University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

The City.
Enter Ormisinda and Teresa.
ORMISINDA.
This city looks as if a pestilence
Had swept the whole inhabitants away.
The solitary streets, the empty squares,
Appall me more than the deserted palace.
Let us go back again.

TERESA.
'Tis time we should.
You trembled at the howling of a dog,
That broke the silence and increas'd the horror.
If we stay here we shall be fancy-struck,
Mistake some statue for a pale-fac'd ghost,
And think it beckons with its marble arm.

ORMISINDA.
Why should this desolation frighten me?
Why should I fear to see a grave-clad ghost,
Who may so soon be number'd with the dead,
And be myself a ghost? What noise is that?
Did'st thou not hear, Teresa?

TERESA.
Yes, I did.
I heard an uncouth sound.

ORMISINDA.
Uncouth indeed!
An universal groan! Hark! there again.

TERESA.
'Tis not the same. This has another tone,
A shout of triumph, and a burst of joy.

ORMISINDA.
The combat's over, and my fate's determin'd.
Now death or life!

[The trumpets sound.]
TERESA.
Long may the Princess live!
And every hour be fortunate as this!
The Spanish trumpets sound, the sign I know.
Thy champion has prevail'd.

ORMISINDA.
O gracious Heav'n!
The lists are near, and we shall quickly learn.

TERESA.
Look yonder, flying swifter than the wind,
A horseman comes; now at the gate he lights,
And hastes across the square. It is Sebastian.
His look, his gesture, speak his tidings good.

[Enter Sebastian.]
SEBASTIAN.
Joy to the Princess! Victory and peace!
The Moor is slain by brave Abdallah's hand.

ORMISINDA.
Blest be thy tongue, Sebastian! Thou shalt find
Some better recompence than barren thanks
For these glad tidings. But the gen'rous Prince
Who fought for Spain—

SEBASTIAN.
Safe and without a wound,
Fresh for another foe, Abdallah stands.
Short was the combat: Soon the boaster fell,
Who durst defy the Christian world to arms.

ORMISINDA.
The God of battles, whom Abdallah serves,
Has overthrown the infidel, whose trust
Was in his own right arm.

SEBASTIAN.
If I should live
Ten thousand years, I never could forget
The solemn prelude and the fierce encounter.
Thou know'st the place appointed for the combat,
An amphitheatre by nature form'd.

ORMISINDA.
I know it well.

SEBASTIAN.
The hills, of various slope
And shape, which circle round the spacious plain,
Were cover'd with a multitude immense
Of either sex, or every age and rank,
Christian and Moor; whose faces and attire
Strangely diversified the living scene.
Within the lists a gallery was rais'd
In which thy father and the Moorish prince
Sate with their peers, the judges of the field.
To them the knights with slow and stately pace
Approach'd; and bound by sacred oaths declar'd
That they no charm nor incantation us'd,
But trusted in their valour and their arms.
With low obeisance then they both fell back;
And first the Moor (for he the challenge gave)
March'd to the middle of the listed field;
There seiz'd his ponderous mace, beneath whose weight,
The brawny bearer bow'd; and round his head,
Like a light foil, he flourish'd it in air.
On him with diff'rent thoughts the nations gaz'd.
But suddenly a flash of light and flame
Struck ev'ry eye from brave Abdallah's shield,
Cover'd till then. 'Twas made of polish'd steel,
Which shone like adamant; and to a point
Rose in the centre, slanting on each side.
This shield the Persian Prince advancing bore
On his left arm outstretch'd, and in his right,
Thrown back a little, gleam'd a pointed sword.
Erect and high the bold Mirmallon stood,
And sternly ey'd his near-approaching foe.
Then forward sprung, and on the flaming shield
Discharg'd a mighty blow, enough to crush
A wall, or split a rock. The Spaniards gave
A general groan.

ORMISINDA.
That was the dreadful sound
We heard, Teresa.

SEBASTIAN.
Glancing from the shield,
Aside the mace descended. Then enrag'd,
Once more the Moor his thund'ring weapon rear'd.
In stept the Prince, and raising high his shield,
Midway he met the blow; and with the strength
And vigour of his arm, obliquely down
The pond'rous mace he drove. Then quick as thought,
His better hand and foot at once advancing,
Plung'd in Mirmallon's throat his thirsty blade.
The giant stagger'd for a little space;
Then falling, shook the earth. The Christians rais'd
A shout that rent the air. Away I came,
Happy to be the bearer of such tidings.

[Trumpet.
ORMISINDA.
Behold, they come in triumph from the field.
O! glorious man! And yet forgive me, Heav'n,
I grudge the conquest to Alonzo's friend,
And wish Alonzo in Abdallah's place.

Enter the King, Abdallah, Velasco, Alberto, &c.
ABDALLAH.
[To Velasco.]
See where she stands. O Heavens!

VELASCO.
My Lord Alonzo,
Compose thy thoughts.

ABDALLAH.
Behold her how she looks,
As if she knew no ill. That harden'd heart
Against remorse and fear and shame is arm'd;
But I shall wring it now.

KING.
Daughter, draw near!
This godlike Prince all recompence disclaims,
Save thanks from Spain. The pleasing task be thine
To greet the saviour of thy native land,
And speak our gratitude.

ORMISINDA.
No words can speak
The gratitude I feel. Believe it great
As my deliverance, vast as my distress!
Like sad Andromeda, chain'd to the rock
I stood a living prey, when this brave Prince,
Came like another Perseus from the sky,
And sav'd me from destruction. I forget,
Wrapt in myself, the charge my father gave
To thank the saviour of my native land;
Another voice shall give thee thanks for Spain,
Alonzo's voice shall thank thee for his country,
His friends, his people—sav'd.

ABDALLAH.
Ah! If I hear
(Aside.)
This syren longer, she will charm my rage;
But I remember where I heard her last.
Princess of Spain! I merit not thy praise.
Sent by Alonzo to this land I came:
What has been done, for Him I have perform'd.
Now of his promise I remind the King
To grant me one request.

KING.
Speak! It is granted.

ORMISINDA.
If I conjecture right, even that request
Will prove one favour more on Spain conferr'd.

ABDALLAH.
Perhaps it may

KING.
Proceed, illustrious Prince!
And make me happy to fulfil thy wish.

ABDALLAH.
Not for myself I speak, but for my friend;
And in his name, whose person I sustain,
I ask for justice on a great offender.

KING.
Thou shalt have ample and immediate justice.
Nor favour nor affinity shall skreen
The guilty person. Prince, why art thou troubled?
Thou shak'st from head to foot. Thy quiv'ring lip
Is pale with passion. On thy forehead stand
Big drops. Almighty God! What dreadful birth
Do these strong pangs portend?

ABDALLAH.
The guilty person,
Whom with a capital offence I charge,
Stands by thy side.

KING.
My daughter!

ABDALLAH.
Yes! thy daughter!
'Tis her I mean, the Princess Ormisinda.
Here in the presence of the Peers of Spain,
I charge her with a crime, whose doom the laws
Of Spain have wrote in blood: Adultery.
I read astonishment in ev'ry face!
Who would suspect that one so highly born,
With ev'ry outward mark of virtue grac'd,
Had giv'n her honour to a worthless wretch,
And driv'n a noble husband to despair!

KING.
Am I awake! Is this the light of day?
Art thou, O! Prince, with sudden frenzy seiz'd?
Or is the madness mine? Renown'd Abdallah!
What answer can be made to such a charge?
This strange demand of justice on my daughter,
For an offence that she could not commit?
My daughter ne'er was married.

ABDALLAH.
Ask her that?
Hear if she will deny she has a husband?

KING.
My child, thou art amaz'd!

ORMISINDA.
No, not so much
As thou wilt be, my father, when thou hear'st
Thy daughter's tongue confess she has a husband.

KING.
Hast thou a husband! God of heav'n and earth!
Since thou hast thus dissembled with thy father,
Perhaps thou hast deceiv'd thy husband too.
Who is thy husband? Speak!

ORMISINDA.
The Prince Alonzo.

KING.
And hast thou been so long in secret wedded?
'Tis eighteen years since he departed hence.

ORMISINDA.
O! I have reason to remember that.
There is no calendar so just and true
As the sad mem'ry of a wife forsaken.
The years, the months, the weeks, the very days,
Are reckon'd, register'd, recorded there!
And of that period I could cite such times,
So dolorous, distressful, melancholy,
That the bare mention of them would excite
Amazement how I live to tell the tale.
But I forget the present in the past.
No wonder, for this moment is the first
That opes the sluices of a heart o'ercharg'd,
And bursting with a flood of grief conceal'd,
But I must turn me to another theme.
The earnest eyes of all are bent on me,
Watching my looks, and prying to discern
Symptoms of innocence or signs of guilt.
Hear then the frank confession of my soul:
I have transgress'd.

KING.
Stain of a noble race!
Dost thou avow thy crime?

ORMISINDA.
Mistake me not,
I have transgress'd my duty to my father:
Without his knowledge, and against his will,
Mov'd by a tender lover's parting tears,
I join'd myself in wedlock to Alonzo.
My King, my father, pardon the offence,
Which against thee I own I have committed:
But may I ne'er of God or man be pardon'd,
Nor friend nor father ever pity me,
If I have swerv'd one step from virtue's path,
Or broke the smallest parcel of that vow
Which binds a faithful wife! O! Prince of Persia!
Thou art the best of friends and benefactors;
Thou com'st to end my most distracting woes,
And to dispel th'impenetrable cloud
That darken'd all my days. Now I shall know
Why I have been abandon'd and forsaken,
Why I have been detested and despis'd,
As never woman was. Proceed, my Lord.
And whilst thou keenly dost assail my life,
And, dearer far, my honor and my fame,
Secure in innocence, I'll calmly hear.
From thee, I hope, the end of all my cares.

ABDALLAH.
Even thus Alonzo told me she would speak,
And thus proclaim her innocence.

ORMISINDA.
Did He?
O! would to Heav'n Alonzo heard me now,
Fearless defend his honor and my own!
My voice, which once was music to his ear,
Like David's harp which sooth'd the gloomy king,
Would charm his malady, would drive away
The evil spirit, and call back again
The better genius of his early days.
O! thou that wert so good, so great! admir'd
Of all mankind! my lov'd, my lost Alonzo!
For thee, in this humiliating hour,
More than myself I mourn.

ABDALLAH.
(Half aside.)
Eternal Power!
To whom the secrets of all hearts are known!
Hear, hear this woman, and between us judge!
'Tis not my business to contend with words,
These are the conquering arms of womankind.
A nobler course of trial lies before me:
In a wrong'd husband's name I charge this lady
With infidelity; and crave the doom
Of law upon her head. If any knight,
Spaniard or stranger, dares assert her cause,
Let him stand forth, and take my gauntlet up;
Which on the ground I throw, my gage to prove
That she is false to honor and Alonzo.

ORMISINDA.
Before the gage of death is lifted up,
Hear me one moment. By Alonzo sent,
Thou com'st instructed in Alonzo's wrongs.
Let me conjure thee then, by all that's dear,
By all that's sacred to the great and brave,
Thy mother's memory, thy consort's fame,
Not on a gen'ral charge, obscure and vague,
To which there is no answer but denial,
To found the claim of combat: Single out
What circumstance thou wilt of special note,
Of such a kind as may be tried and known
For true or false. Tell us at least his name
With whom Alonzo's wife her honor stain'd,
And let us be confronted.

[Young Alberto steps forth.
ALBERTO.
Heaven forbid
That thou should'st be confronted with a villain.
Princess of Spain! Be sure some wretch there is,
Some renegado, false to God and man,
Suborn'd, and ready with a lying tongue,
To second this brave Prince who wrongs thy fame,
And wounds thy modest ear. Too much by far
Already thou hast heard. Pretended Prince!
For there is nothing royal in thy soul!
Thou base defamer of a lady's name!
I take thy gauntlet up, and hold it high
In scorn, and fierce defiance, to thy face,
My gage to prove thy accusation false,
And thee, the author of a tale invented
To rob a noble lady of her fame.

ORMISINDA.
Where am I now? What shall I do, Teresa?

[Aside.
TERESA.
The God of Heav'n direct thee!

ABDALLAH.
Boy! To thee
I answer nothing. I suspect the cause
Of thy presumption, and could wish that Spain
Had giv'n a worthier victim to my sword.

[Walks aside.
ORMISINDA.
O! valiant youth! much am I bound to thee:
But I have reasons that import the state,
Which shall, whatever is my fate, be known,
And own'd hereafter to be great and weighty,
Why I decline th'assistance of thy sword.
If this appeal to combat is the law,
And I can find no champion but Alberto,
Without the chance of combat let me fall,
For I will not accept—

ALBERTO.
Recall these words,
Too gen'rous Princess! I can read thy thoughts:
Thou think'st my youth unequal to the foe;
Thou fear'st the weakness of Alberto's arm.
My strength exceeds the promise of my years.
Oft have I bent the bow, and drawn the sword,
Nor fly my shafts, nor falls my sword in vain.
This day against a troop alone I fought;
But never did I fight in such a cause,
Nor was I e'er so certain to prevail.
A fire divine invades my zealous breast:
I feel the force of legions in mine arm.
Thy innocence has made thy champion strong!
The God of battles is our righteous judge;
And let the cause be tried.

(A warrior armed, with his helmet on, steps forth.)
WARRIOR.
But not by thee!
Thy father's voice forbids, too daring youth!
Stand back, and let thy master in the art
Of war, now claim the combat for his own.
My liege!

KING.
That voice I know: Thy figure too
Resembles much a chief, lamented long
As slain in battle.

WARRIOR.
I am he, Costollo.
'Tis true, O! king! that on the field I fell,
Fighting for Spain. How I was sav'd from death,
And where, for many years I have remain'd,
This is no time to tell. This hour demands
A soldier's speech, brief prologue to his deeds.
On me, proud Persian! turn thy gloomy eyes,
Hear me, and let thy ready sword reply.
With hell-born malice, level'd at her life,
Thou hast defam'd a Princess, honour'd, lov'd,
By all, who virtue or fair honour love.
The fell Hyæna, native of thy land,
Has not a voice or heart more false than thine,
Thou counterfeit of truth! whom I defy
To mortal combat, and the proof of arms.
Thy full-blown fame, thy unexhausted strength,
Deceitful confidence, I laugh to scorn;
The conquering cause is mine.

ALBERTO.
My lord, the King
And ye his counsellors for wisdom fam'd!
You will not sure permit this good old man,
By fond affection for his son impell'd,
To meet so stern a foe. His hoary head,
His wither'd veins, are symptoms of decay.
Lean not upon a reed which time hath bruis'd,
Nor trust the life and honour of the Princess
To the weak arm of age.

ABDALLAH.
I'll fight you both,
Father and son at once. Together come,
Tongue-valiant men! and try Abdallah's arm.
I'll have it so; for both of you have dar'd,
Ignoble as you are, to match yourselves
Against a Prince who moves not in your sphere,
And utter words for which such blood as yours
Is poor atonement.

COSTOLLO.
Ev'ry word thou speak'st
Is insolent and false. Son of a slave!
For eastern monarchs buy with gold their brides,
The blood by thee despis'd, flows from a sourc
Purer than thine and nobler.

ALBERTO.
Nay, my father!
That's said too far. Fierce and disdainful Prince,
Vain is the offer which thy passion makes.
Perhaps the conqueror of the Moor may find
One Spaniard is enough.

COSTOLLO.
A father's right
Unmov'd I claim, and with determin'd voice
Forbid the combat.

KING.
Hence let us retire
To the pavilion. There our peers shall judge
Of your pretensions.

[Exeunt King and Spaniards.
ABDALLAH.
Come with me Velasco.

[Exeunt Abdallah and Velasco.
(Manent Ormisinda and Teresa.)
ORMISINDA.
My thoughts are of my son. Mine own estate
Is desp'rate. The husband whom I lov'd,
On whom I doated, and from whom I suffer'd,
What never woman with such patience bore,
Conspires against my honour and my life.
Long cherish'd hope, farewel!

TERESA.
To guard thy son
Defend thyself; and, to prevent the combat,
In thy demand persist. Call the accuser
To circumstance of proof. That is the thread
To lead us thro' this labyrinth perplex'd.
Nor has the Persian thy demand refus'd.

ORMISINDA.
He had not time to speak. Alberto's voice
Broke in like thunder in his mother's cause.
Amidst the anguish of my tortur'd heart,
My soul exults, Teresa! in my son!
When in the pride of valour forth he came,
And for my sake defied the bold Abdallah,
His look (he seem'd a cherub in my eyes!)
His voice (at every word my bosom yearn'd!)
Transported me so much, that I forgot
His state and mine, and had well nigh sprung forth
To clasp my blooming hero in my arms.

TERESA.
No wonder that his mother's soul was mov'd:
His brave demeanor the spectators charm'd.
Valour, which sheds a glory round the head
Of age and ruggedness; how bright its beams
When in the lovely front of youth they shine!

ORMISINDA.
I've heard of strange and perilous essays
To try the pureness of suspected virtue.
I'll undergo whate'er can be devis'd.
By ordeal trial let my faith be prov'd.
Blindfold, barefooted, on the smoaking soil,
With red hot plough-shares spread, I'll walk my way;
Plunge in the boiling oil my naked arm,
But will not risk my young Alonzo's life.
The Moorish host hangs o'er our heads no more.
The heir of Spain shall for himself be known,
Alonzo's son.

TERESA.
He will not be allow'd
Alonzo's son, nor yet the heir of Spain,
Whilst slander's breath sullies his mother's fame.

ORMISINDA.
Now thou hast touch'd a string, to whose deep sound
A mother's heart replies. My son! my son!
I weigh thy virtues down, hang on thy life,
Attaint thy blood, thy birth, thy right to reign!
The birds of prey that dwell among the rocks,
The savage beasts that thro' the deserts roam,
The monsters of the deep, their offspring love,
And to preserve their lives devote their own.
Athwart the gloom, I see a flash of light,
That opens the horizon. I descry
A hand that points a high and lofty path
Which I will boldy tread. Now to my father.
Upon my knees his aid I'll first implore.

[Exeunt.