University of Virginia Library

Act. III.

Scene 1.

A Terrace-walk; or some other publick place in the Castle of Alcazar.
Emperor Muley-Moluch; Benducar.
Emper.
Marry'd! I'll not believe it; 'tis imposture;
Improbable they shou'd presume t'attempt,
Impossible they shou'd effect their wish.

Bend.
Have patience till I clear it.

Emp.
I have none:
Go bid our moving Plains of Sand lye still,
And stir not, when the stormy South blows high
From top to bottom thou hast toss'd my Soul,
And now 'tis in the madness of the Whirl,
Requir'st a sudden stop? unsay thy lye,
That may in time do somewhat.

Bend.
I have done:
For, since it pleases you it shou'd be forg'd,
'Tis fit it shou'd: far be it from your Slave,
To raise disturbance in your Sacred brest.

Emp.
Sebastian is my Slave as well as thou;
Nor durst offend my love by that presumption.

Bend.
Most sure he ought not.

Emp.
Then all means were wanting;
No Priest, no Ceremonies of their Sect;
Or, grant we these defects cou'd be supply'd,
How cou'd our Prophet do an Act so base,
So to resume his gifts, and curse my Conquests
By making me unhappy! No, the Slave
That told thee so absurd a story, ly'd.

Bend.
Yet, till this moment I have found him faithful:
He said he saw it too.

Emp.
Dispatch; what saw he?

Bend.
Truth is, considering with what earnestness,
Sebastian pleaded for Almeyda's life,
Inhanc'd her beauty, dwelt upon her praise,—

Emp.
O stupid, and unthinking as I was!
I might have mark'd it too: 'twas gross and palpable!

Bend.
Methought I trac'd a Lover ill disguis'd;
And sent my spy, a sharp observing Slave,
T'inform me better, if I guess'd aright.
He told me, that he saw Sebastians Page
Run cross the Marble Square; who soon return'd,
And after him there lag'd a puffing Fryar;
Close wrap'd he bore some secret Instrument
Of Christian Superstition in his hand:
My servant follow'd fast, and through a chink,
Perceiv'd the Royal Captives hand in hand:
And heard the hooded Father mumbling charms,
That make those Misbelievers Man and Wife.
Which done, the Spouses kiss'd with such a fervour,
And gave such furious earnest of their flames,
That their eyes sparkled, and their mantling blood
Flew flushing o'er their faces.

Emp.
Hell confound 'em!

Bend.
The Reverend Father, with a Holy leer,
Saw he might well be spar'd, and soon withdrew:
This forc'd my Servant to a quick retreat,
For fear to be discover'd; guess the rest.

Emp.
I do. My fancy is too exquisite,
And tortures me with their imagin'd bliss
Some Earthquake shou'd have ris'n, and rent the ground,
Have swallow'd him, and left the longing Bride,
In Agony of unaccomplish'd Love.

(Walks disorderly)
Enter the Mufti.
Bend.
Coming up to the Mufti aside.

Emperor
seeing him.
You, Druggerman of Heaven, must I attend
Your droaning Prayers? Why came you not before?
Do'st thou not know the Captive King has dar'd
To wed Almeyda? Cancel me that Marriage,
And make her mine; about the business, quick,
Expound thy Mahomet; make him speak my sense,
Or he's no Prophet here, and thou no Mufti,
Unless thou know'st the trick of thy vocation,
To wrest and rend the Law to please thy Prince.

Mufti,
Why, verily the Law is monstrous plain:
There's not one doubtful Text in all the Alchoran,
Which can be wrench'd in favor to your Project.

Emp.
Forge one, and foist it into some by-place,
Of some old rotten Roll; do't, I command thee:
Must I teach thee thy Trade?

Mufti,
It cannot be.
For Matrimony being the dearest point
Of Law, the People have it all by heart:
A Cheat on Procreation will not pass.
Besides th'offence is so exorbitant,
[In a higher tone.
To mingle with a misbelieving Race,
That speedy Vengeance wou'd pursue your Crime,
And holy Mahomet launch himself from Heav'n,
Before th'unready Thunderbolt were form'd.

Emperor taking him by the Throat with one hand, snatches out his Sword with the other, and points it to his Brest.
Emp.
Slave, have I rais'd thee to this pomp and pow'r,
To preach against my Will? Know I am Law;
And thou, not Mahomet's Messenger, but mine:
Make it, I charge thee, make my pleasure lawful:
Or first I strip the of thy ghostly greatness,
Then send thee post, to tell thy Tale above;
And bring thy vain Memorials to thy Prophet
Of Justice done below for Disobedience.

Mufti,
For Heaven's sake hold, the respite of a moment,—
To think for you.

Emp.
And for thy self.—

Mufti,
For both.

Bend.
Disgrace, and Death, and Avarice have lost him!

[Aside.
Mufti,
'Tis true, our Law forbids to wed a Christian;
But it forbids you not to ravish her.
You have a Conqueror's right upon your Slave;
And then, the more despight you do a Christian,
You serve the Prophet more who loaths that Sect.

Emp.
Oh now it mends; and you talk reason, Mufti.
But stay! I promis'd freedom to Sebastian:
Now shou'd I grant it, his revengeful Soul
Wou'd ne'er forgive his violated Bed.

Mufti,
Kill him, for then you give him liberty:
His Soul is from his earthly Prison freed.

Emp.
How happy is the Prince who has a Churchman
So learn'd and pliant to expound his Laws.

Bend.
Two things I humbly offer to your prudence.

Emp.
Be brief; but let not either thwart my Love.

Bend.
First, since our holy Man has made Rape lawful,
Fright her with that: proceed not yet to force:
Why shou'd you pluck the green distastful Fruit
From the unwilling Bough,
When it may ripen of it self and fall?

Emp.
Grant her a day; tho that's too much to give
Out of a Life which I devote to Love.

Bend.
Then next, to bar
All future hopes of her desir'd Sebastian,
Let Dorax be enjoyn'd to bring his head.

Emperor
to the Mufti.
Go Mufti, call him to receive his Orders.
[Exit Mufti.
I taste thy Counsel, her desires new rowz'd,
And yet unslak'd, will kindle in her fancy,
And make her eager to renew the Feast.

Bend.
aside.
Dorax, I know before, will disobey:
There's a Foe's Head well cropt.—
But this hot love precipitates my Plot;
And brings it to projection ere its time.

Enter Sebastian and Almeyda hand in hand; upon sight of the Emperor, they separate and seem disturb'd.
Almeyda,
He breaks, at unawares, upon our Walks,
And like a mid-night Wolf invades the Fold:
Make speedy preparation of your Soul,
And bid it arm apace: He comes for answer,
And brutal mischief sits upon his brow.

Sebast.
Not the last sounding, cou'd surprize me more,
That summons drowzy Mortals to their doom,
When call'd in haste, they fumble for their Limbs,
And tremble unprovided for their charge:
My sense has been so deeply plung'd in Joys,
The Soul out-slept her hour; and, scarce awake,
Wou'd think too late, and cannot! But brave Minds
At worst can dare their Fate.—

Emperor coming up to them.
Emp.
Have you perform'd
Your Embassy, and treated with success?

Sebast.
I had not time.

Emp.
No, not for my Affairs,
But for your own too much.

Sebast.
You talk in Clouds, explain your meaning, Sir.

Emp.
Explain yours first: What meant you hand in hand,
And when you saw me, with a guilty start,
You loos'd your hold, affrighted at my presence?

Seb.
Affrighted?

Emp.
Yes, astonish'd, and confounded.

Seb.
What mak'st thou of thy self, and what of me?
Art thou some Ghost, some Demon, or some God?
That I shou'd stand astonish'd at thy sight?
If thou cou'dst deem so meanly of my Courage,
Why didst thou not engage me man for man,
And try the virtue of that Gorgon Face,
To stare me into statue?

Emp.
Oh, thou art now recover'd, but by Heav'n,
Thou wert amaz'd at first, as if surpriz'd
At unexpected baseness brought to light.
For know, ungrateful man, that Kings, like Gods,
Are every where; walk in th'abyss of minds,
And view the dark recesses of the Soul.

Seb.
Base and ungrateful never was I thought;
Nor till this turn of fate, durst thou have call'd me;
But, since thou boast'st th'omniscience of a God,
Say, in what cranny of Sebastian's Soul,
Unknown to me, so loath'd a Crime is lodg'd?

Emp.
Thou hast not broke my trust repos'd in thee?

Seb.
Impos'd, but not receiv'd: Take back that falsehood.

Emp.
Thou art not marry'd to Almeyda?

Seb.
Yes.

Emp.
And own'st the usurpation of my Love?

Seb.
I own it in the face of Heav'n and thee
No Usurpation; but a lawful claim,
Of which I stand possest.

Emp.
Sh' has chosen well,
Betwixt a Captive and a Conqueror.

Almeyda,
Betwixt a Monster and the best of Men.
He was the envy of his neighb'ring Kings;
For him their sighing Queens despis'd their Lords,
And Virgin Daughters blush'd when he was nam'd.
To share his noble Chains is more to me,
Than all the salvage greatness of thy Throne.

Seb.
Were I to choose again, and knew my fate,
For such a night I wou'd be what I am.
The Joys I have possest are ever mine;
Out of thy reach behind Eternity,
Hid in the sacred treasure of the past;
But bless'd remembrance bring's 'em hourly back.

Emp.
Hourly indeed, who hast but hours to live:
O mighty purchase of a boasted bliss!
To dream of what thou hadst one fugitive night,
And never shalt have more.

Seb.
Barbarian, thou canst part us but a moment;—
We shall be one again in thy despight:
Life is but air,
That yields a passage to the whistling Sword,
And closes when 'tis gone.

Alm.
How can we better dye than close embrac'd,
Sucking each others Souls while we expire?
Which so transfus'd, and mounting both at once,
The Saints deceiv'd, shall by a sweet mistake,
Hand up thy Soul for mine, and mine for thine.

Emp.
No, I'll untwist you:
I have occasion for your stay on earth:
Let him mount first, and beat upon the Wing,
And wait an Age for what I here detain.
Or sicken at immortal Joys above,
And languish for the Heav'n he left below.

Alm.
Thou wilt not dare to break what Heav'n has joyn'd?

Emp.
Not break the Chain, but change a rotten link,
And rivet one to last.
Think'st thou I come to argue right and wrong?
Why lingers Dorax thus? Where are my Guards,
[Benducar goes out for the Guards, and returns.
To drag that Slave to death?
[Pointing to Sebast.
Now storm and rage,
Call vainly on thy Prophet, then defie him
For wanting power to save thee.

Seb.
That were to gratifie thy Pride: I'll shew thee
How a Man shou'd, and how a King dare dye:
So even, that my Soul shall walk with ease
Out of its flesh, and shut out Life as calmly
As it does words; without a Sigh, to note
One struggle in the smooth dissolving frame.

Almeyda
to the Emperor.
Expect revenge from Heav'n, inhuman Wretch;
Nor hope t'ascend Sebastian's holy Bed.
Flames, Daggers, Poysons, guard the sacred steps:
Those are the promis'd Pleasures of my love.

Emp.
Enter two of the Guards.

Alm.
I charge you hold, ye Ministers of death,
Speak my Sebastian;
Plead for thy life: Oh ask it of the Tyrant;
'Tis no dishonor, trust me, Love, 'tis none:
I wou'd die for thee, but I cannot plead;
My haughty heart disdains it, ev'n for thee.
Still silent! Will the King of Portugal
Go to his death, like a dumb Sacrifice?
Beg him to save my life in saving thine.

Seb.
Farewel, my life's not worth another word.

Emp.
to the Guards.
Perform your Orders.

Alm.
Stay, take my farewel too:
Farewel the greatness of Almeyda's Soul!
Look, Tyrant, what excess of love can do,
It pulls me down thus low, as to thy feet;
[Kneels to him.
Nay to embrace thy Knees with loathing hands,
Which blister when they touch thee: Yet ev'n thus,
Thus far I can to save Sebastian's life.

Emp.
A secret pleasure trickles through my Veins:
It works about the inlets of my Soul,
To feel thy touch; and pity tempts the pass;
But the tough metal of my heart resists;
'Tis warm'd with the soft fire, not melted down.

Alm.
A flood of scalding Tears will make it run,
Spare him, Oh spare; can you pretend to love,
And have no pity? Love and that are Twins.
Here will I grow;
Thus compass you with these supplanting Cords,
And pull so long till the proud Fabrick falls.

Emp.
Still kneel, and still embrace; 'tis double pleasure
So to be hugg'd, and see Sebastian dye.

Alm.
Look Tyrant, when thou nam'st Sebastian's death,
Thy very Executioners turn pale,
Rough as they are, and harden'd in the trade
Of Death, they start at an anointed Head,
And tremble to approach:—He hears me not;
Nor minds th'impression of a God on Kings;
Because no stamp of Heav'n was on his Soul:
But the resisting Mass drove back the Seal.
Say, though thy heart be rock of Adamant,
Yet Rocks are not impregnable to Bribes:
Instruct me how to bribe thee: Name thy price;
Lo, I resign my Title to the Crown;
Send me to exile with the Man I love,
And banishment is Empire.

Emp.
Here's my claim;
[Clapping his hand to his Sword.
And this extinguish'd thine; thou giv'st me nothing.

Alm.
My Father's, Mothers, Brothers death I pardon:
That's somewhat sure; a mighty Sum of Murther,
Of innocent and kindred blood strook off.
My Prayers and Penance shall discount for these,
And beg of Heav'n to charge the Bill on me:
Behold what price I offer, and how dear
To buy Sebastian's life.

Emp.
Let after reck'nings trouble fearful fools;
I'll stand the tryal of those trivial Crimes:
But, since thou beg'st me to prescribe my terms,
The only I can offer are thy love;
And this one day of respite to resolve.
Grant or deny, for thy next word is Fate;
And Fate is deaf to Pray'r.

Alm.
May Heav'n be so
[Rising up.
At thy last breath to thine: I curse thee not,
For who can better curse the Plague or Devil,
Than to be what they are? That Curse be thine.
Now, do not speak Sebastian, for you need not,
But dye, for I resign your Life: Look Heav'n,
Almeyda dooms her dear Sebastian's death!
But is there Heav'n, for I begin to doubt;
The Skyes are hush'd; no grumbling Thunders roul:
Now take your swing, ye impious; Sin unpunish'd;
Eternal providence seems overwatch'd,
And with a slumb'ring Nod assents to Murther.

Enter Dorax attended by three Soldiers.
Emp.
Thou mov'st a Tortoise pace to my relief.
Take hence that, once a King; that sullen pride
That swells to dumbness; lay him in the Dungeon,
And sink him deep with Irons; that when he wou'd,
He shall not groan to hearing, when I send
The next Commands are death.

Alm.
Then Prayers are vain as Curses.

Emp.
Much at one
In a Slaves mouth, against a Monarch's Pow'r.
This day thou hast to think;
At night, if thou wilt curse, thou shalt curse kindly;
Then I'll provoke thy lips; lay siege so close,
That all thy sallying breath shall turn to Blessings.
Make haste, seize, force her, bear her hence.

Alm.
Farewel, my last Sebastian!
I do not beg, I challenge Justice now;
O Pow'rs, if Kings be your peculiar care,
Why plays this Wretch with your Prerogative?
Now flash him dead, now crumble him to ashes;
Or henceforth live confin'd in your own Palace;
And look not idely out upon a World
That is no longer yours.

She is carried off strugling, Emperour and Benducar follow.
Sebastian struggles in his Guards Arms, and shakes off one of them, but two others come in, and hold him; he speaks not all the while.
Dor.
[Walks a turn.

Sebast.
I hear Men call thee Dorax.

Dor.
'Tis well, you know enough for once: you speak too;
You were struck mute before.

Sebast.
Silence became me then.

Dor.
Yet we may talk hereafter.

Seb.
Hereafter is not mine:—
Dispatch thy work, good Executioner.

Dor.
None of my blood were hangmen; add that falshood
To a long Bill that yet remains unreckon'd.

Seb.
A King and thou can never have a reck'ning.

Dor.
A greater summ perhaps than you can pay.
Mean time I shall make bold t'increase your debt,
(gives him his Sword)
Take this, and use it at your greatest need.

Seb.
This hand and this, have been acquainted well;
(Looks on it.)
It shou'd have come before into my grasp,
To kill the Ravisher.

Dor.
Thou heardst the Tyrants orders; Guard thy life
When 'tis attack'd, and guard it like a Man.

Seb.
I'm still without thy meaning but I thank thee.

Dor.
Thank me when I ask thanks; thank me with that.

Seb.
Such surly kindness did I never see!

(Dorax to the Captain of his Guards.)
Muza, draw out a file, pick man by man,
Such who dare dye, and dear will sell their death.
Guard him to th'utmost; now conduct him hence,
And treat him as my Person.

Seb.
Something like
That voice methinks I shou'd have somewhere heard:
But floods of woes have hurry'd it far off;
Beyond my kenn of Soul.

[Exit Sebastian with the Soldiers.
Dor.
But I shall bring him back ungrateful Man,
[Solus.
I shall, and set him full before thy sight,
When I shall front thee, like some staring Ghost,
With all my wrongs about me.—What so soon
Return'd? This hast is boding.

Enter to him Emperor, Benducar, Mufti.
Emp.
She's still inexorable, still Imperious;
And loud, as if like Bacchus born in thunder.
Be quick, ye false Physicians of my mind,
Bring speedy Death or Cure.

Bend.
What can be counsell'd while Sebastian lives?
The Vine will cling, while the tall poplar stands:
But that cut down creeps to the next support,
And twines as closely there.

Emp.
That's done with ease, I speak him dead: proceed.

Muf.
Proclaim your Marriage with Almeyda next,
That Civil Wars may cease; this gains the Crowd;
Then you may safely force her to your will:
For People side with violence and injustice,
When done for publick good.

Emp.
Preach thou that doctrine.

Bend.
Th'unreasonable fool has broach'd a truth
[Aside.
That blasts my hopes; but since 'tis gone so far,
He shall divulge Almeyda is a Christian:
If that produce no tumult I despair.

Emp.
Why speaks not Dorax?

Dor.
Because my Soul abhors to mix with him.
Sir, let me bluntly say, you went too far
To trust the Preaching pow'r on State Affairs,
To him or any Heavenly Demagogue.
'Tis a limb lopt from your Prerogative,
And so much of Heav'ns Image blotted from you.

Muf.
Sure thou hast never heard of Holy Men
(So Christians call 'em) fam'd in State Affairs;
Such as in Spain Ximenes, Albornoz,
In England Woolsey; match me these with Laymen.

Dorax.
How you triumph in one or two of these,
Born to be Statesmen, hap'ning to be Church-men:
Thou call'st 'em holy; so their function was;
But tell me, Mufti, which of 'em were Saints?
Next, Sir, to you; the summ of all is this;
Since he claims pow'r from Heav'n, and not from Kings,
When 'tis his int'rest, he can int'rest Heav'n
To preach you down; and Ages oft depend
On hours, uninterrupted, in the Chair.

Emp.
I'll trust his Preaching while I rule his pay.
And I dare trust my Affricans, to hear
Whatever he dare Preach.

Dor.
You know 'em not.
The genius of your Moors is mutiny;
They scarcely want a Guide to move their madness:
Prompt to rebel on every weak pretence,
Blustring when courted, crouching when opprest.
Wise to themselves, and fools to all the World.
Restless in change, and perjur'd to a Proverb.
They love Religion sweetn'd to the sense;
A good, luxurious, palatable faith.
Thus Vice and Godliness, prepost'rous pair,
Ride cheek by joul; but Churchmen hold the Reins,
And, when ere Kings wou'd lower Clergy greatness,
They learn too late what pow'r the Preachers have,
And whose the Subjects are; the Mufti knows it;
Nor dares deny what pass'd betwixt us two.

Emp.
No more; what ere he said was by Command.

Dor.
Why then no more, since you will hear no more;
Some Kings are resolute to their own ruin.

Emp.
Without your medling where you are not ask'd,
Obey your Orders, and dispatch Sebastian.

Dor.
Trust my revenge; be sure I wish him dead.

Emp.
What mean'st thou! what's thy wishing to my will;
Dispatch him, rid me of the Man I loath,

Dor.
I hear you Sir, I'll take my time and do't—

Emp.
Thy time? what's all thy time, what's thy whole life
To my one hour of ease? no more replies,
But see thou do'st it; Or—

Dor.
Choak in that threat: I can say Or, as loud.

Emp.
'Tis well, I see my words have no effect,
But I may send a Message to dispose you.

[Is going off.
Dor.
Expect an answer worthy of that Message.

Muf.
The Prophet ow'd him this:
[Aside.
And thank'd be Heav'n, he has it.

Bend.
By Holy Alha, I conjure you stay,
And judge not rashly of so brave a Man.
(Draws the Emperor aside and whispers him.)
I'll give you reasons why he cannot execute
Your Orders now, and why he will hereafter.

Muf.
Benducar is a fool to bring him off,
[Aside.
I'll work my own revenge, and speedily.

Bend.
The Fort is his, the Soldiers hearts are his;
A thousand Christian Slaves are in the Castle,
Which he can free to reinforce his pow'r;
Your Troops far off, beleaguering Larache,
Yet in the Christians hands.

Emp.
I grant all this;
But grant me he must dye.

Bend.
He shall; by poyson:
'Tis here, the deadly drug prepar'd in powder,
Hot as Hell fire:—then, to prevent his Soldiers
From rising to revenge their Gen'rals death,
While he is struggling with his Mortal pangs,
The Rabble on the sudden may be rais'd
to seize the Castle.

Emp.
Do't; 'tis left to thee.

Bend.
Yet more; but clear your brow; for he observes.

(They whisper again.)
Dor.
What will the Fav'rite prop my falling fortunes,
O Prodigie of Court!

[Aside.
Emperor and Benducar return to Dorax.
Emp.
Your Friend has fully clear'd your Innocence;
I was too hasty to condemn unheard,
And you perhaps too prompt in your replies.
As far as fits the Majesty of Kings,
I ask excuse.

Dor.
I'm sure I meant it well.

Emp.
I know you did:—this to our love renew'd.—

[Emperor drinks.
Benducar fill to Dorax.
[Benducar turns and mixes a powder in it.
Dor.
Let it go round for all of us have need
To quench our heats; 'tis the Kings health Benducar.—
[He drinks.
And I wou'd pledge it though I knew 'twere poyson.

Bend.
Another Bowl, for what the King has touch'd,
[Drinks out of another Bowl.
And you have pledg'd, is sacred to your loves.—

Muf.
Since Charity becomes my calling, thus
Let me provoke your friendship: and heav'n bless it
As I intend it well.—

Drinks; and turning aside pours some drops out of a little Vial into the Bowl; then presents it to Dorax.
Dor.
Heav'n make thee honest,
On that condition we shall soon be friends.—

[Drinks.
Muf.
Yes, at our meeting in another World;
[Aside.
For thou hast drunk thy passport out of this.
Not the Nonacrian fount, nor Lethe's Lake,
Cou'd sooner numb thy nimble faculties
Than this, to sleep eternal.

Emp.
Now farewel Dorax; this was our first quarrel,
And I dare prophesie will prove our last.

Exit Emperor with Benducar and the Mufti.
Dor.
It may be so: I'm strangely discompos'd;
Quick shootings through my limbs, and pricking pains,
Qualms at my heart, Convulsions in my nerves,
Shiv'rings of cold, and burnings of my entrails
Within my little World make medley War,
Lose and regain, beat and are beaten back;
As momentary Victors quit their ground.
Can it be poyson! poyson's of one tenour,
Or hot or cold; this neither, and yet both.
Some deadly Draught, some enemy of life
Boils in my bowels, and works out my Soul.
Ingratitude's the growth of ev'ry Clime;
Affrick, the Scene remov'd, is Portugal.
Of all Court-service learn the common lot;
To day 'tis done, to morrow 'tis forgot.
Oh were that all! my honest Corps must lye
Expos'd to scorn, and publick Infamy:
My shameful Death will be divulg'd alone;
The worth and honour of my Soul unknown.

[Exit.

Scene 2.

Is a Night Scene of the Mufti's Garden where an Arbour is discover'd.
Enter Antonio.
Ant.

She names her self Morayma; the Mufti's only Daughter,
and a Virgin! This is the time and place that
she appointed in her letter, yet she comes not. Why thou
sweet delicious Creature, why to torture me with thy delay!
dar'st thou be false to thy Assignation? What, in the cool
and silence of the night, and to a new Lover? Pox on the
Hypocrite thy Father, for instructing thee so little in the
sweetest point of his Religion. Hark, I hear the rustling of
her Silk Mantle. Now she comes; now she comes; no,
hang't, that was but the whistling of the wind through the
Orange Trees. Now again, I hear the pit a pat of a pretty
foot through the dark Alley: No, 'tis the Son of a Mare
that's broken loose and munching upon the Melons:—Oh
the misery of an expecting Lover! Well I'll e'en despair, go
into my Arbour, and try to sleep; in a dream I shall enjoy
her in despight of her.

[Goes into the Arbour and lyes down.
Enter Johayma wrapt up in a Moorish Mantle.
Joh.

Thus far my love has carry'd me, almost without
my knowledg whither I was going: Shall I go on, shall I
discover my self!—What an injury am I doing to my
old Husband!—Yet what injury, since he's old, and has
three Wives and six Concubines besides me! 'Tis but stealing
my own Tythe from him.

[She comes a little nearer the Arbour.
Antonio
raising himself a little and looking.

At last 'tis she: this is no illusion I am sure; 'tis a true She-devil
of Flesh and Blood; and she cou'd never have taken a
fitter time to tempt me.—

Joh.

He's young and handsome.—

Ant.

Yes, well enough I thank nature.

[Aside.
Joh.

And I am yet neither old nor ugly: sure he will not
refuse me.

Ant.

No, thou mayst pawn thy Maiden-head upon't he
wonnot.

[Aside.
Joh.

The Mufti wou'd feast himself upon other Women,
and keep me fasting.

Ant.

O, the holy Curmudgeon!

[Aside.
Joh.

Wou'd Preach abstinence, and practice luxury! but I
thank my Stars, I have edify'd more by his example than his
precept.

Anton.

Most divinely argu'd; she's the best Casuist in all
Affrick.

[Aside.
He rushes out and embraces her.

I can hold no longer from embracing thee my dear Morayma:
the old unconscionable Whorson thy Father, cou'd he
expect cold chastity from a Child of his begetting?

Joh.

What nonsense do you talk? do you take me for the
Mufti's Daughter?

Ant.

Why are you not Madam?

[throwing off her Barnus.
Joh.

I find you had an appointment with Morayma.

Ant.

By all that's good, the nauseous Wife.

[Aside.
Joh.

What you are confounded and stand mute?

Ant.

Somewhat nonplust I confess; to hear you deny your
name so positively; why are not you Morayma the Mufti's
Daughter? Did not I see you with him, did not he present
me to you? Were you not so charitable as to give me Money?
Ay and to tread upon my foot, and squeeze my hand
too, if I may be so bold to remember you of past favours.

Joh.

And you see I am come to make 'em good, but I am
neither Morayma nor the Mufti's Daughter.

Ant.

Nay, I know not that: but I am sure he is old enough
to be your Father: and either Father, or Reverend Father, I
heard you call him.

Johayma,

Once again, how came you to name Morayma?

Ant.

Another damn'd mistake of mine: For, asking one of my
fellow Slaves, who were the chief Ladies about the house; he
answer'd me Morayma and Johayma; but she it seems is his
Daughter, with a Pox to her, and you are his beloved Wife.

Joh.

Say your beloved Mistris, if you please; for that's the
Title I desire. This Moon-shine grows offensive to my Eyes,
come, shall we walk into the Arbor? There we may rectifie all
mistakes.

Ant.

That's close and dark.

Joh.

And are those faults to Lovers?

Ant.

But there I cannot please my self, with the sight of your
beauty.

Joh.

Perhaps you may do better.

Ant.

But there's not a breath of air stirring.

Joh.

The breath of Lovers is the sweetest air; but you are
fearful.

Ant.

I am considering, indeed, that if I am taken with you.—

Joh.

The best way to avoid it, is to retire, where we may not
be discover'd.

Ant.

Where lodges your Husband?

Joh.

Just against the face of this open Walk.

Ant.

Then he has seen us already, for ought I know.

Joh.

You make so many Difficulties, I fear I am displeasing
to you.

Ant.
aside.

If Morayma comes and takes me in the Arbor with
her, I have made a fine exchange of that Diamond for this
Pebble.

Joh.

You are much fall'n off, let me tell you, from the fury
of your first embrace.

Ant.

I confess, I was somewhat too furious at first, but you
will forgive the transport of my passion; now I have consider'd
it better, I have a qualm of Conscience.

Joh.

Of Conscience! Why, what has Conscience to do with
two young Lovers that have opportunity?

Ant.

Why truly Conscience is something to blame for interposing
in our matters: But how can I help it, if I have a Scruple
to betray my Master?

Joh.

There must be something more in it; for your Conscience
was very quiet when you took me for Morayma.

Ant.

I grant you, Madam, when I took you for his Daughter;
For then I might have made you an honorable amends by Marriage.

Joh.

You Christians are such peeking Sinners, you tremble
at a Shadow in the Moon-shine.

Ant.

And you Affricans are such Termagants, you stop at
nothing. I must be plain with you, you are married, and to
a Holy Man, the Head of your Religion: Go back to your
Chamber, go back, I say, and consider of it for this night; as
I will do on my part: I will be true to you, and invent all the
Arguments I can to comply with you; and who knows, but at
our next meeting, the sweet Devil may have more power over
me: I am true flesh and blood, I can tell you that for your
comfort.

Joh.

Flesh without blood I think thou art; or if any, 'tis as
cold as that of Fishes. But I'll teach thee, to thy cost, what
Vengeance is in store for refusing a Lady, who has offer'd thee
her Love:—Help, Help, there; will no body come to my
assistance?

Ant.

What do you mean, Madam, for Heaven's sake peace;
your Husband will hear you; think of your own danger, if
you will not think of mine.

Joh.

Ingrateful Wretch, thou deserv'st no pity: Help, Help,
Husband, or I shall be ravish'd: The Villain will be too strong
for me. Help, help, for pity of a poor distressed Creature.

Ant.

Then I have nothing but impudence to assist me: I must
drown her clamor what e'er comes on't.

He takes out his Flute, and plays as loud as he can possibly, and she continues crying out.
Enter the Mufti in his Night-gown, and two Servants.
Mufti,

O thou Villain, what horrible impiety art thou committing?
What ravishing the Wife of my Bosom? Take him

away, ganch him, impale him, rid the World of such a
Monster.

[Servants seize him.
Ant.

Mercy, dear Master, Mercy: Hear me first, and after,
if I have deserved hanging, spare me not; What have you seen
to provoke you to this cruelty?

Mufti,

I have heard the out-crys of my Wife; the bleatings
of the poor innocent Lamb: Seen nothing, say'st thou? If I see
the Lamb lye bleeding, and the Butcher by her with his Knife
drawn and bloody, is not that evidence sufficient of the Murther?
I come too late, and the Execution is already done.

Ant.

Pray think in reason, Sir, is a Man to be put to death
for a similitude? No Violence has been committed; none intended:
The Lamb's alive; and if I durst tell you so, no more
a Lamb than I am a Butcher.

Joh.

How's that, Villain, dar'st thou accuse me?

Ant.

Be patient Madam, and speak but truth, and I'll do any
thing to serve you: I say again, and swear it too, I'll do any
thing to serve you.

Joh.
aside.

I understand him; but I fear, 'tis now too late to
save him:—Pray hear him speak, Husband; perhaps he
may say something for himself; I know not.

Mufti,

Speak thou, has he not violated my Bed and thy
Honor?

Joh.

I forgive him freely; for he has done nothing: What
he will do hereafter, to make me satisfaction, himself best knows.

Ant.

Any thing, any thing, sweet Madam: I shall refuse no
drudgery.

Muf.

But, did he mean no mischief? Was he endeavouring
nothing?

Joh.

In my Conscience, I begin to doubt he did not.

Muf.

'Tis impossible: Then what meant all those out-crys?

Joh.

I heard Musick in the Garden, and at an unseasonable
time of night; and I stole softly out of my Bed, as imagining
it might be he.

Muf.

How's that Johayma? Imagining it was he, and yet
you went?

Joh.

Why not, my Lord? Am not I the Mistris of the
Family? And is it not my place to see good Orders kept in it?
I thought he might have allur'd some of the Shee-slaves to him;
and was resolv'd to prevent what might have been betwixt him
and them; when on the sudden he rush'd out upon me, caught
me in his arms, with such a fury.—

Muf.

I have heard enough, away with him.—

Joh.

Mistaking me, no doubt, for one of his fellow Slaves:
With that, affrighted as I was, I discover'd my self, and cry'd
aloud: But as soon as ever he knew me, the Villain let me go,
and I must needs say, he started back, as if I were some Serpent;
and was more afraid of me than I of him.

Muf.

O thou corrupter of my Family, that's cause enough of
death; once again, away with him.

Joh.

What, for an intended Trespass? No harm has been
done, whatever may be. He cost you five hundred Crowns
I take it.—

Muf.

Thou say'st true, a very considerable Sum: He shall not
dye, tho he had committed folly with a Slave; 'tis too much to
lose by him.

Ant.

My only fault has ever been to love playing in the
dark, and the more she cry'd, the more I play'd; that it might
be seen I intended nothing to her.

Muf.

To your Kennel, Sirrah, mortifie your flesh, and consider
in whose Family you are.

Joh.

And one thing more; remember from henceforth to obey
better.

Muf.
aside.

For all her smoothness, I am not quite cur'd of my
Jealousie; but I have thought of a way that will clear my
doubts.

[Exit Mufti with Johayma and Servants.
Ant.

I am mortify'd sufficiently already, without the help of
his ghostly Counsel: Fear of Death has gone farther with me
in two Minutes, than my Conscience wou'd have gone in two
Months. I find my self in a very dejected conditon, all over
me; poor Sin lyes dormant, Concupiscence is retir'd to his winter

quarters; and if Morayma shou'd now appear, I say no more,
but alas for her and me!

(Morayma comes out of the Arbour; she steals behind him, and claps him on the back.)
Morayma,

And if Morayma shou'd appear, as she does appear,
alas you say for her and you!

Antonio,

Art thou there, my sweet temptation! my Eyes,
my Life, my Soul, my all!

Morayma,

A mighty Complement, when all these, by your
own Confession, are just nothing.

Ant.

Nothing, till thou cam'st to new create me; thou dost not
know the power of thy own Charms: let me embrace thee, and
thou shalt see how quickly I can turn wicked.

Morayma
stepping back.

Nay, if you are so dangerous, 'tis best
keeping you at a distance; I have no mind to warm a frozen Snake
in my bosom; he may chance to recover, and sting me for my
pains.

Ant.

Consider what I have suffer'd for thy sake already; and
make me some amends: two disappointments in a night, O cruel
Creature!

Mor.

And you may thank your self for both: I came eagerly
to the Charge, before my time, through the back walk behind
the Arbour; and you, like a fresh-water Soldier, stood guarding
the Pass before: if you miss'd the Enemy, you may thank
your own dulness.

Anton.

Nay, if you will be using stratagems, you shall give me
leave to make use of my advantages, now I have you in my
power: we are fairly met; I'll try it out, and give no quarter.

Mor.

By your favour, Sir, we meet upon treaty now, and not
upon defiance.

Ant.

If that be all, you shall have Carte blanche immediately;
for I long to be ratifying.

Mor.

No, now I think on't, you are already enter'd into
Articles with my Enemy Johayma: Any thing to serve you Madam;
I shall refuse no drudgery: whose words were those

Gentleman? was that like a Cavalier of honour?

Anton.

Not very heroick; but self preservation is a point above
Honour and Religion too—Antonio was a Rogue I
must confess; but you must give me leave to love him.

Mor.

To beg your life so basely; and to present your Sword
to your Enemy; Oh Recreant!

Ant.

If I had died honourably, my fame indeed wou'd have
sounded loud, but I shou'd never have heard the blast: Come,
don't make your self worse natur'd than you are: to save my life,
you wou'd be content I shou'd promise any thing.

Mor.

Yes, if I were sure you wou'd perform nothing.

Ant.

Can you suspect I wou'd leave you for Johayma?

Mor.

No; but I can expect you wou'd have both of us: Love is
covetous, I must have all of you; heart for heart is an equal truck.
In short, I am younger; I think handsomer; and am sure I love you
better, she has been my step-mother these fifteen years: you think
that's her face you see, but 'tis only a dawb'd Vizard: she wears an
Armour of proof upon't: an inch thick of Paint, besides the
Wash: her Face is so fortifi'd that you can make no approaches to
it, without a Shovel. But for her constancy, I can tell you for your
comfort, she will love till death, I mean till yours: for when she
has worn you out, she will certainly dispatch you to another world,
for fear of telling tales; as she has already serv'd three Slaves, your
Predecessors of happy memory in her favours. She has made my
pious Father a three pil'd Cuckold to my knowledg: and now
she wou'd be robbing me of my single Sheep too.

Ant.

Prithee prevent her then; and at least take the shearing of
me first.

Mor.

No; I'll have a Butchers Pen'worth of you; first secure
the Carcass, and then take the fleece into the bargain.

Ant.

Why sure, you did not put your self and me to all this
trouble, for a dry come off: by this hand—(taking it:)

Mor.

Which you shall never touch; but upon better assurances
than you imagine.

(Pulling her hand away.)
Ant.

I'll marry thee, and make a Christian of thee thou pretty
damn'd Infidel.

Mor.

I mean you shall: but no earnest, till the bargain be made
before witness: there's love enough to be had, and as much as

you can turn you to; never doubt it, but all upon honourable
terms.

Ant.

I vow and swear by Love; and he's a Deity in all Religions.

Mor.

But never to be trusted in any: he has another name too,
of a worse sound. Shall I trust an Oath, when I see your Eyes languishing,
your Cheeks flushing, and can hear your heart throbbing?
no, I'll not come near you: He's a foolish Physitian who will feel
the pulse of a Patient, that has the Plague-spots upon him.

Ant.

Did one ever hear a little Moppet, argue so perversly against
so good a Cause! Come, prithee, let me anticipate a little
of my Revenue.

Mor.

You wou'd feign be fingring your Rents before-hand;
but that makes a man an ill Husband ever after. Consider, Marriage
is a painful Vocation, as you shall prove it, manage your Incomes
as thriftily as you can, you shall find a hard task on't,
to make even at the years end, and yet to live decently.

Ant.

I came with a Christian intention, to revenge my self upon
thy Father; for being the head of a false Religion.

Mor.

And so you shall; I offer you his Daughter for your Second:
but since you are so pressing, meet me under my Window,
to morrow night, body for body, about this hour; I'll slip down
out of my Lodging, and bring my Father in my hand.

Ant.

How, thy Father!

Mor.

I mean all that's good of him; his Pearls, and Jewels, his
whole contents, his heart, and Soul; as much as ever I can carry.
I'll leave him his Alchoran; that's revenue enough for him: every
page of it is Gold and Diamonds. He has the turn of an Eye, a
demure Smile, and a godly Cant, that are worth Millions to
him. I forgot to tell you, that I will have a Slave prepar'd at
the Postern gate, with two Horses ready sadled: no more, for I
fear, I may be miss'd; and think I hear 'em calling for me,—if
you have constancy and Courage.—

Ant.

Never doubt it: and love, in abundance to wander with
thee all the World over.

Mor.

The value of twelve hundred thousand Crowns in a Casket!—

Ant.

A heavy burden Heaven knows! but we must pray for patience
to support it.

Mor.

Besides a willing Titt that will venture her Corps with
you:—Come, I know you long to have a parting blow with me;
and therefore to shew I am in Charity—

(He kisses her.)
Ant.

Once more, for pity; that I may keep the flavour upon
my lips till we meet again.

Mor.

No; frequent Charities make bold Beggars: and besides I
have learnt of a Falconer, never to feed up a Hawk when I wou'd
have him fly: that's enough—but if you will be nibling,
here's a hand to stay your stomach.

(Kissing her hand.)
Anton.
Thus Conquer'd Infidels, that Wars may cease,
Are forc'd to give their hands, and sign the Peace.

Mor.
Thus Christians are outwitted by the Foe;
You had her in your Pow'r, and let her go.
If you release my hand, the fault's not mine;
You shou'd have made me seal, as well as sign.

She runs off, he follows her to the door; then comes back again, and goes out at the other.