Tis pity so much beauty should not live; [_Aside._ +Yet I too much am injured, to forgive. [_Goes to his seat._ + + _Trumpets: Then enter two Moors, bearing two naked swords before the + accusers_ ZULEMA _and_ HAMET, _who follow them. The Judges seat + themselves; the_ QUEEN _and_ ABDELMELECH _are led to the Scaffold._ + +_Alabez._ Say for what end you thus in arms appear; +What are your names, and what demand you here? + +_Zul._ The Zegrys' ancient race our lineage claims; +And Zulema and Hamet are our names. +Like loyal subjects in these lists we stand, +And justice in our king's behalf demand. + +_Hamet._ For whom, in witness of what both have seen, +Bound by our duty, we appeach the queen +And Abdelmelech, of adultery. + +_Zul._ Which, like true knights, we will maintain, or die. + +_Alabez._ Swear on the Alcoran your cause is right, +And Mahomet so prosper you in fight. + [_They touch their foreheads with the Alcoran, + and bow._ + + _Trumpets on the other side of the Stage; two Moors, as before, with + bare swords before_ ALMANZOR _and_ OZMYN. + +_Selin._ Say for what end you thus in arms appear; +What are your names, and what demand you here? + +_Almanz._ Ozmyn is his, Almanzor is my name; +We come as champions of the queen's fair fame. + +_Ozm._ To prove these Zegrys, like false traitors, lie; +Which, like true knights, we will maintain, or die. + +_Selin._ [_to_ ALMAH.] +Madam, do you for champions take these two, +By their success to live or die? + +_Almah._ I do. + +_Selin._ Swear on the Alcoran your cause is right; +And Mahomet so prosper you in fight. [_They kiss the Alcoran._ + [OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA _embrace, and take leave + in dumb show; while_ LYNDARAXA _speaks to her + Brother._ + +_Lyndar._ If you o'ercome, let neither of them live, +But use with care the advantages I give: +One of their swords in fight shall useless be; +The bearer of it is suborned by me. [_She and_ BENZAYDA _retire._ + +_Alabez._ Now, principals and seconds, all advance, +And each of you assist his fellow's chance. + +_Selin._ The wind and sun we equally divide, +So let the event of arms the truth decide. +The chances of the fight, and every wound, +The trumpets, on the victor's part, resound. + [_The Trumpets sound;_ ALMANZOR _and_ ZULEMA + _meet and fight;_ OZMYN _and_ HAMET. _After + some passes, the sword of_ OZMYN _breaks; + he retires, defending himself, and is + wounded; the Zegrys' Trumpets sound their + advantage._ ALMANZOR, _in the mean time, + drives_ ZULEMA _to the farther end of the + Stage, till, hearing the Trumpets of the + adverse Party, he looks back, and sees_ + OZMYN'S _misfortune; he makes at_ ZULEMA + _just as_ OZMYN _falls, in retiring, and_ + HAMET _is thrusting at him._ + +_Hamet._ [_to_ OZMYN, _thrusting._] +Our difference now shall soon determined be. + +_Almanz._ Hold, traitor, and defend thyself from me. + [HAMET _leaves_ OZMYN _(who cannot rise), and both + he and_ ZULEMA _fall on_ ALMANZOR, _and press + him; he retires, and_ HAMET, _advancing first, is + run through the body, and falls. The Queen's + Trumpets sound._ ALMANZOR _pursues_ ZULEMA. + +_Lyndar._ I must make haste some remedy to find:-- +Treason, Almanzor, treason! look behind. + [ALMANZOR _looks behind him to see who calls, and_ + ZULEMA _takes the advantage, and wounds him; the + Zegrys' Trumpets sound;_ ALMANZOR _turns upon_ + ZULEMA, _and wounds him; he falls. The Queens + Trumpets sound._ + +_Almanz._ Now triumph in thy sister's treachery. [_Stabbing him._ + +_Zul._ Hold, hold! I have enough to make me die, +But, that I may in peace resign my breath, +I must confess my crime before my death. +Mine is the guilt; the queen is innocent: +I loved her, and, to compass my intent, +Used force, which Abdelmelech did prevent. +The lie my sister forged; but, O! my fate +Comes on too soon, and I repent too late. +Fair queen, forgive; and let my penitence +Expiate some part of-- [_Dies._ + +_Almah._ Even thy whole offence! + +_Almanz._ [_to the Judges._] +If aught remains in the sultana's cause, +I here am ready to fulfil the laws. + +_Selin._ The law is fully satisfied, and we +Pronounce the queen and Abdelmelech free. + +_Abdelm._ Heaven, thou art just! + [_The Judges rise from their seats, and go before_ + ALMANZOR _to the Queens Scaffold; he unbinds_ + _the Queen and_ ABDELMELECH; _they all go off, + the People shouting, and the Trumpets sounding + the while._ + +_Boab._ Before we pay our thanks, or show our joy, +Let us our needful charity employ. +Some skilful surgeon speedily be found, +To apply fit remedies to Ozmyn's wound. + +_Benz._ [_running to OZM._] +That be my charge: my linen I will tear; +Wash it with tears, and bind it with my hair. + +_Ozm._ With how much pleasure I my pains endure, +And bless the wound which causes such a cure! + [_Exit_ OZM. _led by_ BENZ. _and_ ABEN. + +_Boab._ Some from the place of combat bear the slain.-- +Next Lyndaraxa's death I should ordain: +But let her, who this mischief did contrive, +For ever banished from Granada live. + +_Lyndar._ Thou shouldst have punished more, or not at all: +By her thou hast not ruined, thou shalt fall. +The Zegrys shall revenge their branded line, +Betray their gate, and with the Christians join. [_Aside._ + [_Exit_ LYNDARAXA _with_ ALABEZ; _the bodies of + her Brothers are borne after her._ + + ALMANZOR, ALMAHIDE, _and_ ESPERANZA, _re-enter to the King._ + +_Almah._ The thanks thus paid, which first to heaven were due, +My next, Almanzor, let me pay to you: +Somewhat there is of more concernment too, +Which 'tis not fit you should in public know. +First let your wounds be dressed with speedy care, +And then you shall the important secret share. + +_Almanz._ Whene'er you speak, +Were my wounds mortal, they should still bleed on; +And I would listen till my life were gone: +My soul should even for your last accent stay, +And then shout out, and with such speed obey, +It should not bait at heaven to stop its way. [_Exit_ ALMANZ. + +_Boab._ 'Tis true, Almanzor did her honour save, +But yet what private business can they have? +Such freedom virtue will not sure allow; +I cannot clear my heart, but must my brow. [_Aside._ + [_He approaches_ ALMAHIDE. +Welcome again, my virtuous, loyal wife; +Welcome to love, to honour, and to life! + [_Goes to salute her, she starts back._ +You seem +As if you from a loathed embrace did go! + +_Almah._ Then briefly will I speak, since you must know +What to the world my future acts will show: +But hear me first, and then my reasons weigh. +'Tis known, how duty led me to obey +My father's choice; and how I since did live, +You, sir, can best your testimony give. +How to your aid I have Almanzor brought, +When by rebellious crowds your life was sought; +Then, how I bore your causeless jealousy, +(For I must speak) and after set you free, +When you were prisoner in the chance of war: +These, sure, are proofs of love. + +_Boab._ I grant they are. + +_Almah._ And could you then, O cruelly unkind! +So ill reward such tenderness of mind? +Could you, denying what our laws afford +The meanest subject, on a traitor's word, +Unheard, condemn, and suffer me to go +To death, and yet no common pity show! + +_Boab._ Love filled my heart even to the brim before; +And then, with too much jealousy, boiled o'er. + +_Almah._ Be't love or jealousy, 'tis such a crime, +That I'm forewarned to trust a second time. +Know, then, my prayers to heaven shall never cease, +To crown your arms in war, your wars with peace; +But from this day I will not know your bed: +Though Almahide still lives, your wife is dead; +And with her dies a love so pure and true, +It could be killed by nothing but by you. [_Exit_ ALMAH. + +_Boab._ Yes; you will spend your life in prayers for me, +And yet this hour my hated rival see. +She might a husband's jealousy forgive; +But she will only for Almanzor live. +It is resolved; I will myself provide +That vengeance, which my useless laws denied; +And, by Almanzor's death, at once remove +The rival of my empire, and my love. [_Exit_ BOAB. + + _Enter_ ALMAHIDE, _led by_ ALMANZOR, _and followed by_ ESPERANZA; + _she speaks, entering._ + +_Almah._ How much, Almanzor, to your aid I owe, +Unable to repay, I blush to know; +Yet, forced by need, ere I can clear that score, +I, like ill debtors, come to borrow more. + +_Almanz._ Your new commands I on my knees attend: +I was created for no other end. +Born to be yours, I do by nature serve, +And, like the labouring beast, no thanks deserve. + +_Almah._ Yet first your virtue to your succour call, +For in this hard command you'll need it all. + +_Almanz._ I stand prepared; and whatsoe'er it be, +Nothing is hard to him, who loves like me. + +_Almah._ Then know, I from your love must yet implore +One proof:--that you would never see me more. + +_Almanz._ I must confess, [_Starting back._ +For this last stroke I did no guard provide; +I could suspect no foe was near that side. +From winds and thickening clouds we thunder fear, +None dread it from that quarter which is clear; +And I would fain believe, 'tis but your art +To shew +You knew where deepest you could wound my heart. + +_Almah._ So much respect is to your passion due, +That sure I could not practise arts on you. +But that you may not doubt what I have said, +This hour I have renounced my husband's bed: +Judge, then, how much my fame would injured be, +If, leaving him, I should a lover see. + +_Almanz._ If his unkindness have deserved that curse, +Must I, for loving well, be punished worse? + +_Almah._ Neither your love nor merits I compare, +But my unspotted name must be my care. + +_Almanz._ I have this day established its renown. + +_Almah._ Would you so soon, what you have raised, throw down? + +_Almanz._ But, madam, is not yours a greater guilt, +To ruin him, who has that fabric built? + +_Almah._ No lover should his mistress' prayers withstand, +Yet you contemn my absolute command. + +_Almanz._ 'Tis not contempt, +When your command is issued out too late; +'Tis past my power, and all beyond is fate. +I scarce could leave you, when to exile sent, +Much less when now recalled from banishment; +For if that heat your glances cast were strong, +Your eyes, like glasses, fire, when held so long. + +_Almah._ Then, since you needs will all my weakness know, +I love you; and so well, that you must go. +I am so much obliged, and have withal +A heart so boundless and so prodigal, +I dare not trust myself, or you, to stay, +But, like frank gamesters, must forswear the play. + +_Almanz._ Fate, thou art kind to strike so hard a blow: +I am quite stunned, and past all feeling now. +Yet--can you tell me you have power and will +To save my life, and at that instant kill? + +_Almah._ This, had you staid, you never must have known; +But, now you go, I may with honour own. + +_Almanz._ But, madam, I am forced to disobey: +In your defence my honour bids me stay. +I promised to secure your life and throne, +And, heaven be thanked, that work is yet undone. + +_Almah._ I here make void that promise which you made, +For now I have no farther need of aid. +That vow, which to my plighted lord was given, +I must not break, but may transfer to heaven: +I will with vestals live: +There needs no guard at a religious door; +Few will disturb the praying and the poor. + +_Almanz._ Let me but near that happy temple stay, +And through the grates peep on you once a day; +To famished hope I would no banquet give: +I cannot starve, and wish but just to live. +Thus, as a drowning man +Sinks often, and does still more faintly rise, +With his last hold catching whate'er he spies; +So, fallen from those proud hopes I had before, +Your aid I for a dying wretch implore. + +_Almah._ I cannot your hard destiny withstand, + + BOABDELIN, _and Guards above._ + +But slip, like bending rushes, from your hand. +Sink all at once, since you must sink at last. + +_Almanz._ Can you that last relief of sight remove, +And thrust me out the utmost line of love! +Then, since my hopes of happiness are gone, +Denied all favours, I will seize this one. + [_Catches her hand, and kisses it._ + +_Boab._ My just revenge no longer I'll forbear: +I've seen too much; I need not stay to hear. [_Descends._ + +_Almanz._ As a small shower +To the parched earth does some refreshment give, +So, in the strength of this, one day I'll live: +A day,--a year,--an age,--for ever, now; + [_Betwixt each word he kisses her hand by force; + she struggling._ +I feel from every touch a new soul flow. + [_She snatches her hand away._ +My hoped eternity of joy is past! +'Twas insupportable, and could not last. +Were heaven not made of less, or duller joy, +'Twould break each minute, and itself destroy. + + _Enter King and Guards, below._ + +_Boab._ This, this, is he, for whom thou didst deny +To share my bed:--Let them together die. + +_Almah._ Hear me, my lord. + +_Boab._ Your flattering arts are vain: +Make haste, and execute what I ordain. [_To the Guards._ + +_Almanz._ Cut piece-meal in this cause, +From every wound I should new vigour take, +And every limb should new Almanzors make. + [_He puts himself before the Queen; the Guards + attack him, with the King._ + + _Enter_ ABDELMELECH. + +_Abdelm._ What angry god, to exercise his spite, [_To the King._ +Has arm'd your left hand, to cut off your right? + [_The King turns, the fight ceases._ +The foes are entered at the Elvira gate: +False Lyndaraxa has the town betrayed, +And all the Zegrys give the Spaniards aid. + +_Boab._ O mischief, not suspected nor foreseen! + +_Abdelm._ Already they have gained the Zacatin, +And thence the Vivarambla place possest, +While our faint soldiers scarce defend the rest. +The duke of Arcos does one squadron head, +The next by Ferdinand himself is led. + +_Almah._ Now, brave Almanzor, be a god again; +Above our crimes and your own passions reign. +My lord has been by jealousy misled, +To think I was not faithful to his bed. +I can forgive him, though my death he sought, +For too much love can never be a fault. +Protect him, then; and what to his defence +You give not, give to clear my innocence. + +_Almanz._ Listen, sweet heaven, and all ye blessed above, +Take rules of virtue from a mortal love! +You've raised my soul; and if it mount more high, +'Tis as the wren did on the eagle fly. +Yes, I once more will my revenge neglect, +And, whom you can forgive, I can protect. + +_Boab._ How hard a fate is mine, still doomed to shame! +I make occasions for my rival's fame! [_Exeunt. An alarm within._ + + _Enter_ FERDINAND, ISABELLA, _Don_ ALONZO D'AGUILAR; _Spaniards and + Ladies._ + +_K. Ferd._ Already more than half the town is gained, +But there is yet a doubtful fight maintained. + +_Alonz._ The fierce young king the entered does attack, +And the more fierce Almanzor drives them back. + +_K. Ferd._ The valiant Moors like raging lions fight; +Each youth encouraged by his lady's sight. + +_Q. Isabel._ I will advance with such a shining train, +That Moorish beauties shall oppose in vain. +Into the press of clashing swords we'll go, +And, where the darts fly thickest, seek the foe. + +_K. Ferd._ May heaven, which has inspired this generous thought, +Avert those dangers you have boldly sought! +Call up more troops; the women, to our shame, +Will ravish from the men their part of fame. + [_Exeunt_ ISABELLA _and Ladies._ + + _Enter_ ALABEZ, _and kisses the King's hand._ + +_Alabez._ Fair Lyndaraxa, and the Zegry line, +Have led their forces with your troops to join; +The adverse part, which obstinately fought, +Are broke, and Abdelmelech prisoner brought. + +_K. Ferd._ Fair Lyndaraxa, and her friends, shall find +The effects of an obliged and grateful mind. + +_Alabez._ But, marching by the Vivarambla place, +The combat carried a more doubtful face: +In that vast square the Moors and Spaniards met, +Where the fierce conflict is continued yet; +But with advantage on the adverse side, +Whom fierce Almanzor does to conquest guide. + +_K. Ferd._ With my Castilian foot I'll meet his rage; + [_Is going out: Shouts within are heard,_--Victoria! + Victoria! +But these loud clamours better news presage. + + _Enter the_ DUKE OF ARCOS, _and Soldiers; their Swords drawn and + bloody._ + +_D. Arcos._ Granada now is yours; and there remain +No Moors, but such as own the power of Spain. +That squadron, which their king in person led, +We charged, but found Almanzor on their head: +Three several times we did the Moors attack, +And thrice with slaughter did he drive us back: +Our troops then shrunk; and still we lost more ground, +'Till from our queen we needful succour found: +Her guards to our assistance bravely flew, +And with fresh vigour did the fight renew: +At the same time +Did Lyndaraxa with her troops appear, +And, while we charged the front, engaged the rear: +Then fell the king, slain by a Zegry's hand. + +_K. Ferd._ How could he such united force withstand? + +_D. Arcos._ Discouraged with his death, the Moorish powers +Fell back, and, falling back, were pressed by ours; +But as, when winds and rain together crowd, +They swell till they have burst the bladdered cloud; +And first the lightning, flashing deadly clear, +Flies, falls, consumes, kills ere it does appear,-- +So from his shrinking troops, Almanzor flew, +Each blow gave wounds, and with each wound he slew: +His force at once I envied and admired, +And rushing forward, where my men retired, +Advanced alone. + +_K. Ferd._ You hazarded too far +Your person, and the fortune of the war. + +_D. Arcos._ Already both our arms for fight did bare, +Already held them threatening in the air, +When heaven (it must be heaven) my sight did guide +To view his arm, upon whose wrist I spied +A ruby cross in diamond bracelets tied; +And just above it, in the brawnier part, +By nature was engraved a bloody heart: +Struck with these tokens, which so well I knew, +And staggering back some paces, I withdrew: +He followed, and supposed it was my fear; +When, from above, a shrill voice reached his ear:-- +"Strike not thy father!"--it was heard to cry; +Amazed, and casting round his wondrous eye, +He stopped; then, thinking that his fears were vain, +He lifted up his thundering arm again: +Again the voice withheld him from my death; +"Spare, spare his life," it cried, "who gave thee breath!" +Once more he stopped; then threw his sword away; +"Blessed shade," he said, "I hear thee, I obey +Thy sacred voice;" then, in the sight of all, +He at my feet, I on his neck did fall. + +_K. Ferd._ O blessed event! + +_D. Arcos._ The Moors no longer fought; +But all their safety by submission sought: +Mean time my son grew faint with loss of blood, +And on his bending sword supported stood; +Yet, with a voice beyond his strength, he cried, +"Lead me to live or die by Almahide." + +_K. Ferd._ I am not for his wounds less grieved than you: +For, if what now my soul divines prove true, +This is that son, whom in his infancy +You lost, when by my father forced to fly. + +_D. Arcos._ His sister's beauty did my passion move, +(The crime for which I suffered was my love.) +Our marriage known, to sea we took our flight: +There, in a storm, Almanzor first saw light. +On his right arm a bloody heart was graved, +(The mark by which, this day, my life was saved:) +The bracelets and the cross his mother tied +About his wrist, ere she in childbed died. +How we were captives made, when she was dead, +And how Almanzor was in Afric bred, +Some other hour you may at leisure hear, +For see, the queen in triumph does appear. + + _Enter_ QUEEN ISABELLA, LYNDARAXA, _Ladies, Moors and Spaniards + mixed as Guards,_ ABDELMELECH, ABENAMAR, SELIN, _Prisoners._ + +_K. Ferd._ [_embracing Q. Isabel._] +All stories which Granada's conquest tell, +Shall celebrate the name of Isabel. +Your ladies too, who, in their country's cause, +Led on the men, shall share in your applause; +And, for your sakes, henceforward I ordain, +No lady's dower shall questioned be in Spain, +Fair Lyndaraxa, for the help she lent, +Shall, under tribute, have this government. + +_Abdelm._ O heaven, that I should live to see this day! + +_Lyndar._ You murmur now, but you shall soon obey. +I knew this empire to my fate was owed; +Heaven held it back as long as e'er it could; +For thee, base wretch, I want a torture yet-- [_To_ ABDELM. +I'll cage thee; thou shalt be my Bajazet. +I on no pavement but on thee will tread; +And, when I mount, my foot shall know thy head. + +_Abdelm._ (_Stabbing her with a poniard._) +This first shall know thy heart. + +_Lyndar._ O! I am slain! + +_Abdelm._ Now, boast thy country is betrayed to Spain. + +_K. Ferd._ Look to the lady!--Seize the murderer! + +_Abdelm._ (_Stabbing himself._) +I do myself that justice I did her. +Thy blood I to thy ruined country give, [_To_ LYNDAR. +But love too well thy murder to out-live. +Forgive a love, excused by its excess, +Which, had it not been cruel, had been less. +Condemn my passion, then, but pardon me, +And think I murdered him who murdered thee. [_Dies._ + +_Lyndar._ Die for us both; I have not leisure now; +A crown is come, and will not fate allow: +And yet I feel something like death is near, +My guards, my guards,-- +Let not that ugly skeleton appear! +Sure destiny mistakes; this death's not mine; +She dotes, and meant to cut another line. +Tell her I am a queen;--but 'tis too late; +Dying, I charge rebellion on my fate. +Bow down, ye slaves:-- [_To the Moors._ +Bow quickly down, and your submission show.-- [_They bow._ +I'm pleased to taste an empire ere I go. [_Dies._ + +_Selin._ She's dead, and here her proud ambition ends. + +_Aben._ Such fortune still such black designs attends. + +_K. Ferd._ Remove those mournful objects from our eyes, +And see performed their funeral obsequies. + [_The bodies are carried off._ + + _Enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ ALMAHIDE, OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA; ALMAHIDE + _brought in a chair;_ ALMANZOR _led betwixt Soldiers._ ISABELLA + _salutes_ ALMAHIDE _in dumb show._ + +_D. Arcos._ (_Presenting_ ALMANZOR _to the King._) +See here that son, whom I with pride call mine; +And who dishonours not your royal line. + +_K. Ferd._ I'm now secure, this sceptre, which I gain, +Shall be continued in the power of Spain; +Since he, who could alone my foes defend, +By birth and honour is become my friend; +Yet I can own no joy, nor conquest boast, [_To_ ALMANZ. +While in this blood I see how dear it cost. + +_Almanz._ This honour to my veins new blood will bring; +Streams cannot fail, fed by so high a spring. +But all court-customs I so little know, +That I may fail in those respects I owe. +I bring a heart which homage never knew; +Yet it finds something of itself in you: +Something so kingly, that my haughty mind +Is drawn to yours, because 'tis of a kind. + +_Q. Isabel._ And yet that soul, which bears itself so high, +If fame be true, admits a sovereignty. +This queen, in her fair eyes, such fetters brings, +As chain that heart, which scorns the power of kings. + +_Almah._ Little of charm in these sad eyes appears; +If they had any, now 'tis lost in tears. +A crown, and husband, ravished in one day!-- +Excuse a grief, I cannot choose but pay. + +_Q. Isabel._ Have courage, madam; heaven has joys in store, +To recompence those losses you deplore. + +_Almah._ I know your God can all my woes redress; +To him I made my vows in my distress: +And, what a misbeliever vowed this day, +Though not a queen, a Christian yet shall pay. + +_Q. Isabel._ (_Embracing her._) +That Christian name you shall receive from me, +And Isabella of Granada be. + +_Benz._ This blessed change we all with joy receive; +And beg to learn that faith which you believe. + +_Q. Isabel._ With reverence for those holy rites prepare; +And all commit your fortunes to my care. + +_K. Ferd._ to _Almah._ +You, madam, by that crown you lose, may gain, +If you accept, a coronet of Spain, +Of which Almanzor's father stands possest. + +_Q. Isabel._ to _Almah._ +May you in him, and he in you, be blest! + +_Almah._ I owe my life and honour to his sword; +But owe my love to my departed lord. + +_Almanz._ Thus, when I have no living force to dread, +Fate finds me enemies amongst the dead. +I'm now to conquer ghosts, and to destroy +The strong impressions of a bridal joy. + +_Almah._ You've yet a greater foe than these can be,-- +Virtue opposes you, and modesty. + +_Almanz._ From a false fear that modesty does grow, +And thinks true love, because 'tis fierce, its foe. +'Tis but the wax whose seals on virgins stay: +Let it approach love's fire, 'twill melt away:-- +But I have lived too long; I never knew, +When fate was conquered, I must combat you. +I thought to climb the steep ascent of love; +But did not think to find a foe above. +'Tis time to die, when you my bar must be, +Whose aid alone could give me victory; +Without, +I'll pull up all the sluices of the flood, +And love, within, shall boil out all my blood. + +_Q. Isabel._ Fear not your love should find so sad success, +While I have power to be your patroness. +I am her parent now, and may command +So much of duty as to give her hand. [_Gives him_ ALMAHIDE'S _hand._ + +_Almah._ Madam, I never can dispute your power, +Or as a parent, or a conqueror; +But, when my year of widowhood expires, +Shall yield to your command, and his desires. + +_Almanz._ Move swiftly, sun, and fly a lover's pace; +Leave weeks and months behind thee in thy race! + +_K. Ferd._ Mean time, you shall my victories pursue, +The Moors in woods and mountains to subdue. + +_Almanz._ The toils of war shall help to wear each day, +And dreams of love shall drive my nights away.-- +Our banners to the Alhambra's turrets bear; +Then, wave our conquering crosses in the air, +And cry, with shouts of triumph,--Live and reign, +Great Ferdinand and Isabel of Spain! [_Exeunt._ + + + EPILOGUE. + + They, who have best succeeded on the stage, + Have still conformed their genius to their age. + Thus Jonson did mechanic humour show, + When men were dull, and conversation low. + Then comedy was faultless, but 'twas coarse: + Cobb's tankard was a jest, and Otter's horse[1]. + And, as their comedy, their love was mean; + Except, by chance, in some one laboured scene, + Which must atone for an ill-written play. + They rose, but at their height could seldom stay. + Fame then was cheap, and the first comer sped; + And they have kept it since, by being dead. + But, were they now to write, when critics weigh + Each line, and every word, throughout a play, + None of them, no not Jonson in his height, + Could pass, without allowing grains for weight. + Think it not envy, that these truths are told; + Our poet's not malicious, though he's bold. + 'Tis not to brand them, that their faults are shown, + But, by their errors, to excuse his own. + If love and honour now are higher raised, + 'Tis not the poet, but the age is praised. + Wit's now arrived to a more high degree; + Our native language more refined and free. + Our ladies and our men now speak more wit + In conversation, than those poets writ. + Then, one of these is, consequently, true; + That what this poet writes comes short of you, + And imitates you ill (which most he fears), + Or else his writing is not worse than theirs. + Yet, though you judge (as sure the critics will), + That some before him writ with greater skill, + In this one praise he has their fame surpast, + To please an age more gallant than the last. + + +Footnote: +1. The characters alluded to are Cobb, the water bearer, in "Every Man + in his Humour;" and Captain Otter, in "Epicene, or the Silent + Woman," whose humour it was to christen his drinking cups by the + names of Horse, Bull, and Bear.] + + + + + DEFENCE + + OF + + THE EPILOGUE; + + OR, + + AN ESSAY ON THE DRAMATIC POETRY + OF THE LAST AGE. + + +The promises of authors, that they will write again, are, in effect, a +threatening of their readers with some new impertinence; and they, who +perform not what they promise, will have their pardon on easy terms. +It is from this consideration, that I could be glad to spare you the +trouble, which I am now giving you, of a postscript, if I were not +obliged, by many reasons, to write somewhat concerning our present +plays, and those of our predecessors on the English stage. The truth +is, I have so far engaged myself in a bold epilogue to this play, +wherein I have somewhat taxed the former writing, that it was +necessary for me either not to print it, or to show that I could +defend it. Yet I would so maintain my opinion of the present age, as +not to be wanting in my veneration for the past: I would ascribe to +dead authors their just praises in those things wherein they have +excelled us; and in those wherein we contend with them for the +pre-eminence, I would acknowledge our advantages to the age, and claim +no victory from our wit. This being what I have proposed to myself, I +hope I shall not be thought arrogant when I enquire into their errors: +For we live in an age so sceptical, that as it determines little, so +it takes nothing from antiquity on trust; and I profess to have no +other ambition in this essay, than that poetry may not go backward, +when all other arts and sciences are advancing. Whoever censures me +for this inquiry, let him hear his character from Horace: + + _Ingeniis non ille favet, plauditque sepultis, + Nostra sed impugnat; nos nostraque lividus odit._ + + He favours not dead wits, but hates the living. + +It was upbraided to that excellent poet, that he was an enemy to the +writings of his predecessor Lucilius, because he had said, _Lucilium +lutulentum fluere_, that he ran muddy; and that he ought to have +retrenched from his satires many unnecessary verses. But Horace makes +Lucilius himself to justify him from the imputation of envy, by +telling you that he would have done the same, had he lived in an age +which was more refined: + + _Si foret hoc nostrum fato delapsus in aevum, + Detereret sibi multa, recideret omne quod, ultra + Perfectum traheretur, &c._ + +And, both in the whole course of that satire, and in his most +admirable Epistle to Augustus, he makes it his business to prove, that +antiquity alone is no plea for the excellency of a poem; but that, one +age learning from another, the last (if we can suppose an equality of +wit in the writers,) has the advantage of knowing more and better than +the former And this, I think, is the state of the question in dispute. +It is therefore my part to make it clear, that the language, wit, and +conversation of our age, are improved and refined above the last; and +then it will not be difficult to infer, that our plays have received +some part of those advantages. + +In the first place, therefore, it will be necessary to state, in +general, what this refinement is, of which we treat; and that, I +think, will not be defined amiss, "An improvement of our Wit, Language +and Conversation; or, an alteration in them for the better." + +To begin with Language. That an alteration is lately made in ours, or +since the writers of the last age (in which I comprehend Shakespeare, +Fletcher, and Jonson), is manifest. Any man who reads those excellent +poets, and compares their language with what is now written, will see +it almost in every line; but that this is an improvement of the +language or an alteration for the better, will not so easily be +granted. For many are of a contrary opinion that the English tongue +was then in the height of its perfection; that from Jonson's time to +ours it has been in a continual declination, like that of the Romans +from the age of Virgil to Statius, and so downward to Claudian; of +which, not only Petronius, but Quintilian himself so much complains, +under the person of _Secundus_, in his famous dialogue _De Causis +corruptae Eloquentiae_. + +But, to shew that our language is improved, and that those people have +not a just value for the age in which they live, let us consider in +what the refinement of a language principally consists: that is, +"either in rejecting such old words, or phrases, which are ill +sounding, or improper; or in admitting new, which are more proper, +more sounding, and more significant." + +The reader will easily take notice, that when I speak of rejecting +improper words and phrases, I mention not such as are antiquated by +custom only and, as I may say, without any fault of theirs. For in +this case the refinement can be but accidental; that is, when the +words and phrases, which are rejected, happen to be improper. Neither +would I be understood, when I speak of impropriety of language, either +wholly to accuse the last age, or to excuse the present, and least of +all myself; for all writers have their imperfections and failings: but +I may safely conclude in the general, that our improprieties are less +frequent, and less gross than theirs. One testimony of this is +undeniable, that we are the first who have observed them; and, +certainly, to observe errors is a great step to the correcting of +them. But, malice and partiality set apart, let any man, who +understands English, read diligently the works of Shakespeare and +Fletcher, and I dare undertake, that he will find in every page either +some solecism of speech, or some notorious flaw in sense[1]; and yet +these men are reverenced, when we are not forgiven. That their wit is +great, and many times their expressions noble, envy itself cannot +deny. + + _--Neque ego illis detrahere ausim + Haerentem capiti multa cum laude coronam._ + +But the times were ignorant in which they lived. Poetry was then, if +not in its infancy among us, at least not arrived to its vigour and +maturity: Witness the lameness of their plots; many of which, +especially those which they writ first (for even that age refined +itself in some measure), were made up of some ridiculous incoherent +story, which in one play many times took up the business of an age. I +suppose I need not name "Pericles, Prince of Tyre," nor the historical +plays of Shakespeare: besides many of the rest, as the "Winter's +Tale," "Love's Labour Lost," "Measure for Measure," which were either +grounded on impossibilities, or at least so meanly written, that the +comedy neither caused your mirth, nor the serious part your +concernment[2]. If I would expatiate on this subject, I could easily +demonstrate, that our admired Fletcher, who wrote after him, neither +understood correct plotting, nor that which they call "the decorum of +the stage." I would not search in his worst plays for examples: He who +will consider his "Philaster," his "Humorous Lieutenant," his +"Faithful Shepherdess," and many others which I could name, will find +them much below the applause which is now given them. He will see +Philaster wounding his mistress, and afterwards his boy, to save +himself; not to mention the Clown, who enters immediately, and not +only has the advantage of the combat against the hero, but diverts you +from your serious concernment, with his ridiculous and absurd +raillery. In his "Humorous Lieutenant," you find his Demetrius and +Leontius staying in the midst of a routed army, to hear the cold mirth +of the Lieutenant; and Demetrius afterwards appearing with a pistol in +his hand, in the next age to Alexander the Great[3]. And for his +Shepherd, he falls twice into the former indecency of wounding women. +But these absurdities, which those poets committed, may more properly +be called the age's fault than theirs. For, besides the want of +education and learning, (which was their particular unhappiness) they +wanted the benefit of converse: But of that I shall speak hereafter, +in a place more proper for it. Their audiences knew no better; and +therefore were satisfied with what they brought. Those, who call +theirs the golden age of poetry, have only this reason for it, that +they were then content with acorns before they knew the use of bread; +or that [Greek: Alis druos] was become a proverb. They had many who +admired them, and few who blamed them; and certainly a severe critic +is the greatest help to a good wit: he does the office of a friend, +while he designs that of an enemy; and his malice keeps a poet within +those bounds, which the luxuriancy of his fancy would tempt him to +overleap. + +But it is not their plots which I meant principally to tax; I was +speaking of their sense and language; and I dare almost challenge any +man to shew me a page together which is correct in both. As for Ben +Jonson, I am loth to name him, because he is a most judicious writer; +yet he very often falls into these errors: and I once more beg the +reader's pardon for accusing him of them. Only let him consider, that +I live in an age where my least faults are severely censured; and that +I have no way left to extenuate my failings, but by showing as great +in those whom we admire: + + _Caedimus, inque vicem praebemus crura sagittis._ + +I cast my eyes but by chance on Catiline; and in the three or four +last pages, found enough to conclude that Jonson writ not correctly. + + --Let the long-hid seeds + Of treason, in thee, now shoot forth in deeds + Ranker than horror. + +In reading some bombast speeches of Macbeth, which are not to be +understood, he used to say that it was horror; and I am much afraid +that this is so. + + Thy parricide late on thy only son, + After his mother, to make empty way + For thy last wicked nuptials, worse than they + That blaze that act of thy incestuous life, + Which gained thee at once a daughter and a wife. + +The sense is here extremely perplexed; and I doubt the word _they_ is +false grammar. + + --And be free + Not heaven itself from thy impiety. + +A synchysis, or ill-placing of words, of which Tully so much complains +in oratory. + + The waves and dens of beasts could not receive + The bodies that those souls were frighted _from_. + +The preposition in the end of the sentence; a common fault with him, +and which I have but lately observed in my own writings. + + What all the several ills that visit earth, + Plague, famine, fire, could not reach _unto_, + The sword, nor surfeits, let thy fury do. + +Here are both the former faults: for, besides that the preposition +_unto_ is placed last in the verse, and at the half period, and is +redundant, there is the former synchysis in the words "the sword, nor +surfeits" which in construction ought to have been placed before the +other. + +Catiline says of Cethegus, that for his sake he would + + _Go on upon_ the gods, kiss lightning, wrest + The engine from the Cyclops, and _give fire + At face of a full cloud_, and stand _his ire_. + +To "go on upon," is only to go on twice[4]. To "give fire at face of a +full cloud," was not understood in his own time; "and stand _his +ire_," besides the antiquated word _ire_, there is the article _his_, +which makes false construction: and giving fire at the face of a +cloud, is a perfect image of shooting, however it came to be known in +those days to Catiline. + + --Others there are, + Whom envy to the state draws and pulls on, + For contumelies received; and such are sure _ones_. + +_Ones_, in the plural number: but that is frequent with him; for he +says, not long after, + + Caesar and Crassus, if they be ill men, + Are mighty _ones_. + Such men, _they_ do not succour more the cause, &c. + +_They_ redundant. + + Though heaven should speak with all _his_ wrath at once, + We should stand upright and _unfeared_. + +_His_ is ill syntax with _heaven_; and by _unfeared_ he means +_unafraid_: Words of a quite contrary signification. + +"The ports are open." He perpetually uses ports for gates; which is an +affected error in him, to introduce Latin by the loss of the English +idiom; as, in the translation of Tully's speeches, he usually does. + +Well-placing of words, for the sweetness of pronunciation was not +known till Mr Waller introduced it; and, therefore, it is not to be +wondered if Ben Jonson has many such lines as these: + +"But being bred up in his father's needy fortunes; brought up in's +sister's prostitution," &c. + +But meanness of expression one would think not to be his error in a +tragedy, which ought to be more high and sounding than any other kind +of poetry; and yet, amongst others in "Catiline," I find these four +lines together: + + So Asia, thou art cruelly even + With us, for all the blows thee given; + When we, whose virtues conquered thee, + Thus by thy vices ruined be. + +_Be_ there is false English for _are_; though the rhyme hides it. + +But I am willing to close the book, partly out of veneration to the +author, partly out of weariness to pursue an argument which is so +fruitful in so small a compass. And what correctness, after this, can +be expected from Shakespeare or from Fletcher, who wanted that +learning and care which Jonson had? I will, therefore, spare my own +trouble of enquiring into their faults; who, had they lived now, had +doubtless written more correctly. I suppose it will be enough for me +to affirm, (as I think I safely may) that these, and the like errors, +which I taxed in the most correct of the last age, are such into which +we do not ordinarily fall. I think few of our present writers would +have left behind them such a line as this: + + Contain your spirit in more stricter bounds. + +But that gross way of two comparatives was then ordinary; and, +therefore, more pardonable in Jonson. + +As for the other part of refining, which consists in receiving new +words and phrases, I shall not insist much on it. It is obvious that +we have admitted many, some of which we wanted, and therefore our +language is the richer for them, as it would be by importation of +bullion: Others are rather ornamental than necessary; yet, by their +admission, the language is become more courtly, and our thoughts are +better drest. These are to be found scattered in the writers of our +age, and it is not my business to collect them. They, who have lately +written with most care, have, I believe, taken the rule of Horace for +their guide; that is, not to be too hasty in receiving of words, but +rather stay till custom has made them familiar to us: + + _Quern penes arbitrium est, et jus, et norma loquendi._ + +For I cannot approve of their way of refining, who corrupt our English +idiom by mixing it too much with French: That is a sophistication of +language not an improvement of it; a turning English into French, +rather than a refining of English by French. We meet daily with those +fops, who value themselves on their travelling, and pretend they +cannot express their meaning in English, because they would put off to +us some French phrase of the last edition; without considering, that, +for aught they know, we have a better of our own. But these are not +the men who are to refine us; their talent is to prescribe fashions, +not words: at best, they are only serviceable to a writer, so as +Ennius was to Virgil. He may _aurum ex stercore colligere:_ For it is +hard if, amongst many insignificant phrases, there happen not +something worth preserving; though they themselves, like Indians, know +not the value of their own commodity. + +There is yet another way of improving language, which poets especially +have practised in all ages; that is, by applying received words to a +new signification; and this, I believe, is meant by Horace, in that +precept which is so variously construed by expositors: + + _Dixeris egregie, notum si callida verbum + Reddiderit junctura novum._ + +And, in this way, he himself had a particular happiness; using all the +tropes, and particular metaphors, with that grace which is observable +in his Odes, where the beauty of expression is often greater than that +of thought; as, in that one example, amongst an infinite number of +others, "_Et vultus nimium lubricus aspici._" + +And therefore, though he innovated a little, he may justly be called a +great refiner of the Roman tongue. This choice of words, and +heightening of their natural signification, was observed in him by the +writers of the following ages; for Petronius says of him, "_Et Horatii +curiosa felicitas._" By this graffing, as I may call it, on old words, +has our tongue been beautified by the three before-mentioned poets, +Shakespeare, Fletcher, and Jonson, whose excellencies I can never +enough admire; and in this they have been followed, especially by Sir +John Suckling and Mr Waller, who refined upon them. Neither have they, +who succeeded them, been wanting in their endeavours to adorn our +mother tongue: But it is not so lawful for me to praise my living +contemporaries, as to admire my dead predecessors. + +I should now speak of the refinement of Wit; but I have been so large +on the former subject, that I am forced to contract myself in this. I +will therefore only observe to you, that the wit of the last age was +yet more incorrect than their language. Shakespeare, who many times +has written better than any poet, in any language, is yet so far from +writing wit always, or expressing that wit according to the dignity of +the subject, that he writes, in many places, below the dullest writers +of ours, or any precedent age. Never did any author precipitate +himself from such height of thought to so low expressions, as he often +does. He is the very Janus of poets; he wears almost every where two +faces; and you have scarce begun to admire the one, ere you despise +the other. Neither is the luxuriance of Fletcher, which his friends +have taxed in him, a less fault than the carelessness of Shakespeare. +He does not well always; and, when he does, he is a true +Englishman,--he knows not when to give over. If he wakes in one scene, +he commonly slumbers in another; and, if he pleases you in the first +three acts, he is frequently so tired with his labour, that he goes +heavily in the fourth, and sinks under his burden in the fifth. + +For Ben Jonson, the most judicious of poets, he always writ properly, +and as the character required; and I will not contest farther with my +friends, who call that wit: it being very certain, that even folly +itself, well represented, is wit in a larger signification; and that +there is fancy, as well as judgment, in it, though not so much or +noble: because all poetry being imitation, that of folly is a lower +exercise of fancy, though perhaps as difficult as the other; for it is +a kind of looking downward in the poet, and representing that part of +mankind which is below him. + +In these low characters of vice and folly, lay the excellency of that +inimitable writer; who, when at any time he aimed at wit in the +stricter sense, that is, sharpness of conceit, was forced either to +borrow from the ancients, as to my knowledge he did very much from +Plautus; or, when he trusted himself alone, often fell into meanness +of expression. Nay, he was not free from the lowest and most groveling +kind of wit, which we call clenches, of which "Every Man in his +Humour" is infinitely full; and, which is worse, the wittiest persons +in the drama speak them. His other comedies are not exempt from them. +Will you give me leave to name some few? Asper, in which character he +personates himself, (and he neither was nor thought himself a fool) +exclaiming against the ignorant judges of the age, speaks thus: + + How monstrous and detested is't, to see + A fellow, that has neither art nor brain, + Sit like an _Aristarchus_, or _stark-ass_, + Taking men's lines, with a _tobacco face_, + In _snuff_, &c. + +And presently after: "I marvel whose wit 'twas to put a prologue in +yond Sackbut's mouth. They might well think he would be out of tune, +and yet you'd play upon him too."--Will you have another of the same +stamp? "O, I cannot abide these limbs of _sattin_, or rather _Satan_." + +But, it may be, you will object that this was Asper, Macilente, or +Carlo Buffone; you shall, therefore, hear him speak in his own person, +and that in the two last lines, or sting of an epigram. It is +inscribed to _Fine Grand_, who, he says, was indebted to him for many +things which he reckons there; and concludes thus: + + Forty things more, dear _Grand_, which you know true, + For which, or pay me quickly, or I'll pay you. + +This was then the mode of wit, the vice of the age, and not Ben +Jonson's; for you see, a little before him, that admirable wit, Sir +Philip Sidney, perpetually playing with his words. In his time, I +believe, it ascended first into the pulpit, where (if you will give me +leave to clench too) it yet finds the benefit of its clergy; for they +are commonly the first corrupters of eloquence, and the last reformed +from vicious oratory; as a famous Italian has observed before me, in +his Treatise of the Corruption of the Italian Tongue; which he +principally ascribes to priests and preaching friars. + +But, to conclude with what brevity I can, I will only add this, in +defence of our present writers, that, if they reach not some +excellencies of Ben Jonson, (which no age, I am confident, ever shall) +yet, at least, they are above that meanness of thought which I have +taxed, and which is frequent in him. + +That the wit of this age is much more courtly, may easily be proved, +by viewing the characters of gentlemen which were written in the last. +First, for Jonson:--True-wit, in the "Silent Woman," was his +master-piece; and Truewit was a scholar-like kind of man, a gentleman +with an allay of pedantry, a man who seems mortified to the world, by +much reading. The best of his discourse is drawn, not from the +knowledge of the town, but books; and, in short, he would be a fine +gentleman in an university. Shakespeare shewed the best of his skill +in his Mercutio; and he said himself, that he was forced to kill him +in the third act, to prevent being killed by him. But, for my part, I +cannot find he was so dangerous a person: I see nothing in him but +what was so exceeding harmless, that he might have lived to the end of +the play, and died in his bed, without offence to any man. + +Fletcher's Don John is our only bugbear; and yet I may affirm, without +suspicion of flattery, that he now speaks better, and that his +character is maintained with much more vigour in the fourth and fifth +acts, than it was by Fletcher in the three former. I have always +acknowledged the wit of our predecessors, with all the veneration +which becomes me; but, I am sure, their wit was not that of gentlemen; +there was ever somewhat that was ill-bred and clownish in it, and +which confessed the conversation of the authors. + +And this leads me to the last and greatest advantage of our writing, +which proceeds from conversation. In the age wherein those poets +lived, there was less of gallantry than in ours; neither did they keep +the best company of theirs. Their fortune has been much like that of +Epicurus, in the retirement of his gardens; to live almost unknown, +and to be celebrated after their decease. I cannot find that any of +them had been conversant in courts, except Ben Jonson; and his genius +lay not so much that way, as to make an improvement by it. Greatness +was not then so easy of access, nor conversation so free, as now it +is. I cannot, therefore, conceive it any insolence to affirm, that, by +the knowledge and pattern of their wit who writ before us, and by the +advantage of our own conversation, the discourse and raillery of our +comedies excel what has been written by them. And this will be denied +by none, but some few old fellows who value themselves on their +acquaintance with the Black Friars; who, because they saw their plays, +would pretend a right to judge ours. The memory of these grave +gentlemen is their only plea for being wits. They can tell a story of +Ben Jonson, and, perhaps, have had fancy enough to give a supper in +the Apollo, that they might be called his sons[5]: And, because they +were drawn in to be laughed at in those times, they think themselves +now sufficiently entitled to laugh at ours. Learning I never saw in +any of them; and wit no more than they could remember. In short, they +were unlucky to have been bred in an unpolished age, and more unlucky +to live to a refined one. They have lasted beyond their own, and are +cast behind ours; and, not contented to have known little at the age +of twenty, they boast of their ignorance at threescore. + +Now, if they ask me, whence it is that our conversation is so much +refined? I must freely, and without flattery, ascribe it to the court; +and, in it, particularly to the king, whose example gives a law to it. +His own misfortunes, and the nation's, afforded him an opportunity, +which is rarely allowed to sovereign princes, I mean of travelling, +and being conversant in the most polished courts of Europe; and, +thereby, of cultivating a spirit which was formed by nature to receive +the impressions of a gallant and generous education. At his return, he +found a nation lost as much in barbarism as in rebellion: And, as the +excellency of his nature forgave the one, so the excellency of his +manners reformed the other. The desire of imitating so great a pattern +first awakened the dull and heavy spirits of the English from their +natural reservedness; loosened them from their stiff forms of +conversation, and made them easy and pliant to each other in +discourse. Thus, insensibly, our way of living became more free; and +the fire of the English wit, which was before stifled under a +constrained, melancholy way of breeding, began first to display its +force, by mixing the solidity of our nation with the air and gaiety of +our neighbours[6]. This being granted to be true, it would be a wonder +if the poets, whose work is imitation, should be the only persons in +three kingdoms who should not receive advantage by it; or, if they +should not more easily imitate the wit and conversation of the present +age than of the past. + +Let us therefore admire the beauties and the heights of Shakespeare, +without falling after him into a carelessness, and, as I may call it, +a lethargy of thought, for whole scenes together. Let us imitate, as +we are able, the quickness and easiness of Fletcher, without proposing +him as a pattern to us, either in the redundancy of his matter, or the +incorrectness of his language. Let us admire his wit and sharpness of +conceit; but let us at the same time acknowledge, that it was seldom +so fixed, and made proper to his character, as that the same things +might not be spoken by any person in the play. Let us applaud his +scenes of love; but let us confess, that he understood not either +greatness or perfect honour in the parts of any of his women. In fine, +let us allow, that he had so much fancy, as when he pleased he could +write wit; but that he wanted so much judgment, as seldom to have +written humour, or described a pleasant folly. Let us ascribe to +Jonson, the height and accuracy of judgment in the ordering of his +plots, his choice of characters, and maintaining what he had chosen to +the end: But let us not think him a perfect pattern of imitation, +except it be in humour; for love, which is the foundation of all +comedies in other languages, is scarcely mentioned in any of his +plays: And for humour itself, the poets of this age will be more wary +than to imitate the meanness of his persons. Gentlemen will now be +entertained with the follies of each other; and, though they allow +Cobb and Tib to speak properly, yet they are not much pleased with +their tankard, or with their rags: And surely their conversation can +be no jest to them on the theatre, when they would avoid it in the +street. + +To conclude all, let us render to our predecessors what is their due, +without confining ourselves to a servile imitation of all they writ; +and, without assuming to ourselves the title of better poets, let us +ascribe to the gallantry and civility of our age the advantage which +we have above them, and, to our knowledge of the customs and manners +of it, the happiness we have to please beyond them. + + * * * * * + +The bold Epilogue, which is here defended with so much animation, and +the censure which it threw on the fathers of the stage, seems to have +given great offence. It is thus severely assailed by Rochester: + + But does not Dryden find even Jonson dull? + Beaumont and Fletcher incorrect, and full + Of lewd lines, as he calls them? Shakespeare's style + Stiff and affected? to his own, the while, + Allowing all the justice that his pride + So arrogantly had to these denied: + And may I not have leave impartially + To search and censure Dryden's works, and try + If those gross faults, his choice pen doth commit, + Proceed from want of judgment, or of wit? + Or if his lumpish fancy doth refuse + Spirit and grace to his loose slattern muse? + Five hundred verses, every morning writ, + Prove him no more a poet than a wit. + +It is a bold, perhaps a presumptuous task, to attempt to separate the +true from the false criticism in the foregoing essay; for who is +qualified to be umpire betwixt Shakespeare and Dryden? Nevertheless, +our knowledge of the manners of the respective ages which these +extraordinary men adorned, and the remoteness of our own from both, +may enable us, with impartiality at least, to sift the grounds of +Dryden's censure. The nature of the stage in the days of Shakespeare +has been ascertained, by the sedulous exertions of his commentators. A +variety of small theatres, all of them accessible to the lowest of the +people, poor and rude in all the arts of decoration, were dispersed +through London when Shakespeare and Jonson wrote for the stage. It was +a natural consequence, that the writings of these great men were +biassed by the taste of those, for whom they wrote; + + For those, who live to please, must please, to live. + +Art was not demanded; and when used by Jonson, he complains it was not +duly appreciated. Men of a middle rank were then probably worse +educated than our mere vulgar. But the good old time bore rough and +manly spirits, who came prepared with a tribute of tears and laughter, +to bursts of pathos, or effusions of humour, although incapable of +receiving the delights which a cultivated mind derives from the +gradual developement of a story, the just dependence of its parts upon +each other, the minute beauties of language, and the absence of every +thing incongruous or indecorous. Dryden, on the other hand, wrote for +a stage patronized by a monarch and his courtiers, who were professed +judges of dramatic composition; while the rigour of religious +prejudice, and perhaps a just abhorrence of the licentious turn of the +drama, banished from the theatres a great proportion of the middle +classes, always the most valuable part of an audience; because, with a +certain degree of cultivation, they unite an unhacknied energy of +feeling. Art, therefore, became, in the days of Dryden, not only a +requisite qualification, but even the principal attribute of the +dramatic poet. He was to address himself to the heads and judgments of +his audience, on the acuteness of which they piqued themselves; not to +their feelings, stupified, probably, by selfish dissipation. Even the +acquisition and exercise of critical knowledge tends to blunt the +sense of natural beauties, as a refined harmonist becomes indifferent +to the strains of simple melody. Hence the sacrifices which +Shakespeare made, without being aware, to the taste of his age, were +amply compensated by his being called upon, and, as it were, +compelled, by the nature of his audience, to rouse them with his +thunder, and to melt them with his dew. I question much if the age of +Charles II. would have borne the introduction of Othello or Falstaff. +We may find something like Dryden's self-complacent opinion expressed +by the editor of Corneille, where he civilly admits, "_Corneille etoit +inegal comme Shakespeare, et plein de genie comme lui: mais le genie +de Corneille etoit a celui de Shakespeare ce qu' un seigneur est a +l'egard d'un homme de peuple, ne avec le meme esprit que lui._" In +other words, the works of the one retain the rough, bold tints of +nature and originality, while those of the other are qualified by the +artificial restraints which fashion imposes upon the _homme de +condition_. It is, therefore, unjustly, that Dryden dwells so long on +Shakespeare's irregularities, amongst which I cannot help suspecting +he includes some of his greatest beauties. While we do not defend his +quibbles and carwitchets, as Bibber would have termed them, we may +rejoice that he purchased, at so slight a sacrifice, the power and +privilege of launching into every subject with a liberty as unbounded +as his genius; + + As there is music, uninformed by art, + In those wild notes, which, with a merry heart, + The birds in unfrequented shades express, + Which better taught at home, yet please us less. + + +Footnotes: +1. In mitigation of the censure which must be passed on our author for + this hasty and ill-considered judgment, let us remember the very + inaccurate manner in which Shakespeare's plays were printed in the + early editions. + +2. Mr Malone has judiciously remarked, that Dryden seems to have been + ignorant of the order in which Shakespeare wrote his plays; and + there will be charity in believing, that he was not intimately + acquainted with those he so summarily and unjustly censures. + +3. In these criticisms, we see the effects of the refinement which our + stage had now borrowed from the French. It is probable, that, in + the age of heroic plays, any degree of dulness, or extravagance, + would have been tolerated in the dialogue, rather than an offence + against the decorum of the scene. + +4. Jonson seems to have used it for to _go on against_. + +5. The Apollo was Ben Jonson's favourite club-room in the Devil + Tavern. The custom of adopting his admirers and imitators, by + bestowing upon them the title of Son, is often alluded to in his + works. In Dryden's time, the fashion had so far changed, that the + poetical progeny of old Ben seem to have incurred more ridicule + than honour by this ambitious distinction. Oldwit, in Shadwell's + play, called Bury Fair, is described as "a paltry old-fashioned wit + and punner of the last age, that pretends to have been one of Ben + Jonson's sons, and to have seen plays at the Blackfriars." + +6. This passage, though complimentary to Charles, contains much sober + truth: Having considerable taste for the Belles Lettres, he + cultivated them during his exile, and was naturally swayed by the + French rules of composition, particularly as applicable to the + Theatre. These he imported with him at his Restoration; and hence + arose the Heroic Drama, so much cultivated by our author. + + + * * * * * + + + MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE: + + A COMEDY. + + _--Quicquid sum ego, quamvis + Infra Lucili censum ingeniumque, tamen me + Cum magnis vixisse, invita fatebitur usque + Invidia, et fragili quaerens illidere dentem, + Offendet solido._ + HORAT. SERM. + + + + + MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE + + Marriage a-la-mode was one of Dryden's most successful comedies. A +venerable praiser of the past time, in a curious letter printed in the +Gentleman's Magazine for 1745, gives us this account of its first +representation. "This comedy, acted by his Majesty's servants at the +Theatre-Royal, made its first appearance with extraordinary lustre. +Divesting myself of the old man, I solemnly declare, that you have +seen no such acting, no, not in any degree since. The players were +then, 1673, on a court establishment, seventeen men, and eight women." +_Gent. Mag._ Vol. xv. p. 99. From a copy of verses, to which this +letter is annexed, we learn the excellence of the various performers +by whom the piece was first presented. They are addressed to a young +actress. + + Henceforth, in livelier characters excel, + Though 'tis great merit to act folly well; + Take, take from Dryden's hand Melantha's part, + The gaudy effort of luxuriant art, + In all imagination's glitter drest; + What from her lips fantastic Montfort caught, + And almost moved the thing the poet thought. + These scenes, the glory of a comic age, + (It decency could blanch each sullied page) + Peruse, admire, and give unto the stage; + Or thou, or beauteous Woffington, display + What Dryden's self, with pleasure, might survey. + Even he, before whose visionary eyes, + Melantha, robed in ever-varying dies, + Gay fancy's work, appears, actor renowned. + Like Roscius, with theatric laurels crowned, + Cibber will smile applause, and think again + Of Harte, and Mohun, and all the female train, + Coxe, Marshal, Dryden's Reeve, Bet Slade, and Charles's reign. + +Mrs Monfort, who, by her second marriage, became Mrs Verbruggen, was +the first who appeared in the highly popular part of Melantha, and the +action and character appear to have been held incomparable by that +unquestionable judge of the humour of a coquette, or coxcomb, the +illustrious Colley Cibber. "Melantha" says Cibber, "is as finished an +impertinent as ever fluttered in a drawing-room; and seems to contain +the most complete system of female foppery that could possibly be +crowded into the tortured form of a fine lady. Her language, dress, +motion, manners, soul, and body, are in a continual hurry to be +something more than is necessary or commendable. And, though I doubt +it will be a vain labour to offer you a just likeness of Mrs Monfort's +action, yet the fantastic expression is still so strong in my memory, +that I cannot help saying something, though fantastically, about it. +The first ridiculous airs, that break from her, are upon a gallant +never seen before, who delivers her a letter from her father, +recommending him to her good graces as an honourable lover. Here, now, +one would think she might naturally shew a little of the sex's decent +reserve, though never so slightly covered. No, sir, not a tittle of +it: Modesty is a poor-souled country gentlewoman; she is too much a +court lady to be under so vulgar a confusion. She reads the letter, +therefore, with a careless dropping lip, and an erected brow, humming +it hastily over, as if she were impatient to outgo her father's +commands, by making a complete conquest of him at once; and, that the +letter might not embarrass the attack, crack! she crumbles it at once +into her palm, and pours down upon him her whole artillery of airs, +eyes, and motion; down goes her dainty diving body to the ground, as +it she were sinking under the conscious load of her own attractions; +then launches into a flood of fine language and compliment, still +playing her chest forward in fifty falls and risings, like a swan upon +waving water; and, to complete her impertinence, she is so rapidly +fond of her own wit, that she will not give her lover leave to praise +it. Silent assenting bows, and vain endeavours to speak, are all the +share of the conversation he is admitted to, which, at last, he is +removed from by her engagement to half a score of visits, which she +swims from him to make, with a promise to return in a twinkling." +_Cibber's Apology_, p. 99. + +By this lively sketch, some judgment may be formed of the effect +produced by the character of Melantha, when ably represented; but, to +say the truth, we could hardly have drawn the same deduction from a +simple perusal of the piece. Of the French phrases, which the affected +lady throws into her conversation, some have been since naturalized, +as _good graces_, _minuet_, _chagrin_, _grimace_, _ridicule_, and +others. Little can be said of the tragic part of the drama. The sudden +turn of fortune in the conclusion is ridiculed in "The Rehearsal." + +The researches of Mr Malone have ascertained that "Marriage A-la-Mode" +was first acted in 1673, in an old theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, +occupied by the King's company, after that in Drury-Lane had been +burned, and during its re-building. The play was printed in the same +year. + + + + + TO + + THE RIGHT HONOURABLE + + THE + + EARL OF ROCHESTER[1]. + + +MY LORD, + +I humbly dedicate to your Lordship that poem, of which you were +pleased to appear an early patron, before it was acted on the stage. I +may yet go farther, with your permission, and say, that it received +amendment from your noble hands ere it was fit to be presented. You +may please likewise to remember, with how much favour to the author, +and indulgence to the play, you commended it to the view of his +Majesty, then at Windsor, and, by his approbation of it in writing, +made way for its kind reception on the theatre. In this dedication, +therefore, I may seem to imitate a custom of the ancients, who offered +to their gods the firstlings of the flock, (which, I think, they +called _Ver sacrum_) because they helped them to increase. I am sure, +if there be any thing in this play, wherein I have raised myself +beyond the ordinary lowness of my comedies, I ought wholly to +acknowledge it to the favour of being admitted into your lordship's +conversation. And not only I, who pretend not to this way, but the +best comic writers of our age, will join with me to acknowledge, that +they have copied the gallantries of courts, the delicacy of +expression, and the decencies of behaviour, from your lordship, with +more success, than if they had taken their models from the court of +France. But this, my lord, will be no wonder to the world, which knows +the excellency of your natural parts, and those you have acquired in a +noble education. That which, with more reason, I admire, is that being +so absolute a courtier, you have not forgot either the ties of +friendship, or the practice of generosity. In my little experience of +a court, (which, I confess, I desire not to improve) I have found in +it much of interest, and more of detraction: Few men there have that +assurance of a friend, as not to be made ridiculous by him when they +are absent. There are a middling sort of courtiers, who become happy +by their want of wit; but they supply that want by an excess of malice +to those who have it. And there is no such persecution as that of +fools: They can never be considerable enough to be talked of +themselves; so that they are safe only in their obscurity, and grow +mischievous to witty men, by the great diligence of their envy, and by +being always present to represent and aggravate their faults. In the +mean time, they are forced, when they endeavour to be pleasant, to +live on the offals of their wit whom they decry; and either to quote +it, (which they do unwillingly) or to pass it upon others for their +own. These are the men who make it their business to chace wit from +the knowledge of princes, lest it should disgrace their ignorance. And +this kind of malice your lordship has not so much avoided, as +surmounted. But if by the excellent temper of a royal master, always +more ready to hear good than ill; if by his inclination to love you; +if by your own merit and address; if by the charms of your +conversation, the grace of your behaviour, your knowledge of +greatness, and habitude in courts, you have been able to preserve +yourself with honour in the midst of so dangerous a course; yet at +least the remembrance of those hazards has inspired you with pity for +other men, who, being of an inferior wit and quality to you, are yet +persecuted, for being that in little, which your lordship is in +great[2]. For the quarrel of those people extends itself to any thing +of sense; and if I may be so vain to own it, amongst the rest of the +poets, has sometimes reached to the very borders of it, even to me. So +that, if our general good fortune had not raised up your lordship to +defend us, I know not whether any thing had been more ridiculous in +court than writers. It is to your lordship's favour we generally owe +our protection and patronage; and to the nobleness of your nature, +which will not suffer the least shadow of your wit to be contemned in +other men. You have been often pleased, not only to excuse my +imperfections, but to vindicate what was tolerable in my writings from +their censures; and, what I never can forget, you have not only been +careful of my reputation, but of my fortune. You have been solicitous +to supply my neglect of myself; and to overcome the fatal modesty of +poets, which submits them to perpetual wants, rather than to become +importunate with those people who have the liberality of kings in +their disposing, and who, dishonouring the bounty of their master, +suffer such to be in necessity who endeavour at least to please him; +and for whose entertainment he has generously provided, if the fruits +of his royal favour were not often stopped in other hands. But your +lordship has given me occasion, not to complain of courts whilst you +are there. I have found the effects of your mediation in all my +concernments; and they were so much the more noble in you, because +they were wholly voluntary. I, became your lordship's, (if I may +venture on the similitude) as the world was made, without knowing him +who made it; and brought only a passive obedience to be your creature. +This nobleness of yours I think myself the rather obliged to own, +because otherwise it must have been lost to all remembrance: For you +are endowed with that excellent quality of a frank nature, to forget +the good which you have done. + +But, my lord, I ought to have considered, that you are as great a +judge, as you are a patron; and that in praising you ill, I should +incur a higher note of ingratitude, than that I thought to have +avoided. I stand in need of all your accustomed goodness for the +dedication of this play; which, though perhaps it be the best of my +comedies, is yet so faulty, that I should have feared you for my +critic, if I had not, with some policy, given you the trouble of being +my protector. Wit seems to have lodged itself more nobly in this age, +than in any of the former; and people of my mean condition are only +writers, because some of the nobility, and your lordship in the first +place, are above the narrow praises which poesy could give you. But, +let those who love to see themselves exceeded, encourage your lordship +in so dangerous a quality; for my own part, I must confess, that I +have so much of self-interest, as to be content with reading some +papers of your verses, without desiring you should proceed to a scene, +or play; with the common prudence of those who are worsted in a duel, +and declare they are satisfied, when they are first wounded. Your +lordship has but another step to make, and from the patron of wit, you +may become its tyrant; and oppress our little reputations with more +ease than you now protect them. But these, my lord, are designs, which +I am sure you harbour not, any more than the French king is contriving +the conquest of the Swissers. It is a barren triumph, which is not +worth your pains; and would only rank him amongst your slaves, who is +already, + + MY LORD, + + Your Lordship's most obedient, + And most faithful servant, + JOHN DRYDEN. + + +Footnotes: +1. The patron, whom Dryden here addresses, was the famous John Wilmot, + Earl of Rochester, the wittiest, perhaps, and most dissolute, among + the witty and dissolute courtiers of Charles II. It is somewhat + remarkable, and may be considered as a just judgment upon the poet, + that he was, a few years afterwards, way-laid and severely beaten + by bravoes, whom Lord Rochester employed to revenge the share which + Dryden is supposed to have had in the Essay on Satire. The reader + is referred to the life of the author for the particulars of this + occurrence, which is here recalled to his recollection, as a + striking illustration of the inutility, as well as meanness, of ill + applied praise; since even the eulogy of Dryden, however liberally + bestowed and beautifully expressed, failed to save him from the + most unmanly treatment at the hands of the worthless and heartless + object, on whom it was wasted. It is melancholy to see Dryden, as + may be fairly inferred from his motto, piqueing himself on being + admitted into the society of such men as Rochester, and enjoying + their precarious favour. Mr Malone has remarked, that even in the + course of the year 1673, when this dedication came forth, Rochester + entertained the perverse ambition of directing the public favour, + not according to merit, but to his own caprice. Accordingly, he + countenanced Settle in his impudent rivalry of Dryden, and wrote a + prologue to the "Empress of Morocco," when it was exhibited at + Whitehall. Perhaps, joined to a certain envy of Dryden's talents, + the poet's intimacy with Sheffield Earl of Mulgrave gave offence to + Rochester. It is certain they were never afterwards reconciled; and + even after Rochester's death, Dryden only mentions his once valued + patron, as "a man of quality whose ashes he will not + disturb."--_Essay on the Origin and Progress of Satire_, prefixed + to Juvenal. It would seem, however, that this dedication was very + favourably received by Rochester, since a letter of Dryden's to + that nobleman is still extant, in which he acknowledges a + flattering return of compliment from his Lordship in exchange for + it. + +2. When this play was acted for the first time in 1673. But about + 1675, Rochester contrived to give such offence as even the + excellent temper of his royal master was unable to digest. This was + by writing a lampoon called "The Insipids," in which the person and + character of Charles are treated with most merciless and irreverent + severity. It begins thus: + + Chaste, pious, prudent, Charles the Second, + The miracle of thy Restoration + May like to that of quails be reckoned, + Rained on the Israelitish nation; + The wished-for blessing, from heaven sent, + Became their curse and punishment. + + For this satiric effusion the author was banished from the court. + + + + + PROLOGUE. + + + Lord, how reformed and quiet are we grown, + Since all our braves and all our wits are gone! + Fop-corner now is free from civil war, + White-wig and vizard make no longer jar. + France, and the fleet, have swept the town so clear, + That we can act in peace, and you can hear. + 'Twas a sad sight, before they marched from home, + To see our warriors in red waistcoats come, + With hair tucked up, into our tireing-room. + But 'twas more sad to hear their last adieu: + The women sobbed, and swore they would be true; + And so they were, as long as e'er they could, + But powerful guinea cannot be withstood, + And they were made of play-house flesh and blood. + Fate did their friends for double use ordain; + In wars abroad they grinning honour gain, + And mistresses, for all that stay, maintain. + Now they are gone, 'tis dead vacation here, + For neither friends nor enemies appear. + Poor pensive punk now peeps ere plays begin, + Sees the bare bench, and dares not venture in; + But manages her last half-crown with care, + And trudges to the Mall, on foot, for air. + Our city friends so far will hardly come, + They can take up with pleasures nearer home; + And see gay shows, and gaudy scenes elsewhere; + For we presume they seldom come to hear. + But they have now ta'en up a glorious trade, + And cutting Morecraft[1] struts in masquerade. + There's all our hope, for we shall shew to-day + A masking ball, to recommend our play; + Nay, to endear them more, and let them see + We scorn to come behind in courtesy, + We'll follow the new mode which they begin, + And treat them with a room, and couch within: + For that's one way, howe'er the play fall short, + To oblige the town, the city, and the court. + + +Footnote: +1. In the conclusion of Beaumont and Fletcher's play of "The Scornful + Lady," Morecraft, an usurer, turns a cutter, or, as we now say, a + buck. Dryden seems to allude to Ravenscroft's play of "The Citizen + turned Gentleman," a transmigration somewhat resembling that of + cutting Morecraft. This play was now acting by the Duke's company + in Dorset Gardens, which, from its situation, says Mr Malone, was + much frequented by citizens, as here insinuated. + + + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + + POLYDAMAS, _Usurper of Sicily._ + LEONIDAS, _the rightful Prince, unknown._ + ARGALEON, _favourite to_ POLYDAMAS. + HERMOGENES, _foster-father to_ LEONIDAS. + EUBULUS, _his friend and companion._ + RHODOPHIL, _captain of the guards._ + PALAMEDE, _a courtier._ + + PALMYRA, _daughter to the Usurper._ + AMALTHEA, _sister to_ ARGALEON. + DORALICE, _wife to_ RHODOPHIL. + MELANTHA, _an affected lady._ + PHILOTIS, _woman to_ MELANTHA. + BELIZA, _woman to_ DORALICE. + ARTEMIS, _a court lady._ + +SCENE,--_Sicily._ + + + + + MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE. + + +ACT I. + +SCENE I.--_Walks near the Court._ + + _Enter_ DORALICE _and_ BELIZA. + +_Dor._ Beliza, bring the lute into this arbour; the walks are empty: I +would try the song the princess Amalthea bade me learn. + [_They go in, and sing._ + + I. + + _Why should a foolish marriage vow, + Which long ago was made, + Oblige us to each other now, + When passion is decayed? + We loved, and we loved, as long as we could, + 'Till our love was loved out in us both; + But our marriage is dead, when the pleasure is fled: + 'Twas pleasure first made it an oath._ + + II. + + _If I have pleasures for a friend, + And further love in store, + What wrong has he, whose joys did end, + And who could give no more?_ + _'Tis a madness that he + Should be jealous of me, + Or that I should bar him of another: + For all we can gain, + Is to give ourselves pain, + When neither can hinder the other._ + + _Enter_ PALAMEDE, _in a riding-habit, and hears the Song. Re-enter_ + DORALICE _and_ BELIZA. + +_Bel._ Madam, a stranger. + +_Dor._ I did not think to have had witnesses of my bad singing. + +_Pala._ If I have erred, madam, I hope you'll pardon the curiosity of +a stranger; for I may well call myself so, after five years absence +from the court: but you have freed me from one error. + +_Dor._ What's that, I beseech you? + +_Pala._ I thought good voices, and ill faces, had been inseparable; +and that to be fair, and sing well, had been only the privilege of +angels. + +_Dor._ And how many more of these fine things can you say to me? + +_Pala._ Very few, madam; for if I should continue to see you some +hours longer, you look so killingly that I should be mute with wonder. + +_Dor._ This will not give you the reputation of a wit with me. You +travelling monsieurs live upon the stock you have got abroad, for the +first day or two: to repeat with a good memory, and apply with a good +grace, is all your wit; and, commonly, your gullets are sewed up, like +cormorants. When you have regorged what you have taken in, you are the +leanest things in nature. + +_Pala._ Then, madam, I think you had best make that use of me; let me +wait on you for two or three days together, and you shall hear all I +have learnt of extraordinary in other countries; and one thing which I +never saw 'till I came home, that is, a lady of a better voice, better +face, and better wit, than any I have seen abroad. And, after this, if +I should not declare myself most passionately in love with you, I +should have less wit than yet you think I have. + +_Dor._ A very plain, and pithy declaration. I see, sir, you have been +travelling in Spain or Italy, or some of the hot countries, where men +come to the point immediately. But are you sure these are not words of +course? For I would not give my poor heart an occasion of complaint +against me, that I engaged it too rashly, and then could not bring it +off. + +_Pala._ Your heart may trust itself with me safely; I shall use it +very civilly while it stays, and never turn it away, without fair +warning to provide for itself. + +_Dor._ First, then, I do receive your passion with as little +consideration, on my part, as ever you gave it me, on yours. And now, +see what a miserable wretch you have made yourself! + +_Pala._ Who, I miserable? Thank you for that. Give me love enough, and +life enough, and I defy Fortune. + +_Dor._ Know, then, thou man of vain imagination, know, to thy utter +confusion, that I am virtuous. + +_Pala._ Such another word, and I give up the ghost. + +_Dor._ Then, to strike you quite dead, know that I am married too. + +_Pala._ Art thou married? O thou damnable virtuous woman! + +_Dor._ Yes, married to a gentleman; young, handsome rich, valiant, and +with all the good qualities that will make you despair, and hang +yourself. + +_Pala._ Well, in spite of all that, I'll love you: Fortune has cut us +out for one another; for I am to be married within these three days; +married, past redemption to a young, fair, rich, and virtuous lady; +and it shall go hard but I will love my wife as little, as, I +perceive, you do your husband. + +_Dor._ Remember, I invade no propriety: my servant you are, only 'till +you are married. + +_Pala._ In the meantime, you are to forget you have a husband. + +_Dor._ And you, that you are to have a wife. + +_Bel._ [_aside, to her Lady._] O madam, my lord's just at the end of +the walks! and, if you make not haste, will discover you. + +_Dor._ Some other time, new servant, we'll talk further of the +premises; in the mean while, break not my first commandment, that is, +not to follow me. + +_Pala._ But where, then, shall I find you again? + +_Dor._ At court. Yours, for two days, sir. + +_Pala._ And nights, I beseech you, madam. + [_Exeunt_ DORALICE _and_ BELIZ. + +_Pala._ Well, I'll say that for thee, thou art a very dexterous +executioner; thou hast done my business at one stroke: yet I must +marry another--and yet I must love this; and if it lead me into some +little inconveniencies, as jealousies, and duels, and death, and so +forth--yet, while sweet love is in the case, Fortune, do thy worst, +and avaunt, mortality! + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL, _who seems speaking to one within._ + +_Rho._ Leave 'em with my lieutenant, while I fetch new orders from the +king.--How? Palamede! [_Sees_ PALAMEDE. + +_Pala._ Rhodophil! + +_Rho._ Who thought to have seen you in Sicily? + +_Pala._ Who thought to have found the court so far from Syracuse? + +_Rho._ The king best knows the reason of the progress. But, answer me, +I beseech you, what brought you home from travel? + +_Pala._ The commands of an old rich father. + +_Rho._ And the hopes of burying him? + +_Pala._ Both together, as you see, have prevailed on my good nature. +In few words, my old man has already married me; for he has agreed +with another old man, as rich and as covetous as himself; the articles +are drawn, and I have given my consent, for fear of being +disinherited; and yet know not what kind of woman I am to marry. + +_Rho._ Sure your father intends you some very ugly wife, and has a +mind to keep you in ignorance till you have shot the gulf. + +_Pala._ I know not that; but obey I will, and must. + +_Rho._ Then I cannot chuse but grieve for all the good girls and +courtezans of France and Italy. They have lost the most kind-hearted, +doting, prodigal humble servant, in Europe. + +_Pala._ All I could do, in these three years I staid behind you, was +to comfort the poor creatures for the loss of you. But what's the +reason that, in all this time, a friend could never hear from you? + +_Rho._ Alas, dear Palamede! I have had no joy to write, nor indeed to +do any thing in the world to please me. The greatest misfortune +imaginable is fallen upon me. + +_Pala._ Pr'ythee, what's the matter? + +_Rho._ In one word, I am married: wretchedly married; and have been +above these two years. Yes, faith, the devil has had power over me, in +spite of my vows and resolutions to the contrary. + +_Pala._ I find you have sold yourself for filthy lucre; she's old, or +ill conditioned. + +_Rho._ No; none of these: I'm sure she's young; and, for her humour, +she laughs, sings, and dances eternally; and, which is more, we never +quarrel about it, for I do the same. + +_Pala._ You're very unfortunate indeed: then the case is plain, she is +not handsome. + +_Rho._ A great beauty too, as people say. + +_Pala._ As people say? why, you should know that best yourself. + +_Rho._ Ask those, who have smelt to a strong perfume two years +together, what's the scent. + +_Pala._ But here are good qualities enough for one woman. + +_Rho._ Ay, too many, Palamede. If I could put them into three or four +women, I should be content. + +_Pala._ O, now I have found it! you dislike her for no other reason +but because she's your wife. + +_Rho._ And is not that enough? All that I know of her perfections now, +is only by memory. I remember indeed, that about two years ago I loved +her passionately; but those golden days are gone, Palamede: Yet I +loved her a whole half year, double the natural term of any mistress; +and I think, in my conscience, I could have held out another quarter, +but then the world began to laugh at me, and a certain shame, of being +out of fashion, seized me. At last, we arrived at that point, that +there was nothing left in us to make us new to one another. Yet still +I set a good face upon the matter, and am infinite fond of her before +company; but when we are alone, we walk like lions in a room; she one +way, and I another. And we lie with our backs to each other, so far +distant, as if the fashion of great beds was only invented to keep +husband and wife sufficiently asunder. + +_Pala._ The truth is, your disease is very desperate; but, though you +cannot be cured you may be patched up a little: you must get you a +mistress, Rhodophil. That, indeed, is living upon cordials; but, as +fast as one fails, you must supply it with another. You're like a +gamester who has lost his estate; yet, in doing that, you have learned +the advantages of play, and can arrive to live upon't. + +_Rho._ Truth is, I have been thinking on't, and have just resolved to +take your counsel; and, faith, considering the damned disadvantages of +a married man, I have provided well enough, for a poor humble sinner, +that is not ambitious of great matters. + +_Pala._ What is she, for a woman? + +_Rho._ One of the stars of Syracuse, I assure you: Young enough, fair +enough; and, but for one quality, just such a woman as I could wish. + +_Pala._ O friend, this is not an age to be critical in beauty. When we +had good store of handsome women, and but few chapmen, you might have +been more curious in your choice; but now the price is enhanced upon +us, and all mankind set up for mistresses, so that poor little +creatures, without beauty, birth, or breeding, but only impudence, go +off at unreasonable rates: And a man, in these hard times, snaps at +them, as he does at broad gold; never examines the weight, but takes +light or heavy, as he can get it. + +_Rho._ But my mistress has one fault, that's almost unpardonable; for, +being a town-lady, without any relation to the court, yet she thinks +herself undone if she be not seen there three or four times a day with +the princess Amalthea. And, for the king, she haunts and watches him +so narrowly in a morning, that she prevents even the chemists, who +beset his chamber, to turn their mercury into his gold. + +_Pala._ Yet, hitherto, methinks, you are no very unhappy man. + +_Rho._ With all this, she's the greatest gossip in nature; for, +besides the court, she's the most eternal visitor of the town; and yet +manages her time so well, that she seems ubiquitary. For my part, I +can compare her to nothing but the sun; for, like him, she takes no +rest, nor ever sets in one place, but to rise in another. + +_Pala._ I confess, she had need be handsome, with these qualities. + +_Rho._ No lady can be so curious of a new fashion, as she is of a new +French word: she's the very mint of the nation; and as fast as any +bullion comes out of France, coins it immediately into our language. + +_Pala._ And her name is-- + +_Rho._ No naming; that's not like a cavalier: Find her, if you can, by +my description; and I am not so ill a painter that I need write the +name beneath the picture. + +_Pala._ Well, then, how far have you proceeded in your love? + +_Rho._ 'Tis yet in the bud, and what fruit it may bear I cannot tell; +for this insufferable humour, of haunting the court, is so +predominant, that she has hitherto broken all her assignations with +me, for fear of missing her visits there. + +_Pala._ That's the hardest part of your adventure. But, for aught I +see, fortune has used us both alike: I have a strange kind of mistress +too in court, besides her I am to marry. + +_Rho._ You have made haste to be in love, then; for, if I am not +mistaken, you are but this day arrived. + +_Pala._ That's all one: I have seen the lady already, who has charmed +me; seen her in these walks, courted her, and received, for the first +time, an answer that does not put me into despair. + + _To them_ ARGALEON, AMALTHEA, _and_ ARTEMIS. + +I'll tell you more at leisure my adventures. The walks fill apace, I +see. Stay, is not that the young lord Argaleon, the king's favourite? + +_Rho._ Yes, and as proud as ever, as ambitious, and as revengeful. + +_Pala._ How keeps he the king's favour with these qualities? + +_Rho._ Argaleon's father helped him to the crown: besides, he gilds +over all his vices to the king, and, standing in the dark to him, sees +all his inclinations, interests, and humours, which he so times and +soothes, that, in effect, he reigns. + +_Pala._ His sister Amalthea, who, I guess, stands by him, seems not to +be of his temper. + +_Rho._ O, she's all goodness and generosity. + +_Arga._ Rhodophil, the king expects you earnestly. + +_Rho._ 'Tis done, my lord, what he commanded: I only waited his return +from hunting. Shall I attend your lordship to him? + +_Arga._ No; I go first another way. [_Exit hastily._ + +_Pala._ He seems in haste, and discomposed. + +_Amal._ [_to_ RHOD. _after a short whisper._] Your friend? then he +must needs be of much merit. + +_Rho._ When he has kissed the king's hand, I know he'll beg the honour +to kiss yours. Come, Palamede. + [_Exeunt_ RHODO. _and_ PALA. _bowing to_ AMAL. + +_Arte._ Madam, you tell me most surprising news. + +_Amal._ The fear of it, you see, +Has discomposed my brother; but to me, +All, that can bring my country good, is welcome. + +_Arte._ It seems incredible, that this old king, +Whom all the world thought childless, +Should come to search the farthest parts of Sicily, +In hope to find an heir. + +_Amal._ To lessen your astonishment, I will +Unfold some private passages of state, +Of which you are yet ignorant: Know, first, +That this Polydamus, who reigns, unjustly +Gained the crown. + +_Arte._ Somewhat of this I have confusedly heard. + +_Amal._ I'll tell you all in brief: Theagenes, +Our last great king, +Had, by his queen, one only son, an infant +Of three years old, called, after him, Theagenes. +The general, this Polydamus, then married; +The public feasts for which were scarcely past, +When a rebellion in the heart of Sicily +Called out the king to arms. + +_Arte._ Polydamus +Had then a just excuse to stay behind. + +_Amal._ His temper was too warlike to accept it. +He left his bride, and the new joys of marriage, +And followed to the field. In short, they fought, +The rebels were o'ercome; but in the fight +The too bold king received a mortal wound. +When he perceived his end approaching near, +He called the general, to whose care he left +His widow queen, and orphan son; then died. + +_Arte._ Then false Polydamus betrayed his trust? + +_Amal._ He did; and, with my father's help,--for which +Heaven pardon him!--so gained their soldiers' hearts, +That, in a few days, he was saluted king: +And when his crimes had impudence enough +To bear the eye of day, +He marched his army back to Syracuse. +But see how heaven can punish wicked men, +In granting their desires: The news was brought him, +That day he was to enter it, that Eubulus, +Whom his dead master had left governor, +Was fled, and with him bore away the queen, +And royal orphan; but, what more amazed him, +His wife, now big with child, and much detesting +Her husband's practices, had willingly +Accompanied their flight. + +_Arte._ How I admire her virtue! + +_Amal._ What became +Of her, and them, since that, was never known; +Only, some few days since, a famous robber +Was taken with some jewels of vast price, +Which, when they were delivered to the king, +He knew had been his wife's; with these, a letter, +Much torn and sullied, but which yet he knew +To be her writing. + +_Arte._ Sure, from hence he learned +He had a son? + +_Amal._ It was not left so plain: +The paper only said, she died in child-bed; +But when it should have mentioned son or daughter, +Just there it was torn off. + +_Arte._ Madam, the king. + + _To them_ POLYDAMUS, ARGALEON, _Guard and Attendants._ + +_Arga._ The robber, though thrice racked, confessed no more. +But that he took those jewels near this place. + +_Poly._ But yet the circumstances strongly argue, +That those, for whom I search, are not far off. + +_Arga._ I cannot easily believe it. + +_Arte._ No, +You would not have it so. [_Aside._ + +_Poly._ Those, I employed, have in the neighbouring hamlet, +Amongst the fishers' cabins, made discovery +Of some young persons, whose uncommon beauty, +And graceful carriage, make it seem suspicious +They are not what they seem: I therefore sent +The captain of my guards, this morning early, +With orders to secure and bring them to me. + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL _and_ PALAMEDE. + +O, here he is.--Have you performed my will? + +_Rho._ Sir, those, whom you commanded me to bring, +Are waiting in the walks. + +_Poly._ Conduct them hither. + +_Rho._ First, give me leave +To beg your notice of this gentleman. + +_Poly._ He seems to merit it. His name and quality? + +_Rho._ Palamede, son to lord Cleodemus of Palermo, +And new returned from travel. + [PALAMEDE _approaches, and kneels to kiss the + Kings hand._ + +_Poly._ You are welcome. +I knew your father well, he was both brave +And honest; we two once were fellow soldiers +In the last civil wars. + +_Pala._ I bring the same unquestion'd honesty +And zeal to serve your majesty; the courage +You were pleased to praise in him, +Your royal prudence, and your people's love, +Will never give me leave to try, like him, +In civil wars; I hope it may in foreign. + +_Poly._ Attend the court, and it shall be my care +To find out some employment, worthy you. +Go, Rhodophil, and bring in those without. [_Exeunt_ RHO. _and_ PALA. + + RHODOPHIL _returns again immediately, and with him enter_ + HERMOGENES, LEONIDAS, _and_ PALMYRA. + +Behold two miracles! [_Looking earnestly on_ LEON. _and_ PALMYRA. +Of different sexes, but of equal form: +So matchless both, that my divided soul +Can scarcely ask the gods a son or daughter, +For fear of losing one. If from your hands, +You powers, I shall this day receive a daughter, +Argaleon, she is yours; but, if a son, +Then Amalthea's love shall make him happy. + +_Arga._ Grant, heaven, this admirable nymph may prove +That issue, which he seeks! + +_Amal._ Venus Urania, if thou art a goddess, +Grant that sweet youth may prove the prince of Sicily! + +_Poly._ Tell me, old man, and tell me true, from whence [_To_ HERM. +Had you that youth and maid? + +_Her._ From whence you had +Your sceptre, sir: I had them from the gods. + +_Poly._ The gods then have not such another gift. +Say who their parents were. + +_Her._ My wife, and I. + +_Arga._ It is not likely, a virgin, of so excellent a beauty, +Should come from such a stock. + +_Amal._ Much less, that such a youth, so sweet, so graceful, +Should be produced from peasants. + +_Her._ Why, nature is the same in villages, +And much more fit to form a noble issue, +Where it is least corrupted. + +_Poly._ He talks too like a man that knew the world, +To have been long a peasant. But the rack +Will teach him other language. Hence with him! + [_As the Guards are carrying him away, his peruke + falls off._ +Sure I have seen that face before. Hermogenes! +'Tis he, 'tis he, who fled away with Eubulus, +And with my dear Eudoxia. + +_Her._ Yes, sir, I am Hermogenes; +And if to have been loyal be a crime, +I stand prepared to suffer. + +_Poly._ If thou would'st live, speak quickly, +What is become of my Eudoxia? +Where is the queen and young Theagenes? +Where Eubulus? and which of these is mine? + [_Pointing to_ LEON. _and_ PALM. + +_Her._ Eudoxia is dead, so is the queen, +The infant king, her son, and Eubulus. + +_Poly._ Traitor, 'tis false: Produce them, or-- + +_Her._ Once more +I tell you, they are dead; but leave to threaten, +For you shall know no further. + +_Poly._ Then prove indulgent to my hopes, and be +My friend for ever. Tell me, good Hermogenes, +Whose son is that brave youth? + +_Her._ Sir, he is yours. + +_Poly._ Fool that I am! thou see'st that so I wish it, +And so thou flatter'st me. + +_Her._ By all that's holy! + +_Poly._ Again. Thou canst not swear too deeply.-- +Yet hold, I will believe thee:--Yet I doubt. + +_Her._ You need not, sir. + +_Arga._ Believe him not; he sees you credulous, +And would impose his own base issue on you, +And fix it to your crown. + +_Amal._ Behold his goodly shape and feature, sir; +Methinks he much resembles you. + +_Arga._ I say, if you have any issue here, +It must be that fair creature; +By all my hopes I think so. + +_Amal._ Yes, brother, I believe you by your hopes, +For they are all for her. + +_Poly._ Call the youth nearer. + +_Her._ Leonidas, the king would speak with you. + +_Poly._ Come near, and be not dazzled with the splendour, +And greatness of a court. + +_Leon._ I need not this encouragement; +I can fear nothing but the gods. +And, for this glory, after I have seen +The canopy of state spread wide above +In the abyss of heaven, the court of stars, +The blushing morning, and the rising sun, +What greater can I see? + +_Poly._ This speaks thee born a prince; thou art, thyself, + [_Embracing him._ +That rising sun, and shalt not see, on earth, +A brighter than thyself. All of you witness, +That for my son I here receive this youth, +This brave, this--but I must not praise him further, +Because he now is mine. + +_Leon._ I wo'not, sir, believe [_Kneeling._ +That I am made your sport; +For I find nothing in myself, but what +Is much above a scorn. I dare give credit +To whatsoe'er a king, like you, can tell me. +Either I am, or will deserve to be, your son. + +_Arga._ I yet maintain it is impossible +This young man should be yours; for, if he were, +Why should Hermogenes so long conceal him, +When he might gain so much by his discovery? + +_Her._ I staid a while to make him worthy, sir, +Of you. [_To the King._ +But in that time I found +Somewhat within him, which so moved my love, +I never could resolve to part with him. + +_Leon._ You ask too many questions, and are [_To_ ARGA. +Too saucy for a subject. + +_Arga._ You rather over-act your part, and are +Too soon a prince. + +_Leon._ Too soon you'll find me one. + +_Poly._ Enough, Argaleon! +I have declared him mine; and you, Leonidas, +Live well with him I love. + +_Arga._ Sir, if he be your son, I may have leave +To think your queen had twins. Look on this virgin; +Hermogenes would enviously deprive you +Of half your treasure. + +_Her._ Sir, she is my daughter. +I could, perhaps, thus aided by this lord, +Prefer her to be yours; but truth forbid +I should procure her greatness by a lie! + +_Poly._ Come hither, beauteous maid: Are you not sorry +Your father will not let you pass for mine? + +_Palm._ I am content to be what heaven has made me. + +_Poly._ Could you not wish yourself a princess then? + +_Palm._ Not to be sister to Leonidas. + +_Poly._ Why, my sweet maid? + +_Palm._ Indeed I cannot tell; +But I could be content to be his handmaid. + +_Arga._ I wish I had not seen her. [_Aside._ + +_Palm._ I must weep for your good fortune; [_To_ LEON. +Pray, pardon me, indeed I cannot help it. +Leonidas,--alas! I had forgot, +Now I must call you prince,--but must I leave you? + +_Leon._ I dare not speak to her; for, if I should, +I must weep too. [_Aside._ + +_Poly._ No, you shall live at court, sweet innocence, +And see him there. Hermogenes, +Though you intended not to make me happy, +Yet you shall be rewarded for the event. +Come, my Leonidas, let's thank the gods; +Thou for a father, I for such a son. + [_Exeunt all but_ LEON. _and_ PALM. + +_Leon._ My dear Palmyra, many eyes observe me, +And I have thoughts so tender, that I cannot +In public speak them to you: Some hours hence, +I shall shake off these crowds of fawning courtiers, +And then-- [_Exit_ LEON. + +_Palm._ Fly swift, you hours! you measure time for me in vain, +'Till you bring back Leonidas again. +Be shorter now; and, to redeem that wrong, +When he and I are met, be twice as long! [_Exit._ + + +ACT II. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ MELANTHA _and_ PHILOTIS. + +_Phil._ Count Rhodophil's a fine gentleman indeed, madam; and, I +think, deserves your affection. + +_Mel._ Let me die but he's a fine man; he sings and dances _en +Francois_, and writes the _billets doux_ to a miracle. + +_Phil._ And those are no small talents, to a lady that understands, +and values the French air, as your ladyship does. + +_Mel._ How charming is the French air! and what an _etourdi bete_ is +one of our untravelled islanders! When he would make his court to me, +let me die but he is just AEsop's ass, that would imitate the courtly +French in his addresses; but, instead of those, comes pawing upon me, +and doing all things so _mal a droitly_. + +_Phil._ 'Tis great pity Rhodophil's a married man, that you may not +have an honourable intrigue with him. + +_Mel._ Intrigue, Philotis! that's an old phrase; I have laid that word +by; amour sounds better. But thou art heir to all my cast words, as +thou art to my old wardrobe. Oh, count Rhodophil! Ah _mon cher_! I +could live and die with him. + + _Enter_ PALAMEDE, _and a Servant._ + +_Serv._ Sir, this is my lady. + +_Pala._ Then this is she that is to be divine, and nymph, and goddess, +and with whom I am to be desperately in love. + [_Bows to her, delivering a letter._ +This letter, madam, which I present you from your father, has given me +both the happy opportunity, and the boldness, to kiss the fairest +hands in Sicily. + +_Mel._ Came you lately from Palermo, sir? + +_Pala._ But yesterday, madam. + +_Mel._ [Reading the letter.] _Daughter, receive the bearer of this +letter, as a gentleman whom I have chosen to make you happy._ [O +Venus, a new servant sent me! and let me die but he has the air of a +_gallant homme_!] _His father is the rich lord Cleodemus, our +neighbour: I suppose you'll find nothing disagreeable in his person or +his converse; both which he has improved by travel. The treaty is +already concluded, and I shall be in town within these three days; so +that you have nothing to do but to obey your careful father._ + +[_To_ PALA.] Sir, my father, for whom I have a blind obedience, has +commanded me to receive your passionate addresses; but you must also +give me leave to avow, that I cannot merit them from so accomplished a +cavalier. + +_Pala._ I want many things, madam, to render me accomplished; and the +first and greatest of them is your favour. + +_Mel._ Let me die, Philotis, but this is extremely French; but yet +Count Rhodophil--a gentleman, sir, that understands the _grand monde_ +so well, who has haunted the best conversations, and who, in short, +has voyaged, may pretend to the good graces of a lady. + +_Pala._ [_Aside._] Hey-day! _Grand monde! Conversation! voyaged!_ and +_good graces!_ I find my mistress is one of those that run mad in new +French words. + +_Mel._ I suppose, sir, you have made the tour of France; and, having +seen all that's fine there, will make a considerable reformation in +the rudeness of our court: For let me die, but an unfashioned, +untravelled, mere Sicilian, is a _bete_; and has nothing in the world +of an _honnete homme_. + +_Pala._ I must confess, madam, that-- + +_Mel._ And what new minuets have you brought over with you? their +minuets are to a miracle! and our Sicilian jiggs are so dull and sad +to them! + +_Pala._ For minuets, madam-- + +_Mel._ And what new plays are there in vogue? And who danced best in +the last grand ballet? Come, sweet servant, you shall tell me all. + +_Pala._ [_aside._] Tell her all? Why, she asks all, and will hear +nothing.--To answer in order, madam, to your demands-- + +_Mel._ I am thinking what a happy couple we shall be! For you shall +keep up your correspondence abroad, and every thing that's new writ, +in France, and fine, I mean all that's delicate, and _bien tourne_, we +will have first. + +_Pala._ But, madam, our fortune-- + +_Mel._ I understand you, sir; you'll leave that to me: For the +_menage_ of a family, I know it better than any lady in Sicily. + +_Pala._ Alas, madam, we-- + +_Mel._ Then, we will never make visits together, nor see a play, but +always apart; you shall be every day at the king's levee, and I at the +queen's; and we will never meet, but in the drawing-room. + +_Phil._ Madam, the new prince is just passed by the end of the walk. + +_Mel._ The new prince, sayest thou? Adieu, dear servant; I have not +made my court to him these two long hours. O, it is the sweetest +prince! so _obligeant_, _charmant_, _ravissant_, that--Well, I'll make +haste to kiss his hands, and then make half a score visits more, and +be with you again in a twinkling. [_Exit running, with_ PHIL. + +_Pala._ [_solus._] Now heaven, of thy mercy, bless me from this +tongue! it may keep the field against a whole army of lawyers, and +that in their own language, French gibberish. It is true, in the +day-time, it is tolerable, when a man has field room to run from it; +but to be shut up in a bed with her, like two cocks in a pit, humanity +cannot support it. I must kiss all night in my own defence, and hold +her down, like a boy at cuffs, and give her the rising blow every time +she begins to speak. + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL. + +But here comes Rhodophil. It is pretty odd that my mistress should so +much resemble his: The same newsmonger, the same passionate lover of a +court, the same--But, Basta, since I must marry her. I'll say nothing, +because he shall not laugh at my misfortune. + +_Rho._ Well, Palamede, how go the affairs of love? You have seen your +mistress? + +_Pala._ I have so. + +_Rho._ And how, and how? has the old Cupid, your father, chosen well +for you? is he a good woodman? + +_Pala._ She's much handsomer than I could have imagined: In short, I +love her, and will marry her. + +_Rho._ Then you are quite off from your other mistress? + +_Pala._ You are mistaken; I intend to love them both, as a reasonable +man ought to do: For, since all women have their faults and +imperfections, it is fit that one of them should help out the other. + +_Rho._ This were a blessed doctrine, indeed, if our wives would hear +it; but they are their own enemies: If they would suffer us but now +and then to make excursions, the benefit of our variety would be +theirs; instead of one continued, lazy, tired love, they would, in +their turns, have twenty vigorous, fresh, and active lovers. + +_Pala._ And I would ask any of them, whether a poor narrow brook, half +dry the best part of the year, and running ever one way, be to be +compared to a lusty stream, that has ebbs and flows? + +_Rho._ Ay, or is half so profitable for navigation? + + _Enter_ DORALICE, _walking by, and reading._ + +_Pala._ Ods my life, Rhodophil, will you keep my counsel? + +_Rho._ Yes: Where's the secret? + +_Pala._ There it is: [_Shewing_ DOR.] I may tell you, as my friend, +_sub sigillo_, &c. this is that very lady, with whom I am in love. + +_Rho._ By all that's virtuous, my wife! [_Aside._ + +_Pala._ You look strangely: How do you like her? Is she not very +handsome? + +_Rho._ Sure he abuses me. [_Aside._]--Why the devil do you ask my +judgment? + +_Pala._ You are so dogged now, you think no man's mistress handsome +but your own. Come, you shall hear her talk too; she has wit, I assure +you. + +_Rho._ This is too much, Palamede. [_Going back._ + +_Pala._ Pr'ythee do not hang back so: Of an old tried lover, thou art +the most bashful fellow! [_Pulling him forward._ + +_Dor._ Were you so near, and would not speak, dear husband? + [_Looking up._ + +_Pala._ Husband, quoth a! I have cut out a fine piece of work for +myself. [_Aside._ + +_Rho._ Pray, spouse, how long have you been acquainted with this +gentleman? + +_Dor._ Who? I acquainted with this stranger? To my best knowledge, I +never saw him before. + + _Enter_ MELANTHA _at the other end._ + +_Pala._ Thanks, fortune, thou hast helped me. [_Aside._ + +_Rho._ Palamede, this must not pass so. I must know your mistress a +little better. + +_Pala._ It shall be your own fault else. Come, I'll introduce you. + +_Rho._ Introduce me! where? + +_Pala._ There. To my mistress. + [_Pointing to_ MELANTHA, _who swiftly passes + over the stage._ + +_Rho._ Who? Melantha! O heavens, I did not see her. + +_Pala._ But I did: I am an eagle where I love; I have seen her this +half hour. + +_Dor._ [_Aside._] I find he has wit, he has got off so readily; but it +would anger me, if he should love Melantha. + +_Rho._ [_Aside._] Now, I could even wish it were my wife he loved; I +find he's to be married to my mistress. + +_Pala._ Shall I run after, and fetch her back again, to present you to +her? + +_Rho._ No, you need not; I have the honour to have some small +acquaintance with her. + +_Pala._ [_Aside._] O Jupiter! what a blockhead was I, not to find it +out! my wife, that must be, is his mistress. I did a little suspect it +before. Well, I must marry her, because she's handsome, and because I +hate to be disinherited by a younger brother, which I am sure I shall +be, if I disobey; and yet I must keep in with Rhodophil, because I +love his wife.--[_To_ RHO.] I must desire you to make my excuse to +your lady, if I have been so unfortunate to cause any mistake; and, +withal, to beg the honour of being known to her. + +_Rho._ O, that is but reason.--Hark you, spouse, pray look upon this +gentleman as my friend; whom, to my knowledge, you have never seen +before this hour. + +_Dor._ I am so obedient a wife, sir, that my husband's commands shall +ever be a law to me. + + _Enter_ MELANTHA _again, hastily, and runs to embrace_ DORALICE. + +_Mel._ O, my dear, I was just going to pay my devoirs to you; I had +not time this morning, for making my court to the king, and our new +prince. Well, never nation was so happy, and all that, in a young +prince; and he is the kindest person in the world to me, let me die if +he is not. + +_Dor._ He has been bred up far from court, and therefore-- + +_Mel._ That imports not: Though he has not seen the _grand monde_, and +all that, let me die but he has the air of the court most absolutely. + +_Pala._ But yet, madam, he-- + +_Mel._ O, servant, you can testify that I am in his good graces. Well, +I cannot stay long with you, because I have promised him this +afternoon to--But hark you, my dear, I'll tell you a secret. + [_Whispers to_ DOR. + +_Rho._ The devil's in me, that I must love this woman. [_Aside._ + +_Pala._ The devil's in me, that I must marry this woman. [_Aside._ + +_Mel._ [_Raising her voice._] So the prince and I--But you must make a +secret of this, my dear; for I would not for the world your husband +should hear it, or my tyrant, there, that must be. + +_Pala._ Well, fair impertinent, your whisper is not lost, we hear you. + [_Aside._ + +_Dor._ I understand then, that-- + +_Mel._ I'll tell you, my dear, the prince took me by the hand, and +pressed it _a la derobbee_, because the king was near, made the _doux +yeux_ to me, and, _ensuite_, said a thousand gallantries, or let me +die, my dear. + +_Dor._ Then I am sure you-- + +_Mel._ You are mistaken, my dear. + +_Dor._ What, before I speak? + +_Mel._ But I know your meaning. You think, my dear, that I assumed +something of _fierte_ into my countenance, to _rebute_, him; but, +quite contrary, I regarded him,--I know not how to express it in our +dull Sicilian language,--_d'un air enjouee_; and said nothing but _ad +autre, ad autre,_ and that it was all _grimace_, and would not pass +upon me. + + _Enter_ ARTEMIS: MELANTHA _sees her, and runs away from_ DORALICE. + +[_To_ ARTEMIS.] My dear, I must beg your pardon, I was just making a +loose from Doralice, to pay my respects to you. Let me die, if I ever +pass time so agreeably as in your company, and if I would leave it for +any lady's in Sicily. + +_Arte._ The princess Amalthea is coming this way. + + _Enter_ AMALTHEA: MELANTHA _runs to her._ + +_Mel._ O, dear madam! I have been at your lodging in my new _galeche_, +so often, to tell you of a new amour, betwixt two persons whom you +would little suspect for it, that, let me die if one of my +coach-horses be not dead, and another quite tired, and sunk under the +fatigue. + +_Amal._ O, Melantha, I can tell you news; the prince is coming this +way. + +_Mel._ The prince? O sweet prince! He and I are to--and I forgot it.-- +Your pardon, sweet madam, for my abruptness.--Adieu, my dear +servant,--Rhodophil.--Servant, servant, servant all. [_Exit running._ + +_Amal._ Rhodophil, a word with you. [_Whispers._ + +_Dor._ [_To PALA._] Why do you not follow your mistress, sir? + +_Pala._ Follow her? Why, at this rate she'll be at the Indies within +this half hour. + +_Dor._ However, if you cannot follow her all day, you will meet her at +night, I hope? + +_Pala._ But can you, in charity, suffer me to be so mortified, without +affording me some relief? If it be but to punish that sign of a +husband there, that lazy matrimony, that dull insipid taste, who +leaves such delicious fare at home, to dine abroad on worse meat, and +pay dear for it into the bargain. + +_Dor._ All this is in vain: Assure yourself, I will never admit of any +visit from you in private. + +_Pala._ That is to tell me, in other words, my condition is desperate. + +_Dor._ I think you in so ill a condition, that I am resolved to pray +for you, this very evening, in the close walk behind the terrace; for +that's a private place, and there I am sure nobody will disturb my +devotions. And so, good-night, sir. [_Exit._ + +_Pala._ This is the newest way of making an appointment I ever heard +of. Let women alone to contrive the means; I find we are but dunces to +them. Well, I will not be so prophane a wretch as to interrupt her +devotions; but, to make them more effectual, I'll down upon my knees, +and endeavour to join my own with them. [_Exit._ + +_Amal._ [_To_ RHO.] I know already they do not love each other; and +that my brother acts but a forced obedience to the king's commands; so +that if a quarrel should arise betwixt the prince and him, I were most +miserable on both sides. + +_Rho._ There shall be nothing wanting in me, madam, to prevent so sad +a consequence. + + _Enter the King and_ LEONIDAS; _the King whispers_ AMALTHEA. + +[_To himself._] I begin to hate this Palamede, because he is to marry +my mistress: Yet break with him I dare not, for fear of being quite +excluded from her company. It is a hard case, when a man must go by +his rival to his mistress: But it is, at worst, but using him like a +pair of heavy boots in a dirty journey; after I have fouled him all +day, I'll throw him off at night. [_Exit._ + +_Amal._ [_To the King._] This honour is too great for me to hope. + +_Poly._ You shall this hour have the assurance of it.-- +Leonidas, come hither; you have heard, +I doubt not, that the father of this princess +Was my most faithful friend, while I was yet +A private man; and when I did assume +This crown, he served me in the high attempt. +You see, then, to what gratitude obliges me; +Make your addresses to her. + +_Leon._ Sir, I am yet too young to be a courtier; +I should too much betray my ignorance, +And want of breeding to so fair a lady. + +_Amal._ Your language speaks you not bred up in desarts, +But in the softness of some Asian court, +Where luxury and ease invent kind words, +To cozen tender virgins of their hearts. + +_Poly._ You need not doubt, +But in what words soe'er a prince can offer +His crown and person, they will be received. +You know my pleasure, and you know your duty. + +_Leon._ Yes, sir, I shall obey, in what I can. + +_Poly._ In what you can, Leonidas? Consider, +He's both your king, and father, who commands you. +Besides, what is there hard in my injunction? + +_Leon._ 'Tis hard to have my inclination forced. +I would not marry, sir; and, when I do, +I hope you'll give me freedom in my choice. + +_Poly._ View well this lady, +Whose mind as much transcends her beauteous face, +As that excels all others. + +_Amal._ My beauty, as it ne'er could merit love, +So neither can it beg: And, sir, you may +Believe, that what the king has offered you, +I should refuse, did I not value more +Your person than your crown. + +_Leon._ Think it not pride, +Or my new fortunes swell me to contemn you; +Think less, that I want eyes to see your beauty; +And, least of all, think duty wanting in me +To obey a father's will: But-- + +_Poly._ But what, Leonidas? +For I must know your reason; and be sure +It be convincing too. + +_Leon._ Sir, ask the stars, +Which have imposed love on us, like a fate, +Why minds are bent to one, and fly another? +Ask, why all beauties cannot move all hearts? +For though there may +Be made a rule for colour, or for feature, +There can be none for liking. + +_Poly._ Leonidas, you owe me more +Than to oppose your liking to my pleasure. + +_Leon._ I owe you all things, sir; but something, too, +I owe myself. + +_Poly._ You shall dispute no more; I am a king, +And I will be obeyed. + +_Leon._ You are a king, sir, but you are no god; +Or, if you were, you could not force my will. + +_Poly._ [_Aside._] But you are just, ye gods; O you are just, +In punishing the crimes of my rebellion +With a rebellious son! +Yet I can punish him, as you do me.-- +Leonidas, there is no jesting with +My will: I ne'er had done so much to gain +A crown, but to be absolute in all things. + +_Amal._ O, sir, be not so much a king, as to +Forget you are a father: Soft indulgence +Becomes that name. Tho' nature gives you power +To bind his duty, 'tis with silken bonds: +Command him, then, as you command yourself; +He is as much a part of you, as are +Your appetite and will, and those you force not, +But gently bend, and make them pliant to your reason. + +_Poly._ It may be I have used too rough a way.-- +Forgive me, my Leonidas; I know +I lie as open to the gusts of passion, +As the bare shore to every, beating surge: +I will not force thee now; but I entreat thee, +Absolve a father's vow to this fair virgin; +A vow, which hopes of having such a son +First caused. + +_Leon._ Show not my disobedience by your prayers; +For I must still deny you, though I now +Appear more guilty to myself than you: +I have some reasons, which I cannot utter, +That force my disobedience; yet I mourn +To death, that the first thing, you e'er enjoined me, +Should be that only one command in nature, +Which I could not obey. + +_Poly._ I did descend too much below myself, +When I entreated him.--Hence, to thy desart! +Thou'rt not my son, or art not fit to be. + +_Amal._ Great sir, I humbly beg you, make not me [_Kneeling._ +The cause of your displeasure. I absolve +Your vow; far from me be such designs; +So wretched a desire of being great, +By making him unhappy. You may see +Something so noble in the prince's nature, +As grieves him more, not to obey, than you, +That you are not obeyed. + +_Poly._ Then, for your sake, +I'll give him one day longer to consider, +Not to deny; for my resolves are firm +As fate, that cannot change. [_Exeunt King and_ AMAL. + +_Leon._ And so are mine. +This beauteous princess, charming as she is, +Could never make me happy: I must first +Be false to my Palmyra, and then wretched. +But, then, a father's anger! +Suppose he should recede from his own vow, +He never would permit me to keep mine. + + _Enter_ PALMYRA; ARGALEON _following her, a little after._ + +See, she appears! +I'll think no more of any thing, but her. +Yet I have one good hour ere I am wretched. +But, oh! Argaleon follows her! so night +Treads on the footsteps of a winter's sun, +And stalks all black behind him. + +_Palm._ O, Leonidas, +For I must call you still by that dear name, +Free me from this bad man. + +_Leon._ I hope he dares not be injurious to you. + +_Arga._ I rather was injurious to myself, +Than her. + +_Leon._ That must be judged, when I hear what you said. + +_Arga._ I think you need not give yourself that trouble: +It concerned us alone. + +_Leon._ You answer saucily, and indirectly: +What interest can you pretend in her? + +_Arga._ It may be, sir, I made her some expressions +Which I would not repeat, because they were +Below my rank, to one of hers. + +_Leon._ What did he say, Palmyra? + +_Palm._ I'll tell you all: First, he began to look, +And then he sighed, and then he looked again; +At last, he said, my eyes wounded his heart: +And, after that, he talked of flames and fires, +And such strange words, that I believed he conjured. + +_Leon._ O my heart!--Leave me, Argaleon. + +_Arga._ Come, sweet Palmyra, +I will instruct you better in my meaning: +You see he would be private. + +_Leon._ Go yourself, +And leave her here. + +_Arga._ Alas, she's ignorant, +And is not fit to entertain a prince. + +_Leon._ First learn what's fit for you; that's to obey. + +_Arga._ I know my duty is to wait on you. +A great king's son, like you, ought to forget +Such mean converse. + +_Leon._ What? a disputing subject? +Hence, or my sword shall do me justice on thee. + +_Arga._ Yet I may find a time-- [_Going._ + +_Leon._ What's that you mutter, [_Going after him._ +To find a time?-- + +_Arga._ To wait on you again-- +In the mean while I'll watch you. [_Softly._ + [_Exit, and watches during the scene._ + +_Leon._ How precious are the hours of love in courts! +In cottages, where love has all the day, +Full, and at ease, he throws it half away. +Time gives himself, and is not valued, there; +But sells at mighty rates, each minute, here: +There, he is lazy, unemployed, and slow; +Here, he's more swift; and yet has more to do. +So many of his hours in public move, +That few are left for privacy and love. + +_Palm._ The sun, methinks, shines faint and dimly, here; +Light is not half so long, nor half so clear: +But, oh! when every day was yours and mine, +How early up! what haste he made to shine! + +_Leon._ Such golden days no prince must hope to see, +Whose every subject is more blessed than he. + +_Palm._ Do you remember, when their tasks were done, +How all the youth did to our cottage run? +While winter-winds were whistling loud without, +Our cheerful hearth was circled round about: +With strokes in ashes, maids their lovers drew; +And still you fell to me, and I to you. + +_Leon._ When love did of my heart possession take, +I was so young, my soul was scarce awake: +I cannot tell when first I thought you fair; +But sucked in love, insensibly as air. + +_Palm._ I know too well when, first my love began, +When at our wake you for the chaplet ran: +Then I was made the lady of the May, +And, with the garland, at the goal did stay: +Still, as you ran, I kept you full in view; +I hoped, and wished, and ran, methought, for you. +As you came near, I hastily did rise, +And stretched my arm outright, that held the prize. +The custom was to kiss whom I should crown; +You kneeled, and in my lap your head laid down: +I blushed, and blushed, and did the kiss delay; +At last my subjects forced me to obey: +But, when I gave the crown, and then the kiss, +I scarce had breath to say, Take that,--and this. + +_Leon._ I felt, the while, a pleasing kind of smart; +That kiss went, tingling, to my very heart. +When it was gone, the sense of it did stay; +The sweetness clinged upon my lips all day, +Like drops of honey, loth to fall away. + +_Palm._ Life, like a prodigal, gave all his store +To my first youth, and now can give no more. +You are a prince; and, in that high degree, +No longer must converse with humble me. + +_Leon._ 'Twas to my loss the gods that title gave; +A tyrant's son is doubly born a slave: +He gives a crown; but, to prevent my life +From being happy, loads it with a wife. + +_Palm._ Speak quickly; what have you resolved to do? + +_Leon._ To keep my faith inviolate to you. +He threatens me with exile, and with shame, +To lose my birthright, and a prince's name; +But there's a blessing which he did not mean, +To send me back to love and you again. + +_Palm._ Why was not I a princess for your sake? +But heaven no more such miracles can make: +And, since that cannot, this must never be; +You shall not lose a crown for love of me. +Live happy, and a nobler choice pursue; +I shall complain of fate, but not of you. + +_Leon._ Can you so easily without me live? +Or could you take the counsel, which you give? +Were you a princess, would you not be true? + +_Palm._ I would; but cannot merit it from you. + +_Leon._ Did you not merit, as you do, my heart, +Love gives esteem, and then it gives desert. +But if I basely could forget my vow, +Poor helpless innocence, what would you do? + +_Palm._ In woods, and plains, where first my love began, +There would I live, retired from faithless man: +I'd sit all day within some lonely shade, +Or that close arbour which your hands have made: +I'd search the groves, and every tree, to find +Where you had carved our names upon the rind: +Your hook, your scrip, all that was yours, I'd keep, +And lay them by me when I went to sleep. +Thus would I live: And maidens, when I die, +Upon my hearse white true-love-knots should tie; +And thus my tomb should be inscribed above, +_Here the forsaken Virgin rests from love._ + +_Leon._ Think not that time or fate shall e'er divide +Those hearts, which love and mutual vows have tied. +But we must part; farewell, my love. + +_Palm._ Till when? + +_Leon._ Till the next age of hours we meet again. +Meantime, we may, +When near each other we in public stand, +Contrive to catch a look, or steal a hand: +Fancy will every touch and glance improve; +And draw the most spirituous parts of love. +Our souls sit close, and silently within, +And their own web from their own entrails spin; +And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, +That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT III. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL, _meeting_ DORALICE _and_ ARTEMIS; RHODOPHIL _and_ + DORALICE _embrace._ + +_Rho._ My own dear heart! + +_Dor._ My own true love! [_She starts back._] I had forgot myself to +be so kind; indeed, I am very angry with you, dear; you are come home +an hour after you appointed: if you had staid a minute longer, I was +just considering whether I should stab, hang, or drown myself. + [_Embracing him._ + +_Rho._ Nothing but the king's business could have hindered me; and I +was so vexed, that I was just laying down my commission, rather than +have failed my dear. [_Kisses her hand._ + +_Arte._ Why, this is love as it should be betwixt man and wife: such +another couple would bring marriage into fashion again. But is it +always thus betwixt you? + +_Rho._ Always thus! this is nothing. I tell you, there is not such a +pair of turtles in Sicily; there is such an eternal cooing and kissing +betwixt us, that indeed it is scandalous before civil company. + +_Dor._ Well, if I had imagined I should have been this fond fool, I +would never have married the man I loved: I married to be happy, and +have made myself miserable by over-loving. Nay, and now my case is +desperate; for I have been married above these two years, and find +myself every day worse and worse in love: nothing but madness can be +the end on't. + +_Arte._ Doat on, to the extremity, and you are happy. + +_Dor._ He deserves so infinitely much, that, the truth is, there can +be no doating in the matter; but, to love well, I confess, is a work +that pays itself: 'Tis telling gold, and, after, taking it for one's +pains. + +_Rho._ By that I should be a very covetous person; for I am ever +pulling out my money, and putting it into my pocket again. + +_Dor._ O dear Rhodophil! + +_Rho._ O sweet Doralice! [_Embracing each other._ + +_Arte._ [_Aside._] Nay, I am resolved, I'll never interrupt lovers: +I'll leave them as happy as I found them. [_Steals away._ + +_Rho._ What, is she gone? [_Looking up._ + +_Dor._ Yes; and without taking leave. + +_Rho._ Then there's enough for this time. [_Parting from her._ + +_Dor._ Yes, sure, the scene is done, I take it. + + _They walk contrary ways on the stage; he, with his hands in his + pockets, whistling; she singing a dull melancholy tune._ + +_Rho._ Pox o'your dull tune, a man can't think for you. + +_Dor._ Pox o'your damned whistling; you can neither be company to me +yourself, nor leave me to the freedom of my own fancy. + +_Rho._ Well, thou art the most provoking wife! + +_Dor._ Well, thou art the dullest husband, thou art never to be +provoked. + +_Rho._ I was never thought dull till I married thee; and now thou hast +made an old knife of me; thou hast whetted me so long, till I have no +edge left. + +_Dor._ I see you are in the husband's fashion; you reserve all your +good humours for your mistresses, and keep your ill for your wives. + +_Rho._ Prythee leave me to my own cogitations; I am thinking over all +my sins, to find for which of them it was I married thee. + +_Dor._ Whatever your sin was, mine's the punishment. + +_Rho._ My comfort is, thou art not immortal; and, when that blessed, +that divine day comes of thy departure, I'm resolved I'll make one +holiday more in the almanack for thy sake. + +_Dor._ Ay, you had need make a holiday for me, for I am sure you have +made me a martyr. + +_Rho._ Then, setting my victorious foot upon thy head, in the first +hour of thy silence, (that is, the first hour thou art dead, for I +despair of it before) I will swear by thy ghost,--an oath as terrible +to me as Styx is to the gods,--never more to be in danger of the banes +of matrimony. + +_Dor._ And I am resolved to marry the very same day thou diest, if it +be but to show how little I'm concerned for thee. + +_Rho._ Pray thee, Doralice, why do we quarrel thus a-days? ha! this is +but a kind of heathenish life, and does not answer the ends of +marriage. If I have erred, propound what reasonable atonement may be +made before we sleep, and I will not be refractory; but withal +consider, I have been married these three years, and be not too +tyrannical. + +_Dor._ What should you talk of a peace a-bed, when you can give no +security for performance of articles? + +_Rho._ Then, since we must live together, and both of us stand upon +our terms, as to matters of dying first, let us make ourselves as +merry as we can with our misfortunes. Why, there's the devil on't! if +thou could'st make my enjoying thee but a little easy, or a little +more unlawful, thou should'st see what a termagant lover I would +prove. I have taken such pains to enjoy thee, Doralice, that I have +fancied thee all the fine women of the town--to help me out: But now +there's none left for me to think on, my imagination is quite jaded. +Thou art a wife, and thou wilt be a wife, and I can make thee another +no longer. [_Exit_ RHO. + +_Dor._ Well, since thou art a husband, and wilt be a husband, I'll try +if I can find out another. 'Tis a pretty time we women have on't, to +be made widows while we are married. Our husbands think it reasonable +to complain, that we are the same, and the same to them, when we have +more reason to complain, that they are not the same to us. Because +they cannot feed on one dish, therefore we must be starved. 'Tis +enough that they have a sufficient ordinary provided, and a table +ready spread for them: If they cannot fall too, and eat heartily, the +fault is theirs; and 'tis pity, methinks, that the good creature +should be lost, when many a poor sinner would be glad on't. + + _Enter_ MELANTHA _and_ ARTEMIS _to her._ + +_Mel._ Dear, my dear, pity me, I am so _chagrin_ to day, and have had +the most signal affront at court! I went this afternoon to do my +devoir to princess Amalthea, found her, conversed with her, and helped +to make her court some half an hour; after which, she went to take the +air, chose out two ladies to go with her, that came in after me, and +left me most barbarously behind her. + +_Arte._ You are the less to be pitied, Melantha, because you subject +yourself to these affronts, by coming perpetually to court, where you +have no business nor employment. + +_Mel._ I declare, I had rather of the two be rallied nay, _mal +traitee_ at court, than be deified in the town; for, assuredly, +nothing can be so _ridicule_ as a mere town lady. + +_Dor._ Especially at court. How I have seen them crowd and sweat in +the drawing-room on a holiday-night! For that's their time to swarm +and invade the presence. O, how they catch at a bow, or any little +salute from a courtier, to make show of their acquaintance! and, +rather than be thought to be quite unknown, they court'sy to one +another; but they take true pains to come near the circle, and press +and peep upon the princess, to write letters into the country how she +was dressed, while the ladies, that stand about, make their court to +her with abusing them. + +_Arte._ These are sad truths, Melantha; and therefore I would e'en +advise you to quit the court, and live either wholly in the town, or, +if you like not that, in the country. + +_Dor._ In the country! nay, that's to fall beneath the town, for they +live upon our offals here. Their entertainment of wit is only the +remembrance of what they had when they were last in town;--they live +this year upon the last year's knowledge, as their cattle do all +night, by chewing the cud of what they eat in the afternoon. + +_Mel._ And they tell, for news, such unlikely stories! A letter from +one of us is such a present to them, that the poor souls wait for the +carrier's-day with such devotion, that they cannot sleep the night +before. + +_Arte._ No more than I can, the night before I am to go a journey. + +_Dor._ Or I, before I am to try on a new gown. + +_Mel._ A song, that's stale here, will be new there a twelvemonth +hence; and if a man of the town by chance come amongst them, he's +reverenced for teaching them the tune. + +_Dor._ A friend of mine, who makes songs sometimes, came lately out of +the west, and vowed he was so put out of countenance with a song of +his; for, at the first country gentleman's he visited, he saw three +tailors cross legged upon the table in the hall, who were tearing out +as loud as ever they could sing, + + --After the pangs of a desperate lover, &c. + +And that all day he heard of nothing else, but the daughters of the +house, and the maids, humming it over in every corner, and the father +whistling it. + +_Arte._ Indeed, I have observed of myself, that when I am out of town +but a fortnight, I am so humble, that I would receive a letter from my +tailor or mercer for a favour. + +_Mel._ When I have been at grass in the summer, and am new come up +again, methinks I'm to be turned into ridicule by all that see me; but +when I have been once or twice at court, I begin to value myself +again, and to despise my country acquaintance. + +_Arte._ There are places where all people may be adored, and we ought +to know ourselves so well as to choose them. + +_Dor._ That's very true; your little courtier's wife, who speaks to +the king but once a month, need but go to a town lady, and there she +may vapour and cry,--"The king and I," at every word. Your town lady, +who is laughed at in the circle, takes her coach into the city, and +there she's called Your honour, and has a banquet from the merchant's +wife, whom she laughs at for her kindness. And, as for my finical cit, +she removes but to her country house, and there insults over the +country gentlewoman that never comes up, who treats her with furmity +and custard, and opens her dear bottle of _mirabilis_ beside, for a +gill-glass of it at parting. + +_Arte._ At last, I see, we shall leave Melantha where we found her; +for, by your description of the town and country, they are become more +dreadful to her than the court, where she was affronted. But you +forget we are to wait on the princess Amalthea. Come, Doralice. + +_Dor._ Farewell, Melantha. + +_Mel._ Adieu, my dear. + +_Arte._ You are out of charity with her, and therefore I shall not +give your service. + +_Mel._ Do not omit it, I beseech you; for I have such a _tendre_ for +the court, that I love it even from the drawing-room to the lobby, and +can never be _rebutee_ by any usage. But hark you, my dears; one thing +I had forgot, of great concernment. + +_Dor._ Quickly then, we are in haste. + +_Mel._ Do not call it my service, that's too vulgar; but do my _baise +mains_ to the princess Amalthea; that is _spirituelle_! + +_Dor._ To do you service, then, we will _prendre_ the _carosse_ to +court, and do your _baise mains_ to the princess Amalthea, in your +phrase _spirituelle_. [_Exeunt_ ARTEMIS _and_ DORALICE. + + _Enter_ PHILOTIS, _with a paper in her hand._ + +_Mel._ O, are you there, minion? And, well, are not you a most +precious damsel, to retard all my visits for want of language, when +you know you are paid so well for furnishing me with new words for my +daily conversation? Let me die, if I have not run the risque already +to speak like one of the vulgar, and if I have one phrase left in all +my store, that is not thread-bare _et use_, and fit for nothing but to +be thrown to peasants. + +_Phil._ Indeed, Madam, I have been very diligent in my vocation; but +you have so drained all the French plays and romances, that they are +not able to supply you with words for your daily expence. + +_Mel._ Drained? What a word's there! _Epuisee_, you sot you. Come, +produce your morning's work. + +_Phil._ 'Tis here, madam. [_Shows the paper._ + +_Mel._ O, my Venus! fourteen or fifteen words to serve me a whole day! +Let me die, at this rate I cannot last till night. Come, read your +works: Twenty to one, half of them will not pass muster neither. + +Phil. _Sottises._ [_Reads._ + +Mel. _Sottises: bon._ That's an excellent word to begin withal; as, +for example, he or she said a thousand _sottises_ to me. Proceed. + +Phil. _Figure:_ As, what a _figure_ of a man is there! _Naive, and +naivete._ + +_Mel._ _Naive!_ as how? + +_Phil._ Speaking of a thing that was naturally said, it was so +_naive;_ or, such an innocent piece of simplicity 'twas such a +_naivete._ + +_Mel._ Truce with your interpretations. Make haste. + +Phil. _Foible, chagrin, grimace, embarrasse, double entendre, +equivoque, ecclaircissement, suitte, beveue, facon, penchant, coup +d'etourdy,_ and _ridicule._ + +_Mel._ Hold, hold; how did they begin? + +_Phil._ They began at _sottises_, and ended _en ridicule_. + +_Mel._ Now, give me your paper in my hand, and hold you my glass, +while I practise my postures for the day. [MELANTHA _laughs in the +glass._] How does that laugh become my face? + +_Phil._ Sovereignly well, madam. + +_Mel._ Sovereignly? Let me die, that's not amiss. That word shall not +be yours; I'll invent it, and bring it up myself: My new point gorget +shall be yours upon't. Not a word of the word, I charge you. + +_Phil._ I am dumb, madam. + +_Mel._ That glance, how suits it with my face? + [_Looking in the glass again._ + +_Phil._ 'Tis so _languissant_! + +_Mel._ _Languissant!_ that word shall be mine too, and my last Indian +gown thine for't. That sigh? [_Looks again._ + +_Phil._ 'Twill make a man sigh, madam. 'Tis a mere _incendiary_. + +_Mel._ Take my guimp petticoat for that truth. If thou hast most of +these phrases, let me die but I could give away all my wardrobe, and +go naked for them. + +_Phil._ Go naked? Then you would be a Venus, madam. O Jupiter! what +had I forgot? This paper was given me by Rhodophil's page. + +_Mel._ [_Reading the letter._] Beg the favour from you.--Gratify my +passion--so far--assignation--in the grotto--behind the terrace--clock +this evening--Well, for the _billets doux_ there is no man in Sicily +must dispute with Rhodophil; they are so French, so _gallant_, and so +_tendre_, that I cannot resist the temptation of the assignation. Now, +go you away, Philotis; it imports me to practise what to say to my +servant when I meet him. [_Exit_ PHILOTIS.] Rhodophil, you'll wonder +at my assurance to meet you here;--let me die, I am so out of breath +with coming, that I can render you no reason of it.--Then he will make +this _repartee_; Madam, I have no reason to accuse you for that which +is so great a favour to me.--Then I reply, But why have you drawn me +to this solitary place? Let me die, but I am apprehensive of some +violence from you.--Then says he, Solitude, madam, is most fit for +lovers; but by this fair hand--Nay, now I vow you're rude, sir. O fy, +fy, fy; I hope you'll be honourable?--You'd laugh at me if I should, +madam.--What, do you mean to throw me down thus? Ah me! ah! ah! ah! + + _Enter_ POLYDAMAS, LEONIDAS, _and Guards._ + +O Venus! the king and court. Let me die, but I fear they have found my +foible, and will turn me into _ridicule_. [_Exit, running._ + +_Leon._ Sir, I beseech you. + +_Poly._ Do not urge my patience. + +_Leon._ I'll not deny, +But what your spies informed you of is true: +I love the fair Palmyra; but I loved her +Before I knew your title to my blood. + + _Enter_ PALMYRA _guarded._ + +See, here she comes, and looks, amidst her guards, +Like a weak dove under the falcon's gripe. +O heaven, I cannot bear it. + +_Poly._ Maid, come hither. +Have you presumed so far, as to receive +My son's affections? + +_Palm._ Alas, what shall I answer? To confess it +Will raise a blush upon a virgin's face; +Yet I was ever taught 'twas base to lie. + +_Poly._ You've been too bold, and you must love no more. + +_Palm._ Indeed I must; I cannot help my love; +I was so tender when I took the bent, +That now I grow that way. + +_Poly._ He is a prince, and you are meanly born. + +_Leon._ Love either finds equality, or makes it: +Like death, he knows no difference in degrees, +But plains, and levels all. + +_Palm._ Alas! I had not rendered up my heart, +Had he not loved me first; but he preferred me +Above the maidens of my age and rank,-- +Still shunned their company, and still sought mine. +I was not won by gifts, yet still he gave; +And all his gifts, though small, yet spoke his love. +He picked the earliest strawberries in woods, +The clustered filberds, and the purple grapes; +He taught a prating stare to speak my name; +And, when he found a nest of nightingales, +Or callow linnets, he would show them me, +And let me take them out. + +_Poly._ This is a little mistress, meanly born, +Fit only for a prince's vacant hours, +And then, to laugh at her simplicity, +Not fix a passion there. Now hear my sentence. + +_Leon._ Remember, ere you give it, 'tis pronounced +Against us both. + +_Poly._ First, in her hand +There shall be placed a player's painted sceptre, +And, on her head, a gilded pageant crown: +Thus shall she go, +With all the boys attending on her triumph; +That done, be put alone into a boat, +With bread and water only for three days; +So on the sea she shall be set adrift, +And who relieves her dies. + +_Palm._ I only beg that you would execute +The last part first: Let me be put to sea; +The bread and water for my three days life +I give you back, I would not live so long; +But let me 'scape the shame. + +_Leon._ Look to me, piety; and you, O Gods, look to my piety! +Keep me from saying that, which misbecomes a son; +But let me die before I see this done. + +_Poly._ If you for ever will abjure her sight, +I can be yet a father; she shall live. + +_Leon._ Hear, O you powers! is this to be a father? +I see 'tis all my happiness and quiet +You aim at, sir; and take them: +I will not save even my Palmyra's life +At that ignoble price; but I'll die with her. + +_Palm._ So had I done by you, +Had fate made me a princess.--Death, methinks, +Is not a terror now: +He is not fierce, or grim, but fawns, and sooths me, +And slides along, like Cleopatra's aspick, +Offering his service to my troubled breast. + +_Leon._ Begin what you have purposed when you please; +Lead her to scorn, your triumph shall be doubled. +As holy priests, +In pity, go with dying malefactors, +So I will share her shame. + +_Poly._ You shall not have your will so much; first part them, +Then execute your office. + +_Leon._ No; I'll die +In her defence. [_Draws his sword._ + +_Palm._ Ah, hold, and pull not on +A curse, to make me worthy of my death: +Do not by lawless force oppose your father, +Whom you have too much disobeyed for me. + +_Leon._ Here, take it, sir, and with it pierce my heart: + [_Presenting his sword to his Father upon his + knees._ +You have done more in taking my Palmyra. +You are my father; therefore I submit. + +_Poly._ Keep him from any thing he may design +Against his life, while the first fury lasts; +And now perform what I commanded you. + +_Leon._ In vain; if sword and poison be denied me, +I'll hold my breath and die. + +_Palm._ Farewell, my last Leonidas; yet live, +I charge you, live, 'till you believe me dead. +I cannot die in peace, if you die first; +If life's a blessing, you shall have it last. + +_Poly._ Go on with her, and lead him after me. + + _Enter_ ARGALEON _hastily, with_ HERMOGENES. + +_Arga._ I bring you, sir, such news as must amaze you, +And such as will prevent you from an action, +Which would have rendered all your life unhappy. [HERMOGENES _kneels._ + +_Poly._ Hermogenes, you bend your knees in vain, +My doom's already past. + +_Her._ I kneel not for Palmyra, for I know +She will not need my prayers; but for myself: +With a feigned tale I have abused your ears, +And, therefore, merit death: but since, unforced, +I first accuse myself, I hope your mercy. + +_Poly._ Haste to explain your meaning. + +_Her._ Then, in few words, Palmyra is your daughter. + +_Poly._ How can I give belief to this impostor? +He, who has once abused me, often may. +I'll hear no more. + +_Arga._ For your own sake, you must. + +_Her._ A parent's love,--for I confess my crime,-- +Moved me to say, Leonidas was yours; +But when I heard Palmyra was to die, +The fear of guiltless blood so stung my conscience, +That I resolved, even with my shame, to save +Your daughter's life. + +_Poly._ But how can I be certain, but that interest, +Which moved you first to say your son was mine, +Does not now move you too, to save your daughter? + +_Her._ You had but then my word; I bring you now +Authentic testimonies. Sir, in short, + [_Delivers on his knees a jewel, and letter._ +If this will not convince you, let me suffer. + +_Poly._ I know this jewel well; 'twas once my mother's, + [_Looking first on the jewel._ +Which, marrying, I presented to my wife. +And this, O this is my Eudocia's hand. +_This was the pledge of love given to Eudocia,_ [Reads. +_Who, dying, to her young Palmyra leaves it;_ +_And this, when you, my dearest lord, receive, +Own her, and think on me, dying Eudocia._ +Take it; 'tis well there is no more to read. [_To_ ARGA. +My eyes grow full, and swim in their own light. [_He embraces_ PALM. + +_Palm._ I fear, sir, this is your intended pageant. +You sport yourself at poor Palmyra's cost; +But if you think to make me proud, +Indeed I cannot be so: I was born +With humble thoughts, and lowly, like my birth. +A real fortune could not make me haughty, +Much less a feigned. + +_Poly._ This was her mother's temper. +I have too much deserved thou shouldst suspect +That I am not thy father; but my love +Shall henceforth show I am. Behold my eyes, +And see a father there begin to flow: +This is not feigned, Palmyra. + +_Palm._ I doubt no longer, sir; you are a king, +And cannot lie: Falsehood's a vice too base +To find a room in any royal breast. +I know, in spite of my unworthiness, +I am your child; for when you would have killed me, +Methought I loved you then. + +_Arga._ Sir, we forget the prince Leonidas; +His greatness should not stand neglected thus. + +_Poly._ Guards, you may now retire; Give him his sword, +And leave him free. + +_Leon._ Then the first use I make of liberty +Shall be, with your permission, mighty sir, +To pay that reverence to which nature binds me. + [_Kneels to_ HERMOGENES. + +_Arga._ Sure you forget your birth, thus to misplace +This act of your obedience; you should kneel +To nothing but to heaven, and to a king. + +_Leon._ I never shall forget what nature owes, +Nor be ashamed to pay it; though my father +Be not a king, I know him brave and honest, +And well deserving of a worthier son. + +_Poly._ He bears it gallantly. + +_Leon._ Why would you not instruct me, sir, before, [_To_ HERM. +Where I should place my duty? +From which, if ignorance have made me swerve, +I beg your pardon for an erring son. + +_Palm._ I almost grieve I am a princess, since +It makes him lose a crown. + +_Leon._ And next, to you, my king, thus low I kneel, +To implore your mercy; if in that small time +I had the honour to be thought your son, +I paid not strict obedience to your will. +I thought, indeed, I should not be compelled, +But thought it as your son; so what I took +In duty from you, I restored in courage; +Because your son should not be forced. + +_Poly._ You have my pardon for it. + +_Leon._ To you, fair princess, I congratulate +Your birth; of which I ever thought you worthy: +And give me leave to add, that I am proud +The gods have picked me out to be the man, +By whose dejected fate yours is to rise; +Because no man could more desire your fortune, +Or franklier part with his, to make you great. + +_Palm._ I know the king, though you are not his son, +Will still regard you as my foster-brother, +And so conduct you downward from a throne, +By slow degrees, so unperceived and soft, +That it may seem no fall: Or, if it be, +May fortune lay a bed of down beneath you! + +_Poly._ He shall be ranked with my nobility, +And kept from scorn by a large pension given him. + +_Leon._ You are all great and royal in your gifts; [_Bowing._ +But at the donor's feet I lay them down: +Should I take riches from you, it would seem +As I did want a soul to bear that poverty, +To which the gods designed my humble birth: +And should I take your honours without merit, +It would appear, I wanted manly courage +To hope them, in your service, from my sword. + +_Poly._ Still brave, and like yourself. +The court shall shine this night in its full splendour, +And celebrate this new discovery. +Argaleon, lead my daughter: As we go, +I shall have time to give her my commands, +In which you are concerned. [_Exeunt all but_ LEONIDAS. + +_Leon._ Methinks, I do not want +That huge long train of fawning followers, +That swept a furlong after me. +'Tis true I am alone; +So was the godhead, ere he made the world, +And better served himself, than served by nature. +And yet I have a soul +Above this humble fate. I could command, +Love to do good, give largely to true merit, +All that a king should do: But though these are not +My province, I have scene enough within, +To exercise my virtue. +All that a heart, so fixed as mine, can move, +Is, that my niggard fortune starves my love. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II. + + PALAMEDE _and_ DORALICE _meet: She, with a book in her hand, seems + to start at the sight of him._ + +_Dor._ 'Tis a strange thing that no warning will serve your turn; and +that no retirement will secure me from your impertinent addresses! Did +not I tell you, that I was to be private here at my devotions? + +_Pala._ Yes; and you see I have observed my cue exactly: I am come to +relieve you from them. Come, shut up, shut up your book; the man's +come who is to supply all your necessities. + +_Dor._ Then, it seems, you are so impudent to think it was an +assignation? This, I warrant, was your lewd interpretation of my +innocent meaning. + +_Pala._ Venus forbid, that I should harbour so unreasonable a thought +of a fair young lady, that you should lead me hither into temptation. +I confess, I might think indeed it was a kind of honourable challenge, +to meet privately without seconds, and decide the difference betwixt +the two sexes; but heaven forgive me, if I thought amiss. + +_Dor._ You thought too, I'll lay my life on't, that you might as well +make love to me, as my husband does to your mistress. + +_Pala._ I was so unreasonable to think so too. + +_Dor._ And then you wickedly inferred, that there was some justice in +the revenge of it; or, at least, but little injury for a man to +endeavour to enjoy that, which he accounts a blessing, and which is +not valued as it ought by the dull possessor. Confess your +wickedness,--did you not think so? + +_Pala._ I confess I was thinking so, as fast as I could; but you think +so much before me, that you will let me think nothing. + +_Dor._ 'Tis the very thing that I designed; I have forestalled all +your arguments, and left you without a word more, to plead for mercy. +If you have any thing farther to offer, ere sentence pass--Poor +animal, I brought you hither only for my diversion. + +_Pala._ That you may have, if you'll make use of me the right way; but +I tell thee, woman, I am now past talking. + +_Dor._ But it may be, I came hither to hear what fine things you could +say for yourself. + +_Pala._ You would be very angry, to my knowledge, if I should lose so +much time to say many of them.--By this hand you would! + +_Dor._ Fye, Palamede, I am a woman of honour. + +_Pala._ I see you are; you have kept touch with your assignation: And +before we part, you shall find that I am a man of honour. Yet I have +one scruple of conscience-- + +_Dor._ I warrant you will not want some naughty argument, or other, to +satisfy yourself.--I hope you are afraid of betraying your friend? + +_Pala._ Of betraying my friend! I am more afraid of being betrayed by +you to my friend. You women now are got into the way of telling first +yourselves: A man, who has any care of his reputation, will be loth to +trust it with you. + +_Dor._ O, you charge your faults upon our sex! You men are like cocks; +you never make love, but you clap your wings, and crow when you have +done. + +_Pala._ Nay, rather you women are like hens; you never lay, but you +cackle an hour after, to discover your nest.--But I'll venture it for +once. + +_Dor._ To convince you that you are in the wrong, I'll retire into the +dark grotto, to my devotion, and make so little noise, that it shall +be impossible for you to find me. + +_Pala._ But if I find you-- + +_Dor._ Ay, if you find me--But I'll put you to search in more corners +than you imagine. [_She runs in, and he after her._ + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL _and_ MELANTHA. + +_Mel._ Let me die, but this solitude, and that grotto are scandalous; +I'll go no further; besides, you have a sweet lady of your own. + +_Rho._ But a sweet mistress, now and then, makes my sweet lady so much +more sweet. + +_Mel._ I hope you will not force me? + +_Rho._ But I will, if you desire it. + +_Pala._ [_Within._] Where the devil are you, madam? 'Sdeath, I begin +to be weary of this hide and seek: If you stay a little longer, till +the fit's over, I'll hide in my turn, and put you to the finding me. +[_He enters, and sees_ RHODOPHIL _and_ MELANTHA.] How! Rhodophil and +my mistress! + +_Mel._ My servant, to apprehend me! this is _surprenant au dernier_. + +_Rho._ I must on; there's nothing but impudence can help me out. + +_Pala._ Rhodophil, how came you hither in so good company? + +_Rho._ As you see, Palamede; an effect of pure friendship; I was not +able to live without you. + +_Pala._ But what makes my mistress with you? + +_Rho._ Why, I heard you were here alone, and could not in civility but +bring her to you. + +_Mel._ You'll pardon the effects of a passion which I may now avow for +you, if it transported me beyond the rules of _bienseance._ + +_Pala._ But, who told you I was here? they, that told you that, may +tell you more, for aught I know. + +_Rho._ O, for that matter, we had intelligence. + +_Pala._ But let me tell you, we came hither so very privately, that +you could not trace us. + +_Rho._ Us! what us? you are alone. + +_Pala._ Us! the devil's in me for mistaking:--me, I meant. Or us, that +is, you are me, or I you, as we are friends: That's us. + +_Dor._ Palamede, Palamede! [_Within._ + +_Rho._ I should know that voice; who's within there, that calls you? + +_Pala._ Faith, I can't imagine; I believe the place is haunted. + +_Dor._ Palamede, Palamede, all-cocks hidden. [_Within._ + +_Pala._ Lord, Lord, what shall I do?--Well, dear friend, to let you +see I scorn to be jealous, and that I dare trust my mistress with you, +take her back, for I would not willingly have her frighted, and I am +resolved to see who's there; I'll not be daunted with a bugbear, +that's certain:--Prithee, dispute it not, it shall be so; nay do not +put me to swear, but go quickly: There's an effort of pure friendship +for you now. + + _Enter_ DORALICE, _and looks amazed, seeing them._ + +_Rho._ Doralice! I am thunder-struck to see you here. + +_Pala._ So am I! quite thunder-struck. Was it you, that called me +within?--I must be impudent. + +_Rho._ How came you hither, spouse? + +_Pala._ Ay, how came you hither? And, which is more, how could you be +here without my knowledge? + +_Dor._ [_To her husband._] O, gentlemen, have I caught you i'faith! +have I broke forth in ambush upon you! I thought my suspicions would +prove true. + +_Rho._ Suspicions! this is very fine, spouse! Prithee, what +suspicions? + +_Dor._ O, you feign ignorance: Why, of you and Melantha; here have I +staid these two hours, waiting with all the rage of a passionate, +loving wife, but infinitely jealous, to take you two in the manner; +for hither I was certain you would come. + +_Rho._ But you are mistaken, spouse, in the occasion; for we came +hither on purpose to find Palamede, on intelligence he was gone +before. + +_Pala._ I'll be hanged then, if the same party, who gave you +intelligence I was here, did not tell your wife you would come hither. +Now I smell the malice on't on both sides. + +_Dor._ Was it so, think you? nay, then, I'll confess my part of the +malice too. As soon as ever I spied my husband and Melantha come +together, I had a strange temptation to make him jealous in revenge; +and that made me call Palamede, Palamede! as though there had been an +intrigue between us. + +_Mel._ Nay, I avow, there was an appearance of an intrigue between us +too. + +_Pala._ To see how things will come about! + +_Rho._ And was it only thus, my dear Doralice? [_Embrace._ + +_Dor._ And did I wrong n'own Rhodophil, with a false suspicion? + [_Embracing him._ + +_Pala._ [_Aside._] Now I am confident we had all four the same design: +'Tis a pretty odd kind of game this, where each of us plays for double +stakes: This is just thrust and parry with the same motion; I am to +get his wife, and yet to guard my own mistress. But I am vilely +suspicious, that, while I conquer in the right wing, I shall be routed +in the left; for both our women will certainly betray their party, +because they are each of them for gaining of two, as well as we; and I +much fear. + + If their necessities and ours were known, + They have more need of two, than we of one. + [_Exeunt, embracing one another._ + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ LEONIDAS, _musing;_ AMALTHEA, _following him._ + +_Amal._ Yonder he is; and I must speak or die; +And yet 'tis death to speak: yet he must know +I have a passion for him, and may know it +With a less blush; because to offer it +To his low fortunes, shows I loved before, +His person, not his greatness. + +_Leon._ First scorned, and now commanded from the court! +The king is good; but he is wrought to this +By proud Argaleon's malice. +What more disgrace can love and fortune join +To inflict upon one man? I cannot now +Behold my dear Palmyra: She, perhaps, too, +Is grown ashamed of a mean ill-placed love. + +_Amal._ Assist me, Venus, for I tremble when +I am to speak, but I must force myself. [_Aside._ +Sir, I would crave but one short minute with you, +And some few words. + +_Leon._ The proud Argaleon's sister! [_Aside._ + +_Amal._ Alas! it will not out; Shame stops my mouth. + [_Aside._ +Pardon my error, sir; I was mistaken, +And took you for another. + +_Leon._ In spite of all his guards, I'll see Palmyra; [_Aside._ +Though meanly born, I have a kingly soul. + +_Amal._ I stand upon a precipice, where fain +I would retire, but love still thrusts me on: +Now I grow bolder, and will speak to him. [_Aside._ +Sir, 'tis indeed to you that I would speak, +And if-- + +_Leon._ O, you are sent to scorn my fortunes? +Your sex and beauty are your privilege; +But should your brother-- + +_Amal._ Now he looks angry, and I dare not speak. +I had some business with you, sir, +But 'tis not worth your knowledge. + +_Leon._ Then 'twill be charity to let me mourn +My griefs alone, for I am much disordered. + +_Amal._ 'Twill be more charity to mourn them with you: +Heaven knows I pity you. + +_Leon._ Your pity, madam, +Is generous, but 'tis unavailable. + +_Amal._ You know not till 'tis tried. +Your sorrows are no secret; you have lost +A crown, and mistress. + +_Leon._ Are not these enough? +Hang two such weights on any other soul, +And see if it can bear them. + +_Amal._ More; you are banished, by my brother's means, +And ne'er must hope again to see your princess; +Except as prisoners view fair walks and streets, +And careless passengers going by their grates, +To make them feel the want of liberty. +But, worse than all, +The king this morning has enjoined his daughter +To accept my brother's love. + +_Leon._ Is this your pity? +You aggravate my griefs, and print them deeper, +In new and heavier stamps. + +_Amal._ 'Tis as physicians show the desperate ill, +To endear their art, by mitigating pains +They cannot wholly cure: When you despair +Of all you wish, some part of it, because +Unhoped for, may be grateful; and some other-- + +_Leon._ What other? + +_Amal._ Some other may-- +My shame again has seized me, and I can go [_Aside._ +No farther. + +_Leon._ These often failing sighs and interruptions +Make me imagine you have grief like mine: +Have you ne'er loved? + +_Amal._ I? never!--'Tis in vain: +I must despair in silence. [_Aside._ + +_Leon._ You come, as I suspected then, to mock, +At least observe, my griefs: Take it not ill, +That I must leave you. [_Is going._ + +_Amal._ You must not go with these unjust opinions. +Command my life and fortunes: you are wise; +Think, and think well, what I can do to serve you. + +_Leon._ I have but one thing in my thoughts and wishes: +If, by your means, I can obtain the sight +Of my adored Palmyra; or, what's harder, +One minute's time, to tell her, I die hers-- [_She starts back._ +I see I am not to expect it from you; +Nor could, indeed, with reason. + +_Amal._ Name any other thing! Is Amalthea +So despicable, she can serve your wishes +In this alone? + +_Leon._ If I should ask of heaven, +I have no other suit. + +_Amal._ To show you, then, I can deny you nothing, +Though 'tis more hard to me than any other, +Yet I will do it for you. + +_Leon._ Name quickly, name the means! speak, my good angel! + +_Amal._ Be not so much o'erjoyed; for, if you are, +I'll rather die than do't. This night the court +Will be in masquerade; +You shall attend on me; in that disguise +You may both see and speak to her, +If you dare venture it. + +_Leon._ Yes; were a god her guardian, +And bore in each hand thunder, I would venture. + +_Amal._ Farewell, then; two hours hence I will expect you:-- +My heart's so full, that I can stay no longer. [_Exit._ + +_Leon._ Already it grows dusky: I'll prepare +With haste for my disguise. But who are these? + + _Enter_ HERMOGENES _and_ EUBULUS. + +_Her._ 'Tis he; we need not fear to speak to him. + +_Eub._ Leonidas? + +_Leon._ Sure I have known that voice. + +_Her._ You have some reason, sir: 'tis Eubulus, +Who bred you with the princess; and, departing, +Bequeathed you to my care. + +_Leon._ My foster-father! let my knees express +My joys for your return! [_Kneeling._ + +_Eub._ Rise, sir; you must not kneel. + +_Leon._ E'er since you left me, +I have been wandering in a maze of fate, +Led by false fires of a fantastic glory, +And the vain lustre of imagined crowns. +But, ah! why would you leave me? or how could you +Absent yourself so long? + +_Eub._ I'll give you a most just account of both: +And something more I have to tell you, which +I know must cause your wonder; but this place, +Though almost hid in darkness, is not safe. +Already I discern some coming towards us [_Torches appear._ +With lights, who may discover me. Hermogenes, +Your lodgings are hard by, and much more private. + +_Her._ There you may freely speak. + +_Leon._ Let us make haste; +For some affairs, and of no small importance, +Call me another way. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II. + + _Enter_ PALAMEDE _and_ RHODOPHIL, _with Vizor Masques in their + Hands, and Torches before them._ + +_Pala._ We shall have noble sport to-night, Rhodophil; this +masquerading is a most glorious invention. + +_Rho._ I believe it was invented first by some jealous lover, to +discover the haunts of his jilting mistress; or, perhaps, by some +distressed servant, to gain an opportunity with a jealous man's wife. + +_Pala._ No, it must be the invention of a woman, it has so much of +subtilty and love in it. + +_Rho._ I am sure 'tis extremely pleasant; for to go unknown, is the +next degree to going invisible. + +_Pala._ What with our antic habits and feigned voices,--_Do you know +me?_ and--_I know you,_--methinks we move and talk just like so many +overgrown puppets. + +_Rho._ Masquerade is only vizor-mask improved; a heightening of the +same fashion. + +_Pala._ No, masquerade is vizor-mask in debauch, and I like it the +better for't: for, with a vizor-mask, we fool ourselves into +courtship, for the sake of an eye that glanced; or a hand that stole +itself out of the glove sometimes, to give us a sample of the skin: +But in masquerade there is nothing to be known, she's all _terra +incognita_; and the bold discoverer leaps ashore, and takes his lot +among the wild Indians and savages, without the vile consideration of +safety to his person, or of beauty, or wholesomeness in his mistress. + + _Enter_ BELIZA. + +_Rho._ Beliza, what make you here? + +_Bel._ Sir, my lady sent me after you, to let you know, she finds +herself a little indisposed; so that she cannot be at court, but is +retired to rest in her own apartment, where she shall want the +happiness of your dear embraces to night. + +_Rho._ A very fine phrase, Beliza, to let me know my wife desires to +lie alone. + +_Pala._ I doubt, Rhodophil, you take the pains sometimes to instruct +your wife's woman in these elegancies. + +_Rho._ Tell my dear lady, that since I must be so unhappy as not to +wait on her to-night, I will lament bitterly for her absence. 'Tis +true I shall be at court, but I will take no divertisement there; and +when I return to my solitary bed, if I am so forgetful of my passion +as to sleep, I will dream of her; and betwixt sleep and waking, put +out my foot towards her side, for midnight consolation; and, not +finding her, I will sigh, and imagine myself a most desolate widower. + +_Bel._ I shall do your commands, sir. [_Exit._ + +_Rho._ [_Aside._] She's sick as aptly for my purpose, as if she had +contrived it so. Well, if ever woman was a help-mate for man, my +spouse is so; for within this hour I received a note from Melantha, +that she would meet me this evening in masquerade, in boys' habit, to +rejoice with me before she entered into fetters; for I find she loves +me better than Palamede, only because he's to be her husband. There's +something of antipathy in the word _marriage_ to the nature of love: +marriage is the mere ladle of affection, that cools it when 'tis never +so fiercely boiling over. + +_Pala._ Dear Rhodophil, I must needs beg your pardon; there is an +occasion fallen out which I had forgot: I cannot be at court to-night. + +_Rho._ Dear Palamede, I am sorry we shall not have one course together +at the herd; but I find your game lies single: Good fortune to you +with your mistress. [_Exit._ + +_Pala._ He has wished me good fortune with his wife; there's no sin in +this then, there's fair leave given. Well, I must go visit the sick; I +cannot resist the temptations of my charity. O what a difference will +she find betwixt a dull resty husband and a quick vigorous lover! He +sets out like a carrier's horse, plodding on, because he knows he +must, with the bells of matrimony chiming so melancholy about his +neck, in pain till he's at his journey's end; and, despairing to get +thither, he is fain to fortify imagination with the thoughts of +another woman: I take heat after heat, like a well-breathed courser, +and--But hark, what noise is that? Swords! [_Clashing of swords +within._] Nay, then, have with you. [_Exit_ PALA. + + _Re-enter_ PALAMEDE, _with_ RHODOPHIL; _and_ DORALICE _in man's + habit._ + +_Rho._ Friend, your relief was very timely, otherwise I had been +oppressed. + +_Pala._ What was the quarrel? + +_Rho._ What I did was in rescue of this youth. + +_Pala._ What cause could he give them? + +_Dor._ The cause was nothing but only the common cause of fighting in +masquerades: They were drunk, as I was sober. + +_Rho._ Have they not hurt you? + +_Dor._ No; but I am exceeding ill with the fright on't. + +_Pala._ Let's lead him to some place, where he may refresh himself. + +_Rho._ Do you conduct him then. + +_Pala._ [_Aside._] How cross this happens to my design of going to +Doralice! for I am confident she was sick on purpose that I should +visit her. Hark you, Rhodophil, could not you take care of the +stripling? I am partly engaged to-night. + +_Rho._ You know I have business; but come, youth, if it must be so. + +_Dor._ to _Rho._ No, good sir, do not give yourself that trouble; I +shall be safer, and better pleased with your friend here. + +_Rho._ Farewell, then; once more I wish you a good adventure. + +_Pala._ Damn this kindness! now must I be troubled with this young +rogue, and miss my opportunity with Doralice. + [_Exit_ RHO. _alone;_ PALA. _with_ DOR. + + +SCENE III. + + _Enter_ POLYDAMUS. + +_Poly._ Argaleon counselled well to banish him: +He has, I know not what, +Of greatness in his looks, and of high fate, +That almost awes me; but I fear my daughter, +Who hourly moves me for him; and I marked, +She sighed when I but named Argaleon to her. +But see, the maskers: Hence, my cares, this night! +At least take truce, and find me on my pillow. + + _Enter the Princess in masquerade, with Ladies. At the other end,_ + ARGALEON _and Gentlemen in masquerade; then_ LEONIDAS _leading_ + AMALTHEA. _The King sits. A Dance. After the Dance,_ + +_Amal._ to _Leon._ That's the princess; +I saw the habit ere she put it on. + +_Leon._ I know her by a thousand other signs; +She cannot hide so much divinity. +Disguised, and silent, yet some graceful motion +Breaks from her, and shines round her like a glory. + [_Goes to_ PALMYRA. + +_Amal._ Thus she reveals herself, and knows it not; +Like love's dark lanthorn, I direct his steps, +And yet he sees not that, which gives him light. + +_Palm._ I know you; but, alas! Leonidas, +Why should you tempt this danger on yourself? + +_Leon._ Madam, you know me not, if you believe; +I would not hazard greater for your sake. +But you, I fear, are changed. + +_Palm._ No, I am still the same; +But there are many things became Palmyra, +Which ill become the princess. + +_Leon_, I ask nothing +Which honour will not give you leave to grant: +One hour's short audience, at my father's house, +You cannot sure refuse me. + +_Palm._ Perhaps I should, did I consult strict virtue; +But something must be given to love and you. +When would you I should come? + +_Leon._ This evening, with the speediest opportunity. +I have a secret to discover to you, +Which will surprise and please you. + +_Palm._ 'Tis enough. +Go now; for we may be observed and known. +I trust your honour; give me not occasion +To blame myself, or you. + +_Leon._ You never shall repent your good opinion. + [_Kisses her hand, and Exit._ + +_Arga._ I cannot be deceived; that is the princess: +One of her maids betrayed the habit to me. +But who was he with whom she held discourse? +'Tis one she favours, for he kissed her hand. +Our shapes are like, our habits near the same; +She may mistake, and speak to me for him. +I am resolved; I'll satisfy my doubts, +Though to be more tormented. + + SONG. + + I. + + _Whilst Alexis lay prest + In her arms he loved best, + With his hands round her neck, + And his head on her breast, + He found the fierce pleasure too hasty to stay, + And his soul in the tempest just flying away._ + + II. + + _When Caelia saw this, + With a sigh and a kiss, + She cried,--O, my dear, I am robbed of my bliss! + 'Tis unkind to your love, and unfaithfully done, + To leave me behind you, and die all alone._ + + III. + + _The youth, though in haste, + And breathing his last, + In pity died slowly, while she died more fast; + Till at length she cried,--Now, my dear, now let us go; + Now die, my Alexis, and I will die too!_ + + IV. + + _Thus entranced they did lie, + Till Alexis did try + To recover new breath, that again he might die: + Then often they died; but the more they did so, + The nymph died more quick, and the shepherd more slow._ + + _Another Dance. After it,_ ARGALEON _re-enters, and stands by the + Princess._ + +_Palm._ Leonidas, what means this quick return? [_To_ ARGA. + +_Arga._ O heaven! 'tis what I feared. + +_Palm._ Is aught of moment happened since you went? + +_Arga._ No, madam; but I understood not fully +Your last commands. + +_Palm._ And yet you answered to them. +Retire; you are too indiscreet a lover: +I'll meet you where I promised. [_Exit._ + +_Arga._ O my curst fortune! what have I discovered! +But I will be revenged. [_Whispers to the King._ + +_Poly._ But are you certain you are not deceived? + +_Arga._ Upon my life. + +_Poly._ Her honour is concerned. +Somewhat I'll do; but I am yet distracted, +And know not where to fix. I wished a child, +And heaven, in anger, granted my request. +So blind we are, our wishes are so vain, +That what we most desire, proves most our pain. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE IV. + + _An Eating-house. Bottles of Wine on the table._ PALAMEDE, _and_ + DORALICE, _in Man's Habit._ + +_Dor._ [_Aside._] Now cannot I find in my heart to discover myself, +though I long he should know me. + +_Pala._ I tell thee, boy, now I have seen thee safe, I must be gone: I +have no leisure to throw away on thy raw conversation; I am a person +that understands better things, I. + +_Dor._ Were I a woman, oh how you would admire me! cry up every word I +said, and screw your face into a submissive smile; as I have seen a +dull gallant act wit, and counterfeit pleasantness, when he whispers +to a great person in a play-house; smile, and look briskly, when the +other answers, as if something of extraordinary had past betwixt them, +when, heaven knows, there was nothing else but,--What a clock does +your lordship think it is? And my lord's _repartee_ is,--It is almost +park-time: or, at most,--Shall we out of the pit, and go behind the +scenes for an act or two--And yet such fine things as these would be +wit in a mistress's mouth. + +_Pala._ Ay, boy; there dame Nature's in the case: He, who cannot find +wit in a mistress, deserves to find nothing else, boy. But these are +riddles to thee, child, and I have not leisure to instruct thee; I +have affairs to dispatch, great affairs; I am a man of business. + +_Dor._ Come, you shall not go: You have no affairs but what you may +dispatch here, to my knowledge. + +_Pala._ I find now, thou art a boy of more understanding than I +thought thee; a very lewd wicked boy: O' my conscience, thou would'st +debauch me, and hast some evil designs upon my person. + +_Dor._ You are mistaken, sir; I would only have you shew me a more +lawful reason why you would leave me, than I can why you should not, +and I'll not stay you; for I am not so young, but I understand the +necessities of flesh and blood, and the pressing occasions of mankind, +as well as you. + +_Pala._ A very forward and understanding boy! thou art in great danger +of a page's wit, to be brisk at fourteen, and dull at twenty. But I'll +give thee no further account; I must, and will go. + +_Dor._ My life on it, your mistress is not at home. + +_Pala._ This imp will make me very angry.--I tell thee, young sir, she +is at home, and at home for me; and, which is more, she is a-bed for +me, and sick for me. + +_Dor._ For you only? + +_Pala._ Aye, for me only. + +_Dor._ But how do you know she's sick a-bed? + +_Pala._ She sent her husband word so. + +_Dor._ And are you such a novice in love, to believe a wife's message +to her husband? + +_Pala._ Why, what the devil should be her meaning else? + +_Dor._ It may be, to go in masquerade, as well as you; to observe your +haunts, and keep you company without your knowledge. + +_Pala._ Nay, I'll trust her for that: She loves me too well, to +disguise herself from me. + +_Dor._ If I were she, I would disguise on purpose to try your wit; and +come to my servant like a riddle,--Read me, and take me. + +_Pala._ I could know her in any shape: My good genius would prompt me +to find out a handsome woman: There's something that would attract me +to her without my knowledge. + +_Dor._ Then you make a load-stone of your mistress? + +_Pala._ Yes, and I carry steel about me, which has been so often +touched, that it never fails to point to the north pole. + +_Dor._ Yet still my mind gives me, that you have met her disguised +to-night, and have not known her. + +_Pala._ This is the most pragmatical conceited little fellow, he will +needs understand my business better than myself. I tell thee, once +more, thou dost not know my mistress. + +_Dor._ And I tell you once more, that I know her better than you do. + +_Pala._ The boy's resolved to have the last word. I find I must go +without reply. [_Exit._ + +_Dor._ Ah mischief, I have lost him with my fooling. Palamede, +Palamede! + + _He returns. She plucks off her peruke, and puts it on again when he + knows her._ + +_Pala._ O heavens! is it you, madam? + +_Dor._ Now, where was your good genius, that would prompt you to find +me out? + +_Pala._ Why, you see I was not deceived; you yourself were my good +genius. + +_Dor._ But where was the steel, that knew the load-stone? Ha? + +_Pala._ The truth is, madam, the steel has lost its virtue: and, +therefore, if you please, we'll new touch it. + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL; _and_ MELANTHA _in Boys habit._ RHODOPHIL _sees_ + PALAMEDE _kissing_ DORALICE'S _hand._ + +_Rho._ Palamede again! am I fallen into your quarters? What? Engaging +with a boy? Is all honourable? + +_Pala._ O, very honourable on my side. I was just chastising this +young villain; he was running away, without paying his share of the +reckoning. + +_Rho._ Then I find I was deceived in him. + +_Pala._ Yes, you are deceived in him: 'tis the archest rogue, if you +did but know him. + +_Mel._ Good Rhodophil, let us get off _a-la derobbee_, for fear I +should be discovered. + +_Rho._ There's no retiring now; I warrant you for discovery. Now have +I the oddest thought, to entertain you before your servant's face, and +he never the wiser; it will be the prettiest juggling trick, to cheat +him when he looks upon us. + +_Mel._ This is the strangest caprice in you. + +_Pala._ [_to_ DORALICE.] This Rhodophil's the unluckiest fellow to me! +this is now the second time he has barred the dice when we were just +ready to have nicked him; but if ever I get the box again-- + +_Dor._ Do you think he will not know me? Am I like myself? + +_Pala._ No more than a picture in the hangings. + +_Dor._ Nay, then he can never discover me, now the wrong side of the +arras is turned towards him. + +_Pala._ At least, it will be some pleasure to me, to enjoy what +freedom I can while he looks on; I will storm the out-works of +matrimony even before his face. + +_Rho._ What wine have you there, Palamede? + +_Pala._ Old Chios, or the rogue's damn'd that drew it. + +_Rho._ Come,--to the most constant of mistresses! that, I believe, is +yours, Palamede. + +_Dor._ Pray spare your seconds; for my part I am but a weak brother. + +_Pala._ Now,--to the truest of turtles! that is your wife, Rhodophil, +that lies sick at home, in the bed of honour. + +_Rho._ Now let us have one common health, and so have done. + +_Dor._ Then, for once, I'll begin it. Here's to him that has the +fairest lady of Sicily in masquerade to night. + +_Pala._ This is such an obliging health, I'll kiss thee, dear rogue, +for thy invention. [_Kisses her._ + +_Rho._ He, who has this lady, is a happy man, without dispute,--I'm +most concerned in this, I am sure. [_Aside._ + +_Pala._ Was it not well found out, Rhodophil? + +_Mel._ Ay, this was _bien trouvee_ indeed. + +_Dor._ [_to_ MELANTHA.] I suppose I shall do you a kindness, to +enquire if you have not been in France, sir? + +_Mel._ To do you service, sir. + +_Dor._ O, monsieur, _votre valet bien humble_. [_Saluting her._ + +_Mel._ _Votre esclave, monsieur, de tout mon coeur._ + [_Returning the salute._ + +_Dor._ I suppose, sweet sir, you are the hope and joy of some thriving +citizen, who has pinched him self at home, to breed you abroad, where +you have learned your exercises, as it appears, most awkwardly, and +are returned, with the addition of a new-laced bosom and a clap, to +your good old father, who looks at you with his mouth, while you spout +French with your man monsieur. + +_Pala._ Let me kiss thee again for that, dear rogue. + +_Mel._ And you, I imagine, are my young master, whom your mother durst +not trust upon salt-water, but left you to be your own tutor at +fourteen, to be very brisk and _entreprenant_, to endeavour to be +debauched ere you have learned the knack of it, to value yourself upon +a clap before you can get it, and to make it the height of your +ambition to get a player for your mistress. + +_Rho._ [_embracing_ MELANTHA.] O dear young bully thou hast tickled +him with a _repartee_, i'faith. + +_Mel._ You are one of those that applaud our country plays, where +drums, and trumpets, and blood, and wounds, are wit. + +_Rho._ Again, my boy? Let me kiss thee most abundantly. + +_Dor._ You are an admirer of the dull French poetry, which is so thin, +that it is the very leaf-gold of wit, the very wafers and whip'd cream +of sense, for which a man opens his mouth, and gapes, to swallow +nothing: And to be an admirer of such profound dulness, one must be +endowed with a great perfection of impudence and ignorance. + +_Pala._ Let me embrace thee most vehemently. + +_Mel._ I'll sacrifice my life for French poetry. [_Advancing._ + +_Dor._ I'll die upon the spot for our country wit. + +_Rho._ [_to_ MELANTHA.] Hold, hold, young Mars! Palamede, draw back +your hero. + +_Pala._ 'Tis time; I shall be drawn in for a second else at the wrong +weapon. + +_Mel._ O that I were a man, for thy sake! + +_Dor._ You'll be a man as soon as I shall. + + _Enter a Messenger to_ RHODOPHIL. + +_Mess._ Sir, the king has instant business with you; +I saw the guard drawn up by your lieutenant, +Before the palace-gate, ready to march. + +_Rho._ 'Tis somewhat sudden; say that I am coming. [_Exit Messenger._ +Now, Palamede, what think you of this sport? +This is some sudden tumult; will you along? + +_Pala._ Yes, yes, I will go; but the devil take me if ever I was less +in humour. Why the pox could they not have staid their tumult till +to-morrow? Then I had done my business, and been ready for them. Truth +is, I had a little transitory crime to have committed first; and I am +the worst man in the world at repenting, till a sin be thoroughly +done: But what shall we do with the two boys? + +_Rho._ Let them take a lodging in the house, 'till the business be +over. + +_Dor._ What, lie with a boy? For my part, I own it, I cannot endure to +lie with a boy. + +_Pala._ The more's my sorrow, I cannot accommodate you with a better +bed-fellow. + +_Mel._ Let me die, if I enter into a pair of sheets with him that +hates the French. + +_Dor._ Pish, take no care for us, but leave us in the streets; I +warrant you, as late as it is, I'll find my lodging as well as any +drunken bully of them all. + +_Rho._ I'll light in mere revenge, and wreak my passion, +On all that spoil this hopeful assignation. [_Aside._ + +_Pala._ I'm sure we light in a good quarrel: +Rogues may pretend religion, and the laws; +But a kind mistress is the good old cause. [_Exuent._ + + +SCENE V. + + _Enter_ PALMYRA, EUBULUS, _and_ HERMOGENES. + +_Palm._ You tell me wonders; that Leonidas +Is prince Theagenes, the late king's son. + +_Eub._ It seems as strange to him, as now to you, +Before I had convinced him; but, besides +His great resemblance to the king his father, +The queen his mother lives, secured by me +In a religious house, to whom, each year, +I brought the news of his increasing virtues. +My last long absence from you both was caused +By wounds, which in my journey I received, +When set upon by thieves; I lost those jewels +And letters, which your dying mother left. + +_Herm._ The same he means, which, since, brought to the king, +Made him first know he had a child alive: +'Twas then my care of prince Leonidas, +Caused me to say he was the usurper's son; +Till after, forced by your apparent danger, +I made the true discovery of your birth, +And once more hid my prince's. + + _Enter_ LEONIDAS. + +_Leon._ Hermogenes, and Eubulus, retire; +Those of our party, whom I left without, +Expect your aid and counsel. [_Exeunt_ HERM. _and_ EUB. + +_Palm._ I should, Leonidas, congratulate +This happy change of your exalted fate; +But, as my joy, so you my wonder move. +Your looks have more of business than of love; +And your last words some great design did shew. + +_Leon._ I frame not any to be hid from you; +You, in my love, all my designs may see. +But what have love and you designed for me? +Fortune, once more, has set the balance right; +First, equalled us in lowness; then, in height. +Both of us have so long, like gamesters, thrown, +Till fate comes round, and gives to each his own. +As fate is equal, so may love appear: +Tell me, at least, what I must hope, or fear. + +_Palm._ After so many proofs, how can you call +My love in doubt? Fear nothing, and hope all. +Think what a prince, with honour, may receive, +Or I may give, without a parent's leave. + +_Leon._ You give, and then restrain the grace you shew; +As ostentatious priests, when souls they woo, +Promise their heaven to all, but grant to few. +But do for me, what I have dared for you: +I did no argument from duty bring; +Duty's a name, and love's a real thing. + +_Palm._ Man's love may, like wild torrents, overflow; +Woman's as deep, but in its banks must go. +My love is mine, and that I can impart; +But cannot give my person, with my heart. + +_Leon._ Your love is then no gift: +For, when the person it does not convey, +'Tis to give gold, and not to give the key. + +_Palm._ Then ask my father. + +_Leon._ He detains my throne; +Who holds back mine, will hardly give his own. + +_Palm._ What then remains? + +_Leon._ That I must have recourse +To arms, and take my love and crown, by force. +Hermogenes is forming the design; +And with him all the brave and loyal join. + +_Palm._ And is it thus you court Palmyra's bed? +Can she the murderer of her parent wed? +Desist from force: So much you well may give +To love, and me, to let my father live. + +_Leon._ Each act of mine my love to you has shewn; +But you who tax my want of it, have none. +You bid me part with you, and let him live; +But they should nothing ask, who nothing give. + +_Palm._ I give what virtue, and what duty can, +In vowing ne'er to wed another man. + +_Leon._ You will be forced to be Argaleon's wife. + +_Palm._ I'll keep my promise, though I lose my life. + +_Leon._ Then you lose love, for which we both contend; +For life is but the means, but love's the end. +_Palm._ Our souls shall love hereafter. + +_Leon._ I much fear, +That soul, which could deny the body here +To taste of love, would be a niggard there. + +_Palm._ Then 'tis past hope: our cruel fate, I see, +Will make a sad divorce 'twixt you and me. +For, if you force employ, by heaven I swear, +And all blessed beings,-- + +_Leon._ Your rash oath forbear. + +_Palm._ I never-- + +_Leon._ Hold once more. But yet, as he, +Who 'scapes a dangerous leap, looks back to see; +So I desire, now I am past my fear, +To know what was that oath you meant to swear. + +_Palm._ I meant, that if you hazarded your life, +Or sought my father's, ne'er to be your wife. + +_Leon._ See now, Palmyra, how unkind you prove! +Could you, with so much ease, forswear my love? + +_Palm._ You force me with your ruinous design. + +_Leon._ Your father's life is more your care, than mine. + +_Palm._ You wrong me: 'Tis not, though it ought to be; +You are my care, heaven knows, as well as he. + +_Leon._ If now the execution I delay, +My honour, and my subjects, I betray. +All is prepared for the just enterprise; +And the whole city will to-morrow rise. +The leaders of the party are within, +And Eubulus has sworn that he will bring, +To head their arms, the person of their king. + +_Palm._ In telling this, you may be guilty too; +I therefore must discover what I know: +What honour bids you do, nature bids me prevent; +But kill me first, and then pursue your black intent. + +_Leon._ Palmyra, no; you shall not heed to die; +Yet I'll not trust so strict a piety. +Within there! + + _Enter_ EUBULUS. + +Eubulus, a guard prepare; +Here, I commit this prisoner to your care. + [_Kisses_ PALMYRA'S _hand, then gives it to_ EUBULUS. + +_Palm._ Leonidas, I never thought these bands +Could e'er be given me by a lover's hands. + +_Leon._ Palmyra, thus your judge himself arraigns; [_Kneeling._ +He, who imposed these bands, still wears your chains: +When you to love or duty false must be, +Or to your father guilty, or to me, +These chains, alone, remain to set you free. + [_Noise of swords clashing._ + +_Poly._ [_within._] +Secure these, first: then search the inner room. + +_Leon._ From whence do these tumultuous clamours come? + + _Enter_ HERMOGENES, _hastily._ + +_Herm._ We are betrayed; and there remains alone +This comfort, that your person is not known. + + _Enter the King,_ ARGALEON, RHODOPHIL, PALAMEDE, _Guards; some like + citizens, as prisoners._ + +_Poly._ What mean these midnight consultations here, +Where I like an unsummoned guest appear? + +_Leon._ Sir-- + +_Arga._ There needs no excuse; 'tis understood; +You were all watching for your prince's good. + +_Poly._ My reverend city friends, you are well met! +On what great work were your grave wisdoms set? +Which of my actions were you scanning here? +What French invasion have you found to fear? + +_Leon._ They are my friends; and come, sir, with intent, +To take their leaves, before my banishment. + +_Poly._ Your exile in both sexes friends can find: +I see the ladies, like the men, are kind. [_Seeing_ PALMYRA. + +_Palm._ Alas, I came but-- [_Kneeling._ + +_Poly._ Add not to your crime +A lie: I'll hear you speak some other time. +How? Eubulus! nor time, nor thy disguise, +Can keep thee undiscovered from my eyes. +A guard there! seize them all. + +_Rho._ Yield, sir; what use of valour can be shewn? + +_Pala._ One, and unarmed, against a multitude! + +_Leon._ Oh for a sword! [_He reaches at one of the Guards' halberds, + and is seized behind._ +I wonnot lose my breath +In fruitless prayers; but beg a speedy death. + +_Palm._ O spare Leonidas, and punish me! + +_Poly._ Mean girl, thou want'st an advocate for thee. +Now the mysterious knot will be untied; +Whether the young king lives, or where he died: +To-morrow's dawn shall the dark riddle clear, +Crown all my joys, and dissipate my fear. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT V. SCENE I. + + PALAMEDE, STRATO. PALAMEDE _with a letter in his hand._ + +_Pala._ This evening, sayest thou? will they both be here? + +_Stra._ Yes, sir, both my old master, and your mistress's father. The +old gentlemen ride hard this journey; they say, it shall be the last +time they will see the town; and both of them are so pleased with this +marriage, which they have concluded for you, that I am afraid they +will live some years longer to trouble you, with the joy of it. + +_Pala._ But this is such an unreasonable thing, to impose upon me to +be married to-morrow; 'tis hurrying a man to execution, without giving +him time to say his prayers. + +_Stra._ Yet, if I might advise you, sir, you should not delay it; for +your younger brother comes up with them, and is got already into their +favours. He has gained much upon my old master, by finding fault with +innkeepers' bills, and by starving us, and our horses, to shew his +frugality; and he is very well with your mistress's father, by giving +him recipes for the spleen, gout and scurvy, and other infirmities of +old age. + +_Pala._ I'll rout him, and his country education: Pox on him, I +remember him before I travelled, he had nothing in him but mere +jockey; used to talk loud, and make matches, and was all for the crack +of the field: Sense and wit were as much banished from his discourse, +as they are when the court goes out of town to a horse race. Go now +and provide your master's lodgings. + +_Stra._ I go, sir. [_Exit._ + +_Pala._ It vexes me to the heart, to leave all my designs with +Doralice unfinished; to have flown her so often to a mark, and still +to be bobbed at retrieve: If I had once enjoyed her, though I could +not have satisfied my stomach with the feast, at least I should have +relished my mouth a little; but now-- + + _Enter_ PHILOTIS. + +_Phil._ Oh, sir, you are happily met; I was coming to find you. + +_Pala._ From your lady. I hope. + +_Phil._ Partly from her; but more especially from myself: She has just +now received a letter from her father, with an absolute command to +dispose herself to marry you to-morrow. + +_Pala._ And she takes it to the death? + +_Phil._ Quite contrary: The letter could never have come in a more +lucky minute; for it found her in an ill-humour with a rival of yours, +that shall be nameless, about the pronunciation of a French word. + +_Pala._ Count Rhodophil? never disguise it, I know the amour: But I +hope you took the occasion to strike in for me? + +_Phil._ It was my good fortune to do you some small service in it; for +your sake I discommended him all over,--clothes, person, humour, +behaviour, every thing; and, to sum up all, told her, it was +impossible to find a married man that was otherwise; for they were all +so mortified at home with their wives' ill humours, that they could +never recover themselves to be company abroad. + +_Pala._ Most divinely urged! + +_Phil._ Then I took occasion to commend your good qualities; as the +sweetness of your humour, the comeliness of your person, your good +mein, your valour; but, above all, your liberality. + +_Pala._ I vow to Gad I had like to have forgot that good quality in +myself, if thou hadst not remembered me of it: Here are five pieces +for thee. + +_Phil._ Lord, you have the softest hand, sir, it would do a woman good +to touch it: Count Rhodophil's is not half so soft; for I remember I +felt it once, when he gave me ten pieces for my new-years-gift. + +_Pala._ O, I understand you, madam; you shall find my hand as soft +again as Count Rhodophil's: There are twenty pieces for you. The +former was but a retaining fee; now I hope you'll plead for me. + +_Phil._ Your own merits speak enough. Be sure only to ply her with +French words, and I'll warrant you'll do your business. Here are a +list of her phrases for this day: Use them to her upon all occasions +and foil her at her own weapon; for she's like one of the old Amazons, +she'll never marry, except it be the man who has first conquered her. + +_Pala._ I'll be sure to follow your advice: But you'll forget to +further my design. + +_Phil._ What, do you think I'll be ungrateful?--But however, if you +distrust my memory, put some token on my finger to remember it by: +That diamond there would do admirably. + +_Pala._ There 'tis; and I ask your pardon heartily for calling your +memory into question: I assure you I'll trust it another time, without +putting you to the trouble of another token. + + _Enter_ PALMYRA _and_ ARTEMIS. + +_Art._ Madam, this way the prisoners are to pass; Here you may see +Leonidas. + +_Palm._ Then here I'll stay, and follow him to death. + + _Enter_ MELANTHA, _hastily._ + +_Mel._ O, here's her highness! Now is my time to introduce myself, and +to make my court to her, in my new French phrases. Stay, let me read +my catalogue--_Suite_, _figure_, _chagrin_, _naivete_, and _let me +die_, for the parenthesis of all. + +_Pala._ [_Aside._] Do, persecute her; and I'll persecute thee as fast +in thy own dialect. + +_Mel._ Madam, the princess! let me die, but this is a most horrid +spectacle, to see a person, who makes so grand a figure in the court, +without the _suite_ of a princess, and entertaining your _chagrin_ all +alone:--_Naivete_ should have been there, but the disobedient word +would not come in. [_Aside._ + +_Palm._ What is she, Artemis? + +_Art._ An impertinent lady, madam; very ambitious of being known to +your highness. + +_Pala._ [_To_ MELANTHA.] Let me die, madam, if I have not waited you +here these two long hours, without so much as the _suite_ of a single +servant to attend me; entertaining myself with my own _chagrin_ till I +had the honour of seeing your ladyship, who are a person that makes so +considerable a figure in the court. + +_Mel._ Truce with your _douceurs_, good servant; you see I am +addressing to the princess; pray do not _embarrass_ me--_Embarrass_ +me! what a delicious French word do you make me lose upon you too! +[_To the Princess._] Your highness, madam, will please to pardon the +_beveue_ which I made, in not sooner finding you out to be a princess: +But let me die if this _eclaircissement_, which is made this day of +your quality, does not ravish me; and give me leave to tell you-- + +_Pala._ But first give me leave to tell you, madam, that I have so +great a _tendre_ for your person, and such a _penchant_ to do you +service, that-- + +_Mel._ What, must I still be troubled with your _sottises_? (There's +another word lost, that I meant for the princess, with a mischief to +you!) But your highness, madam-- + +_Pala._ But your ladyship, madam-- + + _Enter_ LEONIDAS, _guarded and led over the stage._ + +_Mel._ Out upon him, how he looks, madam! now he's found no prince, he +is the strangest figure of a man; how could I make that _coup +d'etourdi_ to think him one? + +_Palm._ Away, impertinent!--my dear Leonidas! + +_Leon._ My dear Palmyra! + +_Palm._ Death shall never part us; my destiny is yours. + [_He is led off, she follows._ + +_Mel._ Impertinent! Oh I am the most unfortunate person this day +breathing: That the princess should thus _rompre en visiere_, without +occasion. Let me die, but I'll follow her to death, till I make my +peace. + +_Pala._ [_Holding her._] And let me die, but I'll follow you to the +infernals, till you pity me. + +_Mel._ [_Turning towards him angrily._] Ay, 'tis long of you that this +_malheur_ is fallen upon me; your impertinence has put me out of the +good graces of the princess, and all that, which has ruined me, and +all that, and, therefore, let me die, but I'll be revenged, and all +that. + +Pala. _Facon, facon,_ you must and shall love me, and all that; for my +old man is coming up, and all that; and I am _desespere au dernier_, +and will not be disinherited, and all that. + +_Mel._ How durst you interrupt me so _mal apropos_, when you knew I +was addressing to the princess? + +_Pala._ But why would you address yourself so much _a contretemps_ +then? + +_Mel._ Ah, _mal peste!_ + +_Pala._ Ah, _j'enrage!_ + +Phil. _Radoucissez vous, de grace, madame; vous etes bien en colere +pour peu de chose. Vous n'entendez pas la raillerie gallante._ + +Mel. _Ad autres, ad autres_: He mocks himself of me,[1] he abuses me: +Ah me unfortunate! [_Cries._ + +_Phil._ You mistake him, madam, he does but accommodate his phrase to +your refined language. _Ah qu'il est un cavalier accompli!_ Pursue +your point, sir-- [_To him._ + +Pala. _Ah qu'il fait beau dans ces boccages;_ [Singing.] _Ah que le +ciet donne un beau jour!_ There I was with you, with a _minuet._ + +_Mel._ Let me die now, but this singing is fine, and extremely French +in him: [_Laughs._] But then, that he should use my own words, as it +were in contempt of me, I cannot bear it. [_Crying._ + +Pala. _Ces beaux sejours, ces doux ramages_-- [Singing. + +Mel. _Ces beaux sejours, ces doux ramages._ [Singing after him.] _Ces +beaux sejours nous invitent a l'amour!_ Let me die, but he sings _en +cavalier_, and so humours the cadence! [_Laughing._ + +Pala. _Foy, ma Clymene, voy sous ce chene._ [Singing again.] +_S'entrebaiser ces oiseaux amoreux!_ Let me die now, but that was +fine. Ah, now, for three or four brisk Frenchmen, to be put into +masking habits, and to sing it on a theatre, how witty it would be! +and then to dance helter skelter to a _chanson a boire: Toute la +terre, toute la terre est a moi!_ What's matter though it were made +and sung two or three years ago in _cabarets_, how it would attract +the admiration, especially of every one that's an _eveille!_ + +_Mel._ Well; I begin to have a _tendre_ for you; but yet, upon +condition, that--when we are married, you-- + [PAL. _sings, while she speaks._ + +_Phil._ You must drown her voice: If she makes her French conditions, +you are a slave for ever. + +_Mel._ First, you will engage--that-- + +_Pala._ Fa, la, la, la, &c. [_Louder._ + +_Mel._ Will you hear the conditions? + +_Pala._ No; I will hear no conditions; I am resolved to win you _en +Francois_: To be very airy, with abundance of noise, and no sense: Fa +la, la, la, &c. + +_Mel._ Hold, hold: I am vanquished with your _gayete d'esprit._ I am +yours, and will be yours, _sans nulle reserve, ni condition_: And let +me die, if I do not think myself the happiest nymph in Sicily--My +dear French dear, stay but a _minuite_, till I _raccommode_ myself +with the princess; and then I am yours, _jusqu' a la mort. Allons +donc._-- [Exeunt MEL. PHIL. + +_Palu._ [_Solus, fanning himself with his hat._] I never thought +before that wooing was so laborious an exercise; if she were worth a +million, I have deserved her; and now, methinks too, with taking all +this pains for her, I begin to like her. 'Tis so; I have known many, +who never cared for hare nor partridge, but those they caught +themselves would eat heartily: The pains, and the story a man tells of +the taking them, makes the meat go down more pleasantly. Besides, last +night I had a sweet dream of her, and, gad, she I have once dreamed +of, I am stark mad till I enjoy her, let her be never so ugly. + + _Enter_ DORALICE. + +_Dor._ Who's that you are so mad to enjoy, Palamede? + +_Pala._ You may easily imagine that, sweet Dorarlice. + +_Dor._ More easily than you think I can: I met just now with a certain +man, who came to you with letters from a certain old gentleman, +y'cleped your father; whereby I am given to understand, that to-morrow +you are to take an oath in the church to be grave henceforward, to go +ill-dressed and slovenly, to get heirs for your estate, and to dandle +them for your diversion; and, in short, that love and courtship are to +be no more. + +_Pala._ Now have I so much shame to be thus apprehended in the manner, +that I can neither speak nor look upon you; I have abundance of grace +in me, that I find: But if you have any spark of true friendship in +you, retire with me a little into the next room, that hath a couch or +bed in it, and bestow your charity upon a dying man! A little comfort +from a mistress, before a man is going to give himself in marriage, is +as good as a lusty dose of strong-water to a dying malefactor: it +takes away the sense of hell and hanging from him. + +_Dor._ No, good Palamede, I must not be so injurious to your bride: +'Tis ill drawing from the bank to-day, when all your ready money is +payable to-morrow. + +_Pala._ A wife is only to have the ripe fruit, that falls of itself; +but a wise man will always preserve a shaking for a mistress. + +_Dor._ But a wife for the first quarter is a mistress. + +_Pala._ But when the second comes-- + +_Dor._ When it does come, you are so given to variety, that you would +make a wife of me in another quarter. + +_Pala._ No, never, except I were married to you: married people can +never oblige one another; for all they do is duty, and consequently +there can be no thanks: But love is more frank and generous than he is +honest; he's a liberal giver, but a cursed pay-master. + +_Dor._ I declare I will have no gallant; but, if I would, he should +never be a married man; a married man is but a mistress's +half-servant, as a clergyman is but the king's half-subject: For a man +to come to me that smells of the wife! 'Slife, I would as soon wear +her old gown after her, as her husband. + +_Pala._ Yet 'tis a kind of fashion to wear a princess's cast shoes; +you see the country ladies buy them, to be fine in them. + +_Dor._ Yes, a princess's shoes may be worn after her, because they +keep their fashion, by being so very little used; but generally a +married man is the creature of the world the most out of fashion: his +behaviour is dumpish; his discourse, his wife and family; his habit so +much neglected, it looks as if that were married too; his hat is +married, his peruke is married, his breeches are married,--and, if we +could look within his breeches, we should find him married there too. + +_Pala._ Am I then to be discarded for ever? pray do but mark how that +word sounds: for ever! it has a very damn'd sound, Doralice. + +_Dor._ Ay, for ever! it sounds as hellishly to me, as it can do to +you, but there's no help for it. + +_Pala._ Yet, if we had but once enjoyed one another!--but then once +only, is worse than not at all: It leaves a man with such a lingering +after it. + +_Dor._ For aught I know, 'tis better that we have not; we might upon +trial have liked each other less, as many a man and woman, that have +loved as desperately as we, and yet, when they came to possession, +have sighed and cried to themselves, Is this all? + +_Pala._ That is only, if the servant were not found a man of this +world; but if, upon trial, we had not liked each other, we had +certainly left loving; and faith, that's the greater happiness of the +two. + +_Dor._ 'Tis better as 'tis; we have drawn off already as much of our +love as would run clear; after possessing, the rest is but jealousies, +and disquiets, and quarrelling, and piecing. + +_Pala._ Nay, after one great quarrel, there's never any sound piecing; +the love is apt to break in the same place again. + +_Dor._ I declare I would never renew a love; that's like him, who +trims an old coach for ten years together; he might buy a new one +better cheap. + +_Pala._ Well, madam, I am convinced, that 'tis best for us not to have +enjoyed; but, gad, the strongest reason is, because I can't help it. + +_Dor._ The only way to keep us new to one another is never to enjoy, +as they keep grapes, by hanging them upon a line; they must touch +nothing, if you would preserve them fresh. + +_Pala._ But then they wither, and grow dry in the very keeping; +however, I shall have a warmth for you, and an eagerness, every time I +see you; and, if I chance to out-live Melantha-- + +_Dor._ And if I chance to out-live Rhodophil-- + +_Pala._ Well, I'll cherish my body as much as I can, upon that hope. +'Tis true, I would not directly murder the wife of my bosom; but, to +kill her civilly, by the way of kindness, I'll put as fair as another +man: I'll begin to-morrow night, and be very wrathful with her; that's +resolved on. + +_Dor._ Well, Palamede, here's my hand, I'll venture to be your second +wife, for all your threatenings. + +_Pala._ In the mean time I'll watch you hourly, as I would the +ripeness of a melon; and I hope you'll give me leave now and then to +look on you, and to see if you are not ready to be cut yet. + +_Dor._ No, no, that must not be, Palamede, for fear the gardener +should come and catch you taking up the glass. + + _Enter_ RHODOPHIL. + +_Rho._ [_Aside._] Billing so sweetly! now I am confirmed in my +suspicions; I must put an end to this ere it go farther--[_To_ +DORALICE.] Cry you mercy, spouse, I fear I have interrupted your +recreations. + +_Dor._ What recreations? + +_Rho._ Nay, no excuses, good spouse; I saw fair hand conveyed to lip, +and prest, as though you had been squeezing soft wax together for an +indenture. Palamede, you and I must clear this reckoning: why would +you have seduced my wife? + +_Pala._ Why would you have debauched my mistress? + +_Rho._ What do you think of that civil couple, that played at a game, +called Hide and Seek, last evening in the grotto? + +_Pala._ What do you think of that innocent pair, who made it their +pretence to seek for others, but came, indeed, to hide themselves +there? + +_Rho._ All things considered, I begin vehemently to suspect, that the +young gentleman I found in your company last night, was a certain +youth of my acquaintance. + +_Pala._ And I have an odd imagination, that you could never have +suspected my small gallant, if your little villainous Frenchman had +not been a false brother. + +_Rho._ Further arguments are needless; draw off; I shall speak to you +now by the way of _bilbo_. [_Claps his hand to his sword._ + +_Pala._ And I shall answer you by the way of Dangerfield[2]. + [_Claps his hand on his._ + +_Dor._ Hold, hold; are not you two a couple of mad fighting fools, to +cut one another's throats for nothing? + +_Pala._ How for nothing? He courts the woman I must marry. + +_Rho._ And he courts you, whom I have married. + +_Dor._ But you can neither of you be jealous of what you love not. + +_Rho._ Faith, I am jealous, and this makes me partly suspect that I +love you better than I thought. + +_Dor._ Pish! a mere jealousy of honour. + +_Rho._ Gad, I am afraid there's something else in't; for Palamede has +wit, and, if he loves you, there's something more in ye than I have +found: Some rich mine, for aught I know, that I have not yet +discovered. + +_Pala._ 'Slife, what's this? Here's an argument for me to love +Melantha; for he has loved her, and he has wit too, and, for aught I +know, there may be a mine; but, if there be, I am resolved I'll dig +for it. + +_Dor._ [_To_ RHODOPHIL.] Then I have found my account in raising your +jealousy. O! 'tis the most delicate sharp sauce to a cloyed stomach; +it will give you a new edge, Rhodophil. + +_Rho._ And a new point too, Doralice, if I could be sure thou art +honest. + +_Dor._ If you are wise, believe me for your own sake: Love and +religion have but one thing to trust to; that's a good sound faith. +Consider, if I have played false, you can never find it out by any +experiment you can make upon me. + +_Rho._ No? Why, suppose I had a delicate screwed gun; if I left her +clean, and found her foul, I should discover, to my cost, she had been +shot in. + +_Dor._ But if you left her clean, and found her only rusty, you would +discover, to your shame, she was only so for want of shooting. + +_Pala._ Rhodophil, you know me too well to imagine I speak for fear; +and therefore, in consideration of our past friendship, I will tell +you, and bind it by all things holy, that Doralice is innocent. + +_Rho._ Friend, I will believe you, and vow the same for your Melantha; +but the devil on't is, how shall we keep them so? + +_Pala._ What dost think of a blessed community betwixt us four, for +the solace of the women, and relief of the men? Methinks it would be a +pleasant kind of life: Wife and husband for the standing dish, and +mistress and gallant for the desert. + +_Rho._ But suppose the wife and mistress should both long for the +standing dish, how should they be satisfied together? + +_Pala._ In such a case they must draw lots; and yet that would not do +neither, for they would both be wishing for the longest cut. + +_Rho._ Then I think, Palamede, we had as good make a firm league, not +to invade each other's propriety. + +_Pala._ Content, say I. From henceforth let all acts of hostility +cease betwixt us; and that, in the usual form of treaties, as well by +sea as land, and in all fresh waters. + +_Dor._ I will add but one _proviso_, that whoever breaks the league, +either by war abroad, or neglect at home, both the women shall revenge +themselves by the help of the other party. + +_Rho._ That's but reasonable. Come away, Doralice; I have a great +temptation to be sealing articles in private. + +_Pala._ Hast thou so? [_Claps him on the shoulder._ + + "Fall on, Macduff, + And cursed be he that first cries, Hold, enough." + + _Enter_ POLYDAMAS, PALMYRA, ARTEMIS, ARGALEON: _After them_ EUBULUS + _and_ HERMOGENES, guarded. + +_Palm._ Sir, on my knees I beg you-- + +_Poly._ Away, I'll hear no more. + +_Palm._ For my dead mother's sake; you say you loved her, +And tell me I resemble her. Thus she +Had begged. + +_Poly._ And thus I had denied her. + +_Palm._ You must be merciful. + +_Arga._ You must be constant. + +_Poly._ Go, bear them to the torture; you have boasted +You have a king to head you; I would know +To whom I must resign. + +_Eub._ This is our recompence +For serving thy dead queen. + +_Herm._ And education +Of thy daughter. + +_Arga._ You are too modest, in not naming all +His obligations to you: Why did you +Omit his son, the prince Leonidas? + +_Poly._ That imposture +I had forgot; their tortures shall be doubled. + +_Herm._ You please me; I shall die the sooner. + +_Eub._ No; could I live an age, and still be racked, +I still would keep the secret. [_As they are going off,_ + + _Enter_ LEONIDAS, _guarded._ + +_Leon._ Oh, whither do you hurry innocence! +If you have any justice, spare their lives; +Or, if I cannot make you just, at least +I'll teach you to more purpose to be cruel. + +_Palm._ Alas, what does he seek! + +_Leon._ Make me the object of your hate and vengeance: +Are these decrepid bodies, worn to ruin, +Just ready of themselves to fall asunder. +And to let drop the soul,-- +Are these fit subjects for a rack and tortures? +Where would you fasten any hold upon them? +Place pains on me,--united fix them here,-- +I have both youth, and strength, and soul to bear them; +And, if they merit death, then I much more, +Since 'tis for me they suffer. + +_Herm._ Heaven forbid +We should redeem our pains, or worthless lives, +By our exposing yours. + +_Eub._ Away with us. Farewell, sir: +I only suffer in my fears for you. + +_Arga._ So much concerned for him! Then my [_Aside._ +Suspicion's true. [_Whispers the King._ + +_Palm._ Hear yet my last request for poor Leonidas, +Or take my life with his. + +_Arga._ Rest satisfied, Leonidas is he. [_To the King._ + +_Poly._ I am amazed: What must be done? + +_Arga._ Command his execution instantly: +Give him not leisure to discover it; +He may corrupt the soldiers. + +_Poly._ Hence with that traitor, bear him to his death: +Haste there, and see my will performed. + +_Leon._ Nay, then, I'll die like him the gods have made me. +Hold, gentlemen, I am-- [ARGALEON _stops his mouth._ + +_Arga._ Thou art a traitor; 'tis not fit to hear thee. + +_Leon._ I say, I am the-- [_Getting loose a little._ + +_Arga._ So; gag him, and lead him off. [_Again stopping his mouth._ + [LEONIDAS, HERMOGENES, EUBULUS, _led off;_ + POLYDAMAS _and_ ARGALEON _follow._ + +_Palm._ Duty and love, by turns, possess my soul +And struggle for a fatal victory. +I will discover he's the king:--Ah, no! +That will perhaps save him; +But then I'm guilty of a father's ruin. +What shall I do, or not do? Either way +I must destroy a parent, or a lover. +Break heart; for that's the least of ills to me, +And death the only cure. [_Swoons._ + +_Arte._ Help, help the princess. + +_Rho._ Bear her gently hence, where she may +Have more succour. [_She is borne off;_ ARTE. _follows her._ + [_Shouts within, and clashing of swords._ + +_Pala._ What noise is that? + + _Enter_ AMALTHEA, _running._ + +_Amal._ Oh, gentlemen, if you have loyalty, +Or courage, show it now! Leonidas, +Broke on the sudden from his guards, and snatching +A sword from one, his back against the scaffold, +Bravely defends himself, and owns aloud +He is our long-lost king; found for this moment, +But, if your valour helps not, lost for ever. +Two of his guards, moved by the sense of virtue, +Are turned for him, and there they stand at bay +Against an host of foes. + +_Rho._ Madam, no more; +We lose time; my command, or my example, +May move the soldiers to the better cause. +You'll second me? [_To_ PALA. + +_Pala._ Or die with you: No subject e'er can meet +A nobler fate, than at his sovereign's feet. [_Exeunt._ + [_Clashing of swords within, and shouts._ + + _Enter_ LEONIDAS, RHODOPHIL, PALAMEDE, EUBULUS, HERMOGENES, _and + their Party, victorious;_ POLYDAMAS _and_ ARGALEON, _disarmed._ + +_Leon._ That I survive the dangers of this day, +Next to the gods, brave friends, be yours the honour; +And, let heaven witness for me, that my joy +Is not more great for this my right restored, +Than 'tis, that I have power to recompense +Your loyalty and valour. Let mean princes, +Of abject souls, fear to reward great actions; +I mean to shew, +That whatsoe'er subjects, like you, dare merit, +A king, like me, dares give. + +_Rho._ You make us blush, we have deserved so little. + +_Pala._ And yet instruct us how to merit more. + +_Leon._ And as I would be just in my rewards, +So should I in my punishments; these two, +This, the usurper of my crown, the other, +Of my Palmyra's love, deserve that death, +Which both designed for me. + +_Poly._ And we expect it. + +_Arga._ I have too long been happy, to live wretched. + +_Poly._ And I too long have governed, to desire +A life without an empire. + +_Leon._ You are Palmyra's father; and as such, +Though not a king, shall have obedience paid +From him who is one. Father, in that name +All injuries forgot, and duty owned. [_Embraces him._ + +_Poly._ O, had I known you could have been this king, +Thus god-like, great and good, I should have wished +To have been dethroned before. 'Tis now I live, +And more than reign; now all my joys flow pure, +Unmixed with cares, and undisturbed by conscience. + + _Enter_ PALMYRA, AMALTHEA, ARTEMIS, DORALICE, _and_ MELANTHA. + +_Leon._ See, my Palmyra comes! the frighted blood +Scarce yet recalled to her pale cheeks, +Like the first streaks of light broke loose from darkness, +And dawning into blushes.--Sir, you said [_To_ POLY. +Your joys were full; Oh, would you make mine so! +I am but half restored without this blessing. + +_Poly._ The gods, and my Palmyra, make you happy, +As you make me! [_Gives her hand to_ LEONIDAS. + +_Palm._ Now all my prayers are heard: +I may be dutiful, and yet may love. +Virtue and patience have at length unravelled +The knots, which fortune tyed. + +_Mel._ Let me die, but I'll congratulate his majesty: How admirably +well his royalty becomes him! Becomes! that is _lui sied_, but our +damned language expresses nothing. + +_Pala._ How? Does it become him already? 'Twas but just now you said, +he was such a figure of a man. + +_Mel_ True, my dear, when he was a private man he was a figure; but +since he is a king, methinks he has assumed another figure: He looks +so grand, and so august! [_Going to the King._ + +_Pala._ Stay, stay; I'll present you when it is more convenient. I +find I must get her a place at court; and when she is once there, she +can be no longer ridiculous; for she is young enough, and pretty +enough, and fool enough, and French enough, to bring up a fashion +there to be affected. + +_Leon._ [_To_ RHODOPHIL.] +Did she then lead you to this brave attempt? +[_To_ AMALTHEA.] To you, fair Amalthea, what I am, +And what all these, from me, we jointly owe: +First, therefore, to your great desert we give +Your brother's life; but keep him under guard +Till our new power be settled. What more grace +He may receive, shall from his future carriage +Be given, as he deserves. + +_Arga._ I neither now desire, nor will deserve it; +My loss is such as cannot be repaired, +And, to the wretched, life can be no mercy. + +_Leon._ Then be a prisoner always: Thy ill fate +And pride will have it so: But since in this I cannot, +Instruct me, generous Amalthea, how +A king may serve you. + +_Amal._ I have all I hope, +And all I now must wish; I see you happy. +Those hours I have to live, which heaven in pity +Will make but few, I vow to spend with vestals: +The greatest part in prayers for you; the rest +In mourning my unworthiness. +Press me not farther to explain myself; +'Twill not become me, and may cause your trouble. + +_Leon._ Too well I understand her secret grief, [_Aside._ +But dare not seem to know it.--Come, my fairest; [_To_ PALMYRA. +Beyond my crown I have one joy in store, +To give that crown to her whom I adore. [_Exeunt._ + + + EPILOGUE. + + Thus have my spouse and I informed the nation, + And led you all the way to reformation; + Not with dull morals, gravely writ, like those, + Which men of easy phlegm with care compose,-- + Your poets, of stiff words and limber sense, + Born on the confines of indifference; + But by examples drawn, I dare to say, + From most of you who hear and see the play. + There are more Rhodophils in this theatre, + More Palamedes, and some few wives, I fear: + But yet too far our poet would not run; + Though 'twas well offered, there was nothing done. + He would not quite the women's frailty bare, + But stript them to the waist, and left them there: + And the men's faults are less severely shown, + For he considers that himself is one.-- + Some stabbing wits, to bloody satire bent, + Would treat both sexes with less compliment; + Would lay the scene at home; of husbands tell, + For wenches, taking up their wives i' the Mall; + And a brisk bout, which each of them did want, + Made by mistake of mistress and gallant. + Our modest author thought it was enough + To cut you off a sample of the stuff: + He spared my shame, which you, I'm sure, would not, + For you were all for driving on the plot: + You sighed when I came in to break the sport, + And set your teeth when each design fell short. + To wives and servants all good wishes lend, + But the poor cuckold seldom finds a friend. + Since, therefore, court and town will take no pity, + I humbly cast myself upon the city. + + +Footnotes: +1. _He mocks himself of me_.] Melantha, like some modern coxcombs, + uses the idiom as well as the words of the French language. + +2. _Dangerfield._] A dramatic bully, whose sword and habit became + proverbial. "This gentleman, appearing with his mustaccios, + according to the Turkish manner, Cordubee hat, and strange + out-of-the-way clothes, just as if one had been dressed up to act + Captain Dangerfield in the play, &c." _Life of Sir Dudley North._ + + + * * * * * + + + THE + + ASSIGNATION; + + OR, + + LOVE IN A NUNNERY. + + A + + COMEDY. + + + _Successum dea dira negat_ + VIRG. + + + + + THE ASSIGNATION. + +This play was unfortunate in the representation. It is needless, at +the distance of more than a century, to investigate the grounds of the +dislike of an audience, who, perhaps, could at the very time have +given no good reason for their capricious condemnation of a play, not +worse than many others which they received with applause. The author, +in the dedication, hints at the "lameness of the action;" but, as the +poet and performers are nearly equally involved in the disgrace of a +condemned piece, it is a very natural desire on either side to assign +the cause of its failure to the imperfections of the other; of which +there is a ludicrous representation in a dialogue betwixt the player +and the poet in "Joseph Andrews." Another cause of its unfavourable +reception seems to have been, its second title of "Love in a Nunnery." +Dryden certainly could, last of any man, have been justly suspected of +an intention to ridicule the Duke of York and the Catholic religion; +yet, as he fell under the same censure for the "Spanish Friar," it +seems probable that such suspicions were actually entertained. The +play certainly contains, in the present instance, nothing to justify +them. In point of merit, "The Assignation" seems pretty much on a +level with Dryden's other comedies; and certainly the spectators, who +had received the blunders of Sir Martin Mar-all with such unbounded +applause, might have taken some interest in those of poor Benito. +Perhaps the absurd and vulgar scene, in which the prince pretends a +fit of the cholic, had some share in occasioning the fall of the +piece. This inelegant _jeu de theatre_ is severely ridiculed in the +"Rehearsal." + +To one person, the damnation of this play seems to have afforded +exquisite pleasure. This was Edward Ravenscroft, once a member of the +Middle Temple,--an ingenious gentleman, of whose taste it may be held +a satisfactory instance, that he deemed the tragedy of "Titus +Andronicus" too mild for representation, and generously added a few +more murders, rapes, and parricides, to that charnel-house of +horrors[1]. His turn for comedy being at least equal to his success in +the blood-stained buskin, Mr Ravenscroft translated and mangled +several of the more farcical French comedies, which he decorated with +the lustre of his own great name. Amongst others which he thus +appropriated, were the most extravagant and buffoon scenes in +Moliere's "_Bourgeois Gentilhomme_;" in which Monsieur Jourdain is, +with much absurd ceremony, created a Turkish Paladin; and where +Moliere took the opportunity to introduce an _entree de ballet_, +danced and sung by the Mufti, dervises, and others, in eastern habits. +Ravenscroft's translation, entitled "The Citizen turned Gentleman," +was acted in 1672, and printed in the same year; the jargon of the +songs, like similar nonsense of our own day, seems to have been well +received on the stage. Dryden, who was not always above feeling +indignation at the bad taste and unjust preferences of the age, +attacked Ravenscroft in the prologue to "The Assignation," as he had +before, though less directly, in that of "Marriage a-la-Mode." Hence +the exuberant and unrepressed joy of that miserable scribbler broke +forth upon the damnation of Dryden's performance, in the following +passage of a prologue to another of his pilfered performances, called +"The Careless Lovers," acted, according to Langbaine, in the vacation +succeeding the fall of "The Assignation," in 1673: + + An author did, to please you, let his wit run, + Of late, much on a serving man and cittern; + And yet, you would not like the serenade,-- + Nay, and you damned his nuns in masquerade: + You did his Spanish sing-song too abhor; + _Ah! que locura con tanto rigor!_ + In fine, the whole by you so much was blamed, + To act their parts, the players were ashamed[2]. + Ah, how severe your malice was that day! + To damn, at once, the poet and his play[3]: + But why was your rage just at that time shown, + When what the author writ was all his own? + Till then, he borrowed from romance, and did translate[4]; + And those plays found a more indulgent fate. + +Ravenscroft, however, seems to have given the first offence; for, in +the prologue to "The Citizen turned Gentleman," licensed 9th August +1672, we find the following lines, obviously levelled at "The Conquest +of Granada," and other heroic dramas of our author: + + Then shall the knight, that had a knock in's cradle, + Such as Sir Martin and Sir Arthur Addle[5], + Be flocked unto, as the great heroes now + In plays of rhyme and noise, with wondrous show:-- + Then shall the house, to see these Hectors kill and slay, + That bravely fight out the whole plot of the play, + Be for at least six months full every day. + +Langbaine, who quotes the lines from the prologue to Ravenscroft's +"Careless Lovers," is of opinion, that he paid Dryden too +great a compliment in admitting the originality of "The Assignation," +and labours to shew, that the characters are imitated from +the "Romance Comique" of Scarron, and other novels of the +time. But Langbaine seems to have been unable to comprehend, +that originality consists in the mode of treating a subject, more +than in the subject itself. + +"The Assignation" was acted in 1672, and printed in 1673. + + +Footnotes: + +1. In the prologue to this beautified edition, Ravenscroft modestly + tells us: + + Like other poets, he'll not proudly scorn + To own, that he but winnowed Shakespeare's corn: + So far was he from robbing him of's treasure, + That he did add his own, to make full measure. + +2. This looks as if there had been some ground for Dryden's censure + upon the actors. + +3. A flat parody on the lines in Dryden's prologue, referring to + Mamamouchi: + + Grimace and habit sent you pleased away: + You damned the poet, but cried up the play. + +4. It is somewhat remarkable, that the censure contained in what is + above printed like verses, recoils upon the head of the author, who + never wrote a single original performance. Langbaine, the + persecutor of all plagiarism, though he did not know very well in + what it consisted, threatens to "pull off Ravenscroft's disguise, + and discover the politic plagiary that lurks under it. I know," + continues the biographer, "he has endeavoured to shew himself + master of the art of swift writing, and would persuade the world, + that what he writes is _extempore_ wit, and written _currente + calamo_. But I doubt not to shew, that though he would be thought + to imitate the silk-worm, that spins its web from its own bowels, + yet I shall make him appear like the leech, that lives upon the + blood of other men, drawn from the gums; and, when he is rubbed + with salt, spews it up again." + +5. Sir Martin Mar-all we are acquainted with. Sir Arthur Addle is a + similar character, in a play called "Sir Solomon, or, The Cautious + Coxcomb," attributed to one John Caryll. + + + + + TO + + MY MOST HONOURED FRIEND, + + SIR CHARLES SEDLEY, BART[1]. + + +SIR, + +The design of dedicating plays is as common and unjust, as that of +desiring seconds in a duel. It is engaging our friends, it may be, in +a senseless quarrel where they have much to venture, without any +concernment of their own[2]. I have declared thus much beforehand, to +prevent you from suspicion, that I intend to interest either your +judgment or your kindness, in defending the errors of this comedy. It +succeeded ill in the representation, against the opinion of many of +the best judges of our age, to whom you know I read it, ere it was +presented publicly. Whether the fault was in the play itself, or in +the lameness of the action, or in the number of its enemies, who came +resolved to damn it for the title, I will not now dispute. That would +be too like the little satisfaction which an unlucky gamester finds in +the relation of every cast by which he came to lose his money. I have +had formerly so much success, that the miscarriage of this play was +only my giving Fortune her revenge; I owed it her, and she was +indulgent that she exacted not the payment long before. I will +therefore deal more reasonably with you, than any poet has ever done +with any patron: I do not so much as oblige you for my sake, to pass +two ill hours in reading of my play. Think, if you please, that this +dedication is only an occasion I have taken, to do myself the greatest +honour imaginable with posterity; that is, to be recorded in the +number of those men whom you have favoured with your friendship and +esteem. For I am well assured, that, besides the present satisfaction +I have, it will gain me the greatest part of my reputation with after +ages, when they shall find me valuing myself on your kindness to me; I +may have reason to suspect my own credit with them, but I have none to +doubt of yours. And they who, perhaps, would forget me in my poems, +would remember me in this epistle. + +This was the course which has formerly been practised by the poets of +that nation, who were masters of the universe. Horace and Ovid, who +had little reason to distrust their immortality, yet took occasion to +speak with honour of Virgil, Varius, Tibullus, and Propertius, their +contemporaries; as if they sought, in the testimony of their +friendship, a farther evidence of their fame. For my own part, I, who +am the least amongst the poets, have yet the fortune to be honoured +with the best patron, and the best friend. For, (to omit some great +persons of our court, to whom I am many ways obliged, and who have +taken care of me even amidst the exigencies of a war[3]) I can make my +boast to have found a better Maecenas in the person of my Lord +Treasurer Clifford[4], and a more elegant Tibullus in that of Sir +Charles Sedley. I have chosen that poet to whom I would resemble you, +not only because I think him at least equal, if not superior, to Ovid +in his elegies; nor because of his quality, for he was, you know, a +Roman knight, as well as Ovid; but for his candour, his wealth, his +way of living, and particularly because of this testimony which is +given him by Horace, which I have a thousand times in my mind applied +to you: + + _Non tu corpus eras sine pectore: Dii tibi formam, + Dii tibi divitias dederant, artemque fruendi. + Quid voveat dulci nutricula majus alumno, + Quam sapere, et fari possit quae sentiat, et cui + Gratia, forma, valetudo contingat abunde; + Et mundus victus, non deficiente crumena?_ + +Certainly the poets of that age enjoyed much happiness in the +conversation and friendship of one another. They imitated the best way +of living, which was, to pursue an innocent and inoffensive pleasure, +that which one of the ancients called _eruditam voluptatem_. We have, +like them, our genial nights, where our discourse is neither too +serious nor too light, but always pleasant, and, for the most part, +instructive; the raillery, neither too sharp upon the present, nor too +censorious on the absent; and the cups only such as will raise the +conversation of the night, without disturbing the business of the +morrow[5]. And thus far not only the philosophers, but the fathers of +the church, have gone, without lessening their reputation of good +manners, or of piety. For this reason, I have often laughed at the +ignorant and ridiculous descriptions which some pedants have given of +the wits, as they are pleased to call them; which are a generation of +men as unknown to them, as the people of Tartary, or the Terra +Australia, are to us. And therefore as we draw giants and +anthropophagi in those vacancies of our maps, where we have not +travelled to discover better; so those wretches paint lewdness, +atheism, folly, ill-reasoning, and all manner of extravagancies +amongst us, for want of understanding what we are. Oftentimes it so +falls out, that they have a particular pique to some one amongst us, +and then they immediately interest heaven in their quarrel; as it is +an usual trick in courts, when one designs the ruin of his enemy, to +disguise his malice with some concernment of the kings; and to revenge +his own cause, with pretence of vindicating the honour of his master. +Such wits as they describe, I have never been so unfortunate as to +meet in your company; but have often heard much better reasoning at +your table, than I have encountered in their books. The wits they +describe, are the fops we banish: For blasphemy and atheism, if they +were neither sin nor ill manners, are subjects so very common, and +worn so threadbare, that people, who have sense, avoid them, for fear +of being suspected to have none. It calls the good name of their wit +in question as it does the credit of a citizen when his shop is filled +with trumperies and painted titles, instead of wares: We conclude them +bankrupt to all manner of understanding; and that to use blasphemy, is +a kind of applying pigeons to the soles of the feet; it proclaims +their fancy, as well as judgment, to be in a desperate condition. I am +sure, for your own particular, if any of these judges had once the +happiness to converse with you,--to hear the candour of your opinions; +how freely you commend that wit in others of which you have, so large +a portion yourself; how unapt you are to be censorious; with how much +easiness you speak so many things, and those so pointed, that no other +man is able to excel, or perhaps to reach by study;--they would, +instead of your accusers, become your proselytes. They would reverence +so much sense, and so much good nature in the same person; and come, +like the satyr, to warm themselves at that fire, of which they were +ignorantly afraid when they stood at a distance. But you have too +great a reputation to be wholly free from censure: it is a fine which +fortune sets upon all extraordinary persons, and from which you should +not wish to be delivered until you are dead. I have been used by my +critics much more severely, and have more reason to complain, because +I am deeper taxed for a less estate. I am, ridiculously enough, +accused to be a contemner of universities; that is, in other words, an +enemy of learning; without the foundation of which, I am sure, no man +can pretend to be a poet. And if this be not enough, I am made a +detractor from my predecessors, whom I confess to have been my masters +in the art. But this latter was the accusation of the best judge, and +almost the best poet, in the Latin tongue. You find Horace +complaining, that, for taxing some verses in Lucilius, he himself was +blamed by others, though his design was no other than mine now, to +improve the knowledge of poetry; and it was no defence to him, amongst +his enemies, any more than it is for me, that he praised Lucilius +where he deserved it; _pagina laudatur eadem_. It is for this reason I +will be no more mistaken for my good meaning: I know I honour Ben +Jonson more than my little critics, because, without vanity I may own, +I understand him better[6]. As for the errors they pretend to find in +me, I could easily show them, that the greatest part of them are +beauties; and for the rest, I could recriminate upon the best poets of +our nation, if I could resolve to accuse another of little faults, +whom, at the same time, I admire for greater excellencies. But I have +neither concernment enough upon me to write any thing in my own +defence, neither will I gratify the ambition of two wretched +scribblers, who desire nothing more than to be answered. I have not +wanted friends, even among strangers, who have defended me more +strongly, than my contemptible pedant could attack me[7]. For the +other, he is only like Fungoso in the play, who follows the fashion at +a distance, and adores the Fastidious Brisk of Oxford[8]. You can bear +me witness, that I have not consideration enough for either of them to +be angry. Let Maevius and Bavius admire each other; I wish to be hated +by them and their fellows, by the same reason for which I desire to be +loved by you. And I leave it to the world, whether their judgment of +my poetry ought to be preferred to yours; though they are as much +prejudiced by their malice, as I desire you should be led by your +kindness, to be partial to, + + SIR, + + Your most humble, + And most faithful servant, + JOHN DRYDEN. + + +Footnotes: + +1. Sir Charles Sedley, noted among "the mob of gentlemen who wrote + with ease," was so highly applauded for his taste and judgment, + that Charles said, "Nature had given him a patent to be Apollo's + viceroy." Some account has been given of this celebrated courtier, + in the introduction to the Essay on Dramatic Poetry. Dryden was at + this time particularly induced to appeal to the taste of the first + among the gay world, by the repeated censures which had been + launched against him from the groves of Academe. Mr Malone gives + the titles of three pamphlets which had appeared against Dryden. + 1. The Censure of the Rota, on Mr Dryden's Conquest of Granada, + printed at Oxford. 2. A Description of the Academy of the Athenian + Virtuoso, with a discourse held there in vindication of Mr Dryden's + Conquest of Granada, against the Author of the Censure of the Rota. + 3. A Friendly Vindication of Mr Dryden, from the Author of the + Censure of the Rota, printed at Cambridge. Thus assailed by the + grave and the learned, censured for the irregularities of his gay + patrons, which he countenanced although he did not partake, and + stigmatized as a detractor of his predecessors, and a defamer of + classical learning, it was natural for Dryden to appeal to the most + accomplished of those amongst whom he lived, and to whose taste he + was but too strongly compelled to adapt his productions. Sedley, + therefore, as a man of wit and gallantry, is called upon to support + our author against the censures of pedantic severity. Whatever may + be thought of the subject, the appeal is made with all Dryden's + spirit and elegance, and his description of the attic evenings + spent with Sedley and his gay associates, glosses over, and almost + justifies, their occasional irregularities. We have but too often + occasion to notice, with censure, the licentious manners of the + giddy court of Charles; let us not omit its merited commendation. + If the talents of the men of parts of that period were often + ill-directed, and ill-rewarded, let not us, from whom that + gratitude is justly due, forget that they were called forth and + stimulated to exertion, by the countenance and applause of the + great. We, at least, who enjoy the fruit of these exertions, ought + to rejoice, that the courtiers of Charles possessed the taste to + countenance and applaud the genius which was too often perverted + by the profligacy of their example, and left unrewarded amid their + selfish prodigality. + +2. At this period, seconds in a duel fought, as well as principals. + +3. The second Dutch war, then raging. + +4. To whom the tragedy of "Amboyna" is dedicated. + +5. It is impossible to avoid contrasting this beautiful account of + elegant dissipation with the noted freak of Sir Charles Sedley, to + whom it is addressed. In June 1663, being in company with Lord + Buckhurst and Sir Thomas Ogle, in a tavern in Bowstreet, and having + become furious with intoxication, they not only exposed themselves, + by committing the grossest indecencies in the balcony, in the sight + of the passengers; but, a mob being thus collected, Sedley stripped + himself naked, and proceeded to harangue them in the grossest and + most impious language. The indignation of the populace being + excited, they attempted to burst into the house, and a desperate + riot ensued, in which the orator and his companions had nearly paid + for their frolic with their lives. For this riot they were indicted + in the Court of Common Pleas, and heavily fined; Sedley in the sum + of L. 500. When the Lord Chief Justice, Sir Robert Hyde, to repress + his insolence, asked him if he had ever read the "Complete + Gentleman?" Sedley answered, that he had read more books than his + lordship; a repartee which exhibits more effrontery than wit. The + culprits employed Killigrew and another courtier to solicit a + mitigation of the fine; but, in the true spirit of court + friendship, they begged it for themselves, and extorted every + farthing. + +6. Our author here shortly repeats what he has said at more length in + his Defence of the Epilogue to the second part of the Conquest of + Granada. + +7. The pedant Mr Malone conjectures to be Matthew Clifford, Master of + the Charter-house, one of the Duke of Buckingham's colleagues in + writing "The Rehearsal." But the _pedant_ is obviously the same + with the Fastidious Brisk _of Oxford_, mentioned in the following + sentence, which can hardly apply to Clifford, who was educated at + Cambridge. One Leigh is said by Wood to have written the Censure of + the Rota; and as he was educated at Oxford and the book printed + there, he may be "the contemptible pedant," though his profession + was that of a player in the duke's company. + +8. Fungoso and Sir Fastidious Brisk are two characters in "Every Man + Out of his Humour;" the former of whom is represented as copying + the dress and manners of the latter. Dryden seems only to mean, + that one of those pamphleteers was the servile imitator of the + other. + + + + + PROLOGUE. + + + Prologues, like bells to churches, toll you in + With chiming verse, till the dull plays begin; + With this sad difference though, of pit and pew, + You damn the poet, but the priest damns you: + But priests can treat you at your own expence, + And gravely call you fools without offence. + Poets, poor devils, have ne'er your folly shown, + But, to their cost, you proved it was their own: + For, when a fop's presented on the stage, + Straight all the coxcombs in the town engage; + For his deliverance and revenge they join, + And grunt, like hogs, about their captive swine. + Your poets daily split upon this shelf,-- + You must have fools, yet none will have himself. + Or if, in kindness, you that leave would give, + No man could write you at that rate you live: + For some of you grow fops with so much haste, + Riot in nonsense, and commit such waste, + 'Twould ruin poets should they spend so fast. + He, who made this, observed what farces hit, + And durst not disoblige you now with wit. + But, gentlemen, you over-do the mode; + You must have fools out of the common road. + Th' unnatural strained buffoon is only taking; + No fop can please you now of God's own making. + Pardon our poet, if he speaks his mind; + You come to plays with your own follies lined: + Small fools fall on you, like small showers, in vain; + Your own oiled coats keep out all common rain. + You must have Mamamouchi[1], such a fop + As would appear a monster in a shop; + He'll fill your pit and boxes to the brim, + Where, rain'd in crowds, you see yourselves in him. + Sure there's some spell, our poet never knew, + In _Hullibabilah de_, and _Chu, chu, chu_; + But _Marababah sahem_[2] most did touch you; + That is, Oh how we love the Mamamouchi! + Grimace and habit sent you pleased away: + You damned the poet, and cried up the play. + This thought had made our author more uneasy, + But that he hopes I'm fool enough to please ye. + But here's my grief,--though nature, joined with art, + Have cut me out to act a fooling part, + Yet, to your praise, the few wits here will say, + 'Twas imitating you taught Haynes to play. + + +Footnotes: +1. See the introductory remarks on the "Citizen turned Gentleman," of + Ravenscroft, where the jest turns on Jorden's being created a + _Mamamouchi_, or Turkish paladin, as it is interpreted. + +2. _Trickman._ I told him she was woundrous beautiful. Then said he, + _Marababa sahem_, Ah how much in love am I! + + _Jorden._ Marababa sahem, means, how much in love am I? + + _Trick._ Yes. + + _Jorden._ I am beholden to you for telling me, for I ne'er could + have thought that Marababa sahem, should signify, Ah how much in + love am I. Ah this Turkish is an admirable language! + _Citizen turned Gentleman_, Act. IV. + + In the same piece, we are presented with a grand chorus of Turks + and Dervises, who sing, "_Hu la baba la chou ba la baba la da._" + + + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + + + _Duke of Mantua._ + _Prince_ FREDERICK, _his son._ + AURELIAN, _a Roman Gentleman._ + CAMILLO, _his friend._ + MARIO, _Governor of Rome._ + ASCANIO, _page of honour to the Prince._ + BENITO, _Servant to_ AURELIAN. + VALERIO, _confidant to the Duke._ + FABIO, _Servant to_ MARIO. + + SOPHRONIA, _Abbess of the Torr' di Specchi._ + LUCRETIA, _a Lady designed to be a Nun._ + HIPPOLITA, _a Nun._ + LAURA, } + VIOLETTA } _Sisters, nieces to_ MARIO. + FRONTONA, _lets Lodgings._ + + +_SCENE--Rome._ + + + + + THE + + ASSIGNATION; + + OR, + + LOVE IN A NUNNERY. + + +ACT I. + +SCENE I.--_A Room, a great glass placed._ + + _Enter_ BENITO, _with a guitar in his hand._ + +_Ben._ [_Bowing to the glass._] Save you, sweet signior Benito; by my +faith I am glad to see you look so bonnily to-day. Gad, sir, every +thing becomes you to a miracle: your peruke, your clothes, your hat, +your shoe-ties; and, gad, sir, let me tell you, you become every +thing; you walk with such a grace, and you bow so pliantly! + +_Aurelian._ [_Within._] Benito, where are you, sirrah? + +_Ben._ Sirrah! That my damned master should call a man of my +extraordinary endowments, sirrah! A man of my endowments? Gad, I ask +my own pardon, I mean a person of my endowments; for a man of my parts +and talents, though he be but a _valet de chambre_, is a person; and +let me tell my master--Gad, I frown too, as like a person as any +jack-gentleman of them all; but, gad, when I do not frown, I am an +absolute beauty, whatever this glass says to the contrary; and, if +this glass deny it, 'tis a base lying glass; so I'll tell it to its +face, and kick it down into the bargain. + +_Aur._ [_Within._] Why, Benito, how long shall we stay for you? + +_Ben._ I come, sir.--What the devil would he have? But, by his favour, +I'll first survey my dancing and my singing. [_He plays on his guitar, +and dances and sings to the glass._] I think that was not amiss: I +think so. Gad, I can dance [_Lays down the guitar._] and play no +longer, I am in such a rapture with myself. What a villanous fate have +I! With all these excellencies, and a profound wit, and yet to be a +serving-man! + + _Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + +_Aur._ Why, you slave, you dog, you son of twenty fathers, am I to be +served at this rate eternally? A pox of your conceited coxcomb! + +_Cam._ Nay, pr'ythee, Aurelian, be not angry. + +_Aur._ You do not know this rogue, as I do, Camillo. Now, by this +guitar, and that great looking-glass, I am certain how he has spent +his time. He courts himself every morning in that glass at least an +hour; there admires his own person, and his parts, and studies +postures and grimaces, to make himself yet more ridiculous than he was +born to be. + +_Cam._ You wrong him, sure. + +_Aur._ I do; for he is yet more fool than I can speak him. I never +sent him on a message, but he runs first to that glass, to practise +how he may become his errand. Speak, is this a lie, sirrah? + +_Ben._ I confess, I have some kindness for the mirror. + +_Aur._ The mirror! there's a touch of his poetry too; he could not +call it a glass. Then the rogue has the impudence to make sonnets, as +he calls them; and, which is greater impudence, he sings them too; +there's not a street in all Rome which he does not nightly disquiet +with his villanous serenade: with that guitar there, the younger +brother of a cittern, he frights away the watch; and for his violin, +it squeaks so lewdly, that Sir Tibert[1] in the gutter mistakes him +for his mistress. 'Tis a mere cat-call. + +_Cam._ Is this true, Benito? + +_Ben._ to _Cam._ [_Aside._] My master, sir, may say his pleasure; I +divert myself sometimes with hearing him. Alas, good gentleman, 'tis +not given to all persons to penetrate into men's parts and qualities; +but I look on you, sir, as a man of judgment, and therefore you shall +hear me play and sing. [_He takes up the guitar, and begins._ + +_Aur._ Why, you invincible sot you, will nothing mend you? Lay it +down, or-- + +_Ben._ to _Cam._ Do ye see, sir, this enemy to the muses? he will not +let me hold forth to you. [_Lays down the guitar._] O envy and +ignorance, whither will you!--But, gad, before I'll suffer my parts to +be kept in obscurity-- + +_Aur_, What will you do, rascal? + +_Ben._ I'll take up the guitar, and suffer heroically. + [_He plays,_ AUR. _kicks._ + +_Aur._ What? do you mutiny? + +_Ben._ Ay, do, kick till your toes ache; I'll be baffled in my music +by ne'er a foot in Christendom. + +_Aur._ I'll put you out of your tune, with a vengeance to you. + [_As_ AURELIAN _kicks harder,_ BENITO _sings faster, and sometimes + cries out._ + +_Cam._ holding _Aur._ Nay, then, 'tis time to stickle[2]. Hold, +Aurelian, pr'ythee spare Benito, you know we have occasion for him. + +_Aur._ I think that was well kicked. + +_Ben._ And I think that was well sung too. + +_Cam._ Enough, Aurelian. + +_Ben._ No, sir; let him proceed to discourage virtue and see what will +come on it. + +_Cam._ Now to our business. But we must first instruct Benito. + +_Aur._ Be ruled by me, and do not trust him. I prophesy he'll spoil +the whole affair; he has a worm in his head as long as a conger, a +brain so barren of all sense, and yet so fruitful of foolish plots, +that if he does not all things his own way, yet at least he'll ever be +mingling his designs with yours, and go halves with you; so that, what +with his ignorance, what with his plotting, he'll be sure to ruin you +with an intention to serve you. For my part, I had turned him off long +since, but that my wise father commanded the contrary. + +_Cam._ Still you speak, as if what we did were choice, and not +necessity. You know their uncle is suspicious of me, and consequently +jealous of all my servants; but if we employ yours, who is not +suspected, because you are a stranger, I doubt not to get an +assignation with the younger sister. + +_Aur._ Well, use your own way, Camillo: but if it ever succeed with +his management-- + +_Cam._ You must understand then, Benito, that this old Signior Mario +has two nieces, with one of which I am desperately in love, and-- + +_Ben._ [_Aside to him._] I understand you already, sir, and you desire +love reciprocal. Leave your business in my hands; and, if it succeed +not, think me no wiser than my master. + +_Cam._ Pray take me with you. These sisters are great beauties, and +vast fortunes; but, by a clause in their father's will, if they marry +without their uncle's consent, are to forfeit all. Their uncle, who is +covetous and base to the last degree, takes advantage of this clause; +and, under pretence of not finding fit matches for them, denies his +consent to all who love them. + +_Ben._ Denies them marriage! Very good, sir. + +_Cam._ More than this, he refuses access to any suitor, and immures +them in a mean apartment on the garden side, where he barbarously +debars them from all human society. + +_Ben._ Uses them most barbarously! Still better and better. + +_Cam._ The younger of these sisters, Violetta, I have seen often in +the garden, from the balcony in this chamber, which looks into it; +have divers times shot tickets on the point of an arrow, which she has +taken; and, by the signs she made me, I find they were not ill +received. + +_Ben._ I'll tell you now, just such an amour as this had I once with a +young lady, that-- + +_Aur._ Quote yourself again, you rogue, and my feet shall renew their +acquaintance with your buttocks. + +_Cam._ Dear Benito, take care to convey this ticket to Violetta; I saw +her just now go by to the next chapel: be sure to stand ready to give +her holy water, and slip the ticket into the hand of her woman +Beatrix; and take care the elder sister, Laura, sees you not, for she +knows nothing of our amour. + +_Ben._ A word to the wise. Have you no service to Laura? [_To_ AUR. + +_Aur._ None that I shall trouble you withal; I'll see first what +returns you make from this voyage, before I put in my venture with +you. Away; begone, Mr Mercury. + +_Ben._ I fly, Mr Jupiter. [_Exit._ + +_Aur._ This lady, Laura, I have seen from your balcony, and was seen +by her. Methought, too, she looked with a languishing eye upon me, as +who should say, Are you a man, and have no pity for a poor distressed +virgin? For my part, I never found so much disposition in myself to +love any woman at first sight. Handsome she is; of that I am certain. + +_Cam._ And has wit, I dare assure you; but I have not heard she has +admitted of any gallantry. + +_Aur._ Her hour is not come yet; she has not met with a man to love; +when that happens, (as I am resolved to push my fortune) you shall see +that, as her love warms, her virtue will melt down, and dissolve in +it; for there's no such bawd to a woman, as her own wit is. + +_Cam._ I look upon the assignation as certain; will you promise me to +go? You and Benito shall walk in the garden, while I search the nymph +within the shade. One thing I had forgot to tell you, that our general +of the church, the Duke of Mantua, and the prince his son, are just +approaching the gates of Rome. Will you go see the ceremony of their +entrance? + +_Aur._ With all my heart. They say he has behaved himself gallantly +against the French, at their return from Naples. Besides, I have a +particular knowledge of young prince Frederick, ever since he was last +at our Venetian carnivals. + +_Cam._ Away, then, quickly; lest we miss the solemnity. [_Exeunt._ + + _Enter_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA, _striving about a letter, which_ + LAURA _holds._ + +_Vio._ Let it go, I say. + +_Lau._ I say, let you go. + +_Vio._ Nay, sweet sister Laura. + +_Lau._ Nay, dear Violetta, it is in vain to contend; I am resolved +I'll see it. [_Plucks the paper from_ VIOLETTA. + +_Vio._ But I am resolved you shall not read it. I know not what +authority this is which you assume, or what privilege a year or two +can give you, to use this sovereignty over me. + +_Lau._ Do you rebel, young gentlewoman? I'll make you know I have a +double right over you. One, as I have more years, and the other, as I +have more wit. + +_Vio._ Though I am not all air and fire, as you are, yet that little +wit I have will serve to conduct my affairs without a governess. + +_Lau._ No, gentlewoman, but it shall not. Are you fit, at fifteen, to +be trusted with a maidenhead? It is as much as your betters can manage +at full twenty. + + _For 'tis of a nature so subtile, + That, if it's not luted with care, + The spirit will work through the bottle, + And vanish away into air. + + To keep it, there nothing so hard is, + 'Twill go betwixt waking and sleeping; + The simple too weak for a guard is, + And no wit would be plagued with the keeping._ + +_Vio._ For aught I see, you are as little to be trusted with your +madness, as I with my simplicity; and, therefore, pray restore my +letter. + +_Lau._ [_Reading it._] What's here? An humble petition for a private +meeting? Are you twittering at that sport already, mistress novice? + +_Vio._ How! I a novice at ripe fifteen? I would have you to know, that +I have killed my man before I was fourteen, and now am ready for +another execution. + +_Lau._ A very forward rose-bud: You open apace, gentlewoman. I find +indeed your desires are quick enough; but where will you have cunning +to carry on your business with decency and secrecy? Secrecy, I say, +which is a main part of chastity in our sex. Where wit, to be sensible +of the delicacies of love? the tenderness of a farewell-sigh for an +absence? the joy of a return? the zeal of a pressing hand? the +sweetness of little quarrels, caused and cured by the excess of love? +and, in short, the pleasing disquiets of the soul, always restless, +and wandering up and down in a paradise of thought, of its own making? + +_Vio._ If I understood not thus much before, I find you are an +excellent instructor; and that argues you have had a feeling of the +cause in your time too, sister. + +_Lau._ What have I confessed before I was aware! She'll find out my +inclination to that stranger, whom I have only seen, and to whom I +have never spoken--[_Aside._] No, good Violetta, I never was in love; +all my experience is from plays and romances. But, who is this man, to +whom you have promised an assignation? + +_Vio._ You'll tell my uncle. + +_Lau._ I hate my uncle more than you do. + +_Vio._ You know the man, 'tis signior Camillo: His birth and fortunes +are equal to what I can expect; and he tells me his intentions are +honourable. + +_Lau._ Have I not seen him lately in his balcony, which looks into our +garden, with another handsome gentleman in his company, who seems a +stranger? + +_Vio._ They are the same. Do you think it a reasonable thing, dear +Laura, that my uncle should keep us so strictly, that we must be +beholden to hearsay, to know a young gallant is in the next house to +us? + +_Lau._ 'Tis hard, indeed, to be mewed like hawks, and never manned: To +be locked in like nuns here. + +_Vio._ They, that look for nun's flesh in me, shall be mistaken. + +_Lau._ Well, what answer have you returned to this letter? + +_Vio._ That I would meet him at eight this evening, in the close walk +in the garden, attended only by Beatrix, my woman. + +_Lau._ Who comes with him? + +_Vio._ Only his friend's man, Benito; the same who brought me the +letter which you took from me. + +_Lau._ Stay, let me think a little. Does Camillo, or this Benito, know +your maid Beatrix? + +_Vio._ They have never talked with her; but only seen her. + +_Lau._ 'Tis concluded then. You shall meet your servant, but I'll be +your Beatrix: I'll go instead of her, and counterfeit your +waiting-woman; in the dark I may easily pass for her. By this means I +shall be present to instruct you, for you are yet a callow maid: I +must teach you to peck a little; you may come to prey for yourself in +time. + +_Vio._ A little teaching will serve my turn: If the old one left me to +myself, I could go near to get my living. + +_Lau._ I find you are eager, and baiting to be gone already, and I'll +not hinder you when your hour approaches. In the mean time, go in, and +sigh, and think fondly and ignorantly of your approaching pleasures: + + Love, in young hearts, is like the must of wine; + 'Tis sweetest then; but elder 'tis more fine. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT II. + +SCENE I.--_The front of a Nunnery._ + + _Prince_ FREDERICK, AURELIAN, CAMILLO, _and_ ASCANIO, _the Prince's + Page._ + +_Fred._ My father's ancient, and may repose himself, if he pleases, +after the ceremony of his entrance; but we, who are younger, should +think it a sin to spend any part of day-light in a chamber. What are +your ways of living here? + +_Cam._ Why, sir, we pass our time, either in conversation alone, or in +love alone, or in love and conversation together. + +_Fred._ Come, explain, explain, my counsel learned in the laws of +living. + +_Cam._ For conversation alone; that's either in going to court, with a +face of business, and there discoursing of the affairs of Europe, of +which Rome, you know, is the public mart; or, at best, meeting the +virtuosi, and there wearying one another with rehearsing our own works +in prose and poetry. + +_Fred._ Away with that dry method, I will have none on't. To the next. + +_Cam._ Love alone, is either plain wenching, where every courtezan is +your mistress, and every man your rival; or else, what's worse, plain +whining after one woman: that is, walking before her door by day, and +haunting her street by night, with guitars, dark-lanthorns, and +rondaches[3]. + +_Aur._ Which, I take it, is, or will he our case, Camillo. + +_Fred._ Neither of these will fit my humour: If your third prove not +more pleasant, I shall stick to the old Almain recreation; the divine +bottle, and the bounteous glass, that tuned up old Horace to his odes. + +_Aur._ You shall need to have no recourse to that; for love and +conversation will do your business: that is, sir, a most delicious +courtezan,--I do not mean down-right punk,--but punk of more than +ordinary sense in conversation; punk in ragou, punk, who plays on the +lute, and sings; and, to sum up all, punk, who cooks and dresses up +herself, with poignant sauce, to become a new dish every time she is +served up to you. + +_Fred._ This I believe, Aurelian, is your method of living, you talk +of it so savourily. + +_Aur._ There is yet another more insipid sort of love and +conversation: As, for example, look you there, sir; the courtship of +our nuns. [_Pointing to the Nunnery._] They talk prettily; but, a pox +on them, they raise our appetites, and then starve us. They are as +dangerous as cold fruits without wine, and are never to be used but +where there are abundance of wenches in readiness, to qualify them. + +_Cam._ But yet they are ever at hand, and easy to come by; and if +you'll believe an experienced sinner, easiness in love is more than +half the pleasure of it. + +_Fred._ This way of chatting pleases me; for debauchery, I hate it; +and to love is not in my nature, except it be my friends. Pray, what +do you call that nunnery? + +_Cam._ 'Tis a house of Benedictines, called the _Torre di Specchi_, +where only ladies of the best quality are professed. + [LUCRETIA _and_ HIPPOLITA _appear at the grate._ + +_Aur._ Look you yonder, sir, are two of the pretty magpies in white +and black. If you will lull yourself into a Platonic dream, you may; +but consider your sport will be dull when you play without stakes. + +_Fred._ No matter, I'll fool away an hour of courtship; for I never +was engaged in a serious love, nor I believe can be. Farewell, +gentlemen; at this time I shall dispense with your attendance;--nay, +without ceremony, because I would be incognito. + +_Cam._ Come then, Aurelian, to our own affairs. + [_Exeunt_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + + _The Prince and_ ASCANIO _approach._ + +_Fred._ [_To_ LUCRETIA.] For what crime, fair creature, were you +condemned to this perpetual prison? + +_Luc._ For chastity and devotion, and two or three such melancholy +virtues: They first brought me hither, and must now keep me company. + +_Fred._ I should rather have guessed it had been murder, and that you +are veiled for fear of doing more mischief with those eyes; for, +indeed, they are too sharp to be trusted out of the scabbard. + +_Luc._ Cease, I beseech you, to accuse my eyes, till they have done +some execution on your heart. + +_Fred._ But I am out of reach, perhaps. + +_Luc._ Trust not to that; they may shoot at a distance, though they +cannot strike you near at hand. + +_Fred._ But if they should kill, you are ne'er the better: There's a +grate betwixt us, and you cannot fetch in the dead quarry. + +_Luc._ Provided we destroy the enemy, we do not value their dead +bodies: But you, perhaps, are in your first error, and think we are +rather captives than warriors; that we come like prisoners to the +grate, to beg the charity of passengers for their love. + +_Fred._ [_To_ ASCANIO.] Enquire, as dextrously as you can, what is the +name and quality of this charming creature. + +_Luc._ [_To_ HIPPOLITA.] Be sure, if the page approaches you, to get +out of him his master's name. + [_The Prince and_ LUCRETIA _seem to talk._ + +_Hip._ [_To_ ASCANIO.] By that short whisper, which I observed you +took with your master, I imagine, Mr Page, you come to ask a certain +question of me. + +_Asca._ By this thy question, and by that whisper with thy lady, (O +thou nymph of devotion!) I find I am to impart a secret, and not to +ask one: Therefore, either confess thou art yet a mere woman under +that veil, and, by consequence, most horribly inquisitive, or thou +shalt lose thy longing, and know nothing of my master. + +_Hip._ By my virginity, you shall tell first. + +_Asca._ You'll break your oath, on purpose to make the forfeit. + +_Hip._ Your master is called-- + +_Asca._ Your lady is ycleped-- + +_Hip._ For decency, in all matters of love, the man should offer +first, you know. + +_Asca._ That needs not, when the damsel is so willing. + +_Hip._ But I have sworn not to discover first, that her name is madam +Lucretia; fair, as you see, to a miracle, and of a most charming +conversation; of royal blood, and niece to his holiness; and, if she +were not espoused to heaven, a mistress for a sovereign prince. + +_Asca._ After these encomiums, 'twere vain for me to praise my master: +He is only poor prince Frederick, otherwise called the prince of +Mantua; liberal, and valiant, discreet and handsome, and, in my simple +judgment, a fitter servant for your lady, than his old father, who is +a sovereign. + +_Hip._ Dare you make all this good, you have said of your master? + +_Asca._ Yes, and as much more of myself to you. + +_Hip._ I defy you upon't, as my lady's second. + +_Asca._ As my master's, I accept it. The time? + +_Hip._ Six this evening. + +_Asca._ The place? + +_Hip._ At this grate. + +_Asca._ The weapons? + +_Hip._ Hands, and it may be lips. + +_Asca._ 'Tis enough: Expect to hear from me. + [_They withdraw, and whisper to their Principals. + After the whisper._ + +_Fred._ [_To_ LUCRETIA.] Madam, I am glad I know my enemy; for since +it is impossible to see, and not admire you, the name of Lucretia is +the best excuse for my defeat. + +_Luc._ Persons, like prince Frederick, ought not to assault religious +houses, or to pursue chastity and virtue to their last retreat. + +_Fred._ A monastery is no retreat for chastity; 'tis only a hiding +place for bad faces, where they are thrust in crowds together, like +heaps of rubbish out of the way, that the world may not be peopled +with deformed persons: And that such, who are out of play themselves, +may pray for a blessing on their endeavours, who are getting handsome +children, and carrying on the work for public benefit. + +_Luc._ Then you would put off heaven with your leavings, and use it +like them, who play at cards alone; take the courts for yourselves, +and give the refuse to the gentlemen. + +_Fred._ You mistake me, madam; I would so contrive it, that heaven and +we might be served at once. We have occasion for wit and beauty; now +piety and ugliness will do as well for heaven: that plays at one game, +and we at another; and therefore heaven may make its hand with the +same cards that we put out. + +_Luc._ I could easily convince you, if the argument concerned me; hut +I am one of those, whom, for want of wit and beauty, you have +condemned to religion; and therefore am your humble servant, to pray +for your handsome wife and children. + +_Fred._ Heaven forbid, madam, that I should condemn you, or indeed any +handsome woman, to be religious! No, madam; the occasions of the world +are great and urgent for such as you; and, for my part, I am of +opinion, that it is as great a sin for a beauty to enter into a +nunnery, as for an ugly woman to stay out of it. + +_Luc._ The cares of the world are not yet upon you; but as soon as +ever you come to be afflicted with sickness, or visited with a wife, +you'll be content I should pray for you. + +_Fred._ Any where rather than in a cloyster; for, truly, I suppose, +all your prayers there will be how to get out of it; and, upon that +supposition, madam, I am come to offer you my service for your +redemption. Come, faith, be persuaded, the church shall lose nothing +by it: I'll take you out, and put in two or three crooked apostles in +your place. [_Bell rings within._ + +_Luc._ Hark, the bell rings; I must leave you: 'tis a summons to our +devotion. + +_Fred._ Will you leave me for your prayers, madam? You may have enough +of them at any time, but remember you cannot have a man so easily. + +_Luc._ Well, I'll say my beads for you, and that's but charity; for I +believe I leave you in a most deplorable condition. [_Exeunt Women._ + +_Fred._ Not deplorable neither, but a little altered: If I could be in +love, as I am sure I cannot, it should be with her, for I like her +conversation strangely. + +_Asca._ Then, as young as I am, sir, I am beforehand with you; for I +am in love already. I would fain make the first proof of my manhood +upon a nun: I find I have a mighty grudging to holy flesh. + +_Fred._ I'll ply Lucretia again, as soon as ever her devotion's over. +Methinks these nuns divide their time most admirably; from love to +prayers, from prayers to love; that is, just so much sin, just so much +godliness. + +_Asca._ Then I can claim that sister's love by merit. Half man, half +boy; for her half flesh, half spirit. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_A Street._ + + AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + +_Aur._ I'll proceed no farther, if Benito goes: I know his folly will +produce some mischief. + +_Cam._ But Violetta desired me, in her note, to bring him, on purpose +to pass the time with her woman, Beatrix. + +_Aur._ That objection's easily removed: I'll supply Benito's place; +the darkness will prevent discovery; and, for my discourse, I'll +imitate the half wit and patched breeding of a _valet de chambre._ + +_Cam._ But how shall we get rid of him? + +_Aur._ Let me alone for that. + + _Enter_ BENITO. + +_Ben._ Come, are we ready, gallants? The clock's upon the stroke of +eight. + +_Aur._ But we have altered our resolution; we go another way to-night. + +_Ben._ I hope you have not broke my assignation? + +_Aur._ Why do you hope so? + +_Ben._ Because my reputation is engaged in't: I've stipulated, upon +mine honour, that you shall come. + +_Aur._ I shall beat you, if you follow me. Go, sirrah, and adjourn to +the great looking-glass, and let me hear no more from you till +to-morrow morning. + +_Ben._ Sir, my fidelity, and, if I may be so vain, my discretion, may +stand you in some stead. + +_Aur._ Well, come along then; they are brave fellows, who have +challenged us; you shall have fighting enough, sir. + +_Ben._ How, sir, fighting? + +_Aur._ You may escape with the loss of a leg, or an arm, or some such +transitory limb. + +_Ben._ No, sir; I have that absolute obedience to your commands, that +I will bridle my courage, and stay at home. [_Exit._ + +_Cam._ You took the only way to be rid of him. There's the wall; +behind yon pane of it we'll set up the ladder. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_A Night-piece of a Garden._ + + _Enter_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Vio._ Remember your waiting-woman's part, Laura. + +_Lau._ I warrant you, I'll wait on you by night, as well as I governed +you by day. + +_Vio._ Hark, I hear footsteps; and now, methinks, I see something +approaching us. + +_Lau._ They are certainly the men whom we expect. + + _Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + +_Cam._ I hear womens' voices. + +_Aur._ We are right, I warrant you. + +_Cam._ Violetta, my love! + +_Vio._ My dear Camillo! + +_Cam._ Speak those words again; my own name never sounded so sweetly +to me, as when you spoke it, and made me happy by adding _dear_ to it. + +_Vio._ Speak softly then; I have stolen these few minutes from my +watchful uncle and my sister, and they are as full of danger as they +are of love. Something within me checks me too, and says, I was too +forward in venturing thus to meet you. + +_Cam._ You are too fearful rather; and fear's the greatest enemy to +love. + +_Vio._ But night will hide my blushes, when I tell you, I love you +much, or I had never trusted my virtue and my person in your hands. + +_Cam._ The one is sacred, and the other safe; but this auspicious +minute is our first of near converse. May I not hope that favour, +which strangers, in civility, may claim, even from the most reserved? + [_Kisses her hand._ + +_Vio._ I fear you'll censure me. + +_Cam._ Yes, as the blest above tax heaven for making them so happy. + [_They walk further off._ + +_Aur._ [_Stepping towards_ LAURA.] Damsel of darkness, advance, and +meet my flames! + +_Lau._ [_Stepping forward._] Right trusty valet, heard, but yet +unseen, I have advanced one step on reputation. + +_Aur._ Now, by laudable custom, I am to love thee vehemently. + +_Lau._ We should do well to see each other first: You know 'tis ill +taking money without light. + +_Aur._ O, but the coin of love is known by the weight only, and you +may feel it in the dark: Besides, you know 'tis prince-like to love +without seeing. + +_Lau._ But then you may be served as princes are sometimes. + +_Aur._ Let us make haste, however, and despatch a little love out of +the way: We may do it now with ease, and save ourselves a great deal +of trouble, if we take it in time, before it grows too fast upon our +hands. + +_Lau._ Fye, no; let us love discreetly: we must manage our passion, +and not love all our love out at one meeting, but leave some for +another time. + +_Aur._ I am for applying the plaster while the wound is green; 'twill +heal the better. [_Takes her by the hand._ + +_Lau._ Let go my hand! What crime has the poor wretch committed, that +you press it thus? I remember no mischief it has done you. + +_Aur._ O, 'tis a heinous malefactor, and is pressed by law, because it +will confess nothing. Come, withdraw a little farther, we have urgent +business with one another. + +_Lau._ 'Twere a shame to quit my ground upon the first charge; yet if +you please to take a truce a little, I will consent to go behind the +lovers, and listen with you. + +_Aur._ I wonder you deferred the proposition so long. I were neither +true valet, nor you true woman, if we could not eves-drop. + [_They retire behind the other two, who come forward + upon the Stage._ + +_Cam._ [_Kissing_ VIOLETTA'S _hand._] Give me another yet, and then-- + +_Vio._ And then will you be satisfied? + +_Cam._ And then I'll ask a thousand more, and ne'er be satisfied. +Kisses are but thin nourishment; they are too soon digested, and +hungry love craves more. + +_Vio._ You feed a wolf within you. + +_Cam._ Then feast my love with a more solid diet. He makes us now a +miser's feast, and we forbear to take our fill. The silent night, and +all these downy hours, were made for lovers: Gently they tread, and +softly measure time, that no rude noise may fright the tender maid, +from giving all her soul to melting joys. + +_Vio._ You do not love me; if you did, you would not +Thus urge your satisfaction in my shame; +At best, I see you would not love me long, +For they, who plunder, do not mean to stay. + +_Cam._ I haste to take possession of my own. + +_Vio._ Ere heaven and holy vows have made it so? + +_Cam._ Then witness, heaven, and all these twinkling stars-- + +_Vio._ Hold, hold, you are distempered with your love; +Time, place, and strong desires, now swear, not you. + +_Cam._ Is not love love, without a priest and altars? +The temples are inanimate, and know not +What vows are made in them; the priest stands ready +For his hire, and cares not what hearts he couples; +Love alone is marriage. + +_Vio._ I never will receive these midnight vows: +But when I come hereafter to your arms, +I'll bring you a sincere, full, perfect bliss; +Then you will thank me that I kept it so, +And trust my faith hereafter. + +_Lau._ There is your destiny, lover mine: I am to be honest by +infection; my lady will none, you see. + +_Aur._ Truth is, they are a lost couple, unless they learn grace by +our example. Come, shall we begin first, and shame them both? + [_Takes her by the hand again._ + +_Lau._ You will never be warned of this hand, Benito. + +_Aur._ Oh, it is so soft, as it were made on purpose to take hearts, +and handle them without hurting! These taper fingers too, and even +joints so supple, that methinks I mould them as they pass through +mine: nay, in my conscience, though it be nonsense to say it, your +hand feels white too. + +_Lau._ Methinks yours is not very hard, for a serving-man's. But +where, in the name of wonder, have you learned to talk so courtly? You +are a strange _valet de chambre_. + +_Aur._ And you are as strange a waiting-woman: You have so stabbed me +with your repartees to-night, that I should be glad to change the +weapon, to be revenged on you. + +_Lau._ These, I suppose, are fragments, which you learned from your +wild master, Aurelian: many a poor woman has passed through his hands +with these very words. You treat me just like a serving-man, with the +cold meat which comes from your master's table. + +_Aur._ You could never have suspected me for using my master's wit, if +you had not been guilty of purloining from your lady. I am told, that +Laura, your mistress's sister, has wit enough to confound a hundred +Aurelians. + +_Lau._ I shall do your commendations to Laura for your compliment. + +_Aur._ And I shall not fair to revenge myself, by informing Aurelian +of yours. + + _Enter_ BENITO _with a Guitar._ + +_Ben._ The poor souls shall not lose by the bargain, though my foolish +gadding masters have disappointed them. That ladder of ropes was +doubtless left there by the young lady in hope of them. + +_Vio._ Hark, I hear a noise in the garden. + +_Lau._ I fear we are betrayed. + +_Cam._ Fear nothing, madam, but stand close. + +_Ben._ Now, Benito, is the time to hold forth thy talent, and to set +up for thyself. Yes, ladies, you shall be serenaded, and when I have +displayed my gifts, I'll retire in triumph over the wall, and hug +myself for the adventure. [_He fums on the Guitar._ + +_Vio._ Let us make haste, sister, and get into covert; this music will +raise the house upon us immediately. + +_Lau._ Alas, we cannot; the damn'd musician stands just in the door +where we should pass. + +_Ben._ singing. + _Eveillez vous, belles endormies; + Eveillez vous: car il est jour: + Mettez la tete a la fenestre, + Vous entendrez parler d'amour._ + +_Aur._ [_aside to_ CAM.] Camillo, this is my incorrigible rogue; and I +dare not call him, Benito, for fear of discovering myself not to be +Benito. + +_Cam._ The alarm is already given through the house. Ladies, you must +be quick: Secure yourselves and leave us to shift. [_Exeunt Women._ + +_Within._ This way, this way. + +_Aur._ I hear them coming; and, as ill luck will have it, just by that +quarter where our ladder is placed. + +_Cam._ Let us hide in the dark walk till they are past. + +_Aur._ But then Benito will be caught, and, being known to be my man, +will betray us. + +_Ben._ I hear some in the garden: Sure they are the ladies, that are +taken with my melody. To it again, Benito; this time I will absolutely +enchant them. [_Fums again._ + +_Aur_: He is at it again. Why, Benito, are you mad? + +_Ben._ Ah, madam! are you there? This is such a favour to your poor +unworthy servant. [_Sings._ + + _But still between kissing Amyntas did say, + Fair Phillis, look up, and you'll turn night to day._ + +_Aur._ Come away, you insufferable rascal; the house is up, and will +be upon us immediately. + +_Ben._ O gemini, is it you, sir? + +_Within._ This way; follow, follow. + +_Aur._ Leave your scraping and croaking, and step with us into this +arbour. + +_Ben._ Scraping and croaking! 'Sfoot, sir, either grant I sing and +play to a miracle, or I'll justify my music, though I am caught, and +hanged for it. + + _Enter_ MARIO, _and Servants._ + +_Mar._ Where is this serenading rascal? If I find him, I'll make him +an example to all midnight caterwaulers, of which this fidler is the +loudest. + +_Ben._ O that I durst but play my tune out, to convince him! Soul of +harmony! Is this lewd? [_Plays and sings softly._ + +_Cam._ Peace, dear Benito: We must flatter him. + +_Ben._ [_singing softly._] _Mettez le tete:_ The notes which follow +are so sweet, sir, I must sing them, though it be my ruin--_Parler +d'amour._ [LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA _in the Balcony._ + +_Lau._ Yes, we are safe, sister; but they are yet in danger. + +_Vio._ They are just upon them. + +_Lau._ We must do something: Help, help! thieves, thieves! we shall be +murdered. + +_Mar._ Where? Where are they? + +_Lau._ Here, sir, at our chamber-door, and we are run into the balcony +for shelter: Dear uncle, come and help us. + +_Mar._ Back again quickly: I durst have sworn they had been in the +garden. 'Tis an _ignis fatuus_, I think, that leads us from one place +to another. [_Exit_ MARIO, _and Servants._ + +_Vio._ They are gone. My dear Camillo, make haste, and preserve +yourself. + +_Cam._ May our next meeting prove more propitious! + +_Aur._ [_To_ BENTIO.] Come, sirrah, I shall make you sing another note +when you are at home. + +_Ben._ Such another word, and I'll sing again. + +_Aur._ Set the ladder, and mount first, you rogue. + +_Ben._ Mount first yourself, and fear not my delaying. +If I am caught, they'll spare me for my playing. + [_Sings as he goes off._ + _Vouz entendrez parler d'amour._ [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT III. + +SCENE I.--_The Front of the Nunnery._ + + ASCANIO, _and_ HIPPOLITA, _at the Grate._ + +_Hip._ I see you have kept touch, brother. + +_Asca._ As a man of honour ought, sister, when he is challenged. And +now, according to the laws of duel, the next thing is to strip, and, +instead of seconds, to search one another. + +_Hip._ We will strip our hands, if you please, brother; for they are +the only weapons we must use. + +_Asca._ That were to invite me to my loss, sister; I could have made a +full meal in the world, and you would have me take up with hungry +commons in the cloyster. Pray mend my fare, or I am gone. + +_Hip._ O, brother, a hand in a cloyster is fare like flesh in Spain; +'tis delicate, because 'tis scarce. You may be satisfied with a hand, +as well as I am pleased with the courtship of a boy. + +_Asca._ You may begin with me, sister, as Milo did; by carrying a calf +first, you may learn to carry an ox hereafter. In the mean time +produce your hand, I understand nun's flesh better than you imagine: +Give it me, you shall see how I will worry it. [_She gives her hand._] +Now could not we thrust out our lips, and contrive a kiss too? + +_Hip._ Yes, we may; but I have had the experience of it: It will be +but half flesh, half iron. + +_Asca._ Let's try, however. + +_Hip._ Hold, Lucretia's here. + +_Asca._ Nay, If you come with odds upon me, 'tis time to call seconds. + [ASCANIO _hems._ + + _The Prince and_ LUCRETIA _appear._ + +_Luc._ Sir, though your song was pleasant, yet there was one thing +amiss in it,--that was, your rallying of religion. + +_Fred._ Do you speak well of my friend Love, and I'll try to speak +well of your friend Devotion. + +_Luc._ I can never speak well of love: 'Twas to avoid it that I +entered here. + +_Fred._ Then, madam, you have met your man; for, to confess the truth +to you, I have but counterfeited love, to try you; for I never yet +could love any woman: and, since I have seen you, and do not, I am +certain now I shall 'scape for ever. + +_Luc._ You are the best man in the world, if you continue this +resolution. Pray, then, let us vow solemnly these two things: the +first, to esteem each other better than we do all the world besides; +the next, never to change our amity to love. + +_Fred._ Agreed, madam. Shall I kiss your hand on it? + +_Luc._ That is too like a lover; or if it were not, the narrowness of +the grate will excuse the ceremony. + +_Hip._ No, but it will not, to my knowledge: I have tried every bar +many a fair time over; and at last have found out one, where a hand +may get through, and be gallanted. + +_Luc._ [_giving her hand._] There, sir, 'tis a true one. + +_Fred._ [_kissing it._] This, then, is a seal to our perpetual +friendship, and defiance to all love. + +_Luc._ That seducer of virtue. + +_Fred._ That disturber of quiet. + +_Luc._ That madness of youth. + +_Fred._ That dotage of old age. + +_Luc._ That enemy to good humour. + +_Fred._ And, to conclude all, that reason of all unreasonable actions. + +_Asca._ This doctrine is abominable; do not believe it, sister. + +_Hip._ No; if I do, brother, may I never have comfort from sweet youth +at my extremity. + +_Luc._ But remember one article of our friendship, that though we +banish love, we do not mirth, nor gallantly; for I declare, I am for +all extravagancies, but just loving. + +_Fred._ Just my own humour; for I hate gravity and melancholy next to +love. + +_Asca._ Now it comes into my head, the duke of Mantua makes an +entertainment to night in masquerade: If you love extravagancy so +well, madam, I'll put you into the head of one; lay by your nunship +for an hour or two, and come amongst us in disguise. + +_Fred._ My boy is in the right, madam. Will you venture? I'll furnish +you with masking-habits. + +_Hip._ O my dear sister, never refuse it; I keep the keys, you know: +I'll warrant you we will return before we are missed. I do so long to +have one fling into the sweet world again, before I die. Hang it, at +worst, it is but one sin more, and then we will repent for all +together. + +_Asca._ But if I catch you in the world, sister, I'll make you have a +better opinion of the flesh and the devil for ever after. + +_Luc._ If it were known, I were lost for ever. + +_Fred._ How should it be known? You have her on your side, there, that +keeps the keys: And, put the worst, that you are taken in the world, +the world is a good world to stay in; and there are certain occasions +of waking in a morning, that may be more pleasant to you than your +matins. + +_Luc._ Fye, friend, these extravagancies are a breach of articles in +our friendship. But well, for once, I'll venture to go out: Dancing +and singing are but petty transgressions. + +_Asca._ My lord, here is company approaching; we shall be discovered. + +_Fred._ Adieu, then, _jusqu' a revoir_; Ascanio shall be with you +immediately, to conduct you. + +_Asca._ How will you disguise, sister? Will you be a man or a woman? + +_Hip._ A woman, brother page, for life: I should have the strangest +thoughts if I once wore breeches. + +_Asca._ A woman, say you? Here is my hand, if I meet you in place +convenient, I'll do my best to make you one. [_Exeunt._ + + _Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + +_Cam._ But why thus melancholy, with hat pulled down, and the hand on +the region of the heart, just the reverse of my friend Aurelian, of +happy memory? + +_Aur._ Faith, Camillo, I am ashamed of it, but cannot help it. + +_Cam._ But to be in love with a waiting-woman! with an eater of +fragments, a simperer at lower end of a table, with mighty golls, +rough-grained, and red with starching, those discouragers and abaters +of elevated love! + +_Aur._ I could love deformity itself, with that good humour. She, who +is armed with gaiety and wit, needs no other weapon to conquer me. + +_Cam._ We lovers are the great creators of wit in our mistresses. For +Beatrix, she is a mere utterer of yes and no, and has no more sense +than what will just dignify her to be an arrant waiting-woman; that +is, to lie for her lady, and take your money. + +_Aur._ It may be, then, I found her in the exaltation of her wit; for +certainly women have their good and ill days of talking, as they have +of looking. + +_Cam._ But, however, she has done you the courtesy to drive out Laura; +and so one poison has expelled the other. + +_Aur._ Troth, not absolutely neither; for I dote on Laura's beauty, +and on Beatrix's wit: I am wounded with a forked arrow, which will not +easily be got out. + +_Cam._ Not to lose time in fruitless complaints, let us pursue our new +contrivance, that you may see your two mistresses, and I my one. + +_Aur._ That will not now be difficult: This plot's so laid, that I +defy the devil to make it miss. The woman of the house, by which they +are to pass to church, is bribed; the ladies are by her acquainted +with the design; and we need only to be there before them, and expect +the prey, which will undoubtedly fall into the net. + +_Cam._ Your man is made safe, I hope, from doing us any mischief? + +_Aur._ He has disposed of himself, I thank him, for an hour or two: +The fop would make me believe, that an unknown lady is in love with +him, and has made him an assignation. + +_Cam._ If he should succeed now, I should have the worse opinion of +the sex for his sake. + +_Aur._ Never doubt but he will succeed: Your brisk fool, that can make +a leg, is ever a fine gentleman among the ladies, because he is just +of their talent, and they understand him better than a wit. + +_Cam._ Peace, the ladies are coming this way to the chapel, and their +jailor with them: Let them go by without saluting, to avoid suspicion; +and let us go off to prepare our engine. + + _Enter_ MARIO, LAURA, _and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Aur._ I must have a look before we go. Ah, you little divine rogue! +I'll be with you immediately. [_Exeunt_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. + +_Vio._ Look you, sister, there are our friends, but take no notice. + +_Lau._ I saw them. Was not that Aurelian with Camillo? + +_Vio._ Yes. + +_Lau._ I like him strangely. If his person were joined with Benito's +wit, I know not what would become of my poor heart. + + _Enter_ FABIO, _and whispers with_ MARIO. + +_Mar._ Stay, nieces, I'll but speak a word with Fabio, and go with you +immediately. + +_Vio._ I see, sister, you are infinitely taken with Benito's wit; but +I have heard he is a very conceited coxcomb. + +_Lau._ They, who told you so, were horribly mistaken. You shall be +judge yourself, Violetta; for, to confess frankly to you, I have made +him a kind of an appointment. + +_Vio._ How! have you made an assignation to Benito? A serving-man! a +trencher-carrying rascal! + +_Lau._ Good words, Violetta! I only sent to him from an unknown lady +near this chapel, that I might view him in passing by, and see if his +person were answerable to his conversation. + +_Vio._ But how will you get rid of my uncle? + +_Lau._ You see my project; his man Fabio is bribed by me, to hold him +in discourse. + + _Enter_ BENITO, _looking about him._ + +_Vio._ In my conscience this is he. Lord, what a monster of a man is +there! with such a workiday rough-hewn face too! for, faith, heaven +has not bestowed the finishing upon it. + +_Lau._ It is impossible this should be Benito; yet he stalks this way. +From such a piece of animated timber, sweet heaven deliver me! + +_Ben._ [_Aside._] This must of necessity be the lady who is in love +with me. See, how she surveys my person! certainly one wit knows +another by instinct. By that old gentleman, it should be the lady +Laura too. Hum! Benito, thou art made for ever. + +_Lau._ He has the most unpromising face, for a wit, I ever saw; and +yet he had need have a very good one, to make amends for his face. I +am half cured of him already. + +_Ben._ What means all this surveying, madam? You bristle up to me, and +wheel about me, like a turkey-cock that is making love: Faith, how do +you like my person, ha? + +_Lau._ I dare not praise it, for fear of the old compliment, that you +should tell me, it is at my service. But, pray, is your name Benito? + +_Ben._ Signior Benito, at your service, madam. + +_Lau._ And have you no brother, or any other of your name; one that is +a wit, attending on signior Aurelian? + +_Ben._ No, I can assure your ladyship; I myself am the only wit, who +does him the honour,--not to attend him, but--to bear him company. + +_Lau._ But sure it was another you, that waited on Camillo in the +garden, last night? + +_Ben._ It was no other me, but me signior Benito. + +_Lau._ 'Tis impossible. + +_Ben._ 'Tis most certain. + +_Lau._ Then I would advise you to go thither again, and look for the +wit which you have left there, for you have brought very little along +with you. Your voice, methinks, too, is much altered. + +_Ben._ Only a little overstrained, or so, with singing. + +_Lau._ How slept you, after your adventure? + +_Ben._ Faith, lady, I could not sleep one wink, for dreaming of you. + +_Lau._ Not sleep for dreaming? When the place falls, you shall be +bull-master-general at court. + +Ben. _Et tu, Brute!_ Do you mistake me for a fool too? Then, I find +there's one more of that opinion besides my master. + +_Vio._ Sister, look to yourself, my uncle is returning. + +_Lau._ I am glad on't: He has done my business: He has absolutely +cured me. Lord, that I could be so mistaken! + +_Vio._ I told you what he was. + +_Lau._ He was quite another thing last night: Never was man so altered +in four-and-twenty hours. A pure clown, mere elementary earth, without +the least spark of soul in him! + +_Ben._ But, tell me truly, are not you in love with me? Confess the +truth: I love plain-dealing: You shall not find me refractory. + +_Lau._ Away, thou animal! I have found thee out for a high and mighty +fool, and so I leave thee. + +_Mar._ Come, now I am ready for you; as little devotion, and as much +good huswifery as you please. Take example by me: I assure you, nobody +debauches me to church, except it be in your company. [_Exeunt._ + + _Manet_ BENITO. + +_Ben._ I am undone for ever; What shall I do with myself? I'll run +into some desart, and there I'll hide my opprobrious head. No, hang +it, I wont neither; all wits have their failings sometimes, and have +the fortune to be thought fools once in their lives. Sure this is but +a copy of her countenance; for my heart is true to me, and whispers to +me, she loves me still. Well, I'll trust in my own merits, and be +confident. [_A noise of throwing down water within._ + + _Enter_ MARIO, FABIO, LAURA, _and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Lau._ [_Shaking her clothes._] O, sir, I am wet quite through my +clothes, and am not able to endure it. + +_Vio._ Was there ever such an insolence? + +_Mar._ Send in to see who lives there: I'll make an example of them. + + _Enter_ FRONTONA. + +_Fab._ Here is the woman of the house herself, sir. + +_Fron._ Sir, I submit, most willingly, to any punishment you shall +inflict upon me: For, though I intended nothing of an affront to these +sweet ladies, yet I can never forgive myself the misfortune, of which +I was the innocent occasion. + +_Vio._ O, I am ready to faint away! + +_Fron._ Alas, poor sweet lady, she's young and tender, sir. I beseech +you, give me leave to repair my offence, with offering myself, and +poor house, for her accommodation. + +_Ben._ I know that woman: There's some villanous plot in this, I'll +lay my life on't. Now, Benito, cast about for thy credit, and recover +all again. + +_Mar._ Go into the coach, nieces, and bid the coachman drive apace. As +for you, mistress, your smooth tongue shall not excuse you. + +_Lau._ By your favour, sir, I'll accept of the gentlewoman's civility; +I cannot stir a step farther. + +_Fron._ Come in, sweet buds of beauty, you shall have a fire in an +inner chamber; and if you please to repose yourself a while, sir, in +another room, they shall come out, and wait on you immediately. + +_Mar._ Well, it must be so. + +_Fron_. [_Whispering the Ladies._] Your friends are ready in the +garden, and will be with you as soon as we have shaken off your uncle. + +_Ben._ A cheat, a cheat! a rank one! I smell it, old sir, I smell it. + +_Mar._ What's the matter with the fellow? Is he distracted? + +_Ben._ No, 'tis you are more likely to be distracted but that there +goes some wit to the being mad; and you have not the least grain of +wit, to be gulled thus grossly. + +_Fron._ What does the fellow mean? + +_Ben._ The fellow means to detect your villany, and to recover his +lost reputation of a wit. + +_Fron._ Why, friend, what villany? I hope my house is a civil house. + +_Ben._ Yes, a very civil one; for my master lay in of his last clap +there, and was treated very civilly, to my knowledge. + +_Mar._ How's this, how's this? + +_Fron._ Come, you are a dirty fellow, and I am known to be a person +that-- + +_Ben._ Yes, you are known to be a person that-- + +_Fron._ Speak your worst of me; what person am I known to be? + +_Ben._ Why, if you will have it, you are little better than a +procuress: You carry messages betwixt party and party:--And, in one +word, sir, she's as arrant a fruit-woman as any is about Rome. + +_Mar._ Nay, if she be a fruit-woman, my nieces shall not enter her +doors. + +_Ben._ You had best let them enter, you do not know how they may +fructify in her house: For I heard her, with these ears, whisper to +them, that their friends were within call. + +_Mar._ This is palpable, this is manifest; I shall remember you, lady +fruiterer; I shall have your baskets searched when you bring oranges +again.--Come away, nieces; and thanks, honest fellow, for thy +discovery. [_Exeunt_ MARIO _and Women._ + +Ben. _Hah couragio! Il diavolo e morto:_ Now, I think I have tickled +it; this discovery has reinstated me into the empire of my wit again. +Now, in the pomp of this achievement, will I present myself before +madam Laura, with a--Behold, madam, the happy restoration of Benito! + + _Enter_ AURELIAN, CAMILLO, _and_ FRONTONA, _over-hearing him,_ + +Oh, now, that I had the mirror, to behold myself in the fulness of my +glory! and, oh, that the domineering fop, my master, were in presence, +that I might triumph over him! that I might even contemn the wretched +wight, the mortal of a grovelling soul, and of a debased +understanding. [_He looks about him, and sees his master._] How the +devil came these three together? Nothing vexes me, but that I must +stand bare to him, after such an enterprise as this is. + +_Aur._ Nay, put on, put on again, sweet sir; why should you be +uncovered before the fop your master, the wretched wight, the mortal +of a grovelling soul? + +_Ben._ Ay, sir, you may make bold with yourself at your own pleasure: +But, for all that, a little bidding would make me take your counsel, +and be covered, as affairs go now. + +_Aur._ If it be lawful for a man of a debased understanding to confer +with such an exalted wit, pray what was that glorious achievement, +which wrapt you into such an ecstasy? + +_Ben._ 'Tis a sign you know well how matters go, by your asking me so +impertinent a question. + +_Aur._ [_Putting off his hat to him._] Sir, I beg of you, as your most +humble master, to be satisfied. + +_Ben._ Your servant, sir; at present I am not at leisure for +conference. But hark you, sir, by the way of friendly advice, one +word: Henceforward, tell me no more of the adventure of the garden, +nor of the great looking-glass. + +_Aur._ You mean the mirror. + +_Ben._ Yes, the mirror; tell me no more of that, except you could +behold in it a better, a more discreet, or a more able face for +stratagem, than I can, when I look there. + +_Aur._ But, to the business; What is this famous enterprise? + +_Ben._ Be satisfied, without troubling me farther, the business is +done, the rogues are defeated, and your mistress is secured: If you +would know more, demand it of that criminal [_Pointing to_ FRON.], and +ask her, how she dares appear before you, after such a signal +treachery, or before me, after such an overthrow? + +_Fron._ I know nothing, but only that, by your master's order, I was +to receive the two ladies into my house, and you prevented it. + +_Ben._ By my master's order? I'll never believe it. This is your +stratagem, to free yourself, and deprive me of my reward. + +_Cam._ I'll witness what she says is true. + +_Ben._ I am deaf to all asseverations, that make against my honour. + +_Aur._ I'll swear it then. We two were the two rogues, and you the +discoverer of our villany. + +_Ben._ Then, woe, woe, to poor Benito! I find my abundance of wit has +ruined me. + +_Aur._ But come a little nearer: I would not receive a good office +from a servant, but I would reward him for his diligence. + +_Ben._ Virtue, sir, is its own reward: I expect none from you. + +_Aur._ Since it is so, sir, you shall lose no further time in my +service: Henceforward, pray know me for your humble servant; for your +master I am resolved to be no longer. + +_Ben._ Nay, rather than so, sir, I beseech you let a good, honest, +sufficient beating atone the difference. + +_Aur._ 'Tis in vain. + +_Ben._ I am loth to leave you without a guide. + +_Aur._ He's at it again! do you hear, Camillo? + +_Cam._ Pr'ythee, Aurelian, be mollified, and beat him. + +_Fron._ Pray, sir, hear reason, and lay it on, for my sake. + +_Aur._ I am obdurate. + +_Cam._ But what will your father say, if you part with him? + +_Aur._ I care not. + +_Ben._ Well, sir, since you are so peremptory, remember I have offered +you satisfaction, and so long my conscience is at ease. What a devil, +before I'll offer myself twice to be beaten, by any master in +Christendom, I'll starve, and that is my resolution; and so your +servant that was, sir. [_Exit._ + +_Aur._ I am glad I am rid of him; he was my evil genius, and was +always appearing to me, to blast my undertakings: Let me send him +never so far off, the devil would be sure to put him in my way, when I +had any thing to execute. Come, Camillo, now we have changed the dice, +it may be we shall have better fortune. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II. + + _Enter the Duke of Mantua in masquerade,_ FREDERICK, VALERIO, _and + others. On the other side, enter_ LUCRETIA, HIPPOLITA, _and_ + ASCANIO. + +_Luc._ [_To_ ASCA.] The prince I know already, by your description of +his masking habit; but, which is the duke, his father? + +_Asca._ He whom you see talking with the prince, and looking this way. +I believe he has observed us. + +_Luc._ If he has not, I am resolved we'll make ourselves as remarkable +as we can: I'll exercise my talent of dancing. + +_Hip._ And I mine of singing. + +_Duke._ [_To_ FRED.] Do you know the company which came in last? + +_Fred._ I cannot possibly imagine who they are.--At least I will not +tell you. [_Aside._ + +_Duke._ There's something very uncommon in the air of one of them. + +_Fred._ Please you, sir, I'll discourse with her, and see if I can +satisfy your highness. + +_Duke._ Stay, there's a dance beginning, and she seems as if she would +make one. + + SONG AND DANCE. + + _Long betwixt love and fear Phyllis, tormented, + Shunned her own wish, yet at last she consented: + But loth that day should her blushes discover, + Come, gentle night, she said, + Come quickly to my aid, + And a poor shamefaced maid + Hide from her lover._ + + _Now cold as ice I am, now hot as fire, + I dare not tell myself my own desire; + But let day fly away, and let night haste her: + Grant, ye kind powers above, + Slow hours to parting love; + But when to bless we move, + Bid them fly faster._ + + _How sweet it is to love, when I discover + That fire, which burns my heart, warming my lover! + 'Tis pity love so true should be mistaken: + But if this night he be + False or unkind to me, + Let me die, ere I see + That I'm forsaken._ + +_Duke_ [_After the dance._] My curiosity redoubles; I must needs hail +that unknown vessel, and enquire whither she's bound, and what freight +she carries. + +_Fred._ She's not worth your trouble, sir: She'll either prove some +common courtezan in disguise, or, at best, some homely person of +honour, that only dances well enough to invite a sight of herself, and +would look ill enough to fright you. + +_Duke._ That's maliciously said; all I see of her is charming, and I +have reason to think her face is of the same piece; at least I'll try +my fortune. + +_Fred._ What an unlucky accident is this! If my father should discover +her, she's ruined: If he does not, yet I have lost her conversation +to-night. + + _Duke approaches_ LUCRETIA. + +_Asca._ 'Tis the duke himself, who comes to court you. + +_Luc._ Peace, I'll fit him; for I have been informed, to the least +tittle, of his actions since he came to town. + +_Duke._ [_To_ Luc.] Madam, the duke of Mantua, whom you must needs +imagine to be in this company, has sent me to you, to know what kind +of face there is belonging to that excellent shape, and to those +charming motions, which he observed so lately in your dancing. + +_Luc._ Tell his highness, if you please, that there is a face within +the mask, so very deformed, that, if it were discovered, it would +prove the worst visor of the two; and that, of all men, he ought not +to desire it should be exposed, because then something would be found +amiss in an entertainment, which he has made so splendid and +magnificent. + +_Duke._ The duke, I am sure, would be very proud of your compliment, +but it would leave him more unsatisfied than before; for, he will find +in it so much of gallantry, as, being added to your other graces, will +move him to a strange temptation of knowing you. + +_Luc._ I should still have the same reason to refuse him; for 'twere a +madness, when I had charmed him by my motion and converse, to hazard +the loss of that conquest by my eyes. + +_Duke._ I am on fire 'till I discover her. [_Aside._]--At least, +madam, tell me of what family you are. + +_Luc._ Will you be satisfied, if I tell you I am of the Colonne? You +have seen Julia of that house? + +_Duke._ Then you are she. + +_Luc._ Have I not her stature most exactly? + +_Duke._ As near as I remember. + +_Luc._ But, by your favour, I have nothing of her shape; for, if I may +be so vain to praise myself, she's a little thicker in the shoulders, +and, besides, she moves ungracefully. + +_Duke._ Then you are not she again. + +_Luc._ No, not she: But you have forgotten Emilia of the Ursini, whom +the duke saluted yesterday at her balcony, when he entered. Her air +and motion-- + +_Duke._ Are the very same with yours. Now I am sure I know you. + +_Luc._ But there's too little of her to make a beauty: My stature is +more advantageous. + +_Duke._ You have cozened me again. + +_Luc._ Well, I find at last I must confess myself: What think you of +Eugenia Beata? The duke seemed to be infinitely pleased last night, +when my brother presented me to him at the Belvidere. + +_Duke._ Now I am certain you are she, for you have both her stature +and her motion. + +_Luc._ But, if you remember yourself a little better, there's some +small difference in our wit; for she has indeed the air and beauty of +a Roman lady, but all the dulness of a Dutch woman. + +_Duke._ I see, madam, you are resolved to conceal yourself, and I am +as fully resolved to know you. + +_Luc._ See which of our resolutions will take place. + +_Duke._ I come from the duke, and can assure you, he is of an humour +to be obeyed. + +_Luc._ And I am of an humour not to obey him. But why should he be so +curious? + +_Duke._ If you would have my opinion, I believe he is in love with +you. + +_Luc._ Without seeing me? + +_Duke._ Without seeing all of you: Love is love, let it wound us from +what part it please; and if he have enough from your shape and +conversation, his business is done, the more compendiously, without +the face. + +_Luc._ But the duke cannot be taken with my conversation, for he never +heard me speak. + +_Duke._ [_Aside._] 'Slife, I shall discover myself.--Yes madam, he +stood by _incognito_, and heard me speak with you: But-- + +_Luc._ I wish he had trusted to his own courtship, and spoke himself; +for it gives us a bad impression of a prince's wit, when we see fools +in favour about his person. + +_Duke._ Whatever I am, I have it in commission from him to tell you, +he's in love with you. + +_Luc._ The good old gentleman may dote, if he so pleases; but love, +and fifty years old, are stark nonsense. + +_Duke._ But some men, you know, are green at fifty. + +_Luc._ Yes, in their understandings. + +_Duke._ You speak with great contempt of a prince, who has some +reputation in the world. + +_Luc._ No; 'tis you that speak with contempt of him, by saying he is +in love at such an age. + +_Duke._ Then, madam, 'tis necessary you should know him better for his +reputation; and that shall be, though he violate the laws of +masquerade, and force you. + +_Fred._ I suspected this from his violent temper. [_Aside._] Sir, the +emperor's ambassador is here in masquerade, and I believe this to be +his lady: It were well if you inquired of him, before you forced her +to discover. + +_Duke._ Which is the ambassador? + +_Fred._ That farthermost. [_Duke retires farther._ + +_Fred._ to _Luc._ Take your opportunity to escape, while his back is +turned, or you are ruined. Ascanio, wait on her. + +_Luc._ I am so frighted, I cannot stay to thank you. + [_Exeunt_ LUC. ASCA. _and_ HIP. + +_Duke_ to _Fred._ 'Tis a mistake, the ambassador knows nothing of her: +I'm resolved I'll know it of herself, ere she shall depart.--Ha! Where +is she? I left her here. + +_Fred._ [_Aside._] Out of your reach, father mine, I hope. + +_Duke._ She has either shifted places, or else slipped out of the +assembly. + +_Fred._ I have looked round: She must be gone, sir. + +_Duke._ She must not be gone, sir. Search for her every where: I will +have her. + +_Fred._ Has she offended your highness? + +_Duke._ Peace, with your impertinent questions. Come hither, Valerio. + +_Val._ Sir? + +_Duke._ O, Valerio, I am desperately in love: That lady, with whom you +saw me talking, has--But I lose time; she's gone; haste after her,-- +find her,--bring her back to me. + +_Val._ If it be possible. + +_Duke._ It must be possible; the quiet of my life depends upon it. + +_Val._ Which way took she? + +_Duke._ Go any way,--every way; ask no questions: I know no more, but +that she must,--must be had. [_Exit_ VALERIO. + +_Fred._ Sir, the assembly will observe, that-- + +_Duke._ Damn the assembly; 'tis a dull insignificant crowd, now she is +not here: Break it up, I'll stay no longer. + +_Fred._ [_Aside._] I hope she's safe, and then this fantastic love of +my father's will make us sport to-momorrow. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III. + + _Enter_ LUCRETIA, ASCANIO, _and_ HIPPOLITA. + +_Luc._ Now that we are safe at the gate of our convent, methinks the +adventure was not unpleasant. + +_Hip._ And now that I am out of danger, brother, I may tell you what a +novice you are in love, to tempt a young sister into the wide world, +and not to show her the difference betwixt that and her cloister. I +find I may venture safely with you another time. + +_Asca._ O, sister, you play the brazen-head with me,--you give me +warning when time's past. But that was no fit opportunity: I hate to +snatch a morsel of love, and so away. I am for a set-meal, where I may +enjoy my full gust; but, when I once fall on, you shall find me a +brave man upon occasion. + +_Luc._ 'Tis time we were in our cells. Quick, Hippolita; where's the +key? + +_Hip._ Here, in my pocket--No, 'tis in my other pocket:--Ha, 'tis not +there neither. I am sure I put it in one of them. + +_Luc._ What should we do, if it should be lost now? + +_Hip._ I have searched myself all over, and cannot find it. + +_Asca._ A woman can never search herself all over; let me search you, +sister. + +_Luc._ Is this a time for raillery? Oh, sweet heaven! speak comfort +quickly; have you found it? [_Here_ ASCANIO _slips away._ + +_Hip._ Speak you comfort, madam, and tell me you have it, for I am too +sure that I have none on't. + +_Luc._ O, unfortunate that we are! day's breaking; the handicrafts' +shops begin to open. [_Clock strikes._ + +_Hip._ The clock strikes two: Within this half hour we shall be called +up to our devotions. Now, good Ascanio--Alas, he's gone too! we are +left miserable and forlorn. + +_Luc._ We have not so much as one place in the town for a retreat. + +_Hip._ O, for a miracle in our time of need! that some kind +good-natured saint would take us up, and heave us over the wall into +our cells. + +_Luc._ Dear sister, pray, for I cannot: I have been so sinful in +leaving my cloister for the world, that I am ashamed to trouble my +friends above to help me. + +_Hip._ Alas, sister, with what face can I pray then! Yours were but +little vanities, but I have sinned swingingly against my vow; yes, +indeed, sister, I have been very wicked,--for I wished the ball might +be kept perpetually in our cloister, and that half the handsome nuns +in it might be turned to men, for the sake of the other. + +_Luc._ Well, if I were free from this disgrace, I would never more set +foot beyond the cloister, for the sake of any man. + +_Hip._ And here I vow, if I get safe within my cell, I will not think +of man again these seven years. + + _Re-enter_ ASCANIO. + +_Asca._ Hold, Hippolita, and make no more rash vows: If you do, as I +live, you shall not have the key. + +_Hip._ The key! why, have you it, brother? + +_Luc._ He does but mock us. I know you have it not, Ascanio. + +Asca. _Ecce signum;_ here it is for you. + +_Hip._ O, sweet brother, let me kiss you. + +_Asca._ Hands off, sweet sister, you must not be forsworn; you vowed +you would not think of a man these seven years. + +_Hip._ Aye, brother, but I was not so hasty but I had wit enough to +cozen the saint to whom I vowed; for you are but a boy, brother, and +will not be a man these seven years. + +_Luc._ But where did you find the key, Ascanio? + +_Asca._ To confess the truth, madam, I stole it out of Hippolita's +pocket, to take the print of it in wax; for I'll suppose you'll give +my master leave to wait on you in the nunnery-garden, after your +abbess has walked the rounds. + +_Luc._ Well, well, good-morrow. When you have slept, come to the grate +for a letter to your lord. Now will I have the headach, or the megrim, +or some excuse; for I'm resolved I'll not rise to prayers. + +_Hip._ Pray, brother, take care of our masking-habits, that they may +be forthcoming another time. + +_Asca._ Sleep, sleep, and dream of me, sister: I'll make it good, if +you dream not too unreasonably. + +_Luc._ Thus dangers in our love make joys more dear; +And pleasure's sweetest when 'tis mixed with fear. [_Exeunt._ + + +ACT IV. + +SCENE I.--_A Dressing-chamber._ + + _The Masking-habits of_ LUCRETIA _and_ HIPPOLITA _laid in a + Chair.--Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ ASCANIO. + +_Fred._ I never thought I should have loved her. Is't come to this, +after all my boastings and declarations against it? Sure I loved her +before, and did not know it, till I feared to lose her: There's the +reason. I had never desired her, if my father had not. This is just +the longing of a woman: She never finds the appetite in herself, till +she sees the meat on another's plate. I'm glad, however, you took the +impression of the key; but 'twas not well to fright them. + +_Asca._ Sir, I could not help it; but here's the effect on't: the +workman sat up all night to make it. [_Gives a key._ + +_Fred._ This key will admit me into the seraglio of the godly. The +monastery has begun the war, in sallying out upon the world; and +therefore 'tis but just that the world should make reprisals on the +monastery. + +_Asca._ Alas, sir, you and Lucretia do but skirmish; 'tis I and +Hippolita that make the war: 'Tis true, opportunity has been wanting +for a battle, but the forces have been stoutly drawn up on both sides. +As for your concernment, I come just now from the monastery; and have +orders from your Platonic mistress to tell you, she expects you this +evening in the garden of the nunnery; withal, she delivered me this +letter for you. + +_Fred._ Give it me. + +_Asca._ O, sir, the duke your father! + [_The Prince takes the letter, and, thinking to + put it up hastily, drops it._ + + _Enter Duke._ + +_Duke._ Now, Frederick, not abroad yet? + +_Fred._ Your last night's entertainment left me so weary, sir, that I +overslept myself this morning. + +_Duke._ I rather envy you than blame you: Our sleep is certainly the +most pleasant portion of our lives. For my own part, I spent the night +waking and restless. + +_Fred._ Has any thing of moment happened to discompose your highness? + +_Duke._ I'll confess my follies to you: I am in love with a lady I saw +last night in masquerade. + +_Fred._ 'Tis strange she should conceal herself. + +_Duke._ She has, from my best search; yet I took exact notice of her +masking habit, and described it to those whom I employed to find her. + +_Fred._ [_Aside._] 'Sdeath, it lies there unremoved, and, if he turns +himself, full in his eye. Now, now, 'twill be discovered. + +_Duke._ For 'twas extremely remarkable. I remember very well, 'twas a +loose long robe, streaked black and white, girt with a large silver +ribband, and the vizor was a Moor's face. + +_Fred._ [_Running to the chair where the habits are sits down._] Sir, +I beg pardon of your highness for this rudeness; I am--O, Oh!-- + +_Duke._ What's the matter? + +_Fred._ I am taken so extremely ill o' the sudden, that I am forced to +sit before you. + +_Duke._ Alas, what's your distemper? + +_Fred._ A most violent griping, which pulls me together on a heap. + +_Duke._ Some cold, I fear, you took last night. [_Runs to the door._] +Who waits there? Call physicians to the prince. + +_Fred._ Ascanio, remove these quickly. + [ASCANIO _takes away the habits, and Exit._ + +_Duke._ [_Returning._] How do you find yourself? + +_Fred._ [_Arising._] Much better, sir: That which pained me is +removed. As it came unexpectedly, so it went as suddenly. + + _Enter_ VALERIO. + +_Duke._ The air, perhaps, will do you good. If you have health, you +may see those troops drawn out, which I design for Milan. + +_Fred._ Shall I wait your highness? + +_Duke._ No, leave me here with Valerio; I have a little business, +which dispatched, I'll follow you immediately.--Well, what success, +Valerio? [_Exit_ FREDERICK. + +_Val._ Our endeavours are in vain, sir; there has been inquiry made +about all the palaces in Rome, and neither of the masking habits can +be discovered. + +_Duke._ Yet it must be a woman of quality. What paper's that at my +foot? + +_Val._ [_Taking up the letter._] 'Tis sealed, sir, and directed to the +prince. + +_Duke._ [_Taking the letter._] 'Tis a woman's, hand. Has he got a +mistress in town so soon? I am resolved to open it, though I do not +approve my own curiosity. [_Opens and reads it._ + +_Now my fear is over, I can laugh at my last night's adventure. I find +that at fifty all men grow incorrigible, and lovers especially; for, +certainly, never any creature could be worse treated than your +father;_ [How's this, Valerio? I am amazed.] _and yet the good, old, +out-of-fashion gentleman heard himself rallied and bore it with all +the patience of a Christian prince._ [Now, 'tis plain, the lady in +masquerade is a mistress of my son's, and the undutiful wretch was in +the plot to abuse me.] _Ascanio will tell you the latter part of our +misfortune, how hardly we got into the cloister._ [A nun, too! Oh, the +devil!] _When we meet next, pray provide to laugh heartily; for there +is subject sufficient for a plentiful fit, and fop enough to spare for +another time._ + LUCRETIA. + +_Val._ Lucretia! now the mystery is unfolded. + +_Duke._ Do you know her? + +_Val._ When I was last at Rome I saw her often; she is near kinswoman +to the present Pope; and, before he placed her in this nunnery of +Benedictines, was the most celebrated beauty of the town. + +_Duke._ I know I ought to hate this woman, because she has affronted +me thus grossly; but yet, I cannot help it, I must love her. + +_Val._ But, sir, you come on too much disadvantage to be your son's +rival. + +_Duke._ I am deaf to all considerations: Pr'ythee do not think of +giving a madman counsel. Pity me, and cure me, if thou canst; but +remember, there's but one infallible medicine,--that's enjoyment. + +_Val._ I had forgot to tell you, sir, that the governor, Don Mario, is +without, to wait on you. + +_Duke._ Desire him to come in. + + _Enter Don_ MARIO. + +_Mar._ I am come, sir, to beg a favour from your highness; and 'tis on +the behalf of my sister Sophronia, abbess of the Torr' di Specchi. + +_Val._ Sir, she's abbess of that very monastery where your mistress is +inclosed. [_Aside to the Duke._ + +_Duke._ I should be glad to serve any relation of yours, Don Mario. + +_Mar._ Her request is, that you would be pleased to grace her chapel +this afternoon. There will be music, and some little ceremony, in the +reception of my two nieces, who are to be placed on pension there. + +_Duke._ Your nieces, I hear, are fair, and great fortunes. + +_Mar._ Great vexations, I'm sure they are; being daily haunted by a +company of wild fellows, who buzz about my house like flies. + +_Duke._ Your design seems reasonable: women in hot countries are like +oranges in cold; to preserve them, they must be perpetually housed. +I'll bear you company to the monastery.--Come, Valerio; this +opportunity is happy beyond our expectation. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II. + + _Enter_ CAMILLO _and_ AURELIAN. + +_Cam._ He has smarted sufficiently for this offence. Pr'ythee, dear +Aurelian, forgive him. He waits without, and appears penitent; I'll be +responsible for his future carriage. + +_Aur._ For your sake, then, I receive him into grace. + +_Cam._ [_At the door._] Benito, you may appear; your peace is made. + + _Enter_ BENITO. + +_Aur._ But it must be upon conditions. + +_Ben._ Any conditions, that are reasonable; for, as I am a wit, sir, I +have not eaten-- + +_Aur._ You are in the path of perdition already; that's the principal +of our conditions, you are to be a wit no more. + +_Ben._ Pray, sir, if it be possible, let me be a little wit still. + +_Aur._ No, sir; you can make a leg, and dance; those are no talents of +a wit: you are cut out for a brisk fool, and can be no other. + +_Ben._ Pray, sir, let me think I am a wit, or my heart will break. + +_Cam._ That you will naturally do, as you are a fool. + +_Aur._ Then no farther meddling with adventures, or contrivances of +your own; they are all belonging to the territories of wit, from +whence you are banished. + +_Ben._ But what if my imagination should really furnish me with some-- + +_Aur._ Not a plot, I hope? + +_Ben._ No, sir, no plot; but some expedient then, to mollify the word, +when your invention has failed you? + +_Aur._ Think it a temptation of the devil, and believe it not. + +_Ben._ Then farewell all the happiness of my life. + +_Cam._ You know your doom, Benito; and now you may take your choice, +whether you will renounce wit, or eating. + +_Ben._ Well, sir, I must continue my body, at what rate soever; and +the rather, because now there's no farther need of me in your +adventures; for I was assured by Beatrix, this morning, that her two +mistresses are to be put in pension, in the nunnery of Benedictines, +this afternoon. + +_Cam._ Then I am miserable. + +_Aur._ And you have deferred the telling it, till it is past time to +study for prevention. + +_Cam._ Let us run thither immediately, and either perish in't, or free +them. You'll assist me with your sword? + +_Aur._ Yes, if I cannot do it to more purpose with my counsel. Let us +first play the fairest of our game; 'tis time enough to snatch when we +have lost it. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_A Chapel._ + + _The_ DUKE, VALERIO, _Attendants. At the other door,_ LAURA, + VIOLETTA, BEATRIX, MARIO. _Instrumental and vocal music; in the time + of which, enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO. _After the music, enter_ + SOPHRONIA, LUCRETIA, HIPPOLITA, _and other Nuns._ + +_Duke._ [_To_ VALERIO, _who had whispered to him._] I needed not those +marks to know her. She's one continued excellence; she's all over +miracle. + +_Soph._ [_To the_ DUKE.] We know, sir, we are not capable by our +entertainment, of adding any thing to your pleasures; and therefore we +must attribute this favour of your presence, to your piety and +devotion. + +_Duke._ You have treated me with harmony so excellent, that I believed +myself among a choir of angels; especially when I beheld so fair a +troop behind you. + +_Soph._ Their beauty, sir, is wholly dedicated to heaven, and is no +way ambitious of a commendation, which, from your mouth, might raise a +pride in any other of the sex. + +_Cam._ I am impatient, and can bear no longer. Let what will happen-- + +_Aur._ Do you not see your ruin inevitable? Draw in a holy place! and +in the presence of the Duke! + +_Mar._ I do not like Camillo's being here: I must cut short the +ceremony. [_Whispers_ SOPHRONIA. + +_Soph._ [_To_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA.] Come, fair cousins, we hope to +make the cloisteral life so pleasing, that it may be an inducement to +you to quit the wicked world for ever. + +_Vio._ [_Passing by_ CAMILLO.] Take that, and read it at your leisure. + [_Conveys a note into his hand._ + +_Cam._ A ticket, as I live, Aurelian. + +_Aur._ Steal off, and be thankful: if that be my Beatrix with Laura, +she's most confoundedly ugly. If ever we had come to love-work, and a +candle had been brought us, I had fallen back from that face, like a +buck-rabbit in coupling. [_Exeunt_ CAMILLO _and_ AURELIAN. + +_Soph._ Daughters, the time of our devotion calls us.--All happiness +to your highness. + +_Luc._ [_To_ HIPPOLITA.] Little thinks my venerable old love there, +that his mistress in masquerade is so near him. Now do I even long to +abuse that fop-gravity again. + +_Hip._ Methinks, he looks on us. + +_Luc._ Farewell, poor love; I am she, I am, for all my demure looks, +that treated thee so inhumanly last night. + [_She is going off, after_ SOPHRONIA. + +_Duke._ [_following her._] Stay, lady; I would speak with you. + +_Luc._ Ah! [_Shrieking._ + +_Soph._ How now, daughter? What's the meaning of that indecent noise +you make? + +_Luc._ [_Aside._] If I speak to him, he will discover my voice, and +then I am ruined. + +_Duke._ If your name be Lucretia, I have some business of concernment +with you. + +_Luc._ [_To_ SOPHRONIA.] Dear madam, for heaven's sake make haste into +the cloister; the duke pursues me on some ill design. + +_Soph._ [_To the_ DUKE.] 'Tis not permitted, sir, for maids, once +entered into religion, to hold discourses here of worldly things. + +_Duke._ But my discourses are not worldly, madam; +I had a vision in the dead of night, +Which shewed me this fair virgin in my sleep, +And told me, that from her I should be taught +Where to bestow large alms, and great endowments, +On some near monastery. + +_Soph._ Stay, Lucretia; +The holy vision's will must be obeyed. [_Exeunt_ SOPHRONIA _and Nuns._ + +_Luc._ [_Aside._] He does not know me, sure; and yet I fear religion +is the least of his business with me. + +_Duke._ I see, madam, beauty will be beauty in any habit; +Though, I confess, the splendour of a court +Were a much fitter scene for yours, than is +A cloistered privacy. + +_Luc._ [_counterfeiting her voice._] +The world has no temptations for a mind +So fixed and raised above it; +This humble cell contains and bounds my wishes: +My charity gives you my prayers, and that's +All my converse with human kind. + +_Duke._ Since when, madam, have the world and you been upon these +equal terms of hostility? Time was, you have been better friends. + +_Luc._ No doubt I have been vain, and sinful; but the remembrance of +those days cannot be pleasant to me now, and therefore, if you please, +do not refresh their memory. + +_Duke._ Their memory! you speak as if they were ages past. + +_Luc._ You think me still what I was once--a vain, fond, giddy +creature: I see, sir, whither your discourses tend, and therefore take +my leave. + +_Duke._ Yes, madam, I know you see whither my discourses tend, and +therefore 'twill not be convenient that you should take your leave. +Disguise yourself no farther; you are known, as well as you knew me in +masquerade. + +_Luc._ I am not used enough to the world to interpret riddles; +therefore, once more, heaven keep you. + +_Duke._ This will not do; your voice, your mien, your stature, betray +you for the same I saw last night: you know the time and place. + +_Luc._ You were not in this chapel, and I am bound by vow to stir no +farther. + +_Duke._ But you had too much wit to keep that vow. + +_Luc._ If you persist, sir, in this raving madness, I can bring +witness of my innocence. [_Is going._ + +_Duke._ To save that labour, see if you know that hand, and let that +justify you. [_Shows her letter._ + +_Luc._ What do I see! my ruin is inevitable. + +_Duke._ You know you merit it: +You used me ill, and now are in my power. + +_Luc._ But you, I hope, are much too noble to +Destroy the fame of a poor silly woman? + +_Duke._ Then, in few words,--for I am bred a soldier, +And must speak plain,--it is your love I ask; +If you deny, this letter is produced; +You know the consequence. + +_Luc._ I hope I do not; +For though there are appearances against me, +Enough to give you hope I durst not shun you, +Yet, could you see my heart, 'tis a white virgin-tablet, +On which no characters of earthly love +Were ever writ: And, 'twixt the prince and me, +If there were any criminal affection, +May heaven this minute-- + +_Duke._ Swear not; I believe you: +For, could I think my son had e'er enjoyed you, +I should not be his rival. Since he has not, +I may have so much kindness for myself, +To wish that happiness. + +_Luc._ You ask me what I must not grant, +Nor, if I loved you, would: you know my vow of chastity. + +_Duke._ Yet again that senseless argument? +The vows of chastity can ne'er be broken, +Where vows of secrecy are kept. Those I'll swear with you. +But 'tis enough at present, you know my resolution. +I would persuade, not force, you to my love; +And to that end I give you this night's respite. +Consider all, that you may fear or hope; +And think that on your grant, or your denial, +Depends a double welfare, yours and mine. [_Exit._ + +_Luc._ A double ruin, rather, if I grant; +For what can I expect from such a father, +When such a son betrays me! Could I think, +Of all mankind, that Frederick would be base? +And, with the vanity of vulgar souls, +Betray a virgin's fame? One, who esteemed him, +And I much fear did more than barely so-- + +But I dare note examine myself farther, for fear of confessing to my +own thoughts, a tenderness of which he is unworthy. + + _Enter_ HIPPOLITA. + +_Hip._ I watched till your old gallant was gone, to bring you news of +your young one. A mischief on these old dry lovers! they are good for +nothing but tedious talking; well, yonder's the prince at the grate; I +hope I need say no more to you. + +_Luc._ I'll come when I've recovered myself a little. I am a wretched +creature, Hippolita! the letter I writ to the prince-- + +_Hip._ I know it,--is fallen into his father's hands by accident. He's +as wretched as you too. Well, well, it shall be my part to bring you +together; and then, if two young people, that have opportunity, can be +wretched and melancholy--I'll go before, and meet Ascanio. [_Exit._ + +_Luc._ I am half unwilling to go, because I must be accessary to her +assignation with Ascanio; but, for once, I'll meet the prince in the +garden-walk: I am glad, however, that he is less criminal than I +thought him. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE IV.--_The Nunnery-Garden._ + + HIPPOLITA, ASCANIO, _meeting_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Hip._ I hear some walking this way.--Who goes there? + +_Lau._ We are the two new pensioners, Laura and Violetta. + +_Hip._ Go in, to your devotion: These undue hours of walking savour +too much of worldly thoughts. + +_Lau._ Let us retire to the arbour, where, by this time, I believe, +our friends are.--Good-night, sister. + +_Hip._ Good angels guard you. [_Exeunt_ LAU. _and_ VIO.] Now, brother, +the coast is clear, and we have the garden to ourselves. Do you +remember how you threatened me? But that's all one, how good soever +the opportunity may be, so long as we two resolve to be virtuous. + +_Asca._ Speak for yourself, sister, for I am wickedly inclined. Yet, I +confess, I have some remorse when I consider you are in religion. + +_Hip._ We should do very well to consider that, both of us; for, +indeed, what should young people do, but think of goodness and +religion; especially when they love one another, and are alone too, +brother? + +_Asca._ A curse on't! here comes my lord, and Lucretia. We might have +accomplished all, and been repenting by this time; yet who the devil +would have thought they should have come so soon--Ah! + [_Sets his teeth._ + +_Hip._ Who the devil would have put it to the venture? This is always +the fault of you raw pages: You, that are too young, never use an +opportunity; and we, that are elder, can seldom get one.--Ah! + [_Sets her teeth._ + + _Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ LUCRETIA. + +_Luc._ I believe, indeed, it troubled you to lose that letter. + +_Fred._ So much, madam, that I can never forgive myself that +negligence. + +_Luc._ Call it not so, 'twas but a casuality, though, I confess, the +consequence is dangerous; and therefore have not both of us reason to +defy love, when we see a little gallantry is able to produce so much +mischief? + +_Fred._ [_Aside._] Now cannot I, for my heart, bring out one word +against this love. + +_Luc._ Come, you are mute upon a subject, that is both easy and +pleasant. A man in love is so ridiculous a creature-- + +_Fred._ Especially to those that are not. + +_Luc._ True; for to those that are, he cannot be so: They are like the +citizens of Bethlehem, who never find out one another's madness, +because they are all tainted. But for such ancient fops, as, with +reverence, your father is, what reason can they have to be in love? + +_Fred._ Nay, your old fop's unpardonable, that's certain. But-- + +_Luc._ But what? Come, laugh at him. + +_Fred._ But I consider he is my father, I can't laugh at him. + +_Luc._ But, if it were another, we should see how you would insult +over him. + +_Fred._ Ay, if it were another--And yet I don't know neither, 'tis no +part of good nature to insult: A man may be overtaken with a passion, +or so; I know it by myself. + +_Luc._ How, by yourself! You are not in love, I hope?--Oh that he +would confess first now! [_Aside._ + +_Fred._ But, if I were, I should be loth to be laughed at. + +_Luc._ Since you are not in love, you may the better counsel me: What +shall we do with this same troublesome father of yours? + +_Fred._ Any thing, but love him. + +_Luc._ But you know he has me at a bay; my letter is in his +possession, and he may produce it to my ruin: Therefore, if I did +allow him some little favour, to mollify him-- + +_Fred._ How, madam? Would you allow him favours? I can never consent +to it: Not the least look or smile; they are all too precious, though +they were to save his life. + +_Luc._ What, not your father? Oh that he would confess he loved me +first! [_Aside._ + +_Fred._ What have I done? I shall betray myself, and confess my love +to be laughed at, by this hard-hearted woman. [_Aside._] 'Tis true, +madam, I had forgot; he is, indeed, my father, and therefore you may +use him as kindly as you please. + +_Luc._ He's insensible: Now he enrages me. [_Aside._] What if he +proposes to marry me? I am not yet professed, and 'twould be much to +my advantage. + +_Fred._ Marry you! I had rather die a thousand deaths, than suffer it. + +_Luc._ This begins to please me. [_Aside._ +But why should you be so much my enemy? + +_Fred._ Your enemy, madam! Why, do you desire it? + +_Luc._ Perhaps I do. + +_Fred._ Do it, madam, since it pleases you so well. + +_Luc._ But you had rather die, than suffer it. + +_Fred._ No, I have changed my mind: I'll live, and not be concerned at +it. + +_Luc._ Do you contradict yourself so soon? Then know, sir, I did +intend to do it; and I am glad you have given me advice so agreeable +to my inclinations. + +_Fred._ Heaven! that you should not find it out! I delivered your +letter on purpose to my father, and 'twas my business, now, to come +and mediate for him. + +_Luc._ Pray, then, carry him the news of his good success. Adieu, +sweet prince! + +_Fred._ Adieu, dear madam. + +_Asca._ Hey day! what will this come to? They have cozened one another +into a quarrel; just like friends in fencing, a chance thrust comes, +and then they fall to it in earnest. + +_Hip._ You and I, brother, shall never meet upon even terms, if this +be not pieced.--Face about, madam; turn quickly to your man, or, by +all that's virtuous, I'll call the abbess. + +_Asca._ I must not be so bold with you, sir; but, if you please, you +may turn towards the lady: and, I suppose, you would be glad I durst +speak to you with more authority, to save the credit of your +willingness. + +_Fred._ Well, I'll shew her I dare stay, if it be but to confront her +malice. + +_Luc._ I am sure I have done nothing to be ashamed of, that I should +need to run away. + +_Asca._ Pray give me leave, sir, to ask you but one question; Why were +you so unwilling that she should be married to your father? + +_Fred._ Because then her friendship must wholly cease. + +_Asca._ But you may have her friendship, when she is married to him. + +_Fred._ What! when another has enjoyed her? + +Asca. _Victoria, Victoria_! he loves you, madam; let him deny it, if +he can. + +_Luc._ Fye, fye, loves me, Ascanio! I hope he would not forswear +himself, when he has railed so much against it. + +_Fred._ I hope I may love your mind, madam; I may love spiritually. + +_Hip._ That's enough, that's enough: Let him love the mind without the +body, if he can. + +_Asca._ Ay, ay, when the love is once come so far, that spiritual mind +will never leave pulling, and pulling, till it has drawn the beastly +body after it. + +_Fred._ Well, madam, since I must confess it,--though I expect to be +laughed at, after my railing against love,--I do love you all over, +both soul and body. + +_Asca._ Lord, sir, what a tigress have you provoked! you may see she +takes it to the death, that you have made this declaration. + +_Hip._ I thought where all her anger was: Why do you not rail, madam? +Why do you not banish him? the prince expects it; he has dealt +honestly, he has told you his mind, and you may make your worst on't. + +_Luc._ Because he does expect it, I am resolved, I'll neither satisfy +him nor you: I will neither rail nor laugh: Let him make his worst of +that, now. + +_Fred._ If I understand you right, madam, I am happy beyond either my +deserts or expectation. + +_Luc._ You may give my words what interpretation you please, sir; I +shall not envy you their meaning in the kindest sense. But we are near +the jessamine walk, there we may talk with greater freedom, because +'tis farther from the house. + +_Fred._ I wait you, madam. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE V. + + AURELIAN, _with a dark lanthorn._ CAMILLO _and_ BENITO. + +_Cam._ So, we are safe got over into the nunnery-garden; for what's to +come, trust love and fortune. + +_Aur._ This must needs be the walk she mentioned; yet, to be sure, +I'll hold the lanthorn while you read the ticket. + +_Cam._ [Reads.] _I prepared this ticket, hoping to see you in the +chapel: Come this evening over the garden wall, on the right hand, +next the Tiber._ + +_Aur._ We are right, I see. + +Cam. _Bring only your discreet Benito with you, and I will meet you +attended by my faithful Beatrix._ + VIOLETTA. + +_Ben._ Discreet Benito! Did you hear, sir? + +_Aur._ Mortify thyself for that vain thought; and, without enquiring +into the mystery of these words, which I assure thee were not meant to +thee, plant thyself by that ladder without motion, to secure our +retreat; and be sure to make no noise. + +_Ben._ But, sir, in case that-- + +_Aur._ Honest Benito, no more questions: _Basta_ is the word. +Remember, thou art only taken with us, because thou hast a certain +evil daemon, who conducts thy actions, and would have been sure, by +some damned accident or other, to have brought thee hither to disturb +us. + +_Cam._ I hear whispering not far from us, and I think 'tis Violetta's +voice. + +_Aur._ [_To_ BEN.] Retire to your post; avoid, good Satan. + [_Exit_ BEN. + + _Enter_ LAURA, _with a dark lanthorn hid, and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Cam._ Ours is the honour of the field, madam; we are here before you. + +_Vio._ Softly, dear friend; I think I hear some walking in the garden. + +_Cam._ Rather, let us take this opportunity for your escape from +hence; all things are here in readiness. + +_Vio._ This is the second time we ever have met; let us discourse, and +know each other better first; that's the way to make sure of some love +beforehand; for, as the world goes, we know not how little we may have +when we are married. + +_Cam._ Losses of opportunity are fatal in war, you know, and love's a +kind of warfare. + +_Vio._ I shall keep you yet a while from close fighting. + +_Cam._ But, do you know what an hour in love is worth? 'Tis more +precious than an age of ordinary life; 'tis the very quintessence and +extract of it. + +_Vio._ I do not like your chemical preparation of love; yours is all +spirit, and will fly too soon; I must see it fixed, before I trust +you. But we are near the arbour: Now our out-guards are set, let us +retire a little, if you please; there we may walk more freely. + [_Exit._ + +_Aur._ [_To_ LAU.] My lady's woman, methinks you are very reserved +to-night: Pray, advance into the lists; though I have seen your +countenance by day, I can endure to hear you talk by night. Be +cunning, and set your wit to show, which is your best commodity: It +will help the better to put off that drug, your face. + +_Lau._ The coarsest ware will serve such customers as you are: Let it +suffice, Mr Serving-man, that I have seen you too. Your face is the +original of the ugliest vizors about town; and for wit, I would advise +you to speak reverently of it, as a thing you are never like to +understand. + +_Aur._ Sure, Beatrix, you came lately from looking in your glass, and +that has given you a bad opinion of all faces; but since when am I +become so notorious a fool? + +_Lau._ Since yesterday; for t'other night you talked like a man of +sense: I think your wit comes to you, as the sight of owls does, only +in the dark. + +_Aur._ Why, when did you discourse by day with me? + +_Lau._ You have a short memory. This afternoon in the great street. Do +you remember when you talked with Laura? + +_Aur._ But what was that to Beatrix? + +_Lau._ [_Aside._] 'Slife, I had forgot that I am Beatrix. But pray, +when did you find me out to be so ugly? + +_Aur._ This afternoon, in the chapel. + +_Lau._ That cannot be; for I well remember you were not there, Benito: +I saw none but Camillo, and his friend, the handsome stranger. + +_Aur._ [_Aside_] Curse on't, I have betrayed myself. + +_Lau._ I find you are an impostor: you are not the same Benito: your +language has nothing of the serving-man. + +_Aur._ And yours, methinks, has not much of the waiting-woman. + +_Lau._ My lady is abused, and betrayed by you: But I am resolved, I'll +discover who you are. [_Holds out a lanthorn to him._] How! the +stranger? + +_Aur._ Nay, madam, if you are good at that, I'll match you there too. +[_Holds out his lanthorn._] O prodigy! Is Beatrix turned to Laura? + +_Lau._ Now the question is, which of us two is the greatest cheat? + +_Aur._ That's hardly to be tried, at so short warning: Let's marry one +another, and then, twenty to one, in a twelvemonth we shall know. + +_Lau._ Marry! Are you at that so soon, signior? Benito and Beatrix, I +confess, had some acquaintance; but Aurelian and Laura are mere +strangers. + +_Aur._ That ground I have gotten as Benito, I am resolved I'll keep as +Aurelian. If you will take state upon you, I have treated you with +ceremony already; for I have wooed you by proxy. + +_Lau._ But you would not be contented to bed me so; or give me leave +to put the sword betwixt us. + +_Aur._ Yes, upon condition you'll remove it. + +_Lau._ Pray let our friends be judge of it; if you please, we'll find +them in the arbour. + +_Aur._ Content; I am then sure of the verdict, because the jury is +bribed already. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE VI. + + BENITO _meeting_ FREDERICK, ASCANIO, LUCRETIA, _and_ HIPPOLITA. + +_Ben._ Knowing my own merits, as I do, 'tis not impossible, but some +of these harlotry nuns may love me. Oh, here's my master! now if I +could but put this into civil terms, so as to ask his leave, and not +displease him-- + +_Asca._ I hear one talking, sir, just by us. + +_Ben._ I am stolen from my post, sir, but for one minute only, to +demand permission of you, since it is not in our articles, that if any +of these nuns should cast an eye, or so-- + +_Fred._ 'Slife, we are betrayed; but I'll make this rascal sure. + [_Draws and runs at him._ + +_Ben._ Help! murder, murder! [_Runs off._ + + _Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO; LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA _after them._ + +_Aur._ That was Benito's voice: We are ruined. + +_Cam._ O, here they are, we must make our way. + [AUR. _and the Prince make a pass or two confusedly, + and fight off the stage. The Women shriek._ + +_Asca._ Never fear, ladies.--Come on, sir; I am your man. + +_Cam._ [_Stepping back._] This is the prince's page, I know his +voice.--Ascanio? + +_Asca._ Signior Camillo? + +_Cam._ If the prince be here, 'tis Aurelian is engaged with him. Let +us run in quickly, and prevent the mischief. + [_All go off. A little clashing within. After + which they all re-enter._ + +_Fred._ [_To_ AUR.] I hope you are not wounded. + +_Aur._ No, sir; but infinitely grieved, that-- + +_Fred._ No more; 'twas a mistake: But which way can we escape? the +abbess is coming; I see the lights. + +_Luc._ You cannot go by the gate, then. Ah me, unfortunate! + +_Cam._ But over the wall you may: We have a ladder ready.--Adieu, +ladies.--Curse on this ill luck, when we had just persuaded them to go +with us! + +_Fred._ Farewell, sweet Lucretia. + +_Lau._ Good-night, Aurelian. + +_Aur._ Ay, it might have proved a good one: Faith, shall I stay yet, +and make it one, in spite of the abbess, and all her works? + +_Lau._ The abbess is just here; you will be +Caught in the spiritual trap, if you should tarry. + +_Aur._ That will be time enough, when we two marry. + [_Exeunt severally._ + + +ACT V. SCENE I. + + _Enter_ SOPHRONIA, LUCRETIA, LAURA, _and_ VIOLETTA. + +_Soph._ By this, then, it appears you all are guilty; +Only your ignorance of each others crimes +Caused first that tumult, and this discovery. +Good heavens, that I should live to see this day! +Methinks these holy walls, the cells, the cloisters, +Should all have struck a secret horror on you: +And when, with unchaste thoughts, +You trod these lonely walks, you should have looked, +The venerable ghost of our first foundress +Should, with spread arms, have met you in her shroud, +And frighted you from sin. + +_Luc._ Alas! you need not aggravate our crimes; +We know them to be great beyond excuse, +And have no hope, but only from your mercy. + +_Lau._ Love is, indeed, no plea within these walls; +But, since we brought it hither, and were forced, +Not led by our own choice, to this strict life-- + +_Vio._ Too hard for our soft youth, and bands of love, +Which we before had knit-- + +_Lau._ Pity your blood, +Which runs within our veins; and since heav'n puts it +In your sole power to ruin or to save, +Protect us from the sordid avarice +Of our domestic tyrant, who deserves not +That we should call him uncle, or your brother. + +_Soph._ If, as I might, with justice I should punish, +No penance could be rigorous enough; +But I am willing to be more indulgent. +None of you are professed: And, since I see +You are not fit for higher happiness, +You may have what you think the world can give you. + +_Luc._ Let us adore you, madam! + +_Soph._ You, Lucretia, +I shall advise within. + +_Vio._ But for us, madam? + +_Soph._ For you, dear nieces, I have long considered +The injuries you suffer from my brother, +And I rejoice it is in me to help you: +I will endeavour, from this very hour, +To put you both into your lovers' hands, +Who, by your own confession, have deserved you; +But so as (though 'tis done by my connivance) +It shall not seem to be with my consent. + +_Lau._ You do an act of noble charity, +And may just heaven reward it! + + _Enter_ HIPPOLITA, _and whispers_ LUCRETIA. + +_Soph._ Oh, you're a faithful portress of a cloister! +What is't you whisper to Lucretia? +On your obedience tell me. + +_Luc._ Since you must know, madam, +I have received a courtship from the prince +Of Mantua. The rest Hippolita may speak. + +_Hip._ His page, Ascanio, is at the grate, +To know, from him, how you had scaped this danger; +And brings with him those habits-- + +_Soph._ I find that here has been a long commerce. What habits? + +_Luc._ I blush to tell you, madam; they were masking habits, in which +we went abroad. + +_Soph._ O strange impiety! Well, I conclude +You are no longer for religious clothing; +You would infect our order. + +_Luc._ [_Kneeling._] Madam, you promised us forgiveness. + +_Soph._ I have done; for 'tis indeed too late to chide. + +_Hip._ With Ascanio there are two gentlemen; Aurelian and Camillo, I +think they call themselves, who came to me, recommended from the +prince, and desired to speak with Laura and Violetta. + +_Soph._ I think they are your lovers, nieces. + +_Vio._ Madam, they are. + +_Hip._ But, for fear of discovery from your uncle, Mario, whose house, +you know, joins to the monastery, are both in masquerade. + +_Soph._ This opportunity must not be lost. [_To_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA. +You two shall take the masking habits instantly, +And, in them, scape your jealous uncle's eyes. +When you are happy, make me so, by hearing your success. + [_Kisses them. Exeunt_ LAU. _and_ VIO. + +_Luc._ A sudden thought is sprung within my mind, +Which, by the same indulgence you have shown, +May make me happy too. I have not time +To tell you now, for fear I lose this opportunity. +When I return from speaking with Ascanio, +I shall declare the secrets of my love, +And crave your farther help. + +_Soph._ In all that virtue will permit, you shall not fail to find it. + [_Exit_ LUCRETIA. + +_Hip._ Madam, the foolish fellow, whom we took, grows troublesome; +what shall we do with him? + +_Soph._ Send for the magistrate; he must be punished-- +Yet, hold; that would betray the other secret. +Let him be strait turned out, on this condition, +That he presume not ever to disclose +He was within these walls. I'll speak with him. +Come, and attend me to him. [_Exit_ SOPHRONIA. + +_Hip._ You fit to be an abbess! We, that live out of the world, +should, at least, have the common sense of those that live far from +town; if a pedlar comes by them once a year, they will not let him go, +without providing themselves with what they want. + [_Exit after_ SOPHRONIA. + + +SCENE II.--_The Street._ + + _Enter_ AURELIAN, CAMILLO, LAURA, VIOLETTA; _all in Masking-habits._ + +_Cam._ This generosity of the abbess is never to be forgot; and it is +the more to be esteemed, because it was the less to be expected. + +_Vio._ At length, my Camillo, I see myself safe within your arms; and +yet, methinks, I can never be enough secure of you; for now, I have +nothing else to fear, I am afraid of you; I fear your constancy. They +say possession is so dangerous to lovers, that more of them die of +surfeits than of fasting. + +_Lau._ You'll be rambling too, Aurelian; I do not doubt it, if I would +let you; but I'll take care to be as little a wife, and as much a +mistress to you, as is possible: I'll be sure to be always pleasant, +and never suffer you to be cloyed. + +_Aur._ You are certainly in the right: Pleasantness of humour makes a +wife last in the sweetmeat, when it will no longer in the fruit. But, +pray, let's make haste to the next honest priest that can say grace to +us, and take our appetites while they are coming. + +_Cam._ That way leads to the Austin-Friars; there lives a father of my +acquaintance. + +_Lau._ I have heard of him; he has a mighty stroke at matrimonies, and +mumbles them over as fast, as if he were teaching us to forget them +all the while. + + _Enter_ BENITO, _and overhears the last speech._ + +_Ben._ _Cappari_; that is the voice of madam Laura. Now, Benito, is +the time to repair the lost honour of thy wit, and to blot out the +last adventure of the nunnery. + +_Vio._ That way I hear company; let us go about by this other street, +and shun them. + +_Ben._ That voice I know too; 'tis the younger sister's, Violetta's, +Now have these two most treacherously conveyed themselves out of the +nunnery, for my master and Camillo, and given up their persons to +those lewd rascals in masquerade; but I'll prevent them. Help there! +thieves and ravishers! villainous maskers! stop, robbers! stop, +ravishers! + +_Cam._ We are pursued that way, let's take this street. + +_Lau._ Save yourselves, and leave us. + +_Cam._ We'll rather die, than leave you. + + _Enter, at several doors, Duke of_ MANTUA _and Guards, and Don_ + MARIO _and Servants, with Torches._ + +_Aur._ So, now the way is shut up on both sides. We'll die merrily, +however:--have at the fairest. + [AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO _fall upon the Duke's + Guards, and are seized behind by_ MARIO'S + _Servants. At the drawing of Swords,_ BENITO + _runs off._ + +_Duke._ Are these insolencies usually committed in Rome by night? It +has the fame of a well-governed city; and methinks, Don Mario, it does +somewhat reflect on you to suffer these disorders. + +_Mar._ They are not to be hindered in the Carnival: You see, sir, they +have assumed the privilege of maskers. + +_Lau._ [_To_ AUR.] If my uncle know us, we are ruined; therefore be +sure you do not speak. + +_Duke._ How then can we be satisfied this was not a device of masking, +rather than a design of ravishing? + +_Mar._ Their accuser is fled, I saw him run at the beginning of the +scuffle; but I'll examine the ladies. + +_Vio._ Now we are lost. [_Duke coming near_ LAURA, _takes notice + of her habit._ + +_Duke._ [_Aside._] 'Tis the same, 'tis the same; I know Lucretia by +her habit: I'm sure I am not mistaken.--Now, sir, you may cease your +examination, I know the ladies. + +_Aur._ [_To_ CAM.] How the devil does he know them? + +_Cam._ 'Tis alike to us; they are lost both ways. + +_Duke._ [_Taking_ LAURA _aside._] Madam, you may confess yourself to +me. Whatever your design was in leaving the nunnery, your reputation +shall be safe. I'll not discover you, provided you grant me the +happiness I last requested. + +_Lau._ I know not, sir, how you could possibly come to know me, or of +my design in quitting the nunnery; but this I know, that my sister and +myself are both unfortunate, except your highness be pleased to +protect us from our uncle; at least, not to discover us. + +_Duke._ His holiness, your uncle, shall never be acquainted with your +flight, on condition you will wholly renounce my son, and give +yourself to me. + +_Lau._ Alas, sir, for whom do you mistake me? + +_Duke._ I mistake you not, madam: I know you for Lucretia. You forget +that your disguise betrays you. + +_Lau._ Then, sir, I perceive I must disabuse you: If you please to +withdraw a little, that I may not be seen by others, I will pull off +my mask, and discover to you, that Lucretia and I have no resemblance, +but only in our misfortunes. + +_Duke._ 'Tis in vain, madam, this dissembling: I protest, if you pull +off your mask, I will hide my face, and not look upon you, to convince +you that I know you. + + _Enter_ BENITO. + +_Ben._ So, now the fray is over, a man may appear again with +safety.--Oh, the rogues are caught, I see, and the damsels delivered. +This was the effect of my valour at the second hand. + +_Aur._ Look, look, Camillo! it was my perpetual fool that caused all +this; and now he stands yonder, laughing at his mischief, as the devil +is pictured, grinning behind the witch upon the gallows. + +_Ben._ [_To_ MARIO.] I see, sir, you have got your women, and I am +glad on't: I took them just flying from the nunnery. + +_Duke._ [_To_ LAU.] You see that fellow knows you too. + +_Mar._ Were these women flying from a nunnery? + +_Ben._ These women? heyday! then, it seems, you do not know they are +your nieces. + +_Duke._ His nieces, say you? Take heed, fellow, you shall he punished +severely, if you mistake. + +_Cam._ Speak to Benito in time, Aurelian. + +_Aur._ The devil's in him; he's running down-hill full speed, and +there's no stopping him. + +_Mar._ My nieces? + +_Ben._ Your nieces? Why, do you doubt it? I praise heaven I never met +but with two half-wits in my life, and my master's one of them; I will +not name the other at this time. + +_Duke._ I say, they are not they. + +_Ben._ I am sure they are Laura and Violetta; and that those two +rogues were running away with them, and that, I believe, with their +consent. + +_Vio._ Sister, 'tis in vain to deny ourselves; you see our ill fortune +pursues us unavoidably. [_Turning up her mask._] Yes, sir, we are +Laura and Violetta, whom you have made unhappy by your tyranny. + +_Lau._ [_Turning up her mask._] And these two gentlemen are no +ravishers, but-- + +_Ben._ How, no ravishers? Yes, to my knowledge they are--[_As he +speaks,_ AURELIAN _pulls off his mask._] No ravishers, as madam Laura +was saying; but two as honest gentlemen as e'er broke bread. My own +dear master, and so forth! [_Runs to_ AUR. _who thrusts him back._ + + _Enter_ VALERIO, _and whispers the Duke, giving him a paper; which + he reads, and seems pleased._ + +_Mar._ Aurelian and Camillo! I'll see you in safe custody; and, for +these fugitives, go, carry them to my sister, and desire her to have a +better care of her kinswomen. + +_Vio._ We shall live yet to make you refund our portions. Farewell, +Camillo; comfort yourself; remember there's but a wall betwixt us. + +_Lau._ And I'll cut through that wall with vinegar, but I'll come to +you, Aurelian. + +_Aur._ I'll cut through the grates with aquafortis, but I'll meet you. +Think of these things, and despair, and die, old gentleman. + [AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO _are carried off on + one side, and_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA _on + the other._ + +_Ben._ All things go cross to men of sense: Would I had been born with +the brains of a shop-keeper, that I might have thriven without knowing +why I did so. Now, must I follow my master to the prison, and, like an +ignorant customer that comes to buy, must offer him my backside, tell +him I trust to his honesty, and desire him to please himself, and so +be satisfied. [_Exit._ + +_Duke._ [_To_ VAL.] I am overjoyed; I'll see her immediately: Now my +business with Don Mario is at an end, I need not desire his company to +introduce me to the abbess; this assignation from Lucretia shows me a +nearer way.--Noble Don Mario, it was my business, when this accident +happened in the street, to have made you a visit; but now I am +prevented by an occasion which calls me another way. + +_Mar._ I receive the intention of that honour as the greatest +happiness that could befal me: In the meantime, if my attendance-- + +_Duke._ By no means, sir, I must of necessity go in private; and +therefore, if you please, you shall omit the ceremony. + +_Mar._ A happy even to your highness.--Now will I go to my sister, the +abbess, before I sleep, and desire her to take more care of her flock, +or, for all our relation, I shall make complaint, and endeavour to +ease her of her charge. [_Exit._ + +_Duke._ So, now we are alone, what said Lucretia? + +_Val._ When first I pressed her to this assignation, +She spoke like one in doubt what she should do; +She demurred much upon the decency of it, +And somewhat too she seemed to urge, of her +Engagement to the prince: In short, sir, +I perceived her wavering, and closed with the opportunity. + +_Duke._ O, when women are once irresolute, betwixt the former love and +the new one, they are sure to come over to the latter. The wind, their +nearest likeness, seldom chops about to return into the old corner. + +_Val._ In conclusion, she consented to the interview; and for the +rest, I urged it not, for I suppose she will hear reason sooner from +your mouth than mine. + +_Duke._ Her letter is of the same tenor with her discourse, full of +doubts and doubles; like a hunted hare when she is near tired. The +garden, you say, is the place appointed? + +_Val._ It is, sir; and the next half hour the time. But, sir, I fear +the prince your son will never bear the loss of her with patience. + +_Duke._ 'Tis no matter; let the young gallant storm to-night, +to-morrow he departs from Rome. + +_Val._ That, sir, will be severe. + +_Duke._ He has already received my commands to travel into Germany. I +know it stung him to the quick, but he's too dangerous a rival: the +soldiers love him too; when he's absent they will respect me more. But +I defer my happiness too long; dismiss my guards there. + [_Exeunt Guards._ + + The pleasures of old age brook no delay; + Seldom they come, and soon they fly away. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III. + + _Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ ASCANIO. + +_Fred._ 'Tis true, he is my father; but when nature +Is dead in him, why should it live in me? +What have I done that I am banished Rome, +The world's delight, and my soul's joy, Lucretia, +And sent to reel with midnight beasts in Almain! +I cannot, will not, bear it. + +_Asca._ I'm sure you need not, sir; the army is all yours; they wish a +youthful monarch, and will resent your injuries. + +_Fred._ Heaven forbid it! and yet I cannot lose Lucretia. +There's something I would do, and yet would shun +The ill, that must attend it. + +_Asca._ You must resolve, for the time presses. She told me, this +hour, she had sent for your father: what she means I know not, for she +seemed doubtful, and would not tell me her intention. + +_Fred._ If she be false--yet, why should I suspect her? Yet why should +I not? She's a woman; that includes ambition and inconstancy; then, +she's tempted high: 'twere unreasonable to expect she should be +faithful: Well, something I have resolved, and will about it +instantly; and if my friends prove faithful, I shall prevent the +worst. + + _Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO, _guarded._ + +Aurelian and Camillo? How came you thus attended? + +_Cam._ You may guess at the occasion, sir; pursuing the adventure +which brought us to meet you in the garden, we were taken by Don +Mario. + +_Aur._ And, as the devil would have it, when both we and our +mistresses were in expectation of a more pleasing lodging. + +_Fred._ Faith, that's very hard, when a man has charged and primed, +and taken aim, to be hindered of his shoot.--Soldiers, release these +gentlemen, I'll answer it. + +_Cap._ Sir, we dare not disobey our orders. + +_Fred._ I'll stand betwixt you and danger. In the mean time take this, +as an acknowledgment of the kindness you do me. + +_Cap._ Ay, marry, there's rhetoric in gold: who can deny these +arguments: Sir, you may dispose of our prisoners as you please; we'll +use your name, if we are called in question. + +_Fred._ Do so. Goodnight, good soldiers. [_Exeunt soldiers._] Now, +gentlemen, no thanks; you'll find occasion instantly to reimburse me +of my kindness. + +_Cam._ Nothing but want of liberty could have hindered us from serving +you. + +_Fred._ Meet me within this half hour, at our monastery; and if, in +the mean time, you can pick up a dozen of good fellows, who dare +venture their lives bravely, bring them with you. + +_Aur._ I hope the cause is bad too, otherwise we shall not deserve +your thanks. May it be for demolishing that cursed monastery! + +_Fred._ Come, Ascanio, follow me. [_Exeunt severally._ + + +SCENE IV.--_The Nunnery Garden._ + + _Enter_ DUKE _and_ LUCRETIA. + +_Luc._ In making this appointment, +I go too far, for one of my profession; +But I have a divining soul within me, +Which tells me, trust reposed in noble natures +Obliges them the more. + +_Duke._ I come to be commanded, not to govern: +Those few soft words, you sent me, have quite altered +My rugged nature; if it still be violent, +'Tis only fierce and eager to obey you; +Like some impetuous flood, which, mastered once, +With double force bends backward. +The place of treaty shows you strongest here; +For still the vanquished sues for peace abroad, +While the proud victor makes his terms at home. + +_Luc._ That peace, I see, will not be hard to make, +When either side shows confidence of noble dealing +From the other. + +_Duke._ And this, sure, is our case, since both are met alone. + +_Luc._ 'Tis mine, sir, more than yours. +To meet you single, shows I trust your virtue; +But you appear distrustful of my love. + +_Duke._ You wrong me much; I am not. + +_Luc._ Excuse me, sir, you keep a curb upon me; +You awe me with a letter, which you hold +As hostage of my love; and hostages +Are ne'er required but from suspected faith. + +_Duke._ We are not yet in terms of perfect peace; +Whene'er you please to seal the articles, +Your pledge shall be restored. + +_Luc._ That were the way to keep us still at distance; +For what we fear, we cannot truly love. + +_Duke._ But how can I be then secure, that, when +Your fear is o'er, your love will still continue? + +_Luc._ Make trial of my gratitude; you'll find +I can acknowledge kindness. + +_Duke._ But that were to forego the faster hold, +To take a loose, and weaker. +Would you not judge him mad, who held a lion +In chains of steel, and changed them for a twine? + +_Luc._ But love is soft, +Not of the lion's nature, but the dove's; +An iron chain would hang too heavy on a tender neck. + +_Duke._ Since on one side there must be confidence, +Why may not I expect, as well as you, +To have it plac'd in me? Repose your trust +Upon my royal word. + +_Luc._ As 'tis the privilege of womankind, +That men should court our love, +And make the first advances; so it follows, +That you should first oblige; for 'tis our weakness +Gives us more cause of fear, and therefore you, +Who are the stronger sex, should first secure it. + +_Duke._ But, madam, as you talk of fear from me, +I may as well suspect design from you. + +_Luc._ Design! of giving you my love more freely; +Of making you a title to my heart, +Where you by force would reign. + +_Duke._ O that I could believe you! But your words +Are not enough disorder'd for true love; +They are not plain, and hearty, as are mine; +But full of art, and close insinuation: +You promise all, but give me not one proof +Of love before; not the least earnest of it. + +_Luc._ And what is then this midnight conversation? +These silent hours divided from my sleep? +Nay, more, stolen from my prayers with sacrilege, +And here transferred to you? This guilty hand, +Which should be used in dropping holy beads, +But now bequeathed to yours? This heaving heart, +Which only should be throbbing for my sins, +But which now beats uneven time for you? +These are my arts! and these are my designs! + +_Duke._ I love you more, Lucretia, than my soul; +Nay, than yours too; for I would venture both, +That I might now enjoy you; and if what +You ask me, did not make me fear to lose you, +Though it were even my life, you should not be denied it. + +_Luc._ Then I will ask no more. +Keep still my letter, to upbraid me with it: +To say, when I am sullied with your lust, +And fit to be forsaken,--Go, Lucretia, +To your first love; for this, for this, I leave you. + +_Duke._ Oh, madam, never think that day can come! + +_Luc._ It must, it will; I read it in your looks; +You will betray me, when I'm once engaged. + +_Duke._ If not my faith, your beauty will secure you. + +_Luc._ My beauty is a flower upon the stalk, +Goodly to see; but, gathered for the scent, +And once with eagerness pressed to your nostrils, +The sweets drawn out, 'tis thrown with scorn away. +But I am glad I find you out so soon; +I simply loved, and meant (with shame I own it) +To trust my virgin honour in your hands. +I asked not wealth for hire; and, but by chance, +(I wonder that I thought on't) begged one trial, +And, but for form, to have pretence to yield, +And that you have denied me. Farewell! I could +Have loved you, and yet, perhaps, I-- + +_Duke._ O speak, speak out, and do not drown that word; +It seemed as if it would have been a kind one; +And yours are much too precious to be lost. + +_Luc._ Perhaps--I cannot yet leave loving you. +There 'twas. But I recalled it in my mind, +And made it false before I gave it air. +Once more, farewell--I wo'not,-- +Now I can say I wo'not, wo'not love you. [_Going._ + +_Duke._ You shall; and this shall be the seal of my affection. + [_Gives the letter._ +There take it, my Lucretia: I give it with more joy, +Than I with grief received it. + +_Luc._ Good night; I'll thank you for't some other time. + +_Duke._ You'll not abuse my love? + +_Luc._ No; but secure my honour. + +_Duke._ I'll force it from your hands. [LUCRETIA _runs._ + +_Luc._ Help, help, or I am ravished! help, for heaven's sake! + + HIPPOLITA, LAURA, _and_ VIOLETTA, _within, at several places._ + +_Within._ Help, help Lucretia! they bear away Lucretia by force. + +_Duke._ I think there's a devil in every corner. + + _Enter_ VALERIO. + +_Val._ Sir, the design was laid on purpose for you, and all the women +placed to cry. Make haste away; avoid the shame, for heaven's sake. + +_Duke._ [_going._] O, I could fire this monastery! + + _Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ ASCANIO. + + [FREDERICK, _entering, speaks as to some behind him._] + +_Fred._ Pain of your lives, let none of you presume to enter but +myself. + +_Duke._ My son!--O, I could burst with spite, and die with shame, to +be thus apprehended! this is the baseness and cowardice of guilt: an +army now were not so dreadful to me as that son, o'er whom the right +of nature gives me power. + +_Fred._ Sir, I am come-- + +_Duke._ To laugh at first, and then to blaze abroad, +The weakness and the follies of your father. + +_Val._ Sir, he has men in arms attending him. + +_Duke._ I know my doom then. You have taken a popular occasion; I am +now a ravisher of chastity, fit to be made prisoner first, and then +deposed. + +_Fred._ You will not hear me, sir. + +_Duke._ No, I confess I have deserved my fate; +For, what had these grey hairs to do with love? +Or, if the unseemly folly would possess me, +Why should I chuse to make my son my rival? + +_Fred._ Sir, you may add, you banished me from Rome, +And, from the light of it, Lucretia's eyes. + +_Duke._ Nay, if thou aggravat'st my crimes, thou giv'st +Me right to justify them: thou doubly art my slave, +Both son and subject. I can do thee no wrong, +Nor hast thou right to arraign or punish me: +But thou inquir'st into thy father's years; +Thy swift ambition could not stay my death, +But must ride post to empire. Lead me now; +Thy crimes have made me guiltless to myself, +And given me face to bear the public scorn. +You have a guard without? + +_Fred._ I have some friends. + +_Duke._ Speak plainly your intent. +I love not a sophisticated truth, +With an allay of lie in't. + +_Fred._ [_Kneeling._] +This is not, sir, the posture of a rebel, +But of a suppliant; if the name of son +Be too much honour to me. +What first I purpos'd, I scarce know myself. +Love, anger, and revenge, then rolled within me, +And yet, even then, I was not hurried farther +Than to preserve my own. + +_Duke._ Your own! What mean you? + +_Fred._ My love, and my Lucretia, which I thought, +In my then boiling passion, you pursued +With some injustice, and much violence; +This led me to repel that force by force. +'Twas easy to surprise you, when I knew +Of your intended visit. + +_Duke._ Thank my folly. + +_Fred._ But reason now has reassumed its place, +And makes me see how black a crime it is +To use a force upon my prince and father. + +_Duke._ You give me hope you will resign Lucretia. + +_Fred._ Ah no; I never can resign her to you: +But, sir, I can my life; which, on my knees, +I tender, as the atoning sacrifice: +Or if your hand (because you are a father) +Be loth to take away that life you gave, +I will redeem your crime, by making it +My own: So you shall still be innocent, and I +Die blessed, and unindebted for my being. + +_Duke._ O Frederick, you are too much a son, [_Embracing him._ +And I too little am a father: you, +And you alone, have merited Lucretia; +'Tis now my only grief, +I can do nothing to requite this virtue: +For to restore her to you, +Is not an act of generosity, +But a scant, niggard justice; yet I love her +So much, that even this little, which I do, +Is like the bounty of an usurer; +High to be priz'd from me, +Because 'tis drawn from such a wretched mind. + +_Fred._ You give me now a second, better life; [_Kissing his hand._ +But,--that the gift may be more easy to you,-- +Consider, sir, Lucretia did not love you,-- +I fear to say, ne'er would. + +_Duke._ You do well to help me to o'ercome that difficulty: +I'll weigh that, too, hereafter. For a love, +So violent as mine, will ask long time, +And much of reason, to effect the cure. +My present care shall be to make you happy; +For that will make my wish impossible, +And then the remedies will be more easy. + + _Enter_ SOPHRONIA, LUCRETIA, VIOLETTA, LAURA, HIPPOLITA. + +_Soph._ I have, with joy, o'erheard this happy change, +And come with blessings to applaud your conquest +Over the greatest of mankind, yourself. + +_Duke._ I hope 'twill be a full and lasting one. + +_Luc._ Thus, let me kneel, and pay my thanks and duty, [_Kneeling._ +Both to my prince and father. + +_Duke._ Rise, rise, too charming maid, for yet I cannot +Call you my daughter: that first name, Lucretia, +Hangs on my lips, and would be still pronounced. +Look not too kindly on me; one sweet glance, +Perhaps, would ruin both: therefore, I'll go +And try to get new strength to bear your eyes. +'Till then, farewell. Be sure you love my Frederick, +And do not hate his father. [_Exeunt Duke and_ VALERIO. + +_Fred._ [_At the door._] Now, friends, you may appear. + + _Enter_ AURELIAN, CAMILLO, BENITO. + +Your pardon, madam, that we thus intrude +On holy ground: yourself best know it could not +Be avoided, and it shall be my care it be excused. + +_Soph._ Though sovereign princes bear a privilege +Of entering when they please within our walls, +In others 'tis a crime past dispensation; +And therefore, to avoid a public scandal, +Be pleased, sir, to retire, and quit this garden. + +_Aur._ We shall obey you, madam; but that we may do it with less +regret, we hope you will give these ladies leave to accompany us. + +_Soph._ They shall. +And, nieces, for myself, I only ask you +To justify my conduct to the world, +That none may think I have betrayed a trust, +But freed you from a tyranny. + +_Lau._ Our duty binds us to acknowledge it. + +_Cam._ And our gratitude to witness it. + +_Vio._ With a holy and lasting remembrance of your favour. + +_Fred._ And it shall be my care, either by reason to bend your uncle's +will, or, by my father's interest, to force your dowry from his hands. + +_Ben._ [_To_ AUR.] Pray, sir, let us make haste over these walls +again; these gardens are unlucky to me; I have lost my reputation of +music in one of them, and of wit in the other. + +_Aur._ [_To_ LAU.] Now, Laura, you may take your choice betwixt the +two Benito's, and consider whether you had rather he should serenade +you in the garden, or I in bed to-night. + +_Lau._ You may be sure I shall give sentence for Benito; for the +effect of your serenading would be to make me pay the music nine +months hence. + +_Hip._ [_To_ ASCA.] You see, brother, here's a general gaol-delivery: +there has been a great deal of bustle and disturbance in the cloister +to-night; enough to distract a soul which is given up, like me, to +contemplation: and therefore, if you think fit, I could even be +content to retire, with you, into the world; and, by way of penance, +to marry you; which, as husbands and wives go now, is a greater +mortification than a nunnery. + +_Asca._ No, sister; if you love me, keep to your monastery: I'll come +now and then to the grate, and beg you a recreation. But I know myself +so well, that if I had you one twelvemonth in the world, I should run +myself into a cloister, to be rid of you. + +_Soph._ Nieces, once more farewell. Adieu, Lucretia: +My wishes and my prayers attend you all. + +_Luc._ to _Fred._ I am so fearful, +That, though I gladly run to your embraces, +Yet, venturing in the world a second time, +Methinks I put to sea in a rough storm, +With shipwrecks round about me. + +_Fred._ My dear, be kinder to yourself and me, +And let not fear fright back our coming joys; +For we, at length, stand reconciled to fate: +And now to fear, when to such bliss we move, +Were not to doubt our fortune, but our love. [_Exeunt._ + + + EPILOGUE. + + Some have expected, from our bills to-day, + To find a satire in our poet's play. + The zealous route from Coleman-street did run, + To see the story of the Friar and Nun; + Or tales, yet more ridiculous to hear, + Vouched by their vicar of ten pounds a-year,-- + Of Nuns, who did against temptation pray, + And discipline laid on the pleasant way: + Or that, to please the malice of the town, } + Our poet should in some close cell have shown } + Some sister, playing at content alone: } + This they did hope; the other side did fear; + And both, you see, alike are cozened here. + Some thought the title of our play to blame; + They liked the thing, but yet abhorred the name: + Like modest punks, who all you ask afford, + But, for the world, they would not name that word. + Yet, if you'll credit what I heard him say, + Our poet meant no scandal in his play; + His Nuns are good, which on the stage are shown, + And, sure, behind our scenes you'll look for none. + + +Footnotes: +1. A common name for a cat, being that by which the representative of + the feline race is distinguished in the History of Reynard the Fox. + See Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet._ + +2. _Stickle._ To interfere. + +3. _Rondaches._ Targets or bucklers. These were a part of the + equipment of a serenader. See that of Quevedo's Night Adventurer. + + + * * * * * + + + END OF THE FOURTH VOLUME. + + + EDINBURGH: + + Printed by James Ballantyne. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works Of John Dryden, Volume 4 (of +18), by John Dryden + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN *** + +***** This file should be named 15349.txt or 15349.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/3/4/15349/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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