The mourning bride a tragedy : as it is acted at the theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields by His Majesty's servants / written by Mr. Congreve.

The mourning bride a tragedy : as it is acted at the theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields by His Majesty's servants / written by Mr. Congreve.

Table of contents

§

Title page

TO Her Royal Highness, THE PRINCESS.

PROLOGUE.

Personae Dramatis.

ACT I. SCENE I.

ACT II. SCENE I.

ACT III. SCENE I.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

ACT V. SCENE I.

EPILOGUE,

[Page]THE Mourning Bride.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

THE Mourning Bride, A TRAGEDY.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

THE Mourning Bride, A TRAGEDY. As it is ACTED AT THE Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, BY His Majesty's Servants. Written by Mr. CONGREVE.

—Neque enim lex aequior ulla,

Quàm necis artifices arte perire sua.

Ovid. de Arte Am.

LONDON, Printed for Iacob Tonson at the Iudge's-Head near the Inner-Temple-Gate, in Fleet-street, 1697.

TO Her Royal Highness, THE PRINCESS.

[Page]

[Page]

MADAM,

THAT high Station, which, by Your Birth You hold above the People, exacts from every one, as a Duty, whatever Honours they are capable of paying to Your Royal Highness: But that more exalted Place, to which, Your Vertues have rais'd You, above [Page] the rest of Princes, makes the Tribute of our Admiration and Praise, rather a choice more immediately preventing that Duty.

The Publick Gratitude, is ever founded on a Publick Benefit; and what is universally bless'd, is always an universal Blessing. Thus from Your self, we derive the Offerings which we bring; and that Incense which arises to Your Name, only returns to its Original, and but naturally requires the Parent of its Being.

From hence it is that this Poem constituted on a Moral, whose End is to recommend and to encourage Vertue, of consequence has recourse to Your Royal Highness's Patronage; aspiring to cast it self beneath Your Feet, and declining Approbation, till You shall condescend to own it, and vouchsafe to shine upon it as on a Creature of Your Influence.

'Tis from the Example of Princes, that Vertue becomes a Fashion in the People, For even they who are averse to Instruction, will yet be fond of Imitation.

[Page] But there are Multitudes, who never can have Means, nor Opportunities of so near an Access, as to partake of the Benefit of such Examples. And to these, Tragedy, which distinguishes it self from the Vulgar Poetry, by the Dignity of its Characters, may be of Use and Information. For they who are at that distance from Original Greatness, as to be depriv'd of the Happiness of Contemplating the Perfections and real Excellencies of Your Royal Highness's Person, in Your Court; may yet behold some small Sketches and Imagings of the Vertues of Your Mind, abstracted, and represented in the Theatre.

Thus Poets are instructed, and instruct; not alone by Precepts which persuade, but also by Examples which illustrate. Thus is Delight interwoven with Instruction; when not only Vertue is prescrib'd, but also represented.

But if we are delighted with the Livelyness of a feign'd Representation of Great and Good Persons and their Actions; how must [Page] we be charm'd with beholding the Persons themselves? If one or two excelling Qualities, barely touch'd in the single Action, and small Compass of a Play, can warm an Audience, with a Concern and Regard even for the seeming Success and Prosperity of the Actor: With what Zeal must the Hearts of all be fill'd, for the continued and encreasing Happiness of those, who are the true and living Instances of Elevated and Persisting Vertue? Even the Vicious themselves must have a secret Veneration for those peculiar Graces and Endowments, which are daily so eminently conspicuous in Your Royal Highness; and though repining, feel a Pleasure which in spite of Envy they per-force approve.

If in this Piece, humbly offer'd to Your Royal Highness, there shall appear the Resemblance of any one of those many Excellencies which You so promiscuously possess, to be drawn so as to merit Your least Approbation, it has the End and Accomplishment of its Design. And however imperfect [Page] it may be in the Whole, through the Inexperience or Incapacity of the Author, yet, if there is so much as to convince. Your Royal Highness, that a Play may be with Industry so dispos'd (in spight of the licentious Practice of the Modern Theatre) as to become sometimes an innocent, and not unprofitable Entertainment; it will abundantly gratifie the Ambition and Recompence the Endeavours of,

Your Royal Highness's Most Obedient, and most humbly Devoted Servant. William Congreve.

PROLOGUE.

[Page]

Spoken by Mr. Betterton.

THE Time has been when Plays were not so plenty,

And a less Number New, would well content ye.

New Plays did then like Almanacks appear;

And One was thought sufficient for a Year:

Tho' they are more like Almanacks of late;

For in One Year, I think they're out of Date.

Nor were they without Reason join'd together;

For just as One prognosticates the Weather,

How plentiful the Crop, or scarce the Grain,

What Peals of Thunder, and what Show'rs of Rain;

So t'other can foretel by certain Rules

What Crops of Coxcombs, or what Flouds of Fools.

In such like Prophecies were Poets skill'd,

Which now they find in their own Tribe fulfill'd:

The Dearth of Wit they did so long presage,

Is fall'n on us, and almost starves, the Stage.

Were you not griev'd, as often as you saw

Poor Actors thresh such empty Sheafs of Straw?

Toiling and lab'ring at their Lungs Expence,

To start a Iest, or force a little Sence.

[Page] Hard Fate for us! still harder in th' Event;

Our Authors Sin, but we alone repent.

Still they proceed, and, at our Charge, write worse;

'Twere some Amends if they could reimburse:

But there's the Devil, tho' their Cause is lost,

There's no recov'ring Damages or Cost.

Good Wits, forgive this Liberty we take,

Since Custome gives the Losers leave to speak.

But if provok'd, your dreadful Wrath remains,

Take your Revenge upon the coming Scenes:

For that damn'd Poet's spar'd who dams a Brother,

As one Thief scapes, that executes another.

Thus far, alone does to the Wits relate;

But from the rest, we hope a better Fate.

To please and move, has been our Poets Theme,

Art may direct, but Nature is his aim;

And Nature miss'd, in vain he boasts his Art,

For only Nature can affect the Heart.

Then freely judge the Scenes that shall ensue,

But as with Freedom, judge with Candour too.

He wou'd not loose thro' Prejudice his Cause;

Nor wou'd obtain percariously Applause.

Impartial Censure, he requests from all,

Prepar'd, by just Decrees to stand, or fall.

Personae Dramatis.

[Page]

MAnuel, the King of Granada. Mr. Verbruggen.

Gonsalez, his Favourite. Mr. Sanford.

Garcia, Son to Gonsalez. Mr. Scudamour.

Perez, Captain of the Guards. Mr. Freeman.

Alonzo, an Officer, Creature to Gonsalez. Mr. Arnold.

Osmyn, a Noble Prisoner: Mr. Betterton.

Heli, a Prisoner, his Friend. Mr. Boman.

Selim, an Eunuch. Mr. Baily.

WOMEN.

Almeria, the Princess of Granada. Mrs. Bracegirdle.

Zara, a Captive Queen. Mrs. Barry.

Leonora, chief Attendant on the Princess. Mrs. Boman.

Women, Eunuchs, and Mutes attending Zara. Guards, &c.

The Scene GRANADA

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Room of State.

The Curtain rising slowly to soft Musick, discovers Almeria in Mourning, Leonora waiting in Mourning.

After the Musick Almeria rises from her Chair, and comes forward.

Alm.

MUsick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast,

To soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak.

I've read, that things inanimate have mov'd,

And as with living Souls, have been inform'd,

By Magick Numbers, and persuasive Sound.

What then am I? Am I more senseless grown

Than Trees, or Flint? O Force of constant Woe!

'Tis not in Harmony to calm my Griefs.

Anselmo sleeps, and is at Peace; last Night,

The silent Tomb receiv'd the good Old King;

He and his Sorrows now are safely lodg'd

Within its cold, but hospitable Bosom.

Why am not I at Peace?

[Weeps.

[Page]Leon.

For Heaven's sake, dear Madam, moderate

Your Griefs, there is no Cause—

Alm.

Peace—No Cause! yes, there is Eternal Cause,

And Misery Eternal will succeed.

Thou canst not tell—thou hast indeed no Cause.

Leo.

Believe me, Madam, I lament Anselmo,

And always did compassionate his Fortune;

Have often wept, to see how cruelly

Your Father kept in Chains, his Fellow King:

And oft at Night, when all have been retir'd,

Have stoll'n from Bed, and to his Prison crept:

Where, while his Gaoler slept, I thro' the Grate

Have softly whisper'd, and enquir'd his Health;

Sent in my Sighs and Pray'r's for his Deliv'rance;

For Sighs and Pray'rs were all that I could offer.

Alm.

Indeed thou hast a soft and gentle Nature,

That thus couldst melt to see a Stranger's Wrongs.

O Leonora, hadst thou known Anselmo,

How would thy Heart have bled to see his Suff'rings!

Thou hadst no Cause, but general Compassion.

Leo.

My Love of you, my Royal Mistress, gave me Cause,

My Love of you begot my Grief for him,

For I had heard, that when the Chance of War

Had bless'd Anselmo's Arms with Victory,

And the rich Spoil of all the Field, and you

The Glory of the whole, were made the Prey

Of his Success; that then, in spite of Hate,

Revenge, and that Hereditary Feud

Entail'd between Valentia's and Granada's Kings:

He did endear himself to your Affection,

By all the worthy and indulgent ways,

His most industrious Goodness could invent;

Proposing by a Match between Alphonso

His Son, the brave Valentia Prince, and you,

To end the long Dissention, and unite

The Jarring Crowns.

Alm.

O Alphonso, Alphonso! thou art too

At Peace; Father and Son are now no more—

[Page] Then why am I? O when shall I have Rest?

Why do I live to say you are no more?

Why are all these things thus?—

Is there necessity I must be miserable?

Is it of Moment to the Peace of Heav'n

That I should be afflicted thus?—if not,

Why is it thus contriv'd? Why are things laid

By some unseen Hand, so, as of consequence

They must to me bring Curses, Grief of Heart,

The last Distress of Life, and sure Despair.

Leo.

Alas you search too far, and think too deeply.

Alm.

Why was I carried to Anselmo's Court?

Or, when there, why was I us'd so tenderly?

Why did he not use me like an Enemy?

For so my Father would have us'd his Child.

O Alphonso, Alphonso!

Devouring Seas have wash'd thee from my sight,

But there's no time shall rase thee from my Memory.

No, I will live to be thy Monument;

The cruel Ocean would deprive thee of a Tomb,

But in my Heart thou art interr'd, there, there,

Thy dear Resemblance is for ever fixt;

My Love, my Lord, my Husband still, though lost.

Leo.

Husband! O Heav'ns!

Alm.

What have I said?

My Grief has hurry'd me beyond all Thought.

I would have kept that Secret; though I know

Thy Love and Faith to me, deserve all Confidence.

But 'tis the Wretches Comfort still to have

Some small reserve of near and inward Woe,

Some unsuspected hoard of darling Grief,

Which they unseen, may wail, and weep, and mourn,

And Glutton-like alone devour.

Leo.

Indeed I knew not this.

Alm.

O no, thou know'st not half—thou know'st nothing—

—If thou didst!—

If I should tell thee, wouldst thou pity me?

Tell me? I know thou wouldst, thou art compassionate.

[Page]Leo.

Witness these Tears—

Alm.

I thank thee—indeed I do—

I thank thee, that thou'lt pity thy sad Mistress;

For 'tis the poor Prerogative of Greatness,

To be wretched and unpitied—

But I did promise I would tell thee—What?

My Griefs? Thou dost already know 'em:

And when I said thou didst know nothing,

It was because thou didst not know Alphonso:

For to have known my Loss, thou must have known

His Worth, his Truth, and Tenderness of Love.

Leo.

The Memory of that brave Prince stands fair

In all Report—

And I have heard imperfectly his Loss;

But fearful to renew your Troubles past,

I never did presume to ask the Story.

Alm.

If for my [...]welling Heart I can, I'll tell thee.

I was a welcome Captive in Valentia,

Ev'n on the Day when Manuel, my Father,

Led on his conqu'ring Troops, high as the Gates

Of King Anselmo's Pallace; which in Rage

And Heat of War, and dire Revenge, he fir'd.

Whilst the good King, to shun approaching Flames,

Started amidst his Foes, and made Captivity his Refuge;

Would I had perish'd in those Flames—

But 'twas not so decreed.

Alphonso, who foresaw my Father's Cruelty,

Had born the Queen and me, on board a Ship

Ready to fail, and when this News was brought,

We put to Sea; but being betray'd by some

Who knew our Flight, we closely were pursu'd,

And almost taken; when a sudden Storm,

Drove us and those that follow'd, on the Coast

Of Africk: There our Vessel struck the Shore,

And bulging 'gainst a Rock, was dash'd in pieces.

But Heav'n spared me for yet more Affliction!

Conducting them who follow'd us, to shun

The Shoal, and save me floating on the Waves,

[Page] While the good Queen and my Alphonso perish'd.

Leo.

Alas! were you then wedded to Alphonso?

Alm.

That Day, that fatal Day, our Hands were joyn'd:

For when my Lord beheld the Ship pursuing,

And saw her Rate so far exceeding ours;

He came to me, and beg'd me by my Love,

I would consent the Priest might make us one;

That whether Death, or Victory ensu'd,

I might be his, beyond the Power of future Fate:

The Queen too, did assist his Suit—I granted,

And in one Day, was wedded, and a Widow.

Leo.

Indeed 'twas mournful—

Alm.

'Twas that,

For which, I mourn, and will for ever mourn;

Nor will I change these black and dismal Robes,

Or ever dry these swoll'n, and watry Eyes;

Or, ever taste content, or peace of Heart,

While I have Life, or Memory of my Alphonso.

Leo.

Look down good Heav'n, with Pity on her Sorrows,

And grant, that Time may bring her some Relief.

Alm.

O no! Time gives Encrease to my Afflictions.

The circling Hours, that gather all the Woes,

Which are diffus'd thro' the revolving Year,

Come, heavy-laden with the oppressing Weight

To me; with me, successively, they leave

The Sighs, the Tears, the Groans, the restless Cares,

And all the Damps of Grief, that did retard their Flight;

They shake their downy Wings, and scatter all

The dire collected Dews, on my poor Head;

Then fly with Joy and Swiftness from me.

Leo.

Heark!

The distant Shouts, proclaim your Fathers Triumph;

[Shouts at a Distance.

O cease, for Heaven's Sake, asswage a little,

This Torrent of your Grief; for, much I fear

It will incense him, thus to see you drown'd

In Tears, when Joy appears in every other Face.

[Page]Alm.

And Joy he brings to every other Heart,

But double, double Weight of Woe to mine;

For with him Garcia comes—Garcia, to whom

I must be sacrific'd, and all the Faith

And Vows I gave my Dear Alphonso, basely

Violated—

No, it shall never be; for I will die first,

Die ten thousand Deaths—Look down, look down

[Kneels.

Alphonso, hear the Sacred Vow I make;

Leave for a Moment to behold Eternal Bliss,

And bend thy Glorious Eyes to Earth and me;

And thou Anselmo, if yet thou art arriv'd

Thro' all Impediments, of purging Fire,

To that bright Heav'n, where my Alphonso reigns,

Behold thou also, and attend my Vow.

If ever I do yield, or give consent,

By any Action, Word or Thought, to wed

Another Lord; may then just Heav'n show'r down

Unheard of Curses on me, greater far

(If such there be in angry Heav'ns Vengeance)

Than any I have yet endur'd—and now

[Rising.

Methinks my Heart has some Relief: Having

Discharg'd this Debt, incumbent on my Love.

Yet, one Thing more▪ I would engage from thee.

Leo.

My Heart, my Life and Will, are only yours.

Alm.

I thank thee. 'Tis but this; anon, when all

Are busied in the General Joy, that thou

Wilt privately with me,

Steal forth, and visit good Anselmo's Tomb.

Leon.

Alas! I fear some fatal Resolution.

Alm.

No, on my Life, my Faith, I mean no Violence.

I feell I'm more at large,

Since I have made this Vow:

Perhaps I would repeat it there more solemnly.

'Tis that, or some such Melancholy Thought,

Upon my Word no more.

Leon.

I will attend you.

[Page] Enter Alonzo.

Alon.

The Lord Gonsalez comes to tell your Highness

Of the Kings approach.

Alm.

Conduct him in.

[Exit Alon.

That's his Pretence. I know his Errand is

To fill my Ears, with Garcia's valiant Deeds;

And with his Artful Tongue, to gild and magnifie

His Sons E [...]oits.

But I am arm'd, with Ice around my Heart,

Not to be warm'd with Words, nor idle Eloquence.

Enter Gonsalez.

[Bowing very Humbly.

Gons.

Be every Day of your long Life like this.

The Sun, bright Conquest, and your brighter Eyes,

Have all conspir'd, to blaze promiscuous Light,

And bless this Day with most unequal Lustre.

Your Royal Father, my Victorious Lord,

Loaden with Spoils, and ever-living Lawrel,

Is entring now, in Martial Pomp the Pallace.

Five Hundred Mules, precede his solemn March,

Which groan beneath the Weight of Moorish Wealth.

Chariots of War, adorn'd with glittering Gems,

Succeed; and next, a Hundred neighing Steeds,

White as the fleecy Rain on Alpine Hills;

That bound, and foam, and champ the Golden Bit,

As they disdain'd the Victory they grace.

Prisoners of War in shining Fetters, follow;

And Captains of the Noblest Blood of Affrick,

Sweat by his Chariot Wheel, and lick, and grind

With gnashing Teeth, the Dust his Tryumphs raise.

The swarming Populace, spread every Wall,

And cling, as if with Claws they did enforce

Their Hold, thro' clifted Stones; stretching, and st [...]ring,

As they were all of Eyes, and every Limb

Would feed his Faculty of Admiration.

[Page]While you alone retire, and shun this Sight;

This Sight, which is indeed not seen (tho' twice

The Multitude should gaze)

In Absence of your Eyes.

Alm.

My Lord, my Eyes ungratefully behold

The gilded Trophies of exterior Honours.

Nor will my Ears be charm'd with sounding Words,

Or pompous Phrase; the Pageantry of Souls.

But that my Father is return'd in Safety,

I bend to Heav'n with Thanks and Humble Prai [...]

Gons.

Excellent Princess!

But 'tis a Task unfit for my weak Age,

With dying Words, to offer at your Praise.

Garcia, my Son, your Beauties lowest Slave,

Has better done;

In proving with his Sword, upon your Foes

The Force and Influence of your matchless Charms.

Alm.

I doubt not of the Worth of Garcia's Deeds,

Which had been brave, tho' I had ne'er been born.

Leon.

Madam, the King.

[Florish.

Alm.

My Women. I would meet him.

[Attendants to Almeria enter in Mourning.

Symphony of Warlike Musick. Enter the King, attended by Garcia and several Officers. Files of Prisoners in Chains, and Guards, who are ranged in Order, round the Stage. Almeria meets the King and kneels: afterwards Gonsalez kneels and kisses the King's Hand, while Garcia does the same to the Princess.

King.

Almeria, rise—My best Gonsalez rise.

What Tears! my good old Friend.—

Gons.

But Tears of Joy. To see you thus, has fill'd

My Eyes with more Delight, than they can hold.

King.

By Heav'n thou lov'st me, and I'm pleas'd thou do'st:

Take it for Thanks, Old Man, That I rejoice

To see thee weep on this Occasion—But some

Here are who seem to mourn at our Success!

How is it Almeria, that you meet our Eyes

[Page] Upon this solemn Day, in these sad Weeds?

You, and yours, are all, in opposition

To my Brightness, like Daughters of Affliction.

Alm.

Forgive me, Sir, if I offend.

The Year, which I have vow'd to pay to Heav'n,

In Mourning, and strict Life, for my Deliverance

From Death, and Wreck of the tempestuous Sea,

Wants yet to be expired.

King.

Your Zeal to Heav'n is great; so is your Debt:

Yet something too is due to me, who gave

That Life, which Heav'n preserv'd. A Day bestow'd

In Filial Duty, had aton'd and giv'n

A Dispensation to your Vow—No more.

'Twas weak and wilful—and a Woman's Errour.

Yet—upon thought, it doubly wounds my sight,

To see that Sable worn upon the Day

Succeeding that, in which our deadliest Foe,

Hated Anselmo, was interr'd—By Heav'n,

It looks as thou didst mourn for him: Just as

Thy senseless Vow appear'd to bear its Date,

Not from that Hour, wherein thou wert preserv'd,

But that, wherein the curs'd Alphonso perish'd.

Ha! what? thou dost not weep to think of that?

Gons.

Have patience, Royal Sir, the Princess weeps

To have offended you. If Fate decreed,

One 'pointed Hour should be Alphonso's Loss,

And her Deliverance; Is she to blame?

King.

I tell thee she's to blame, not to have feasted

When my first Foe was laid in Earth, such Enmity,

Such Detestation, bears my Blood to his;

My Daughter should have revell'd at his Death.

She should have made these Pallace Walls to shake,

And all this high and ample Roof to ring

With her Rejoicings. What, to mourn, and weep;

Then, then, to weep, and pray, and grieve? By Heav'n,

There's not a Slave, a shackled Slave of mine,

But should have smil'd that Hour, through all his Care,

And shook his Chains in Transport, and rude Harmony.

[Page]Gons.

What she has done, was in excess of Goodness;

Betray'd by too much Piety, to seem

As if she had offended.

King.

To seem is to commit, at this Conjuncture.

I wonnot have the seeming of a Sorrow seen

To day—Retire, divest your self with speed

Of that offensive black; on me be all

The Violation of your Vow.

You stand excused that I command it.

Gar.

kneeling.

Your Pardon, Sir, if I presume so far,

As to remind you of your gracious Ptomise.

King.

Rise, Garcia—I forgot. Yet stay, Almeria.

Alm.

O my boding Heart—What is your Pleasure, Sir?

King.

Draw near, and give your hand; and, Garcia, yours:

Receive this Lord, as one whom I have found

Worthy to be your Husband, and my Son.

Gar.

Thus let me kneel to take—O not to take,

But to devote, and yield my self for ever

The Slave and Creature of my Royal Mistress.

Gons.

O let me prostrate, pay my worthless Thanks

For this high Honour.

King.

No more; my Promise long since pass'd, thy Loyalty,

And Garcia's well-try'd Valour, all oblige me.

This Day we triumph; but to morrow's Sun

Shall shine on Garcia's Nuptials.

Alm.

Oh!—

[Faints.

Gar.

Alas, she faints! help to support her.

Gons.

She recovers.

King.

A Bridal Qualm; soon off. How is't, Almeria?

Alm.

A sudden Chilness seizes on my Spirits.

Your Leave, Sir, to retire.

King.

Garcia, conduct her.

[Garcia leads Almeria to the Door, and returns.

This idle Vow hangs on her Woman's Fears.

I'll have a Priest shall preach her from her Faith,

And make it Sin, not to renounce that Vow,

Which I'd have broken.

[Trumpets.

[Page] Enter Alonzo.

Offic.

The beauteous Captive, Zara, is arriv'd,

And with a Train, as if she still were Wife

To Albucacim; and the Moor had conquer'd.

King.

It is our Will she should be so attended.

Bear hence these Prisoners. Garcia, which is he,

Of whose mute Valour you relate such Wonders?

[Prisoners led off.

Gar.

Osmyn, who led the Moorish Horse; he does,

Great Sir, at her Request, attend on Zara.

King.

He is your Prisoner, as you please dispose him.

Gar.

I would oblige him, but he shuns my Kindness;

And with a haughty Mien, and stern Civility

Dumbly declines all Offers: if he speak

'Tis scarce above a word; as he were born

Alone to do, and did disdain to talk;

At least, to talk where he must not command.

King.

Such sullenness, and in a Man so brave,

Must have some other Cause than his Captivity.

Did Zara, then, request he might attend her?

Gar.

My Lord, she did.

King.

That join'd with his Behaviour,

Begets a Doubt. I'd have 'em watch'd: perhaps

Her Chains hang heavier on him than his own.

Flourish; and Enter Zara and Osmyn bound; conducted by Perez and a Guard, and attended by Selim, and several Mutes and Eunuchs in a Train.

King.

What Welcome, and what Honours, beauteous Zara,

A King and Conquerour can give, are yours.

A Conquerour indeed, where you are won;

Who with such Lustre, strike admiring Eyes,

That had our Pomp, been with your Presence grac'd,

Th' expecting Crowd had been deceiv'd; and seen

Their Monarch enter not Triumphant, but

In Triumph led; your Beauty's Slave.

[Page]Zara.

If I on any Terms could condescend

To like Captivity, or think those Honours,

Which Conquerours in Courtesie bestow,

Of equal Value, with unborrow'd Rule,

And Native Right to Arbitrary Sway;

I might be pleas'd when I behold this Train

With usual Homage wait. But when I feel

These Bonds, I look with loathing on my self;

And scorn vile Slavery, tho' doubly hid

Beneath Mock-Praises, and dissembled State.

King.

Those Bonds! 'twas my Command you should be free:

How durst you, Perez, disobey me?

Perez.

Great Sir.

Your Order was, she should not wait your Triumph;

But at some distance follow, thus attended.

King.

'Tis false; 'twas more; I bad she should be free:

If not in Words, I bad it by my Eyes.

Her Eyes, did more than bid—free her and hers,

With speed—yet stay—my Hands alone can make

Fit restitution here—Thus, I release you,

And by releasing you enslave my self.

Zara.

Favours conferr'd, tho' when unsought, deserve

Acknowledgment from Noble Minds. Such Thanks

As one hating to be oblig'd—

Yet hating more, Ingratitude, can pay,

I offer.

King.

Born to excel, and to command!

As by transcendent Beauty to attract

All Eyes, so by Preheminence of Soul

To rule all Hearts.

Garcia, what's he, who with contracted Brow,

[Beholding Osmyn as they unbind him.

And sullen Port, glooms downward with his Eyes;

At once regardless of his Chains, or Liberty?

Gar.

That, Sir, is Osmyn.

King.

He answers well, the Character you gave him.

Whence comes it, valiant Osmyn, that a Man

So great in Arms, as thou art said to be,

[Page] So ill can brook Captivity;

The common Chance of War?

Osm.

Because Captivity has robb'd me of a just Revenge.

King.

I understand not that.

Osm.

I would not have you.

Zara.

That Gallant Moor, in Battle lost a Friend

Whom more than Life he lov'd; and the Regret,

Of not revenging on his Foes, that Loss,

Has caus'd this Melancholy and Despair.

King.

She does excuse him; 'tis as I suspected.

[To Gons.

Gons.

That Friend may be her self; show no Resentment

Of his Arrogance yet; she looks concern'd.

King.

I'll have Enquiry made; his Friend may be

A Prisoner. His Name?

Zar.

Heli.

King.

Garcia, be it your Care to make that search.

It shall be mine to pay Devotion here;

At this fair Shrine, to lay my Laurels down,

And raise Love's Altar on the Spoils of War.

Conquest and Triumph, now, are mine no more;

Nor will I Victory in Camps adore:

For, ling'ring there, in long suspence she stands,

Shifting the Prize in unresolving Hands:

Unus'd to wait, I broke through her Delay,

Fix'd her by Force, and snatch'd the doubtful Day.

But late, I find, that War is but her Sport;

In Love the Goddess keeps her awful Court:

Fickle in Fields, unsteadily she flyes,

But rules with settled Sway in Zara's Eyes.

[Ex. Omnes.

The End of the First Act.

ACT II. SCENE I.

[Page]

Representing the Ile of a Temple.

Enter Garcia, Heli and Perez.

Gar.

THis Way, we're told, Osmyn was seen to walk;

Choosing this lonely Mansion of the Dead,

To mourn, brave Heli, thy mistaken Fate.

Hel.

Let Heav'n with Thunder to the Centre strike me,

If to arise in very deed from Death,

And to revisit with my long-clos'd Eyes

This living Light, could to my Soul, or Sense

Afford a Thought, or Glimpse of Joy,

In least Proportion to the vast Delight

I feel, to hear of Osmyn's Name; to hear

That Osmyn lives, and I again shall see him.

Gar.

Unparalell'd Fidelity!

I've heard with Admiration, of your Friendship;

And could with equal Joy and Envy, view

The transports of your meeting.

Perez.

Yonder, my Lord, behold the Noble Moor.

Hel.

Where? where?

Gar.

I see him not.

Per.

I saw him when I spoke, thwarting my View,

And striding with distemper'd Haste: his Eyes

Seem'd Flame, and flash'd upon me with a Glance;

Then forward shot their Fires, which he pursu'd,

As to some Object frightful, yet not fear'd.

Gar.

Let's haste to follow him, and know the Cause.

Hel.

My Lord, let me entreat you to forbear:

Leave me alone, to find and cure the Cause.

I know his Melancholy, and such Starts

Are usual to his Temper. It might raise him

[Page] To act some Violence upon himself,

So to be caught in an unguarded Hour,

And when his Soul gives all her Passions Way,

Secure and loose in friendly Solitude.

I know his Noble Heart would burst with Shame

To be surpriz'd by Strangers in its Frailty.

Gar.

Go Gen'rous Heli, and relieve your Friend.

Far be it from me, officiously to pry

Or Press upon the Privacies of others.

Hel.

Y'are truly Noble.

[Exit.

Gar.

Perez, the King expects from our return,

To have his Jealousie confirm'd or clear'd

Of that appearing Love, which Zara bears

To Osmyn; but some other Opportunity

Must make that plain.

Per.

To me 'twas long since plain,

And every Look of his and hers confess it.

Gar.

If so, Unhappiness attends their Love

And I cou'd pity 'em. I hear some coming,

The Friends perhaps are met; let us avoid 'em.

[Exeunt.

Enter Almeria and Leonora.

Alm.

It was a fancy'd Noise; for all is hush'd.

Leo.

It bore the Accent of a Humane Voice.

Alm.

It was thy Fear; or else some transient Wind

Whistling thro' Hollows of this vaulted Isle.

We'll listen—

Leo.

Hark!

Alm.

No, all is hush'd, and still as Death—'Tis dreadful

How rev'rend is the Face of this tall Pile,

Whose antient Pillars rear their Marble Heads,

To bear aloft its arch'd and pond'rous Roof,

By its own Weight, made stedfast, and immoveable,

Looking Tranquility. It strikes an Awe

And Terror on my aking Sight; the Tombs

And Monumental Caves of Death, look Cold,

And shoot a Chilness to my trembling Heart.

[Page] Give me thy Hand, and speak to me, nay, speak,

And let me hear thy Voice;

My own affrights me with its Echo's.

Leon.

Let us return; the Horrour of this Place

And Silence, will encrease your Melancholy.

Alm.

It may my Fears, but cannot add to that.

No, I will on: shew me Anselmo's Tomb,

Lead me o'er Bones and Skulls, and mouldring Earth

Of Humane Bodies; for I'll mix with them,

Or wind me in the Shroud of some pale Coarse

Yet green in Earth, rather than be the Bride

Of Garcia's more detested Bed. That Thought,

Exerts my Spirits; and my present Fears

Are lost in dread of greater Ill. Shew me,

Lead me, for I am bolder grown: Lead me

Where I may kneel and pay my Vows again

To him, to Heav'n and my Alphonso's Soul.

Leo.

I go; but Heav'n can tell with what Regret.

[Exeunt.

The Scene opening discovers a Place of Tombs. One Monument fronting the View, greater than the rest.

Enter Heli.

Heli

I wander thro' this Maze of Monuments,

Yet cannot find him—Hark! sure 'tis the Voice

Of one complaining—There it sounds—I'll follow it.

[Exit.

Re-Enter, Almeria and Leonora.

Leon.

Behold the Sacred Va [...]t, within whose Womb,

The poor Remains of good Anselmo rest;

Yet fresh and unconsum'd by Time, or Worms.

What do I see? O Heav'n! either my Eyes

Are false, or still the Marble Door remains

Unclos'd; the Iron Grates that lead to Death

Beneath, are still wide stretch'd upon their Hinge,

And staring on us with unfolded Leaves.

[Page] Sure, 'tis the Friendly Yawn of Death for me;

And that dumb Mouth, significant in Show,

Invites me to the Bed, where I alone

Shall rest; shews me the Grave where Nature wearied,

And long oppress'd with Woes and bending Cares,

May lay the Burden down, and sink in Slumbers

Of Eternal Peace. Death, grim Death, will fold

Me, in his leaden Arms, and press me close

To his cold clayie Breast: my Father then,

Will cease his Tyranny; and Garcia too

Will fly my pale Deformity with loathing.

My Soul, enlarg'd from its vile Bonds will mount,

And range the Starry Orbs, and Milky Ways,

Of that refulgent World, where I shall swim

In liquid Light, and float on Seas of Bliss

To my Alphonso's Soul. O Joy too great!

O Exstacy of Thought! help me Anselmo:

Help me Alphonso, take me, reach thy Hand;

To thee, to thee I call, to thee Alphonso.

O Alphonso.

[Osmyn ascending from the Tomb.

Osm.

Who calls that wretched thing, that was Alphonso?

Alm.

Angels, and all the Host of heaven support me!

Osm.

Whence, is that Voice whose Shrilness from the Grave,

And growing to his dead Father's Shrowd, roots up Alphonso?

Alm.

Mercy and Providence! O speak to it,

Speak to it quickly, quickly, speak to me.

Comfort me, help me, hold me, hide me, hide me,

Leonora, in thy Bosome, from the Light,

And from my Eyes.

Osm.

Amazement and Illusion! rivet me

To Earth, and nail me, where I stand ye Powers;

[C [...]ming forward.

That motionless, I may be still deceiv'd.

Let me not stir, nor breath, lest I disolve

That tender, lovely Form of painted Air

So like Almeria. Ha! it sinks, it falls,

I'll catch it 'ere it goes, and grasp her Shade.

[Page] 'Tis Life! 'tis warm! 'tis she! 'tis she her self!

Nor Dead, nor Shade, but breathing and alive!

It is Almeria! 'tis my Wife!

Enter Heli.

Leon.

O Heav'n unfold these Wonders!

Alas, she stirs not yet, nor lifts her Eyes;

He too is fainting—help me, help me, Stranger,

Who 'ere thou art, and lend thy Hand to raise

These Bodies.

Hel.

By Heav'n 'tis he, and with—ha! Almeria!

Almeria! O Miracle of Happiness!

O Joy unhop'd for, does Almeria live!

Osm.

Where is she?

Let me behold and touch her, and be sure

'Tis she; shew me her Face, and let me feel

Her Lips with mine—'Tis she, I'm not deceiv'd;

I taste her Breath, I warm'd her and am warm'd.

Look up Almeria, bless me with thy Eyes;

Look on thy Love, thy Lover, and thy Husband,

Look on Alphonso.

Alm.

I've sworn I'll not wed Garcia; why d'ye force me?

Is this a Father?

Osm.

Thy Father is not here, nor Garcia: I am

Neither, nor what I seem, but thy Alphonso.

Wilt thou not know me? Hast thou then forgot me?

Hast thou thy Eyes, yet can'st not see Alphonso?

Am I so alter'd, or, art thou so chang'd,

That seeing my Disguise, thou seest not me?

Alm.

It is, it is Alphonso, 'tis his Face,

His Voice, I know him now, I know him all.

O take me to thy Arms, and bear me hence,

Back to the Bottom of the boundless Deep,

To Seas beneath, where thou so long hast dwelt.

O how hast thou return'd? How hast thou charm'd

The Wildness of the Waves and Rocks to this?

That thus relenting, they have giv'n thee back

[Page] To Earth, to Light and Life, to Love and me.

Osm.

O I'll not ask, nor answer how, or why,

We both have backward trod the paths of Fate,

To meet again in Life, to know I have thee,

Is knowing more than any Circumstance,

Or Means by which I have thee—

To fold thee thus, to press thy balmy Lips,

And gaze upon thy Eyes, is so much Joy;

I have not Leisure to reflect, or know,

Or trifle time in thinking.

Alm.

Let me look on thee, yet a little more.

Osm.

What would'st thou? thou dost put me from thee.

Alm.

Yes.

Osm.

Why? what dost thou mean? why dost thou gaze so?

Alm.

I know not, 'tis to see thy Face I think—

It is too much! too much to bear and live!

To see him thus again, is such profusion

Of delight, I cannot bear it—I shall

Be mad—I cannot be transported thus.

Osm.

Thou Excellence, thou Joy, thou Heav'n of Love!

Alm.

Where hast thou been? and how art thou alive?

How is all this? All-powerful Heav'n, what are we!

O my strain'd Heart—let me behold thee,

For I weep to see thee—Art thou not paler,

Much, much, alas; how, thou art chang'd!

Osm.

Not in my Love.

Alm.

No, no, thy Griefs have done this to thee.

Thou hast wept much Alphonso; and I fear,

Too much lamented me.

Osm.

Wrong not my Love, to say too much.

No more, my Life; talk not of Tears or Grief;

Affliction is no more, now thou art found.

Why dost thou weep, and hold thee from my Arms,

My Arms which ake to fold thee fast, and grow

To thee with twining? Come, come to my Heart.

Alm.

I will, for I should never look enough.

They wou'd have marry'd me; but I had sworn

To Heav'n and thee; and sooner wou'd have dy'd—

[Page]Osm.

Perfection of all Truth!

Alm.

Indeed I wou'd—Nay, I wou'd tell thee all

If I cou'd speak; how I have mourn'd and pray'd,

For I have pray'd, to thee as to a Saint:

And thou hast heard my Prayer; for thou art come

To my Distress, to my Despair, which Heav'n

Without thee cou'd not cure.

Osm.

Grant me but Life, good Heaven, but length of Days,

To pay some Part, some little of this Debt;

This countless Summ of Tenderness and Love,

For which I stand engag'd to this All-excellence:

Then, bear me in a Whirl-wind to my Fate;

Snatch me from Life, and cut me short unwarn'd:

Then, then 'twill be enough—I shall be Old.

I shall have liv'd beyond all Aera's then,

Of yet unmeasur'd Time; when I have made

This exquisite, amazing Goodness,

Some Recompence of Love and matchless Truth.

Alm.

'Tis more than Recompence, to see thy Face:

If Heaven is greater Joy, it is no Happiness,

For 'tis not to be born—What shall I say?

I have a thousand Things to know, and ask,

And speak—That thou art here, beyond all Hope,

All Thought; that all at once, thou art before me,

And with such Suddenness, hast hit my Sight;

Is such Surprize, such Mystery, such Exstacy,

As hurries all my Soul, and dozes my weak Sense.

Sure, from thy Father's Tomb, thou didst arise!

Osm.

I did, and thou dist call me.

Alm.

How camest thou there? wert thou alone?

Osm.

I was, and lying on my Father's Lead;

When broken Echoes of a distant Voice,

Disturb'd the Sacred Silence of the Vault,

In Murmurs round my Head. I rose and listened;

And thought, I heard thy Spirit call Alphonso.

I thought I saw thee too; but O, I thought not

I indeed shou'd see thee—

Alm.

But still, how camest thee hither? how thus?—Ha!

[Page] What's he, that like thy self, is started here

Ere seen?

Osm.

Where? ha! what do I see? Antonio here!

My Friend too safe!

Hel.

Most happily, in finding you thus bless'd.

Alm.

More Miracles! Antonio too escap'd!

Osm.

And twice escap'd, both from the Wreck of Seas,

And Rage of War: For in the Fight, I saw

Him fall.

Hel.

But fell unhurt, a Prisoner as your self;

And as your self made free, hither I came

To seek you, where, I knew your Grief would lead you,

To lament Anselmo—

Osm.

There are no Wonders, or else all is Wonder.

Hel.

I saw you on the Ground, and rais'd you up.

I saw Almeria—

Osm.

I saw her too, and therefore saw not thee.

Alm.

Nor I, nor could I, for my Eyes were yours.

Osm.

What means the Bounty of All-gracious Heav'n,

That thus with open Hand it scatters good,

As in a Waste of Mercy?

Where will this end! but Heav'n is Infinite

In all, and can continue to bestow,

When scanty Numbers shall be spent in telling.

Leo.

Or I'm deceiv'd, or I beheld the Glimpse

Of two in shining Habits, cross the Ile,

And bending this way.

Alm.

Sure I have dreamt, if we must part so soon.

Osm.

I wish our Parting were a Dream; or we

Could sleep till we again were met.

Hel.

Zara with Selim, Sir, I saw and know 'em:

You must be quick, for Love will lend her Wings.

Alm.

What Love? Who is she?

Osm.

She's the Reverse of thee; she's my Unhappiness.

Harbour no Thought, that may disturb thy Peace;

But gently take thy self away, lest she

Should come and see the straining of my Eyes

[Page] To follow thee. I'll think, how we may meet

To part no more; my Friend will tell thee all;

How I escap'd, how I am here, and thus;

How I'm not call'd Alphonso, now, but Osmyn;

And he Heli. All, all he will unfold.

Alm.

Sure we shall meet again.

Osm.

We shall; we part not but to meet again.

Gladness, and Warmth of ever-kindling Love,

Dwell with thee, and revive thy Heart in Absence.

[Ex. Alm. Leon. and Heli.

Yet I behold her—Now no more.

Turn your Lights inward, Eyes, and look

Upon my Thought; so, shall you still behold her.

It wonnot be; O, impotence of Sight!

Mechanick Sense, which to exteriour Objects,

Owest thy Faculty—

Not seeing of Election, but Necessity.

Thus, do our Eyes, like common Mirrours

Successively reflect succeeding Images;

Not what they would, but must; a Star, or Toad:

Just as the Hand of Chance administers.

Not so the Mind, whose undetermin'd View

Revolves, and to the present adds the past:

Eslaying further to Futurity;

But that in vain. I have Almeria here.

At once, as I have seen her often;

I'll muse on that, lest I exceed in thinking.

Enter Zara attended by Selin.

Zara.

See, where he stands, folded and fix'd to Earth,

Stiff'ning in Thought; a Statue amongst Statues.

Why, cruel Osmyn, dost thou fly me thus?

Is it well done? Is this then the Return

For Fame, for Honour, and for Empire lost?

But what is Loss of Honour, Fame and Empire?

Is this the Recompence of Love?

Why dost thou leave my Eyes, and fly my Arms,

To find this Place of Horrour and Obscurity?

[Page] Am I more loathsome to thee, than the Grave?

That thou dost seek to shield thee there and shun

My Love. But to the Grave I'll follow thee—

He Looks not, minds not, hears not; barbarous Man!

Am I neglected thus? Am I despised?

Not heard! Ungrateful Osmyn.

Osm.

Ha, Zara!

Zara.

Yes, Traytor, Zara; lost, abandon'd Zara,

Is a regardless Suppliant, now, to Osmyn.

The Slave, the Wretch that she redeem'd from Death,

Disdains to listen now, or look on Zara.

Osm.

Far be the Guilt of such Reproaches, from me;

Lost in my self, and blinded by my Thoughts,

I saw you not.

Zara.

Now, then you see me—

But with such dumb, and thankless Eyes you look;

Better I was unseen, than seen thus coldly.

Osm.

What would you from a Wretch, that came to mourn;

And only for his Sorrows chose this Solitude?

Look round; Joy is not here, nor Cheerfulness.

You have pursu'd Misfortune, to its Dwelling;

Yet look for Gaiety and Gladness there.

Zara.

Inhumane! why, why dost thou wrack me thus?

And with Perverseness, from the Purpose, answer?

What is't to me, this House of Misery?

What Joy do I require? if thou dost mourn,

I come to mourn with thee; to share thy Griefs,

And give thee in Exchange, my Love.

Osm.

O that's the greatest Grief—I am so poor,

I have not wherewithal to give again.

Zara.

Thou hast a Heart, though 'tis a savage one;

Give it me as it is; I ask no more

For all I've done, and all I have endur'd,

For saving thee, when I beheld thee first,

Driv'n by the Tide upon my Country's Coast,

Pale and expiring, drench'd in briny Waves

Thou and thy Friend; till my Compassion found thee,

Compassion, scarce will it own that Name, so soon,

[Page] So quickly was it Love; for thou wert Godlike

Ev'n then. Kneeling on Earth, I loos'd my Hair,

And with it dry'd thy wat'ry Cheeks; chafing

Thy Temples, till reviving Blood arose,

And like the Morn vermilion'd o'er thy Face.

O Heav'n! how did my Heart rejoice and ake,

When I beheld the Day-break of thy Eyes,

And felt the Balm of thy respiring Lips!

Osm.

O call not to my Mind what you have done,

It sets a Debt of that Account before me,

Which shews me Bankrupt even in my Hopes.

Zara.

The faithful Selim, and my Women know

The Dangers which I 'tempted to conceal you.

You know how I abus'd the credulous King;

What Arts I us'd to make you pass on him,

When he receiv'd you as the Prince of Fez;

And as my Kinsman, honour'd and advanc'd you.

O, why do I relate what I have done?

What did I not? Was't not for you, this War

Commenc'd? not knowing who you were, nor why

You hated Manuel, I urg'd my Husband

On to this Invasion; where he was lost,

Where all is lost, and I am made a Slave.

Look on me now, from Empire fall'n to Slavery;

Think on my Suff'ring first, then, look on me;

Think on the Cause of all, then, view thy self:

Reflect on Osmyn, and then look on Zara,

The fall'n, the lost, the Captive Zara.

What then is Osmyn?

Osm.

A fatal Wretch—a huge stupendous Ruine,

That tumbling on its Prop, crush'd all beneath,

And bore contiguous Pallaces to Earth.

Zara.

Yet thus, thus fall'n, thus levell'd with the vilest;

If I have gain'd thy Love, 'tis Glorious Ruine;

Ruine, 'tis still to reign, and to be more

A Queen; for what are Riches, Empire, Power,

But larger Means to gratifie the Will?

The Steps on which we tread, to rise and reach

[Page] Our Wish; and that obtain'd, down with the Scaffolding

Of Sceptres, Crowns, and Thrones; they've serv'd their End,

And are like Lumber, to be left and scorn'd.

Osm.

Why was I made the Instrument, to throw

In Bonds, the Frame of this exalted Mind?

Zara.

We may be free; the Conquerour is mine;

In Chains unseen, I hold him by the Heart,

And can unwind, or strain him as I please.

Give me thy Love, I'll give thee Liberty.

Osm.

In vain you offer, and in vain require

What neither can bestow. Set free your self,

And leave a Slave the Wretch that would be so.

Zara.

Thou canst not mean so poorly, as thou talk'st.

Osm.

Alas, you know me not.

Zara.

Not who thou art.

But what, this last Ingratitude declares,

This groveling Baseness—Thou say'st true, I know

Thee not, for what thou art, yet wants a Name:

But something so unworthy, and so vile,

That to have lov'd thee, makes me yet more lost

Than all the Malice of my other Fate.

Traytour, Monster, cold and perfidious Slave;

A Slave, not daring to be free! nor dares

To love above him, for 'tis dangerous:

'Tis that, I know; for thou dost look, with Eyes

Sparkling Desire, and trembling to possess.

I know, my Charms have reach'd thy very Soul,

And thrill'd thee through with darted Fires; but thou

Dost fear so much, thou dar'st not wish. The King!

There, there's the dreadful Sound, the King's thy Rival!

Selim.

Madam, the King is here.

Zara.

As I could wish; by Heav'n I'll be reveng'd.

Enter the King, Perez, and Attendants.

King.

Why does the Fairest of her Kind, withdraw

Her shining from the Day, to gild this Scene

Of Death and Night? Ha! what Disorder's this?

[Page] Somewhat I heard of King and Rival mention'd.

What's he that dares be Rival to the King?

Or lift his Eyes to like, where I adore?

Zara.

There, he; your Prisoner, and that was my Slave.

King.

How? better than my Hopes; does she accuse him?

[Aside.

Zara.

Am I become so low, by my Captivity;

And do your Arms so lessen, what they conquer,

That Zara must be made the Sport of Slaves?

And shall the Wretch, whom yester Sun, beheld

Waiting my Nod, the Creature of my Lord,

And me; presume to day to plead audacious Love,

And build bold Hopes, on my dejected Fate?

King.

Better for him, to tempt the Rage of Heav'n,

And wrench the Bolt'red-hissing, from the Hand

Of him that thunders, than but think that Insolence.

'Tis daring for a God. Hence, to the Wheel

With that Ixion, who aspires to hold

Divinity embrac'd; to Whips and Prisons,

Drag him with speed, and rid me of his Face.

[Guards carry off Osmyn.

Zara.

Compassion led me to bemoan his State,

Whose former Faith had merited much more:

And through my Hopes in you, I promis'd Freedom

From his Chains; thence sprung his Insolence,

And what was Charity, he constru'd Love.

King.

Enough; his Punishment be what you please.

But let me lead you from this Place of Sorrow,

To one, where young Delights attend; and Joys▪

Yet new, unborn and blooming in the Bud,

That wait to be full-blown at your Approach,

And spread like Roses to the Morning Sun.

Where, ev'ry Hour shall roll in circling Joys;

And Love, shall wing the tedious-wasting Day.

Life without Love is Load; and Time stands still:

What we refuse to him, to Death we give;

And then, then only, when we love, we live.

[Ex. Omnes.

The End of the Second Act.

ACT III. SCENE I.

[Page]

A Prison.

Enter Osmyn alone, with a Paper.

Osm.

BUT now, and I was clos'd within the Tomb

That holds my Father's Ashes; and but now,

Where he was Pris'ner, I am too imprison'd.

Sure 'tis the Hand of Heav'n, that leads me thus,

And for some Purpose points out these Remembrances.

In a dark Corner of my Cell, I found

This Paper; what it is, this Light will show.

Reading.

If my Alphonso—Ha!

If my Alphonso live, restore him, Heav'n,

Give me more Weight, crush my declining Years

With Bolts, with Chains, Imprisonment and Want▪

But bless my Son, visit not him for me.

It is his Hand; this was his Pray'r—yet more.

Reading.

Let ev'ry Hair, which Sorrow by the Roots,

Tears from my hoary and devoted Head;

Be doubled in thy Mercies to my Son:

Not for my self, but him, hear me, all-gracious—

'Tis wanting what should follow—Heav'n, Heav'n shou'd follow.

But 'tis torn off—why should that Word alone

Be torn from his Petition? 'Twas to Heav'n.

But Heav'n was deaf, Heav'n heard him not; but thus,

Thus as the Name of Heav'n from this is torn,

So did it tear the Ears of Mercy, from

[Page]His Voice; shutting the Gates of Pray'r against him.

If Piety be thus debarr'd Access

On high; and of good Men, the very best

Is singled out to bleed, and bear the Scourge;

What is Reward? or, what is Punishment?

But who shall dare to tax Eternal Justice!

Yet I may think—I may? I must; for Thought

Precedes the Will to think; and Errour lives

Ere Reason can be born: Reason, the Power

To guess at Right and Wrong; the twinkling Lamp

Of wand'ring Life, that winks and wakes by turns,

Fooling the Follower, betwixt Shade and Shining?

What Noise! Who's there? My Friend, how cam'st thou hither?

Enter Heli.

Hel.

The time's too precious to be spent in telling;

The Captain influenc'd by Almeria's Power,

Gave order to the Guards for my Admittance.

Osm.

How does Almeria? But I know; she is

As I am. Tell me, may I hope to see her?

Hel.

You may; anon, at Midnight, when the King

Is gone to rest, and Garcia is retir'd,

(Who takes the Privilege to visit late,

Presuming on a Bridegroom's Right she'll come.

Osm.

She'll come; 'tis what I wish, yet what I fear.

She'll come, but whither, and to whom? O Heav'n!

To a vile Prison, and a captiv'd Wretch;

To one, whom had she never known, she had

Been happy; why, why was that Heav'nly Creature

Abandon'd o'er to love what Heav'n forsakes?

Why does she follow with unwearied Steps,

One, who has tir'd Misfortune with pursuing?

One, driv'n about the World like blasted Leaves

And Chaff, the Sport of adverse Winds; till late

At length, imprison'd in some Cleft of Rock,

Or Earth, it rests, and rots to silent Dust.

[Page]Hel.

Have Hopes, and hear the Voice of better Fate.

I've learn'd, there are Disorders ripe for Mutiny

Among the Troops who thought to share the Plunder,

Which Manuel to his own Use and Avarice,

Converts. This News has reach'd Valentia's Frontiers;

Where many of your Subjects long oppress'd

With Tyranny and grievous Impositions,

Are risen in Arms, and call for Chiefs to head

And lead 'em, to regain their Liberty

And Native Rights.

Osm.

By Heav'n thou'st rous'd me from my Lethargy.

The Spirit which was deaf to my own Wrongs,

Deaf to revenge, and the loud Crys of my

Dead Father's Blood; Nay, which refus'd to hear

The Piercing Sighs, and Murmurs of my Love

Yet unenjoy'd; what not Almeria could

Revive, or raise, my Peoples Voice has wak'ned.

O my Antonio, I am all on Fire,

My Soul is up in Arms, ready to charge

And bear amidst the Foe, with conqu'ring Troops.

I hear 'em call to lead 'em on to Liberty,

To Victory; their Shouts and Clamours rend

My Ears, and reach the Heav'ns; where is the King▪

Where is Alphonso? ha! where? where indeed?

O I could tear and burst the Strings of Life,

To break these Chains. Off, off, ye Stains of Royalty.

Off Slavery. O curse! that I alone

Can beat and flutter in my Cage, when I

Would soar, and s [...]oop at Victory beneath.

Hel.

Our Posture of Affairs and scanty Time,

My Lord, require you should compose your self,

And think on what we may reduce to Practise.

Zara the Cause of your restraint, may be

The Means of Liberty restor'd. That, gain'd;

Occasion will not fail to point out Ways

For your Escape. Mean time, I've thought already

With Speed and Safety, to convey my self

Where not far off some Male-Contents hold Counsel

[Page] Nightly; hating this Tyrant; some, who love

Anselmo's Memory, and will, no doubt,

When they shall know you live, assist your Cause.

Osm.

My Friend and Counsellour; as thou thinks't fit,

So do. I will with Patience wait my Fortune.

Heli.

When Zara comes, abate of your Aversion.

Osm.

I hate her not, nor can dissemble Love:

But as I may, I'll do. I have a Paper

Which I would shew thee Friend, but that the Sight

Would hold thee here, and clog thy Expedition.

Within I found it, by my Father's Hand

'Twas writ; a Prayer for me, wherein appears

Paternal Love prevailing o'er his Sorrows;

Such Sanctity, such Tenderness, so mix'd

With Grief, as wou'd draw Tears from Inhumanity.

Heli.

The Care of Providence, sure left it there,

To arm your Mind with Hope. Such Piety

Was never heard in vain: Heav'n has in Store

For you, those Blessings it with-held from him.

In that Assurance live; which Time, I hope,

And our next meeting will confirn.

[...]

Farewell,

[...] the Good thou dost deserve attend thee.

[Ex. Heli.

[...] to blame, and question'd with Impiety

[...] of Heav'n. Not so, my Father bore

[...] Anxious Grief. This shou'd have better taught me;

[...] Lesson, in some Hour of Inspiration,

By him set down; when his pure Thoughts, were born

Like Fumes of Sacred Incense, o'er the Clouds,

And wafted thence, on Angels Wings, thro' Ways

Of Light, to the bright Source of all. There, in

The Book of Prescience, he beheld this Day;

And waking to the World and mortal Sense,

Left this Example of his Resignation,

This his last Legacy to me, which I

Will treasure here; more worth than Diadems,

Or all extended Rule of regal Pow'r.

[Page] Enter Zara veil'd.

What Brightness, breaks upon me, thus thro' Shades,

And promises a Day to this dark Dwelling!

Is it my Love?—

Zara.

O that thy Heart, had taught

[Lifting her Veil.

Thy Tongue that Saying.

Osm.

Zara! I'm betray'd

By my surprize.

Zar.

What, does my Face displease thee?

That having seen it, thou do'st turn thy Eyes

Away, as from Deformity and Horrour.

If so, this Sable Curtain shall again

Be drawn, and I will stand before thee seeing,

And unseen. Is it my Love? ask again

That Question, speak again in that soft Voice,

And Look again, with Wishes in thy Eyes.

O no, thou canst not, for thou seest me now,

As she, whose savage Breast has been the Cause

Of these thy Wrongs; as she, whose barbarous Rage

Has loaden thee with Chains and galling Irons:

Well, dost thou scorn me, and upbraid my Falseness;

Cou'd one that lov'd, thus torture what she lov'd?

No, no, it must be Hatred, dire Revenge,

And Detestation, that cou'd use thee thus.

So thou dost think; then, do but tell me so;

Tell me, and thou shall see how I'll revenge

Thee on this false one, how I'll stab and tear

This Heart of Flint, 'till it shall bleed; and thou

Shalt weep for mine, forgetting thy own Miseries.

Osm.

You wrong me, beauteous Zara, to believe

I bear my Fortunes with so low a Mind,

As still to meditate Revenge on all

Whom Chance, or Fate working by secret Causes,

Has made perforce subservient to that End

The Heav'nly Powers allot me; no, not you,

But Destiny and inauspicious Stars▪

[Page] Have cast me down to this low Being: or,

Granting you had, from you I have deserv'd it.

Zar.

Can'st thou forgive me then! wilt thou believe

So kindly of my Fault, to call it Madness;

O, give that Madness yet a milder Name,

And call it Passion; then, be still more kind,

And call that Passion Love.

Osm.

Give it a Name,

Or Being as you please, such I will think it.

Zar.

O thou dost wound me now, with this thy Goodness,

Than e'er thou could'st with bitterest Reproaches;

Thy Anger cou'd not pierce thus, to my Heart.

Osm.

Yet I could wish—

Zar.

Haste me to know it, what?

Osm.

That at this Time, I had not been this Thing.

Zar.

What Thing?

Osm.

This Slave.

Zar.

O Heav'n! my Fears interpret

This thy Silence; somewhat of high Concern,

Long fashioning within thy labouring Mind,

And now just ripe for Birth, my Rage has ruin'd.

Have I done this? tell me, am I so curs'd?

Osm.

Time may have still one fated Hour to come,

Which wing'd with Liberty, might overtake

Occasion past.

Zar.

Swift as Occasion, I

My self will fly; and earlier than the Morn,

Wake thee to Freedom. Now, 'tis late; and yet

Some News, few Minutes past arriv'd, which seem'd

To shake the Temper of the King—who knows

What racking Cares disease a Monarch's Bed?

Or Love, that late at Night still lights his Camp,

And strikes his Rays thro' dusk, and folded Lids,

Forbidding rest; may stretch his Eyes awake

And force their Balls abroad, at this dead Hour.

I'll try.

Osm.

I have not merited this Grace;

Nor, should my secret Purpose take Effect,

[Page] Can I repay, as you require, such Benefits.

Zar.

Thou canst not owe me more, nor have I more

To give, than I've already lost. But as

The present Form of our Engagements rests,

Thou hast the Wrong, 'till I redeem thee hence;

That done, I leave thy Justice to return

My Love. Adieu.

[Exit Zara.

Osm.

This Woman has a Soul,

Of God-like Mould, intrepid and commanding,

And challenges in spight of me my best

Esteem; to this she's fair, few more can boast

Of Personal Charms, or with less Vanity

Might hope to captivate the Hearts of Kings.

But she has Passions which out-strip the Wind,

And tear her Virtues up, as Tempest's root

The Sea. I fear when she shall know the truth,

Some swift and dire event, of her blind Rage,

Will make all fatal. But behold, she comes

For whom I fear, to shield me from my Fears.

Enter Almeria.

The Cause and Comfort of my boding Heart.

My Life, my Health, my Liberty, my All.

How shall I welcome thee, to this sad Place?

How speak to thee the Words of Joy and Transport?

How run into thy Arms with-held by Fetters,

Or take thee into mine, thus manacled

And pinion'd like a Thief or Murderer?

Shall I not hurt and bruise thy tender Body,

And stain thy Bosom with the Rust of these

Rude Irons? Must I meet thee thus, Almeria?

Alm.

Thus, thus; we parted, thus to meet again.

Thou told'st me thou would'st think how we might meet

To part no more—Now we will part no more,

For these thy Chains, or Death shall join us ever.

Osm.

Hard Means, to ratifie that Word!—O Cruelty!

That ever I should think, beholding thee,

[Page] A Torture—yet, such is the bleeding Anguish

Of my Heart, to see thy Sufferings—O Heav'n!

That I cou'd almost turn my Eyes away,

Or wish thee from my Sight.

Alm.

O say not so;

Tho' 'tis because thou lov'st me. Do not say

On any Terms, that thou dost wish me from thee.

No, no, 'tis better thus, that we together

Feed on each others Heart, devour our Woes

With mutual Appetite; and mingling in

One Cup, the common Stream of both our Eyes,

Drink bitter Draughts, with never-slacking Thirst.

Thus, better, than for any Cause to part.

What dost thou think? Look not so tenderly

Upon me—speak, and take me in thy Arms—

Thou canst not! thy poor Arms are bound and strive

In vain with the remorseless Chains, which gnaw

And eat into thy Flesh, festring thy Limbs

With rancling Rust.

Osm.

Oh! O—

Alm.

Give me that Sigh.

Why do'st thou heave, and stifle in thy Griefs?

Thy Heart will burst, thy Eyes look red and s [...]art;

Give thy Soul Way, and tell me thy dark Thought.

Osm.

For this World's Rule, I wou'd not wound thy Breast,

With such a Dagger, as then stuck my Heart.

Alm.

Why? why? to know it, cannot wound me more,

Then knowing thou hast felt it. Tell it me.

—Thou giv'st me Pam, with too much Tenderness!

Osm.

And thy excessive Love distracts my Sense!

O could'st thou be less killing, so [...]t or kind,

Grief wou'd not double thus, his Darts against me.

Alm.

Thou dost me Wrong, and Grief too robs my Heart,

If there, he shoot not ev'ry other Shaft;

Thy second self should feel each other Wound,

And Woe shou'd be in equal Portions dealt.

I am thy Wife—

[Page]Osm.

O thou hast search'd too deep.

There, there, I bleed; there pull the cruel Cords,

That strain my cracking Nerves; Engines and Wheels

That Piece-meal grind, are Beds of Down and Balm

To that soul-racking Thought.

Alm.

Then, I am curs'd

Indeed; if that be so, if I'm thy Torment,

Kill me, kill me then, dash me with thy Chains;

Tread on me, spurn me, am I the bosom Snake

That sucks thy warm Life-Blood, and gnaws thy Heart?

O that thy Words had force to break those Bonds,

As they have Strength to tear this Heart in sunder;

So should'st thou be at large from all Oppression.

Am I, am I of all thy Woes the worst?

Osm.

My All of Bliss, my everlasting Life,

Soul of my Soul, and End of all my Wishes.

Why dost thou thus unman me with thy Words,

And melt me down to mingle with thy Weepings?

What dost thou ask? why dost thou talk thus piercingly?

Thy Sorrows have disturb'd thy Peace of Mind,

And thou dost speak of Miseries impossible.

Alm.

Did'st thou not say, that Racks and Wheels were Balm,

And Beds of Ease, to thinking me thy Wife?

Osm.

No no, nor should the subtlest Pains that Hell,

Or hell-born Malice can invent; extort

A wish or Thought from me, to have thee other.

But thou wilt know, what harrows up my Heart.

Thou art my Wife—nay, thou art yet my Bride!

The Sacred Union of Connubial Love,

Yet unnaccomplish'd; his mysterious Rites

Delay'd: nor has our Hymenial Torch

Yet lighted up, his last most grateful Sacrifice;

But dash'd with Rain from Eyes, and swail'd with Sighs,

Burns dim, and glimmers with expiring Light.

Is this dark Cell, a Temple for that God?

Or this vile Earth, an Altar for such Off'rings?

This Den for Slaves, this Dungeon damp'd with Woes;

Is this our Marriage Bed! are these our Joys!

[Page] Is this to call thee mine? O hold my Heart;

To call thee mine? yes, thus, ev'n thus, to call

Thee mine, were Comfort, Joy, extremest Exstacy.

But O thou art not mine, not ev'n in misery;

And 'tis deny'd to me, to be so bless'd,

As to be wretched with thee.

Alm.

No; not that,

The extremest Malice of our Fate can hinder:

That still is left us, and on that we'll feed,

As on the Leavings of Calamity.

There, we will feast; and smile on past Distress,

And hug in scorn of it, our mutual Ruine.

Osm.

O thou dost talk, my Love, as one resolv'd,

Because not knowing Danger. But look forward;

Think on to Morrow, when thou shalt be torn

From these weak, strugling, unextended Arms;

Think how my Heart will heave, and Eyes will strain

To grasp and reach what is deny'd my Hands;

Think how the Blood will start, and Tears will gush

To follow thee my separating Soul.

Think how I am, when thou shalt wed with Garcia!

Then; will I smear these Walls with Blood, dash my

Disfigur'd Face, and rive my clotted Hair,

Break on the flinty Ground my throbbing Breast,

And grovel with gash'd Hands to scratch a Grave,

Stripping my Nails, to tear this Pavement up

And bury me alive; where I will bite the Ground

'Till gorg'd with suffocating Earth.

Alm.

O dismal Cruelty! heart-breaking Horrour!

Osm.

Then Garcia shall lie panting on thy Bosom,

Luxurious, revelling amidst thy Charms;

And thou perforce must yield, and aid his Transport,

Hell, Hell! have I not Cause to rage and rave?

What are all Racks, and Wheels, and Whips to this?

Are they not soothing Softness, sinking Ease,

And wasting Air to this? O my Almeria,

What do the Damn'd endure, but to despair,

But knowing Heav'n, to know it lost for ever.

[Page]Alm.

O, I am struck; thy Words are Bolts of Ice,

Which shot into my Breast, now melt and chill me.

I chatter, shake, and faint with thrilling Fears.

No, hold me not—O, let us not support,

But sink each other, lower yet, down, down,

Where levell'd low, no more we'll lift our Eyes,

But prone, and dumb, rot the firm Face of Earth

With Rivers of incessant scalding Rain.

Enter Zara, Perez, and Selim.

Zara.

Somewhat of weight to me, requires his Freedom.

Dare you dispute the King's Command? Behold

The Royal Signet.

Perez.

I obey; yet beg

Your Majesty one Moment to defer

Your entring, till the Princess is return'd,

From visiting the Noble Prisoner.

[Exit Perez.

Zara.

Ha!

What saist thou?

Osm.

We are lost! undone! discover'd!

Retire, my Life, with speed—Alas, we're seen!

Speak of Compassion, let her hear you speak

Of interceding for me with the King;

Say somewhat quickly to conceal our Loves,

If possible—

Alm.

—I cannot speak.

Osm.

Let me

Conduct you forth, as not perceiving her.

But till she's gone; then bless me thus again.

Zara.

Trembling and weeping as he leads her forth!

Confusion in his Face, and Grief in hers!

'Tis plain, I've been abus'd—Death and Destruction!

How shall I search into this Mystery?

The bluest Blast of Pestilential Air,

Strike, damp, deaden her Charms, and kill his Eyes;

Perdition catch 'em both, and Ruine part 'em.

[Page]Osm.

This Charity to one unknown, and in

Distress, Heav'n will repay; all Thanks are poor.

[Exit Almeria.

Zara.

Damn'd damn'd Dissembler! Yet I will be calm,

Choak in my Rage, and know the utmost depth

Of this Deceiver—you seem much surpriz'd.

Osm.

At your return so soon and unexpected!

Zara.

And so unwish'd, unwanted too it seems.

Confusion! yet I will contain my self.

You're grown a Favourite since last we parted;

Perhaps I'm sawcy and Intruding—

Osm.

—Madam!

Zara.

I did not know the Princess Favourite;

Your Pardon, Sir—mistake me not; you think

I'm angry: you're deceiv'd. I came to set

You free: But shall return much better pleas'd,

To find you have an Interest superiour.

Osm.

You do not come to mock my Miseries?

Zara.

I do.

Osm.

I could at this time spare your Mirth.

Zara.

I know thou could'st; but I'm not often pleas'd,

And will indulge it now. What Miseries?

Who would not be thus happily confin'd,

To be the Care of weeping Majesty?

To have contending Queens, at dead of Night

Forsake their down, to wake with wat'ry Eyes,

And watch like Tapers o'er your Hours of Rest.

O Curse! I cannot hold—

Osm.

Come, 'tis much.

Zara.

Villain!

Osm.

How, Madam!

Zara.

Thou shalt die.

Osm.

I thank you.

Zara.

Thou ly'st; for now I know for whom thou'dst live.

Osm.

Then you may know for whom I'd die.

Zara.

Hell! Hell!

Yet I'll be calm—Dark and unknown Betrayer!

[Page] But now the Dawn begins, and the slow Hand

Of Fate, is stretch'd to draw the Veil, and leave

Thee bare, the naked Mark of Publick View.

Osm.

You may be still deceiv'd; 'tis in my Power.

Zara.

Ha!

Who waits there?

Enter Perez.

As you'll answer it, take heed

This Slave commit no Violence upon

Himself. I've been deceiv'd. The publick Safety

Requires he should be more confin'd; and none,

No not the Princess [...]elf, permitted to

Confer with him. I'll quit you to the King.

Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent

The base Injustice thou hast done my Love.

Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past Distress,

And all those Ills, which thou so long hast mourn'd;

Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd,

Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.

[Exeunt Omnes.

The End of the Third Act.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

[Page]

A Room of State.

Enter Zara, and Selim.

Zara.

THou hadst already rack'd me with thy stay;

Therefore require me not to ask thee twice;

Reply at once to all. What is concluded?

Selim.

Your Accusation highly has incens'd

The King, and were alone enough to urge

The Fate of Osmyn: but to that, fresh News

Is since arrived, of more revolted Troops.

'Tis certain Heli too is fled, and with him

(Which breeds Amazement and Distraction) some

Who bore high Offices of Weight and Trust,

Both in the State and Army. This confirms

The King, in full belief of all you told him,

Concerning Osmyn's corresponding with

The Heads of those who first began the Mutiny.

Wherefore a Warrant for his Death is sign'd;

And Order given for publick Execution.

Zara.

Ha! haste thee! fly, prevent his Fate and mine;

Find out the King, tell him I have of Weight

More than his Crown, t' impart 'ere Osmyn die.

Selim.

It needs not, for the King will strait be here,

And as to your Revenge, not his own Int'rest,

Pretend to sacrifice the Life of Osmyn.

Zara.

What shall I say? Invent, contrive, advise

Somewhat, to blind the King, and save his Life

In whom I live. Spite of my Rage, and Pride.

I am a Woman, and a Lover still.

O 'tis more Grief but to suppose his Death,

Than still to meet the Rigour of his Scorn.

[Page] From my Despair, my Anger had its source;

When he is dead, I must despair for ever.

For ever! that's Despair—it was Distrust

Before; Distrust will ever be in Love,

And Anger in Distrust, both short-liv'd Pains.

But in Despair, and ever-during Death,

No Term, no Bound, but Infinite of Woe.

O Torment, but to think! what then to bear?

Not to be born—devise the means to shun it,

Quick; or, by Heav'n, this Dagger drinks thy Blood.

Selim.

My Life is yours, nor wish I to preserve it,

But to serve you. I have already thought.

Zara.

Forgive my Rage; I know thy Love and Truth

But say, what's to be done? or when, or how

Shall I prevent, or stop th' approaching Danger?

Selim.

You must still seem most resolute and fix'd

On Osmyn's Death; too quick a Change of Mercy,

Might breed Suspicion of the Cause. Advise,

That Execution may be done in private.

Zara.

On what Pretence?

Selim.

Your own Request's enough.

However, for a Colour, tell him, you

Have Cause to fear his Guards may be corrupted;

And some of them bought off to Osmyn's Int'rest,

Who at the Place of Execution, will

Attempt to force his way for an Escape.

The State of things will countenance all Suspicions.

Then offer to the King to have him strangl'd

In secret, by your Mutes; and get an Order,

That none but Mutes may have Admittance to him.

I can no more, the King is here. Obtain

This Grant—and I'll acquaint you with the rest

Enter King, Gonsalez, Garcia, Perez.

King.

Bear to the Dungeon, those Rebellious Slaves;

Th' ignoble Currs, that yelp to fill the Cry,

And spend their Mouths in barking Tyranny.

[Page] But for their Leaders, Sancho, and Ramirez,

Let 'em be led away to present Death.

Perez, see it perform'd.

Gons.

Might I presume;

Their Execution better were deferr'd,

Till Osmyn die. Mean time we may learn more

Of this Conspiracy.

King.

Then be it so.

Stay, Soldier; they shall suffer with the Moor.

Are none return'd of those who follow'd Heli?

Gons.

None, Sir. Some Papers have been since discover'd,

In Roderigo's House, who fled with him.

Which seem to intimate, as if Alphonso,

Still alive, were arming in Valentia:

Which wears indeed this Colour of a Truth;

They who are fled have that way bent their course.

Of the same Nature, divers Notes have been

Dispers'd, t'amuze the People; whereupon

Some ready of Belief, have rais'd this Rumour:

That being sav'd upon the Coast of Africk,

He there disclos'd himself to Albucacim,

And by a secret Compact made with him,

Open'd the Way to this Invasion;

While he himself, returning to Valentia

In private, undertook to raise this Tumult.

Zara.

Ha! hear'st thou that? Is Osmyn then Alphonso!

O Heav'n! a thousand things occur

To my Remembrance now, that make it plain.

O certain Death for him, as sure Despair

For me, if it be known—If not, what Hope

Have I? Yet 'twere the lowest Baseness, now,

To yield him up—No, I will still conceal him,

And try the Force of yet more Obligations.

Gons.

'Tis not impossible. Yet, it may be,

That some Impostor has usurp'd his Name.

Your beauteous Captive, Zara, can inform,

If such a one, so 'scaping, was receiv'd

At any time, in Albucacim's Court.

[Page]King.

Pardon, fair Excellence, this long Neglect:

An unforeseen, unwelcome Hour of Business,

Has thrust between us and our while of Love;

But wearing now a-pace with ebbing Sand,

Will quickly waste, and give again the Day.

Zara.

You're too secure: The Danger is more imminent

Than your high Courage suffers you to see;

While Osmyn lives, you are not safe.

King.

His Doom

Is pass'd; if you revoke it not, he dies.

Zara.

'Tis well. By what I heard upon your Entrance,

I find I can unfold what yet concerns

You more. One that did call himself Alphonso,

Was cast upon my Coast, as is reported;

And oft had private Conference with the King;

To what Effect I knew not then: But that

Alphonso, privately departed, just

About the time our Arms embark'd for Spain.

What I know more, is, That a tripple League

Of strictest Friendship, was profess'd between

Alphonso, Heli, and the Traytour Osmyn.

King.

Publick Report, is ratify'd in this.

Zara.

And Osmyn's Death requir'd of strong necessity.

King.

Give Order strait, that all the Pris'ners die,

We will our self behold the Execution.

Zara.

Forbear a Moment; somewhat more I have

Worthy your private Ear, and this your Minister.

King.

Let all else void the Room. Garcia, give Order

For doubling all our Guards; Command that our

Militia are in Arms: We will anon

Ride forth, and view the Order of our Troops.

[Exeunt Garcia, Perez, and Attendants.

Zara.

I am your Captive, and you've us'd me Nobly;

And in return of that, though otherwise

Your Enemy; I have discover'd Osmyn,

His private Practice and Conspiracy

Against your State: and fully to discharge

My self of what I've undertaken; now,

[Page] I think it fit to tell you that your Guards

Are tainted; some among 'em have resolv'd

To rescue Osmyn at the Place of Death.

King.

Is Treason then so near us as our Guards!

Zara.

Most certain; though my Knowledge is not yet

So ripe, to point at the particular Men.

King.

What's to be done?

Zara.

That too I will advise.

I have remaining in my Train, some Mutes,

A Present once, from the Sultana Queen,

In the Grand Signior's Court. These from their Infancy

Are practis'd in the Trade of Death; and shall

(As there the Custom is) in private strangle

Osmyn.

Gons.

My Lord, the Queen advises well.

King.

What Off'ring, or what Recompence remains

In me, that can be worthy so great Services?

To cast beneath your Feet the Crown you've sav'd,

Though on the Head that wears it, were too little.

Zara.

Of that hereafter; but, mean time, 'tis fit

You order none may have Admittance to

The Pris'ner, but such Messengers, as I

Shall send.

King.

Who waits there?

Enter Perez.

On your Life take heed,

That only Zara's Mutes, or such who bring

Her Warrant, have Admittance to the Moor.

Zara.

They and no other; not the Princess self.

Perez.

Your Majesty shall be obey'd.

King.

Retire.

[Ex. Perez.

Gons.

That Interdiction so particular,

Pronounc'd with Vehemence against the Princess,

Should have more Meaning than appears bare-fac'd.

The King is blinded by his Love, and heeds

It not. Your Majesty sure, might have spared

[Page] That last restraint; you hardly can suspect

The Princess is Confederate with the Moor.

Zara.

I've heard, her Charity did once extend

So far to visit him, at his request.

Gonsa.

Ha!

King.

How? she visit Osmin! What, my Daughter?

Sel.

Madam, take heed; or you have ruin'd all.

Zara.

And after did solicite you, on his behalf—

King.

Never. You have been mis-inform'd.

Zara.

Indeed? Then 'twas a Whisper spread by some

Who wish'd it so: a common Art in Courts.

I will retire, and instantly prepare

Instruction, for my Ministers of Death.

[Exeunt Zara and Selim.

Gons.

There's somewhat yet of Mystery in this;

Her Words and Actions are obscure and double,

Sometimes concur, and sometime disagree;

I like it not.

King.

What dost thou think, Gonsalez;

Are we not much indebted to this fair one.

Gons.

I am a little slow of Credit, Sir,

In the Sincerity of Womens Actions.

Methinks this Lady's Hatred to the Moor,

Disquiets her too much; which makes it seem

As if she'd rather that she did not hate him.

I wish her Mutes are meant to be employ'd

As she pretends—I doubt it now—Your Guards

Corrupted; how? by whom? who told her so?

I'th' Evening Osmyn was to die; at Mid-night

She beg'd the Royal Signet to release him;

I'th' Morning he must die again; e're Noon

Her Mutes alone must strangle him or he'll

Escape. This put together, suits not well

King.

Yet, that there's Truth in what she has discover'd,

Is manifest from every Circumstance.

This Tumult, and the Lords who fled with Heli,

Are Confirmation.—That Alphonso lives,

[Page] Agrees expresly too with her Report.

Gons.

I grant it, Sir, and doubt not, but in Rage

Of Jealousie, she has discover'd what

She now repents. It may be I'm deceiv'd.

But why that needless Caution of the Princess?

What if she had seen Osmyn? tho' 'twere strange.

But if she had, what was't to her? unless

She fear'd her stronger Charms, might cause the Moor's

Affection to revolt.

King.

I thank thee Friend.

There's Reason in thy Doubt, and I am warn'd.

But think'st thou that my Daughter saw this Moor?

Gons.

If Osmyn be, as Zara has related,

Alphonso's Friend; 'tis not impossible,

But she might wish on his Account to see him.

King.

Say'st thou? by Heav'n thou hast arous'd a Thought,

That like a sudden Earth-quake, shakes my Frame;

Confusion! than my Daughter's an Accomplice,

And plots in Private with this hellish Moor.

Gons.

That were too hard a Thought—but see she comes.

'Twere not amiss to question her a little,

And try howe'er, if I've divin'd aright.

If what I fear be true, she'll be concern'd

For Osmyn's Death, as he's Alphonso's Friend.

Urge that, to try if she'll sollicite for him.

Enter Almeria and Leonora.

King.

Your coming has prevented me Almeria;

I had determin'd to have sent for you.

Let your Attendant be dismiss'd; I have

[Exit Leonora.

To talk with you. Come near, why dost thou shake?

What mean those swollen and redfleck'd Eyes, that look

As they had wept in Blood, and worn the Night

In waking Anguish? why this, on the Day

Which was design'd to celebrate thy Nuptials?

But that the Beams of Light, are to be stain'd

With reeking Gore, from Traytors on the Rack:

[Page] Wherefore I have deferr'd the Mariage Rites,

Nor shall the guilty Horrours of this Day

Prophane that Jubilee.

Alm.

All Days, to me,

Henceforth are equal; this the Day of Death,

To Morrow, and the next, and each that follows,

Will undistinguish'd roll, and but prolong

One hated Line of more extended Woe.

King.

Whence is thy Grief? give me to know the Cause,

And look thou answer me with truth; for know,

I am not unacquainted with thy Falshood.

Why art thou mute? base and degenerate Maid!

Gonsa.

Dear Madam, speak, or you'll incense the King.

Alm.

What is to speak? or wherefore should I speak?

What means these Tears, but Grief unutterable?

King.

Yes, Guilt; they are the dumb Confessions of

Thy guilty Mind; and say thou wert Confederate

With damn'd Conspirators, to take my Life.

O Impious Parricide! now canst thou speak?

Alm.

O Earth, behold, I kneel upon the Bosom,

And bend my flowing Eyes, to stream upon

Thy Face, imploring thee that thou wilt yield;

Open thy Bowels of Compassion, take

Into the Womb the last and most forlorn

Of all thy Race. Hear me, thou common Parent;

—I have no Parent else—be thou a Mother,

And step between me and the Curse of him,

That was—that was, but is no more a Father.

But brands my Innocence with horrid Crimes,

And for the tender Names of Child and Daughter,

Now calls me Murderer, and Parricide.

King.

Rise, I command thee rise—and if thou would'st

Acquit thy self of those detested Names,

Swear thou hast never seen that foreign Dog,

Now doom'd to die, that most accursed Osmyn.

[Page]Alm.

Never, but as with Innocence, I might,

And free of all bad Purposes. So Heav'ns

My Witness.

King.

Vile equivocating Wretch!

With Innocence? Death and Perdition, she

Confesses it. By Heav'n I'll have him rack'd,

Torn, mangl'd, flay'd, impal'd—all Pains and Tortures

That Wit of Man, and dire Revenge can think,

Shall he accumulated under-bear.

Alm.

Oh I am lost—there, Fate begins to wound.

King.

Hear me; then, if thou canst, reply, know Traitress,

I'm not to learn that curs'd Alphonso lives;

Nor am I Ignorant what Osmyn is—

Alm.

Then all is ended, and we both must die

Since thour't reveal'd, alone thou shalt not die.

And yet alone would I have dy'd, Heav'n knows,

Repeated Deaths, rather than have revealed thee.

Yes, all my Father's wounding Wrath, tho' each

Reproach cuts deeper than the keenest Sword,

And cleaves my Heart; I would have born it all,

Nay, all the Pains that are prepar'd for thee:

To the remorsless Rack I would have given

This weak and tender Flesh, to have been bruis'd

And torn, rather than have reveal'd thy being.

King.

Hell, Hell! do I hear this, and yet endure!

What dar'st thou to my Face avow thy Guilt?

Hence, e'er I curse—fly, my just Rage with speed;

Lest I forget us both, and spurn thee from me.

Alm.

And yet a Father! think I am your Child.

Turn not your Eyes away—look on me kneeling;

Now curse me if you can, now spurn me off.

Did ever Father curse his kneeling Child!

Never: For always Blessings crown that Posture.

Nature inclines, and half-way meets that Duty,

Stooping to raise from Earth the filial Reverence;

For bended Knees, returning folding Arms,

[Page] With Prayers and Blessings, and paternal Love.

O hear me then, thus crawling on the Earth—

King.

Be thou advis'd, and let me go while yet

The light Impression thou hast made, remains.

Alm.

No, never will I rise, nor loose this Hold,

'Till you are mov'd, and grant that he may live.

King.

Ha! who may live? take heed, no more of that.

For on my Soul he dies, tho' thou, and I,

And all should follow to partake his Doom.

Away, off, let me go,—Call her Attendants.

Enter Leonora and Attendants.

Alm.

Drag me, harrow the Earth with my bare Bosom.

I'll not let go, 'till you have spar'd my Husband.

King.

Ha! what say'st thou? Husband! Husband! Damnation!

What Husband? which? who?

Alm.

He, he is my Husband.

King.

Poyson and Daggers! who?

Alm.

O—

[Faints.

Gons.

Help, support her.

Alm.

Let me go, let me fall, sink deep—I'll dig,

I'll dig a Grave, and tear up Death; I will;

I'll scrape 'till I collect his rotten Bones,

And cloath their Nakedness with my own Flesh;

Yes, I will strip of Life, and we will change:

I will be Death; then tho' you kill my Husband,

He shall be mine, still and for ever mine.

King.

What Husband? who? whom do'st thou mean?

Gons.

Alas, she raves!

Alm.

O that I did, Osmyn, he is my Husband.

King.

Osmyn!

Alm.

Not Osmyn, but Asphonso is my Dear,

And wedded Husband—Heav'n, and Air, and Seas;

Ye Winds and Waves, I call ye all to witness.

[Page]King.

Wilder than Winds or Waves thy self do'st rave.

Should I hear more; I too should catch thy Madness.

Yet somewhat she must mean of dire Import,

Which I'll not hear, 'till I am more at peace.

Watch her returning Sense, and bring me Word:

And look that she attempt not on her Life.

[Exit King.

Alm.

O stay, yet stay, hear me, I am not mad.

I would to Heav'n I were—he's gone!

Gons.

Have Comfort.

Alm.

Curst be that Tongue, that bids me be of Comfort;

Curst my own Tongue, that cou'd not move his Pity.

Curst these weak Hands, that cou'd not hold him here;

For he is gone to doom Alphonso's Death.

Gonsa.

Your too excessive Grief, works on your Fancy,

And deludes your Sense. Alphonso, if living,

Is far from hence, beyond your Father's Power.

Alm.

Hence, thou detested, ill-tim'd Flatterer;

Source of my Woes: thou and thy Race be curs'd;

But doubly thou, who could'st alone have Policy,

And Fraud, to find the fatal Secret out,

And know that Osmyn was Alphonso.

Gons.

Ha!

Alm.

Why dost thou start? what dost thou see, or hear?

Was it the doleful Bell, toling for Death?

Or dying Groans from my Alphonso's Breast?

See, see, look yonder! where a grizled, pale

And ghastly Head, glares by, all smear'd with Blood,

Gasping as it would speak: and after it,

Behold a damp, dead Hand has drop'd a Dagger;

I'll catch it—hark! a Voice cries Murder! 'tis

My Father's Voice; hollow it founds, and from

The Tomb it calls—I'll follow it, for there

I shall again behold my dear Alphonso.

[Exit with attendants.

Gons.

She's greatly griev'd; nor am I less surpriz'd.

Osmyn Alphonso! no; she over-rates

[Page] My Policy, I ne'er suspected it:

Nor now had known it, but from her mistake.

Her husband too! Ha! where is Garcia then?

And where the Crown that shou'd descend on him,

To grace the Line of my Posterity?

Hold, let me think—if I shou'd tell the King—

Things come to this Extremety? his Daughter

Wedded already—what if he should yield?

Knowing no Remedy, for what is past;

And urg'd by Nature pleading for his Child,

With which he seems to be already shaken.

And tho' I know he hates beyond the Grave

Anselmo's Race; yet if—That if, concludes me.

To doubt, when I may be assur'd, is Folly.

But how, prevent the Captive Queen, who means

To set him free? Ay, now 'tis plain; O well

Invented Tale! he was Alphonso's Friend.

This subtle Woman will amuze the King,

If I delay—'twill do—or better so.

One to my Wish. Alonzo, thou art welcom.

Enter Alonzo.

Alonzo.

The King expects your Lordship.

Gons.

'Tis no matter.

I'm not I'th' Way at Present, good Alonzo.

Alonzo.

If't please your Lordship, I'll return, and say

I have not seen you.

Gons.

Do my best Alonzo.

Yet stay, I would—but go; anon will serve—

Yet I have that, requires thy speedy help.

I think thou would'st not stop to do me Service.

Alonzo.

I am your Creature.

Gons.

Say thou art my Friend.

I've seen thy Sword do noble Execution.

Alonzo.

All that it can, your Lordship shall command.

[Page]Gons.

Thanks; and I take thee at thy Word. Thou'st seen

Among the followers of the Captive Queen,

Dumb Men, that make their Meaning known by Signs.

Alon.

I have, my Lord.

Gons.

Could'st thou procure with speed,

And privacy, the wearing Garb of one

Of those, tho' purchas'd by his Death; I'd give

Thee such Reward, as should exceed thy Wish.

Alon.

Conclude it done. Where shall I wait your Lordship?

Gons.

At my Appartment. Use thy utmost Diligence;

Away, I've not been seen—haste good Alonzo.

[Exit Alonzo.

So, this can hardly fail. Alphonso slain,

The greatest Obstacle is then remov'd.

Almeria widow'd, yet again may wed;

And I yet fix the Crown on Garcia's Head.

[Exit.

The End of the Fourth Act.

ACT V. SCENE I.

[Page]

A Room of State.

Enter King, Perez, and Alonzo.

King.

NOT to be found? in an ill hour he's absent.

None, say you, none? what not the Fav'rite Eunuch?

Nor she her self, nor any of her Mutes

Have yet required admittance?

Perez.

None my Lord.

King.

Is Osmyn so dispos'd, as I commanded?

Perez.

Fast bound in double chains, and at full length

He lies supine on earth; as easily

She might remove the fix'd foundation, as

Unlock the rivets of his bonds.

King.

'Tis well.

[A Mute appears, and seeing the King retires.

Ha! seize that Mute; Alonzo, follow him.

[Ex. Alonzo.

Entring he met my Eyes, and started back,

Frighted, and fumbling one hand in his Bosom,

As to conceal th' Importance of his Errand.

[Alonzo re-enters with a Paper.

Alonz.

O bloody Proof, of obstinate Fidelity!

King.

What dost thou mean?

Alonz.

Soon as I seiz'd the Man,

He snatch'd from out his Bosom this—and strove

With rash and greedy haste, at once to cram

The Morsel down his throat. I catch'd his Arm,

And hardly wrench'd his Hand to wring it from him▪

Which done, he drew a Ponyard from his side,

And on the instant, plung'd it in his Breast.

King.

Remove the Body thence, 'ere Zara see it.

[Page]Alon.

I'll be so bold to borrow his Attire;

'Twill quit me of my Promise to Gonsalez.

[Exit.

Per.

Whate'er it is the King's Complexion turns.

King.

How's this? my mortal Foe beneath my Roof!

[Having read the Letter.

O, give me Patience, all ye Powers! no, rather,

Give me Rage, Rage, implacable Revenge,

And treble Fury—Ha! who's there?

Perez.

My Lord▪

King.

Hence, Slave, how dar'st thou bide, to watch and pry

Into how poor and mean a thing, a King descends;

How like thy self when Passion treads him down?

Ha! stir not, on thy Life: For thou wert fix'd,

And planted here to see me gorge this Bait,

And lash against the Hook—by Heav'n you're all

Rank Traytors; thou art with the rest combin'd;

Thou kn [...]w'st that Osmyn was Alphonso, knew'st

My Daughter privately conferr'd with him,

And wert the Spy and Pander to their Meeting.

Perez.

By all thats holy, I'm amaz'd—

King.

Thou lyest.

Thou art Accomplice too much with Zara; here

Where she sets down—still will I set thee free—

[Reading.

That somewhere is repeated—I have power

O'er them that are thy Guards—Mark that thou Traytor.

Perez.

It was your Majesty's Command, I should

Obey her Order—

King,

reading.

—And still will I set

Thee free, Alphonso—Hell! curs'd, curs'd Alphonso!

False perfidious Zara! Strumpet Daughter!

Away begon thou feeble boy, fond Love,

All Nature, Softness, Pity and Compassion,

This hour I throw ye off, and entertain

Fell hate, within my breast, Revenge and Gall

By Heav'n I'll meet, and counterwork this Treachery.

Hark thee, Villain, Traitor—answer me Slave.

Perez.

My Service has not merited those Titles.

[Page]King.

Dar'st thou reply? Take that—thy Service? thine?

[Strikes him.

What's thy whole Life, thy Soul, thy All, to my

One moment's Ease? Hear my Command; and look

That thou obey, or Horrour on thy Head.

Drench me thy Dagger in Alphonso's Heart.

Why dost thou start? Resolve to do't, or else—

Perez.

My Lord, I will.

King.

'Tis well—that when she comes to set him free,

His Teeth may grin, and mock at her Remorse.

[Perez going.

—Stay thee—I've farther thought—I'll add to this,

And give her Eyes yet greater Disappointment.

When thou hast ended him, bring me his Robe;

And let the Cell where she'll expect to see him,

Be dark'ned, so as to amuze the Sight.

I'll be conducted thither—

But see she comes; I'll shun th' Encounter; do

Thou follow, and give heed to my Direction.

[Exeunt.

Enter Zara, and Selim.

Zara.

The Mute not yet return'd! 'tis strange. Ha! 'twas

The King that parted hence; frowning he went;

His Eyes like Meteors roll'd, then darted down

Their red and angry Beams; as if his Sight

Would, like the raging Dog-star, scorch the Earth,

And kindle Ruine in its Course. Think'st thou

He saw me not?

Sel.

He did: But then as if

His Eyes had err'd, he hastily recall'd

Th' imperfect Look, and sternly turn'd away.

Zara.

Shun me when seen! I fear thou hast undone me.

Thy shallow Artifice begets Suspicion,

And, like a Cobweb-Veil, but thinly shades

The Face of thy Design; alone disguising

[Page] What should have ne'er been seen; imperfect Mischief!

Thou like the Adder, venomous and deaf,

Hast stung the Traveller; and, after, hear'st

Not his pursuing Voice: ev'n where thou think'st

To hide, the rustling Leaves, and bended Grafs

Confess, and point the Path which thou hast crept.

O Fate of Fools! officious in Contriving;

In executing, puzzled, lame and lost.

Sel.

Avert it, Heav'n, that you should ever suffer

For my Defect; or that the Means which I

Devis'd to serve, should ruine your Design!

Prescience is Heav'ns alone, not giv'n to Man.

If I have fail'd in what, as being a Man,

I needs must fail; impute not as a Crime,

My Nature's want; but punish Nature in me:

I plead not for a Pardon, and to live,

But to be punish'd and forgiven. Here, strike;

I bare my Breast to meet your just Revenge.

Zara.

I have not leisure, now, to take so poor

A Forfeit as thy Life: Somewhat of high

And more important Fate, requires my Thought.

When I've concluded on my self, If I

Think fit, I'll leave thee my Command to die.

Regard me well; and dare not to reply

To what I give in Charge: for I'm resolv'd.

Instruct the two remaining Mutes, that they

Attend me instantly, with each a Bowl

Of those Ingredients mix'd, as will with speed

Benumn the living Faculties, and give

Most easie and inevitable Death.

Yes, Osmyn, yes; be Osmyn or Alphonso,

I'll give thee Freedom, if thou dar'st be free:

Such Liberty as I embrace my self,

Thou shalt partake. Since Fates no more afford;

I can but die with thee to keep my Word.

[Exeunt.

[Page] Scene changes to the Prison.

Enter Gonsalez, disguis'd like a Mute, with a Dagger.

Gons.

Nor Centinel, nor Guard! the Doors unbarr'd!

And all as still, as at the Noon of Night!

Sure Death already has been busie here.

There lies my way, that Door is too unlock'd.

[Looks in.

Ha! sure he sleeps—all's dark within, save what

A Lamp that feebly lifts a sickly Flame,

By fits reveals—his Face seems turn'd to favour

Th' Attempt: I'll steal, and do it unperceiv'd.

What Noise! some body coming? 'st, Alonzo?

No body? sure he'll wait without—I would

'Twere done—I'll crawl and sting him to the Heart;

Then cast my Skin, and leave it there to answer it.

[Goes in.

Enter Garcia and Alonzo.

Gar.

Where? where? Alonzo, where's my Father? where

The King? Confusion, all is on the Rout!

All's lost, all ruin'd by Surprize and Treachery.

Where, where is he? Why dost thou thus mislead me?

Alonz.

My Lord, he enter'd, but a moment since,

And could not pass me unperceiv'd—What, hoa?

My Lord, my Lord, what, hoa? My Lord Gonsalez?

[Page] Enter Gonsalez, bloody.

Gons.

Perdition choak your Clamours—whence this Rudeness? Garcia!

Gar.

Perdition, Slavery, and Death,

Are entring now our Doors. Where is the King?

What means this Blood? and why this Face of Horrour?

Gons.

No matter—give me first to know the Cause

Of these your rash and ill-tim'd Exclamations.

Gar.

The Eastern Gate is to the Foe betray'd,

Who but for heaps of Slain, that choak the Passage,

Had enter'd long' ere now, and born down all

Before 'em, to the Pallace Walls. Unless

The King in Person animate our Men,

Granada's lost; and to confirm this Fear,

The Traytor Perez, and the Captive Moor,

Are through a Postern fled, and join the Foe.

Gons.

Would all were false as that; for whom you call

The Moor, is dead. That Osmyn was Alphonso;

In whose Hearts Blood this Ponyard yet is warm.

Gar.

Impossible; for Osmyn flying, was

Proclaim'd aloud by Perez, for Alphonso.

Gons.

Enter that Chamber, and convince your Eyes,

How much Report has wrong'd your easie Faith.

[Garcia goes in.

Alonz.

My Lord, for certain truth, Perez is fled;

And has declar'd the Cause of his Revolt,

Was to Revenge a Blow the King had giv'n him.

Gar.

returning.

Ruine and Horrour! O heart-wounding sight!

Gons.

What says, my Son? what Ruine? ha? what Horrour?

Gar.

Blasted my Eyes, and speechless be my Tongue,

Rather than or to see, or to relate

This Deed—O dire Mistake! O fatal Blow!

The King—

Gons. Alonz.

The King!

[Page]Gar.

Dead, welt'ring, drown'd in Blood.

See, see, attir'd like Osmyn, where he lies.

[They go in.

O whence, or how, or wherefore was this done?

But what imports the Manner, or the Cause?

Nothing remains to do, or to require,

But that we all should turn our Swords, against

Our selves, and expiate with our own his Blood.

Gons.

O Wretch! O curs'd, and rash, deluded Fool!

On me, on me, turn your avenging Sword.

I who have spilt my Royal Master's Blood,

Should make atonement by a Death as horrid;

And fall beneath the Hand of my own Son.

Gar.

Ha! what? atone this Murther with a greater!

The Horrour of that Thought, has damp'd my Rage.

The Earth already groans to bear this Deed;

Oppress her not, nor think to stain her Face

With more unnatural Blood. Murder my Father!

Better with this to rip up my own Bowels,

And bathe it to the Hilt, in far less damnable

Self-Murder.

Gons.

O my Son, from the blind Dotage

Of a Father's Fondness, these Ills arose;

For thee I've been ambitious, base, and bloody:

For thee I've plung'd into this Sea of Sin;

Stemming the Tide, with one weak Hand, and bearing

With the other, the Crown, to wreath thy Brow,

Whose weight has sunk me 'ere I reach'd the Shore.

Gar.

Fatal Ambition! Hark! the Foe is enter'd:

[Shout.

The shrilness of that Shout speaks 'em at hand.

We have no time to search into the Cause

Of this surprizing and most fatal Errour.

What's to be done? the King's Death known, will strike

The few remaining Soldiers with Despair,

And make 'em yield to Mercy of the Conquerour.

[Page]Alonz.

My Lord, I've thought how to conceal the Body;

Require me not to tell the Means, till done,

Lest you forbid; what then you may approve.

[Goes in.

[Shout.

Gons.

They shout again! Whate'er he means to do

'Twere fit the Soldiers were amuz'd, mean time,

With Hopes, and sed with Expectation of

The King's immediate Presence at their Head.

Gar.

Were it a Truth, I fear 'tis now too late.

But I'll omit no Care, nor Haste; and try

Or to repell their Force, or bravely die.

[Exit.

Gons.

What hast thou done, Alonzo?

Alonz.

Such a Deed,

As but an hour ago, I'd not have done,

Tho' for the Crown of Universal Empire.

But what are Kings reduc'd to common Clay?

Or who can wound the Dead?—I've from the Body,

Sever'd the Head; and in a Corner of

The Room, dispos'd it muffled in the Mute's

Attire; leaving alone to View, the bloody

And undistinguishable Trunk:

Which may be still mistaken by the Guards,

For Osmyn, if in seeking for the King,

They chance to find it.

Gons.

'Twas an Act of Horrour;

And of a-piece with this Day's dire Misdeeds.

But 'tis not yet the time to ponder, or

Repent. Haste thee, Alonzo, hence, with speed,

To aid my Son. I'll follow with the last

Reserve, to re-inforce his Arms: at least

I shall make good, and shelter his Retreat.

[Exeunt.

[Page] Enter Zara, follow'd by Selim, and Two Mutes bearing the Bowls.

Zara.

Silence and Solitude are ev'ry where!

Thro' all the Gloomy Ways, and Iron Doors

That hither lead, nor Humane Face, nor Voice

Is seen, or heard. A dreadful Din was wont

To grate the Sense, when entred here; from Groans,

And Howls of Slaves condemn'd; from Clink of Chains,

And Crash of rusty Bars, and creeking Hinges:

And ever and anon, the Sight was dash'd

With frightful Faces, and the meagre Looks

Of grim and gashly Executioners.

Yet, more, this Stilness terrifies my Soul,

Than did that Scene of complicated Horrors.

It may be, that the Cause, and Purpose of

My Errand, being chang'd from Life to Death,

Has also wrought this chilling Change of Temper.

Or does my Heart bode more? what can it more

Than Death?—

Let 'em set down the Bowls, and warn Alphonso

That I am here—so. You return and find

[Mutes go in.

The King; tell him, what he requir'd, Iv'e done:

And wait his coming to approve the Deed.

[Exit Selim

What have you seen? Ha! wherefore stare you thus,

[The Mutes return and look affrighted.

With haggar'd Eyes? why are your Arms a-cross

Your heavy and desponding Heads hung down?

Why is't you more than speak in these sad Signs?

Give me more ample Knowledge of this Mourning.

[Page] They go to the Scene which opens and shews the Body.

Ha! prostrate! bloody! headless! O—start Eyes,

Split Heart, burst ev'ry Vein, at this dire Object:

At once dissolve and flow; meet Blood with Blood;

Dash your encountering Streams, with mutual Violence,

'Till Surges roll, and foaming Billows rise,

And curl their Crimson Heads, to kiss the Clouds!

—Rain, rain ye Stars, spout from your burning Orbs

Precipitated Fires, and pour in sheets,

The blazing Torrent on the Tyrant's Head;

Scorch and consume the curst perfidious King.

Enter Selim.

Selim.

I've sought in vain, the King is no where, to

Be found—

Zara.

Get thee to Hell, and seek him there.

[Stabs him.

His hellish Rage had wanted Means to act,

But for thy fatal and pernicious Counsel.

Sel.

You thought it better then—but I'm rewarded.

The Mute you sent, by some Mischance was seen,

And forc'd to yield your Letter with his Life:

I found the dead and bloody Body strip'd—

My Tongue faulters, and my Voice fails—

Drink not the Poyson—for Alphonso is—

[Dies.

Zara.

As thou art now—And I shall quickly be.

'Tis not that he is dead; for 'twas decreed

We both should die. Nor is't that I survive;

I have a Remedy for that. But Oh,

He dy'd unknowing in my Heart.

He knew I lov'd, but knew not to what height:

Nor that I meant to fall before his Eyes,

[Page] A Martyr and a victim to my Vows:

Insensible of this last Proof he's gone.

Yet Fate, alone can rob his mortal Part

Of Sense: His Soul still sees, and knows each Purpose,

And fix'd event of my persisting Faith.

Then, wherefore do I pause?—give me the Bowl.

[A Mute kneels and gives one of the Bowls.

Hover a Moment, yet, thou gentle Spirit,

Soul of my Love, and I will wait thy flight.

This, to our mutual Bliss when joyn'd above.

[Drinks.

O friendly Draught, already in my Heart!

Cold, cold; my Veins are Icicles and Frost.

I'll creep into his Bosom, lay me there;

Cover us close—or I shall chill his Breast,

And fright him from my Arms—See, see, he slides

Still further from me; look, he hides his Face,

I cannot feel it—quite beyond my teach.

O now he's gone, and all is dark—

[Dies.

[The Mutes kneel and mourn over her.

Enter Almeria and Leonora.

Alm.

O let me seek him in this horrid Cell;

For in the Tomb or Prison, I alone

Must hope to find him.

Leon.

Heav'ns! what dismal Scene

Of Death, is this? The Eunuch Selim slain!

Alm.

Shew me, for I am come in search of Death;

But want a Guide: for Tears have dim'd my Sight.

Leon.

Alas, a little farther, and behold

Zara all pale and dead! two frightful Men,

Who seem the Murderers, kneel weeping by:

Feeling Remorse too late, for what they've done.

But O forbear—lift up your Eyes no more;

But haste away, fly from this Fatal Place,

Where Miseries are multipy'd; return

[Page] And look not on; for there's a Dagger that

Will stab the Sight, and make your Eyes rain Blood.

Alm.

O I fore-see that Object in my Mind.

Is it at last then so? is he then dead?

What dead at last, quite, quite, for ever dead?

There, there I see him; there he lies, the Blood

Yet bubling from his Wounds—O more than savage!

Had they or Hearts, or Eyes, that did this Deed?

Could Eyes endure to guide such cruel Hands?

Are not my Eyes guilty alike with theirs,

That thus can gaze, and yet not turn to Stone?

—I do not weep! The Springs of Tears are dry'd;

And of a suddain I am calm, as if

All things▪ were well: and yet my Husband's murder'd!

Yes, yes, I know to mourn; I'll sluce this Heart,

The Source of Woe, and let the Torrent loose.

—Those Men have lest to weep; and look on me!

I hope they murder all on whom they look.

Behold me well; your bloody Hands have err'd,

And wrongfully have put to Death those Innocents:

I am the Sacrifice design'd to bleed;

And come prepar'd to yield my Throat—they shake

Their Heads in Sign of Grief and Innocence!

[They point at the Bowl on the Ground.

And point! what mean they; Ha! a Cup. O well

I understand what Medicine has been here.

O noble Thirst! and yet too greedy to

Drink all—O for another Draught of Death,

[They point at the other Cup.

Ha! point again? 'tis there, and full I hope.

O thanks the liberal Hand that fill'd thee thus;

I'll drink my glad Acknowledgment—

Leon.

O hold

For Mercy's sake; upon my Knees—forbear—

Alm.

With Thee, the kneeling World should beg in vain

Seest thou not there, who prostrate lies;

[Page] And pleads against thee? who shall then prevail?

Yet I will take a cold and parting Leave,

From his pale Lips; I'll kiss him e'er I drink,

Lest the rank Juice should blister on my Mouth,

And stain the Colour of my last Adieu.

Horrour! a headless Trunk! nor Lips nor Face,

[Coming nearer the Body, starts and lets fall the Cup.

But spouting Veins, and mangled Flesh! O, O.

Enter Alphonso, Heli, Perez, with Garcia Prisoner, Guards and Attendants.

Alph.

Away, stand off, where is she? let me fly,

Save her from Death, and snatch her to my Heart.

Alm.

Oh—

Alph.

Forbear; my Arms alone shall hold her up:

Warm her to Life, and wake her into Gladness.

O let me talk to thy reviving Sense,

The Words of Joy and Peace; warm thy cold Beauties,

With the new-flushing Ardour of my Cheek;

Into thy Lips, pour the soft trickling Balm

Of cordial Sighs; and re-inspire thy Bosom

With the Breath of Love. Shine, awake, Almeria,

Give a new Birth to thy long-shaded Eyes,

Then double on the Day reflected Light.

Alm.

Where am I? Heav'n! what does this Dream intend?

Alph.

O may'st thou never dream of less Delight;

Nor ever wake to less substantial Joys.

Alm.

Giv'n me again from Death! O all ye Powers

Confirm this Miracle! can I believe

My Sight, against my Sight? and shall I trust

That Sense, which in one Instant shews him dead

And living? yes, I will; I've been abus'd

With Apparitions and affrighting Fantoms:

This is my Lord, m [...] Life, my only Husband;

I have him now, an [...] we no more will part.

My Father too shall [...]ave Compassion—

[Page]Alph.

O my Heart's Comfort▪ 'tis not given to this

Frail Life, to be entirely bless'd. Even now.

In this extreamest Joy, my Soul can taste,

Yet am I dash'd to think that thou must weep

Thy Father fell, where he design'd my Death.

Gonsalez and Alonzo, both of Wounds

Expiring, have with their last Breath, confess'd

The just Decrees of Heav'n, in turning on

Themselves, their own most bloody Purposes.

Nay, I must grant, 'tis fit you shou'd be thus—

[She weeps.

Let 'em remove the Body from her Sight.

Ill-fated Zara! Ha! a Cup? alas!

Thy Errour then is plain: but I were Flint

Not to o'er-flow in Tribute to thy Memory.

She shall be Royally interr'd. O Garcia,

Whose Virtue has renounc'd thy Father's Crimes,

Seest thou, how just the Hand of Heav'n has been?

Let us that thro' our Innocence survive,

Still in the Paths of Honour persevere;

And not from past or present Ills Despair:

For Blessings ever wait on vertuous Deeds;

And tho' a late, a sure Reward succeeds.

[Exeunt Omnes.

EPILOGUE,

[Page]

Spoken by Mrs Bracegirdle.

THE Tragedy thus done, I am, you know,

No more a Princess, but in statu quo:

And now as unconcern'd this Mourning wear,

As if indeed a Widow, or an Heir.

I've leisure, now, to mark your sev'ral Faces,

And know each Critick by his sowre Grimaces.

To poison Plays, I see some where they sit,

Scatter'd, like Rats-bane, up an down the Pit;

While others watch like Parish-Searchers, hir'd

To tell of what Disease the Play expir'd.

O with what Ioy they run, to spread the News

Of a damn'd Poet, and departed Muse!

But if he 'scape, with what Regret they're seiz'd!

And how they're disappointed if they're pleas'd!

Criticks to Plays for the same end resort,

That Surgeons wait on Tryals in a Court;

For Innocence condemn'd they've no Respect,

Provided they've a Body to dissect.

As Sussex Men, that dwell upon the Shoar,

Look out when Storms arise, and Billows roar,

[Page] Devoutly praying, with up-lifted Hands,

That some well-laden Ship may strike the Sands;

To w [...]ose Rich Cargo, they may make Pretence,

And [...]tten on the Spoils of Providence:

So Criticks throng to see a New Play split,

And thrive and prosper on the Wrecks of Wit.

Small Hope our Poet from these Prospects draws;

And therefore to the Fair commends his Cause.

Your tender Hearts to Mercy are inclin'd,

With whom, he hopes, this Play will Favour find,

Which was an Off'ring to the Sex design'd.

FINIS.

[Page]

Information about this book

Title statement

The mourning bride a tragedy : as it is acted at the theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields by His Majesty's servants / written by Mr. Congreve.

Congreve, William, 1670-1729.

Edition statement

1697

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2004-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A34306

ID [STC]

Wing C5856

ID [STC]

ESTC R8328

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

12029288

ID [OCLC]

ocm 12029288

ID [VID]

52713

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A34306)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 52713)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 60:9)

Source

— The mourning bride a tragedy : as it is acted at the theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields by His Majesty's servants / written by Mr. Congreve., Congreve, William, 1670-1729..

Extent

[12], 74 [i.e. 66], [2] p.

Printed for Jacob Tonson ...,. London :: 1697.. (Reproduction of original in Library of Congress.)

Creation

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

Editorial practices

EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.

EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).

The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.

Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.