University of Virginia Library

Act II.

Scene 1.

Suppos'd to be a terrace Walk, on the side of the Castle of Alcazar.
Emperor. Benducar.
Emper.
And thinkest thou not it was discovered?

Bend.
No:
The thoughts of Kings are like religious Groves,
The Walks of muffled Gods: Sacred retreat,
Where none but whom they please t'admit, approach.

Emp.
Did not my conscious Eyes flash out a Flame
To lighten those brown horrors, and disclose
The secret path I trod?

Bend.
I cou'd not find it, 'till you lent a Clue
To that close Labarynth; how then shou'd they?

Emp.
I wou'd be loth they shou'd: it breeds contempt
For Herds to listen, or presume to pry,
When the hurt Lion groans within his Den:
But is't not strange?

Bend.
To love? not more than 'tis to live; a Tax
Impos'd on all by Nature, paid in kind,
Familiar as our being.

Emp.
Still 'tis strange
To me: I know my Soul as wild as winds,
That sweep the Desarts of our moving Plains;
Love might as well be sow'd upon our Sands,
As in a brest so barren:
To love an Enemy, the only One
Remaining too, whom yester Sun beheld,
Must'ring her charms, and rolling as she past,
By every Squadron her alluring eyes:
To edge her Champions Swords, and urge my ruin.
The shouts of Soldiers, and the burst of Cannon,
Maintain ev'n still a deaf and murm'ring noise;
Nor is Heav'n yet recover'd of the sound
Her Battel rows'd: Yet spight of me I love.

Bend.
What then controuls you?
Her Person is as prostrate as her Party.

Emp.
A thousand things controul this Conqueror,
My native pride to own th'unworthy passion,
Hazard of Int'rest, and my Peoples love:
To what a Storm of Fate am I expos'd!
What if I had her murder'd? 'tis but what
My Subjects all expect, and she deserves.
Wou'd not th'impossibility
Of ever, ever seeing, or possessing,
Calm all this rage, this Hurrican of Soul?

Bend.
That ever, ever,
I mark'd the double, shows extream reluctance
To part with her for ever.

Emp.
Right thou hast me,
I wou'd, but cannot kill: I must enjoy her:
I must, and what I must be sure I will.
What's Royalty but pow'r to please my self?
And if I dare not, then am I the Slave,
And my own Slaves the Sovereigns,—'tis resolv'd,
Weak Princes flatter when they want the pow'r
To curb their People; tender Plants must bend,
But when a Government is grown to strength,
Like some old Oak, rough with its armed Bark,
It yields not to the tug, but only nods,
And turns to sullen State.

Bend.
Then you resolve
T'implore her pity, and to beg relief?

Emp.
Death, must I beg the pity of my Slave?
Must a King beg? Yes, Love's a greater King;
A Tyrant, nay a Devil that possesses me:
He tunes the Organs of my voice, and speaks
Unknown to me within me; pushes me,
And drives me on by force.—
Say I shou'd wed her, wou'd not my wise Subjects
Take check, and think it strange? perhaps revolt?

Bend.
I hope they wou'd not.

Emp.
Then thou doubt'st they wou'd?

Bend.
To whom?

Emp.
To her
Perhaps, or to my Brother, or to Thee.

[Bend. in disorder.
To me! me did you mention? how I tremble!
The name of Treason shakes my honest Soul.
If I am doubted, Sir,
Secure your self this moment, take my life.

Emp.
No more: if I suspected thee—I wou'd.

Bend.
I thank your kindness: Guilt had almost lost me!

[Aside.
Emp.
But clear my doubts: think'st thou they may rebel.

[Bend. aside.
This goes as I wou'd wish:— (to th'Emp.)
'Tis possible.
A secret Party still remains, that lurks
Like Embers rak'd in ashes—wanting but
A breath to blow aside th'involving dust,
And then they blaze abroad.

Emp.
They must be trampled out.

Bend.
But first be known.

Emp.
Torture shall force it from 'em.

Bend.
You wou'd not put a Nation to the rack?

Emp.
Yes, the whole World; so I be safe, I care not.

Bend.
Our Limbs and Lives
Are yours, but mixing Friends with Foes is hard.

Emp.
All may be foes; or how to be distinguish'd,
If some be friends?

Bend.
They may with ease be winnow'd:
Suppose some one, who has deserv'd your trust,
Some one who knows Mankind, shou'd be employ'd
To mix among 'em, seem a Malcontent,
And dive into their breasts, to try how far
They dare oppose your love?

Emp.
I like this well: 'Tis wholesom wickedness.

Bend.
Whomever he suspects, he fastens there,
And leaves no cranny of his Soul unsearch'd:
Then, like a Bee bag'd with his honey'd venome,
He brings it to your Hive: if such a Man
So able, and so honest, may be found;
If not, my project dyes.—

Emp.
By all my hopes thou hast describ'd thy self:—
Thou, thou alone art fit to play that Engine,
Thou only coudst contrive.

Bend.
Sure I cou'd serve you:
I think I cou'd:—but here's the difficulty,
I'm so entirely yours,
That I shou'd scurvily dissemble hate;
The cheat wou'd be too gross.

Emp.
Art thou a Statesman
And canst not be a Hypocrite? Impossible:
Do not distrust thy Vertues.

Bend.
If I must personate this seeming Villain,
Remember 'tis to serve you.

Emp.
No more words:
Love goads me to Almeyda, all affairs
Are troublesom but that; and yet that most.
[Going.
Bid Dorax treat Sebastian like a King;
I had forgot him;—but this Love marrs all,
And takes up my whole brest.
[Exit Emperor.

Bend.
(to the Emp.)
(Sees the Mufti and Dorax entring and seeming to confer.)

Muf.
He'll tell you more.

Dor.
I've heard enough already
To make me loath thy Morals.

Bend.
to Dor.
You seem warm:
The good Man's zeal, perhaps has gon too far.

Dor.
Not very far; not farther than zeal goes
Of course; a small days journey short of Treason.

Muf.
By all that's Holy, Treason was not nam'd:
I spar'd the Emperors broken Vows to save
The Slaves from Death; though it was cheating Heav'n,
But I forgave him that.

Dor.
And slighted o'er
[scornfully.
The wrongs himself sustain'd in property:
When his bought Slaves were seiz'd by force, no loss
Of his consider'd, and no cost repaid.

Mufti,
Not wholly slighted o'er, not absolutely:
Some modest hints of private wrongs I urg'd.

Dorax,
Two thirds of all he said: there he began;
To shew the fulness of his heart, there ended:
Some short excursions of a broken Vow,
He made indeed, but flat insipid stuff:
But when he made his loss the Theme, he flourish'd,
Reliev'd his fainting Rhetorick with new Figures,
And thunder'd at oppressing Tyranny.

Mufti,
Why not, when Sacrilegious Pow'r wou'd seize
My Property, 'tis an affront to Heav'n,
Whose Person, though unworthy, I sustain.

Dorax.
You've made such strong Alliances above,
That 'twere Profaneness in us Laiety
To offer earthly Aid.
I tell thee, Mufti, if the World were wise,
They wou'd not wag one finger in your quarrels.
Your Heav'n you promise, but our Earth you covet.
The Phaethons of mankind, who fire that World,
Which you were sent by Preaching but to warm.

Bend.
This goes beyond the mark.

Mufti,
No, let him rail;
His Prophet works within him;
He's a rare Convert.

Dorax,
Now his Zeal yearns,
To see me burnt; he damns me from his Church,
Because I wou'd restrain him to his Duty;
Is not the care of Souls a load sufficient?
Are nor your holy stipends pay'd for this?
Were you not bred apart from worldly noise,
To study Souls, their Cures and their Diseases?
If this be so, we ask you but our own:
Give us your whole Employment, all your care:
The Province of the Soul is large enough
To fill up every Cranny of your time,
And leave you much to answer, if one Wretch
Be damn'd by your neglect.

Bend.
to the Mufti.
He speaks but reason.

Dorax,
Why then these forein thoughts of State-Employments,
Abhorrent to your Function and your Breeding?
Poor droaning Truants of unpractis'd Cells,
Bred in the Fellowship of bearded Boys,
What wonder is it if you know not Men?
Yet there, you live demure, with down-cast Eyes,
And humble as your Discipline requires:
But, when let loose from thence to live at large,
Your little tincture of Devotion dies:
Then Luxury succeeds, and set agog
With a new Scene of yet untasted Joys,
You fall with greedy hunger to the Feast.
Of all your College Vertues, nothing now
But your Original Ignorance remains:
Bloated with Pride, Ambition, Avarice,
You swell, to counsel Kings and govern Kingdoms.

Mufti.
He prates as if Kings had not Consciences,
And none requir'd Directors but the Crowd.

Dorax,
As private men they want you, not as Kings;
Nor wou'd you care t'inspect their publick Conscience,
But that it draws dependencies of Pow'r,
And Earthly Interest which you long to sway.
Content you with monopolizing Heav'n,
And let this little hanging Ball alone;
For give you but a foot of Conscience there,
And you, like Archimedes, toss the Globe.
We know your thoughts of us that Laymen are
Lag Souls, and rubbish of remaining Clay,
Which Heav'n, grown weary of more perfect work,
Set upright with a little puff of breath,
And bid us pass for Men.

Mufti.
I will not answer,
Base foul mouth'd Renegade; but I'll pray for thee
To shew my Charity.
Exit Mufti.

Dorax,
Do; but forget not him who needs it most:
Allow thy self some share: He's gone too soon;
I had to tell him of his holy jugglings;
Things that wou'd startle Faith, and make us deem
Not this or that, but all Religions false.

Bend.
Our Holy Oratour has lost the Cause:
[Aside.
But I shall yet redeem it.—(to Dorax)
let him go;
For I have secret Orders from the Emperour,
Which none but you must hear: I must confess
I cou'd have wish'd some other hand had brought 'em.
When did you see your Pris'ner Great Sebastian?

Dorax,
You might as well have ask'd me when I saw
A crested Dragon, or a Basilisk;
Both are less Poison to my Eyes and Nature.
He knows not I am I; nor shall he see me
Till time has perfected a lab'ring thought,
That rouls within my brest.

Bend.
'Twas my mistake:
I guess'd indeed that time, and his misfortunes,
And your returning duty had effac'd
The mem'ry of past wrongs; they wou'd in me;
And I judg'd you as tame and as forgiving.

Dorax,
Forgive him! no, I left my foolish Faith
Because it wou'd oblige me to forgiveness.

Bend.
I can but grieve to find you obstinate:
For you must see him; 'tis our Emp'rours will,
And strict Command.

Dorax,
I laugh at that Command.

Bend.
You must do more than see; serve, and respect him.

Dorax,
See, serve him, and respect, and after all
My yet uncancell'd wrongs, I must do this!
But I forget my self.

Bend.
Indeed you do.

Dorax,
The Emp'rour is a stranger to my wrongs;
I need but tell my story, to revoke
This hard Commission.

Bend.
Can you call me Friend,
And think I cou'd neglect to speak, at full
Th'Affronts you had from your ungrateful Master?

Dorax,
And yet enjoyn'd my Service, and Attendance?

Bend.
And yet enjoyn'd 'em both: wou'd that were all;
He scru'd his Face into a harden'd smile,
And said, Sebastian knew to govern Slaves.

Dorax,
Slaves are the growth of Africk, not of Europe:
By Heav'n I will not lay down my Commission;
Not at his foot, I will not stoop so low;
But if there be a part in all his Face
More sacred than the rest, I'll throw it there.

Bend.
You may; but then you lose all future means
Of Vengeance on Sebastian, when no more
Alcalde of this Fort.

Dorax,
That thought escap'd me.

Bend.
Keep your Command; and be reveng'd on both:
Nor sooth your self; you have no pow'r t'affront him;
The Emp'rours love protects him from insults.
And he, who spoke that proud ill-natur'd word,
Following the bent of his impetuous temper,
May force your reconcilement to Sebastian:
Nay bid you kneel, and kiss th'offending foot,
That kick'd you from his Presence.
But think not to divide their punishment;
You cannot touch a hair of loath'd Sebastian,
While Muley-Moluch lives.

Dorax,
What means this Riddle?

Bend.
'Tis out: there needs no Oedipus to solve it.
Our Emp'rour is a Tyrant, fear'd and hated;
I scarce remember in his Reign, one day
Pass guiltless o'er his execrable head.
He thinks the Sun is lost that sees not bloud:
When none is shed we count it Holiday.
We, who are most in favour, cannot call
This hour our own?—you know the younger Brother
Mild Muley Zeydan;—

Dorax,
Hold and let me think.

Bend.
The Soldiers Idolize you,
He trusts you with the Castle,
The Key of all his Kingdom.

Dorax,
Well; and he trusts you too.

Bend.
Else I were mad,
To hazard such a daring Enterprize.

Dorax,
He trusts us both; mark that, shall we betray him?
A Master who reposes Life and Empire
On our fidelity: I grant he is a Tyrant,
That hated name my nature most abhors;
More, as you say, has loaded me with scorn:
Ev'n with the last contempt, to serve Sebastian.
Yet more I know he vacates my revenge;
Which, but by this revolt I cannot compass:
But, while he trusts me, 'twere so base a part
To fawn and yet betray, I shou'd be hiss'd
And whoop'd in Hell for that Ingratitude.

Bend.
Consider well what I have done for you.

Dorax,
Consider thou what thou woud'st have me do.

Bend.
You've too much honour for a Renegade.

Dorax,
And thou too little faith to be a Fav'rite.
Is not the bread thou eat'st, the Robe thou wear'st,
Thy Wealth, and Honours, all the pure indulgence
Of him thou wou'dst destroy?
And wou'd his Creature, nay his Friend betray him?
Why then no Bond is left on human kind:
Distrusts, debates, immortal strifes ensue;
Children may murder Parents, Wives their Husbands;
All must be Rapine, Wars, and Desolation,
When trust and gratitude no longer bind.

Bend.
Well have you argued in your own defence:
You, who have burst asunder all those bonds,
And turn'd a Rebel to your Native Prince.

Dorax,
True, I rebell'd: but when did I betray?
Indignities, which Man cou'd not support,
Provok'd my vengeance to this noble Crime.
But he had strip'd me first of my Command,
Dismiss'd my Service, and absolv'd my Faith;
And, with disdainful Language, dar'd my worst.
I but accepted War, which he denounc'd.
Else had you seen, not Dorax, but Alonzo,
With his couch'd Lance against your foremost Moors
Perhaps too turn'd the fortune of the day;
Made Affrick mourn, and Portugal triumph.

Bend.
Let me embrace thee.

Dorax,
Stand off Sycophant,
And keep Infection distant.

Bend.
Brave and honest.

Dorax,
In spight of thy Temptations.

Bend.
Call 'em Trials:
They were no more: thy faith was held in Balance,
And nicely weigh'd by jealousie of Pow'r;
Vast was the trust of such a Royal Charge;
And our wise Emperour, might justly fear
Sebastian might be freed and reconcil'd,
By new Obligements to thy former love.

Dorax,
I doubt thee still; thy reasons were too strong,
And driv'n too near the head, to be but Artifice.
And after all, I know thou art a Statesman,
Where truth is rarely found.

Bend.
(Enter Emp. Seb. and Almeyda.)

Dorax,
Death to my Eyes, I see Sebastian with him!
Must he be serv'd! avoid him, if we meet,
It must be like the crush of Heav'n and Earth,
T'involve us both in ruin.
(Exit Dorax.

Bend.
'Twas a bare saving game I made with Dorax,
But better so than lost; he cannot hurt me,
That I precaution'd: I must ruin him.
But now this Love; Ay, there's the gath'ring storm!
The Tyrant must not wed Almeyda; no,
That ruins all the Fabrick I am raising.
Yet seeming to approve it, gave me time,
And gaining time gains all.

(Benducar goes and waits behind the Emperour.)
(The Emperour; Sebastian and Almeyda advance to the front of the Stage.) Guards and Attendants.
Emp.
to Seb.
I bad 'em serve you, and if they obey not,
I keep my Lions keen within their Dens,
To stop their maws with disobedient Slaves.

Seb.
If I had Conquer'd,
They cou'd not have with more observance waited:
Their eyes, hands, feet,
Are all so quick they seem t'have but one motion,
To catch my flying words. Onely the Alcayde
Shuns me, and with a grim Civility,
Bows, and declines my Walks.

Emp.
A Renegade:
I know not more of him: but that he's brave,
And hates your Christian Sect. If you can frame
A farther wish, give wing to your desires,
And name the thing you want.

Sebast.
My Liberty:
For were ev'n Paradise it self my Prison,
Still I shou'd long to leap the Chrystal walls.

Emp.
Sure our two Souls have somewhere been acquainted:
In former beings; or, struck out together,
One spark to Africk flew, and one to Portugal.
Expect a quick deliverance: (turning to Alm:)
here's a third,
Of kindred Soul to both: pity our Stars
Have made us Foes! I shou'd not wish her death.

Almeyda,
I ask no pity; if I thought my Soul
Of kin to thine, soon wou'd I rend my heart-strings,
And tear out that Alliance: but thou Viper
Hast cancell'd kindred, made a rent in Nature,
And through her holy bowels gnaw'd thy way,
Through thy own Bloud to Empire.

Emper.
This again:—
And yet she lives; and only lives t'upbraid me.

Sebast.
What honour is there in a Womans death!
Wrong'd as she says, but helpless to revenge;
Strong in her Passion, impotent of Reason,
Too weak to hurt, too fair to be destroy'd.
Mark her Majestick Fabrick; She's a Temple
Sacred by birth, and built by Hands Divine,
Her Soul's the Deity, that lodges there:
Nor is the Pile unworthy of the God.

Emp.
She's all that thou canst say or I can think.
But the perversness of her clam'rous Tongue
Strikes Pity deaf.

Seb.
Then onely hear her Eyes;
Though they are mute they plead; nay more, command;
For beauteous Eyes have Arbitrary Power.
All Females have prerogative of Sex,
The Shes ev'n of the salvage herd are safe;
And when they snarl or bite, have no return
But Courtship from the Male.

Emp.
Where She not She, and I not Muley-Moluch,
She's Mistress of unevitable Charms,
For all but me; nor am I so exempt,
But that—I know not what I was to say—
But I am too obnoxious to my Friends;
And sway'd by your Advice.

Sebast.
Sir, I advis'd not.
By Heav'n, I never counsell'd Love but Pity.

Emp.
By Heav'n thou didst: deny it not, thou didst:
For what was all that Prodigality
Of praise, but to enflame me?—

Sebast.
Sir,—

Emp.
No more:
Thou hast convinc'd me, that she's worth my Love.

Seb.
Was ever Man so ruin'd by himself!

(Aside.
Almeyda,
Thy Love; that odious Mouth was never fram'd
To speak a word so soft:
Name Death again, for that thou canst pronounce
With horrid grace, becoming of a Tyrant.
Love is for human hearts, and not for thine,
Where the brute Beast extinguishes the Man.

Emper.
Such if I were, yet rugged Lions love,
And grapple, and compel their savage Dames.—
Mark my Sebastian, how that sullen frown,
[She frowns
Like flashing Lightning, opens angry Heaven;
And while it kills delights. But yet, insult not
Too soon, proud Beauty, I confess no love.

Seb.
No Sir, I said so, and I witness for you,
Not love; but noble pity mov'd your mind:
Int'rest might urge you too to save her life;
For those who wish her party lost, might murmur
At shedding Royal Blood.

Emp.
Right, thou instruct'st me;
Int'rest of State requires not Death, but Marriage;
T'unite the jarring Titles of our Line.

Seb.
Let me be dumb for ever, all I plead,
[Aside.
Like Wild-fire thrown against the Wind, returns
With double force to burn me.

Emp.
Cou'd I but bend to make my beauteous Foe
The Partner of my Throne, and of my Bed.—

Almeyda,
Still thou dissemblest, but I read thy heart,
And know the power of my own Charms; thou lov'st,
And I am pleas'd for my revenge thou dost.

Emp.
And thou hast cause.

Alm.
I have; for I have pow'r to make thee wretched.
Be sure I will, and yet despair of freedom.

Emp.
Well then, I love,—
And 'tis below my greatness to disown it:
Love thee implacably, yet hate thee too;
Wou'd hunt thee bare-foot, in the mid-day Sun,
Through the parch'd Desarts, and the scorching Sands,
T'enjoy thy Love, and once enjoy'd to kill thee.

Alm.
'Tis a false Courage, when thou threat'nest me;
Thou canst not stir a hand to touch my Life:
Do not I see thee tremble while thou speak'st?
Lay by the Lions Hide, vain Conqueror,
And take the Distaff; for thy Soul's my Slave.

Emp.
Confusion! How thou viewest my very Heart!
I cou'd as soon,
Stop a Spring-tide, blown in, with my bare hand,
As this impetuous Love:—Yes, I will wed thee;
In spight of thee, and of my self, I will.

Alm.
For what? To people Affric with new Monsters,
Which that unnatural mixture must produce?
No, were we joyn'd, e'vn tho it were in death,
Our Bodies burning in one Funeral Pile,
The Prodigy of Thebes wou'd be renew'd,
And my divided flame shou'd break from thine.

Emp.
Serpent, I will engender Poyson with thee;
Joyn Hate with Hate, add Venom to the birth;
Our Off-spring, like the seed of Dragons Teeth,
Shall issue arm'd, and fight themselves to death.

Alm.
I'm calm again; thou canst not marry me.

Emp.
As gleams of Sun-shine soften storms to show'rs,
So, if you smile, the loudness of my rage
In gentle Whispers shall return, but this,—
That nothing can divert my Love, but Death.

Alm.
See how thou art deceiv'd, I am a Christian;
'Tis true, unpractis'd in my new Belief,
Wrongs I resent, nor pardon yet with ease:
Those Fruits come late, and are of slow increase
In haughty Hearts, like mine: Now, tell thy self
If this one word destroy not thy designs:
Thy Law permits thee not to marry me.

Emp.
'Tis but a specious Tale, to blast my hopes,
And baffle my pretensions. Speak, Sebastian,
And, as a King, speak true.

Sebast.
Then, thus adjur'd,
On a King's word 'tis truth, but truth ill tim'd;
For her dear Life is now expos'd anew;
Unless you wholly can put on Divinity,
And graciously forgive.

Alm.
Now learn by this,
The little value I have left for life,
And trouble me no more.

Emp.
I thank thee Woman;
Thou hast restor'd me to my native Rage;
And I will seize my happiness by force.

Sebast.
Know Muley-Moluch when thou dar'st attempt.—

Emp.
Beware, I wou'd not be provok'd to use
A Conqueror's right, and therefore charge thy silence.
If thou wou'dst merit to be thought my Friend,
I leave thee to perswade her to compliance:
If not, there's a new gust in Ravishment,
Which I have never try'd.

Bend.
They must be watch'd;
[aside.
For something I observ'd creates a doubt.

[Exeunt Emperour and Benducar.
Seb.
I've been too tame, have basely born my Wrongs,
And not exerted all the King, within me;
I heard him, O sweet Heavens, he threat'ned Rape;
Nay insolently urg'd me to perswade thee,
Ev'n thee, thou Idol of my Soul and Eyes;
For whom I suffer Life, and drag this being.

Alm.
You turn my Prison to a Paradise;
But I have turn'd your Empire to a Prison:
In all your Wars good fortune flew before you;
Sublime you sate in Triumph on her Wheel;
Till in my fatal Cause your Sword was drawn;
The weight of my misfortunes drag'd you down.

Seb.
And is't not strange, that Heav'n shou'd bless my Arms
In common Causes, and desert the best?
Now in your greatest, last extremity,
When I wou'd, ayd you most, and most desire it,
I bring but Sighs, the succors of a Slave.

Alm.
Leave then the luggage of your fate behind,
To make your flight more easie, leave Almeyda.
Nor think me left a base ignoble Prey,
Expos'd to this inhuman Tyrant's lust;
My Virtue is a guard beyond my strength,
And Death, my last defence, within my call.

Seb.
Death may be call'd in vain, and cannot come;
Tyrants can tye him up from your relief:
Nor has a Christian privilege to dye.
Alas thou art too young in thy new Faith;
Brutus and Cato might discharge their Souls,
And give 'em Furlo's for another World:
But we, like Centry's, are oblig'd to stand
In starless Nights, and wait the pointed hour.

Alm.
If shunning ill be good, then Death is good
To those who cannot shun it but by Death:
Divines but peep on undiscover'd Worlds,
And draw the distant Landshape as they please:
But who has e'er return'd from those bright Regions,
To tell their Manners, and relate their Laws?
I'll venture landing on that happy shoar
With an unsully'd Body, and white Mind;
If I have err'd, some kind Inhabitant
Will pity a stray'd Soul, and take me home.

Seb.
Beware of Death, thou canst not dye unperjur'd,
And leave an unaccomplish'd Love behind:
Thy Vows are mine; nor will I quit my claim:
The tye of Minds are but imperfect Bonds,
Unless the Bodies joyn to seal the Contract.

Alm.
What Joys can you possess or can I give?
Where groans of Death succeed the sighs of Love.
Our Hymen has not on his Saffron Robe;
But muffled up in Mourning, downward holds
His dropping Torch, extinguish'd with his Tears.

Seb.
The God of Love stands ready to revive it
With his etherial breath.

Alm.
'Tis late to joyn, when we must part so soon.

Seb.
Nay rather let us haste it, ere we part:
Our Souls, for want of that acquaintance here,
May wander in the starry Walks above,
And, forc'd on worse Companions, miss our selves.

Alm.
The Tyrant will not long be absent hence;
And soon I shall be ravish'd from your arms.

Seb.
Wilt thou thy self become the greater Tyrant,
And give not Love, while thou hast Love to give?
In dang'rous days, when Riches are a Crime,
The wise betimes make over their Estates:
Make oer thy Honour, by a deed of trust,
And give me seizure of the mighty wealth.

Alm.
What shall I do! O teach me to refuse!
I wou'd; and yet I tremble at the grant.
For dire presages fright my Soul by day,
And boding Visions haunt my Nightly Dreams:
Sometimes, methinks, I hear the groans of Ghosts;
Thin, hollow sounds, and lamentable screams;
Then, like a dying Eccho, from afar,
My Mothers Voice, that cries, Wed not Almeyda!
Forewarn'd Almeyda, Marriage is thy Crime.

Seb.
Some envious Demon, to delude our joys;
Love is not Sin, but where 'tis sinful Love.

Alm.
Mine is a flame so holy, and so clear,
That the white taper leaves no soot behind;
No smoak of Lust; but chast as Sister's love,
When coldly they return a Brothers kiss,
Without the zeal that meets at lovers mouths.

Seb.
Laugh then at fond presages; I had some;
Fam'd Nostradamus, when he took my Horoscope,
Foretold my Father I shou'd wed with Incest:
Ere this unhappy War my Mother dy'd;
And Sisters I had none; vain Augury!
A long Religious Life, a Holy Age,
My Stars assign'd me too; impossible.
For how can Incest suit with Holiness,
Or Priestly Orders with a Princely State?

Alm.
Old venerable Alvarez!—(sighing.)


Seb.
But why that sigh in naming that good Man?

Alm.
Your Fathers Counsellor and Confident—

Seb.
He was; and, if he lives, my second Father:

Alm.
Mark'd our farewel, when going to the sight,
You gave Almeyda for the word of Battel;
'Twas in that fatal Moment, he discover'd
The Love that long we labour'd to conceal.
I know it; though my eyes stood full of tears,
Yet, through the mist, I saw him stedfast gaze:
Then knock'd his Aged breast, and inward groan'd;
Like some sad Prophet, that foresaw the doom
Of those whom best he lov'd, and cou'd not save.

Seb.
It startles me! and brings to my remembrance,
That, when the shock of Battel was begun,
He wou'd have much complain'd (but had not time)
Of our hid passion; then, with lifted hands,
He beg'd me by my Fathers Sacred Soul,
Not to espouse you, if he dy'd in fight:
For if he liv'd, and we were Conquerors,
He had such things to urge against our Marriage,
As, now declar'd, wou'd blunt my sword in Battel;
And dastardize my Courage.

Alm.
My blood cruddles;
And cakes about my heart.

Seb.
I'll breath a sigh, so warm into thy bosom,
Shall make it flow again. My Love, he knows not
Thou art a Christian; that produc'd his fear:
Lest thou shoud'st sooth my Soul with charms so strong,
That Heav'n might prove too weak.

Alm.
There must be more:
This cou'd not blunt your Sword.

Seb.
Yes, if I drew it, with a curst intent,
To take a Misbeliever to my Bed;
It must be so.

Alm.
Yet—

Seb.
No, thou shalt not plead
With that fair mouth, against the Cause of Love.
Within this Castle is a Captive Priest,
My Holy Confessor, whose free access
Not ev'n the barb'rous Victors have refus'd;
This happy hour his hands shall make us one.

Alm.
I go; with Love and Fortune, two blind Guides,
To lead my way: half loth and half consenting.
If, as my Soul fore-bodes, some dire event
Pursue this Union, or some Crime unknown,
Forgive me Heav'n; and all ye Blest above,
Excuse the frailty of unbounded Love.

Exeunt Ambo.

Scene 2.

Suppos'd a Garden; with Lodging Rooms behind it; or on the sides.
Enter Mufti; Antonio as a Slave; and Johayma the Mufti's Wife.
Mufti.

And how do you like him, look upon him well;
he's a personable Fellow of a Christian Dog. Now
I think you are fitted, for a Gardiner: Ha what say'st thou
Johayma?

Johayma.

He may make a shift to sow lettice, raise Melons,
and water a Garden plat.

But otherwise a very filthy Fellow; how odiously he smells
of his Country garlike! fugh, how he stinks of Spain.

Mufti.

Why honey-bird I bought him a purpose for thee;
didst not thou say thou long'dst for a Christian Slave?

Joh.

Ah, but the sight of that loathsom creature has almost
cur'd me; And how can I tell that he's a Christian? and he
were well search'd he may prove a Jew for ought I know.

And besides I have always long'd for an Eunuch; for they
say that's a Civil Creature, and almost as harmless as your
self Husband: speak fellow, are not you such a kind of peaceable
thing?

Ant.

I was never taken for one in my own Country; and
not very peaceable neither, when I am well provok'd.

Mufti.

To your Occupation Dog; bind up the Jessamines
in yond Arbor, and handle your pruning knife with dexterity;
tightly I say, go tightly to your business; you have cost
me much; and must earn it in your work; here's plentiful
provision for you, rascal, sallating in the Garden, and water
in the tanck, and on Holydays the licking of a platter of Rice,
when you deserve it.

Joh.

What have you been bred up to Sirrah, and what can
you perform to recommend you to my service?

[Antonio making legs.

Why Madam, I can perform as much as any Man, in a fair
Ladies Service.

I can play upon the Flute, and Sing; I can carry your Umbrella,
and fan your Ladyship, and cool you when you are too
hot: in fine, no Service either by day or by night shall come
amiss to me; and besides am of so quick an apprehension, that
you need but wink upon me at any time, to make me understand
my duty.

[She winks at him.
Anton.

Very fine, she has tipt the wink already.— [Aside.

Joh.

The Whelp may come to something in time, when I
have enter'd him into his business.

Muf.

A very malapert Cur, I can tell him that; I do not
like his fawning, you must be taught your distance Sirrah.

(Strikes him.)
Joh.

Hold, hold.—

He ha's deserv'd it I confess; but for once let his ignorance
plead his pardon; we must not discourage a beginner.
Your Reverence has taught us Charity ev'n to Birds and Beasts:
here you filthy brute you:—take this little Alms, to buy you
plaisters.

(gives him a piece of money)
Ant.

Money and a Love-pinch in the inside of my palm into
the bargain.

[Aside.
(Enter a Servant.

Sir, my Lord Benducar is coming to wait on you, and is already
at the Palace Gate.

Muf.

Come in Johayma, regulate the rest of my Wives and
Concubines, and leave the Fellow to his work.

Joh.

Look how stupidly he stares about him, like a Calf
new come into the World: I shall teach you Sirrah to know
your business, a little better.—this way you awkard rascal,
here lyes the Arbour, must I be showing you eternally?

(turning him about.)
Muf.

Come away Minion; you shall show him nothing.

Joh.

I'll but bring him into the Arbor, where a Rose-tree
and a Myrtle are just falling for want of a prop; if they
were bound together they wou'd help to keep up one another:—He's
a raw Gardiner, and 'tis but Charity to teach
him.

Muf.

No more deeds of Charity to day; come in, or I
shall think you a little better dispos'd than I cou'd wish you.

Joh.

Well, go before, I will follow my Pastor.

Muf.

So you may cast a sheeps eye behind you: In before
me. And you, sawciness, mind your pruning knife; or I
may chance to use it for you.

Exeunt Mufti and Johayma.
Ant.
alone.

Thank you for that; but I am in no such hast to
be made a Musulman. For his Wedlock, with all her haughtiness,
I find her coming. How far a Christian shou'd resist, I
partly know; but how far a lewd young Christian can resist
is another question. She's tolerable, and I am a poor Stranger,
far from better Friends, and in a bodily necessity: Now
have I a strange temptation to try what other Females are belonging
to this Family: I am not far from the Womens apartment
I am sure; and if these Birds are within distance, here's
that will chuckle 'em together. (pulls out his Flute)
If there
be variety of Moors flesh in this Holy Market 'twere madness
to lay out all my money upon the first bargain.

[He plays.
A Grate opens and Morayma the Mufti's Daughter appears at it.
Anton.

Ay there's an Apparition! This is a Morsel worthy
of a Mufti; this is the relishing bit in secret; this is the Mystery
of his Alcoran, that must be reserv'd from the knowledg
of the profane Vulgar. This is his Holyday Devotion;
see, she beckons too.—

(She beckons to him.)
Morayma.

Come a little nearer and speak softly.

Ant.

I come, I come I warrant thee; the least twinckle had
brought me to thee; such another kind syllable or two, wou'd
turn me to a Meteor and draw me up to thee.

Mor.

I dare not speak, for fear of being over-heard; but
if you think my Person worth your hazard, and can deserve
my love—the rest this Note shall tell you—(throws
down a handkerchief.) No more, my heart goes with you.

Exit from the Grate.
Antonio.

O thou pretty little heart; art thou flown hither,
I'll keep it warm I warrant it, and brood upon it in the new
nest: but now for my Treasure trove, that's wrapt up in
the handkerchief: No peeping here, though I long to be
spelling her Arabick scrawls and pot-hooks. But I must
carry off my prize, as Robbers do; and not think of sharing
the booty, before I am free from danger, and out of
eye-shot from the other Windows. If her wit be as poynant
as her Eyes, I am a double Slave. Our Northern Beauties
are meer dough to these: Insipid white Earth, meer Tobaccopipe-clay;
With no more Soul and Motion in 'em, than
a Fly in Winter.

Here the warm Planet ripens, and sublimes
The well bak'd Beauties of the Southern Climes;
Our Cupid's but a bungler in his Trade;
His keenest Arrows are in-Affrick made.
[Exit Antonio.