 | Almyna : Or, The Arabian Vow |  |
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ACT. III.
SCENE. I.
Enter the Vizier, Alhador, and Almyna.Viz.
Base, inconstant, treacherous Abdalla!
How cou'd Zoradia's worth, deserve thy Scorn?
How cou'd a Heart like hers be 'ere despised?
Such Beauty, Youth, and melting Tenderness.
Or, why must I, not seek, or hope redress.
Because thou art our mighty Sultan's Heir?
Shou'd Birth, or Honours, privilege a Baseness?
Old as I am, my Arm in such a cause,
Can n'ere want Vigour, when it strikes with Justice.
Dye then betrayer, sink with all thy Guilt.
I'le plunge in after, thousand Fathoms down,
To make my Vengeance sure; nor shalt thou fly
To any Sanctuary, where I'le not follow.
Not Mahomet's Tomb! thy mighty Brother's Love,
Nor his unbounded Pow'r, shall be a refuge from me.
Alm.
Dry up your Tears, and smooth that furrow'd Brow.
Passions, my Lord, but seldom mend a Wrong;
Where Anger ends, Repentance still begins!
If you wou'd calmly argue, I might hope
To point a means, to give the best redress.
Viz.
How durst the Royal Villain, once presume,
To dally with the Honour of my House?
Was't not enough that he himself was base?
But he must make me partner in his Guilt,
With me reward his falseness to Zoradia.
With thy possession! Oh, 'tis much, too much!
Surely thus fir'd, it were no hard attempt,
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Ransack the Stores of Lightning, Storms and Thunder!
Pluck the Bolts hissing, from the Forger's hand!
And hurl them glowing, on the Traytor's head.
Alm.
You have already been in part reveng'd,
Just at the Altar, dashing all his hopes;
He suffers more from Grief, than you from Rage:
But if we Love and Pity poor Zoradia,
'Tis not his Death, but Change will be her Cure.
The means how to recal the Wanderer's heart.
And give it back to her's, must be our Search.
Take by my Marriage, with another Lord,
The means of ever hoping from the Prince,
The Consequence is plain, he turns to her,
With all his Charms, and Tenderness returns,
And you, and she, may yet be Bless'd as ever.
Viz.
Wisdom is in thy heart, but Rage in mine.
I am not fit to hear, tho' thou to speak;
Unless to Vengeance, thou coud'st tune thy Voice.
Alm.
And yet his Crime is but Inconstancy,
A trifle of a Vice in Men's Esteem:
Because so natural to all the Sex;
Inconstancy, the practice of their Lives.
Sure from each other, may expect Indulgence.
'Tis we that ought to grieve, to rage, to dye,
When by such common Frauds, abus'd, forsaken!
We that want Reason's force, to check the Passions.
Expecting all things, from their Vows, and flat'ry
In nothing answer'd, but in Disappointment.
But I to Glory have resign'd my Life,
That Spiritual Pride of Noble hearts!
And not to be as Love, Cloy'd with Possession.
Glory the strongest passion of great Minds!
Which none but Souls enlarg'd, can entertain
Uncommon, wonderful, and Excellent!
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Our admiration, Homage, and Applause.
Alh.
Almyna, Whether wou'st thou; thou'rt transported?
Alm.
What Raptures, must those happy Spirits feel
Whose great Renowns, from God-like Deeds perform'd,
Sounds thro' the Spacious Globe? They who contemn
'Even Death for Glory, have made a Nation bless'd.
Oh, what wou'd I not do! for such a Triumph?
Sure our great Prophet, has enlarg'd my Soul;
I speak from him inspir'd, it must be so:
I feel the Sacred Glowings in my Bosom,
And am Devoted all, to Death, or Empire!
Viz.
What means my Daughter?
Alm.
When by great actions we resign our Breaths.
'Tis not to dye, but more immortally to Live?
Our days shou'd not by Length, be numbred o're,
But by the Heroick Deeds, we have perform'd!
How shall my Name, to After-Ages flourish,
If I succeed in this exalted purpose?
How will the noble ardour be recorded,
That call'd me forth, to save my Country's ruin?
Or, if I Dye, my Memory shall Live!
To After-ages live, and live with Glory!
Viz.
Thou dost, indeed, appear, as if inspir'd,
Thy Form and Voice enlarg'd, thy Eyes strike fire,
A glory shines around thy lovely Face,
Something Divine, that gives my Soul an awe.
Speak on Prophetick Maid, thy Father hears.
Alm.
Since by your means, he makes his fatal Marriages,
I kneel, my Lord, and beg you to procure me,
The Honour of our mighty Sultan's Bed!
Start not at my Request, it comes from Heav'n,
From thence derived, to save the innocent Lives
Of Virgin-daughters, and their Parent's tears.
To stop the Course of such Barbarity;
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Thro' this great Empire hourly dread his Choice.
Viz.
No more, Almyna, thou art mad, indeed.
What Enthusiastick Fury does possess thee?
What Vanity? What Folly? Or, what Pride?
What Hopes hast thou, to make a Convert here?
Take heed, young Maid, thou run not on thy fate,
And meet the after-Curse, due to self-Murther.
Are there more Charms in thee than those have dy'd?
Already perish'd, by our Sultan's Vow?
Has he not sworn, by his Imperial Soul,
By Mahomet, by all things binding here,
Never to sleep, a second time, with any?
Alm.
That Vow, my Lord, I must Dissolve or Dye?
Oh, Uncle, you have been my sacred Guide!
To harmonious Glory, tuned the listning Soul:
Taught me that Death, with Honour shou'd be sought,
Rather than Life with indolence, or pleasure!
Led me out of that Track of other Ladies,
Whom idle Education often make,
An useless Burden to Creation!
Where Vanity and Folly, bear the Sway,
And leaves no Wish, for any Deeds of Glory.
Alh.
I did, my Child, and now with Pride receive,
The true Reward, due to my Earnest Cares.
Thou art from Fate ordain'd to do its work,
And make a Convert, of our mighty Sultan.
I saw thee, in the Visions of the Night,
With Royal Robes, and an Imperial Crown.
Deal Honours to the prostrate Croud about thee,
Almanzor too, adoring of thy Vertue.
Cry'd here's the End of Cruelty, and Blood!
Here's an Attonement made for all the Sex!
No longer let their trembling Virgins fear,
Here ends our Vow! for here Almyna's Reign begins!
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But ne're before reported, therefore, Brother,
Fear not, but follow what the Maid Inspires!
Viz.
O holy Frenzy! Reverend Madness!
Thou knowest not what it is to be a Father;
Think! oh, with Horror, think! when I'm Condemn'd
To plunge my Poynard in Almyna's Brest.
Or draw the fatal Bow-string to the Head,
That I shall more than dye, to see her dying.
Alm.
Fear not, my Lord, the Pow'rs divine, and good,
That gave the Inspiration, will the means,
By which to save their Fears, and guard my Life.
I go undaunted to the glorious Charge,
Conscious of innate Succours from above,
From thence my Words will have accomplish'd force,
My Arguments their weight, my Voice such sweetness,
That you shall live to bless your happy Child,
The instrument, of such a glorious Work!
Viz.
Oh, never! never! can I bear the Doubt,
The racking pains, of that incertain Night.
Ne're Live to see the Dawning of that Morn,
That may to Murder, give my Daughter up.
When the Deluded Queen, in vain shall cry:
(By Vanity, and Pride! and hopes Deceiv'd.)
In vain, alas, shall to her Father Cry;
For but an Hour of Life, one Ray of Hope!
Oh, how shall I then curse thy Woman's folly!
Curse my own want of Power, that cannot give,
What thou with dying Prayers, and Tears, in vain shall ask.
Alm.
Oh, were it so! I cou'd not be so weak:
Cou'd not emplore, a poor reprieve of Breath:
With pleasure I shall lay the Burthen down,
Well satisfy'd, (tho' with my vain Endeavours)
To think I had attempted something Noble.
But pardon me, my Lord, if I must speak,
'Twou'd be but vain, shou'd you deny my sute,
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I must my self kneel at the Sultan's Feet,
Unintroduced by you, if you refuse.
Alh.
Be not so obstinate least Heav'n prove angry,
And snatch, at once, the Opportunity
That makes Almyna and Zoradia blest.
Nay, gives you noble Vengeance on Abdalla;
Abdalla, who so late and basely wrong'd you.
Think but of that, and follow me, my Lord;
Or to the Sultan I uncall'd must go,
To do the work of fate, and our Almyna's.
Viz.
The expiring Soul, rekindles at that touch,
Abdella's Name like wild-fire blows me up.
'Twill be Revenge in kind, so to deceive.
As he Zoradia's, we his hopes will dash.
Lead on my Brother, I no more will think,
If 'tis by Fate decreed, Fate cannot be prevented.
I'm but a Tool in the great Work-man's hand,
And must not ask, why to this use imploy'd.
Almyna dyes, if it was so ordain'd,
And vain, will my Endeavours, be to save her.
But, oh, thou great disposer of our Lives!
That sees with what a tenderness, I Love my Daughter.
If a fond Father's care has merit towards thee?
Guard, Guard their early Vertue from Distruction!
Let 'em in length of Days, and Honour shine,
And all the Glory, all the Praise be thine.
[Exit Viz and Alh.
Alm.
Oh, Glory! thou whose Vot'ry most I seem,
And thou, O Love! whose Vot'ry most I am;
Unite your Rival Pow'rs, and give Success.
If thus unsought, I yield a Virgin heart,
Almanzor's noble Form commands excuse.
His Valour, Birth, his each Heroick Vertue!
A heart incompass'd round with such Defence,
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Shine out my Stars, auspicious as ye may,
I do not ask a long, but glorious Day.
Enter Abdalla and Zoradia.
Zor.
Oh, where shall I begin! on whom exclaim,
On false Abdalla, or a falser Sister!
See where she stands, unmov'd amidst her Crimes,
Her thousand Perjuries, to poor Zoradia.
Tell me Betrayer, if for shame thou canst?
If yet thy Guilt have left thee use of Words?
Why to my Father, and this Traytor Prince,
Thou hast disclos'd thy Dying Sister's weakness.
Abd.
Because 'tis me she hates with such an Air.
Such a determin'd force of Death and Scorn.
That rather than not give Abdalla up,
A Martyr to her Pride, and his Despair:
She wou'd Devote the World, and thee, to ruin!
Zor.
Did'st thou not swear not to reveal this Secret?
By Mahomet thou swor'st; and he has heard!
In Heav'n, thy broken Vow recorded stands,
A Monumental Breach of Friendship.
Look thou, fair perjur'd One, to meet from thence,
A sure Reward for this notorious Crime!
Alm.
By this, then, thou may'st know my Love to thee;
Have I done Wrong, am I a VVretch forsworn?
Have I betray'd the Secrets of my Friend?
Provok'd the avenging Pow'rs to punish Falshood!
Gather'd round my devoted Head, such Plagues,
As surely bursts on, will fall perjur'd Ones.
Have I done this, and knowing that I did it
Without a Cause, a tender friendly Cause?
Was it not Love to thee, that has induced me;
Love to thy precious Life, thy Peace of Mind?
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Woud'st not be fond of Life, at such a price?
To have this charming Prince, return thy Doatage!
To make thee blest as thou hast been, to make him true!
To make him Lord of thee, and thou of him!
Zor.
Ay, that were Life indeed; oh, it were more;
Why dost thou drive me back, to former Joys?
Why bring those Images of Bliss before me?
Those Dazling Hours; those most triumphant Moments?
When this dear Youth, wou'd weep his Passion to me.
With killing Eyes survey me o're and o're,
And by the Genious of the Grove protest,
That I was more to him, then words cou'd utter?
'Till every particle of Life, with pleasure mingled!
'Till every conscious Sense, with Passion trembled,
His faultring Tongue, no more cou'd Lisp its Tale!
His swimming Eyes alone, cou'd best explain;
Unutterable Love, unutterable Transport!
Abd.
Oh! why dost thou thus ruin me, Zoraida?
Why, to this cruel Maid report my Change?
It cou'd never be, to thee such fondness!
'Tis true my busy heart, averse to Idleness;
Careless, and free, from any racking Passions;
From thy unconquer'd Charms sought some Imployment
We unexperienc'd both, might think it Love:
But, oh, too strong was the Convincement here,
When in reallity I grew inflamed.
My heart transfixt by an unerring Dart,
Felt other Tortures, other Raptures for her;
Felt Pangs unknown, when ever she was absent;
Felt Joys unpriz'd whenever she was present.
The springing Blood, bounded with new Delight!
New, strange, and strong Desires, possest my Soul!
Such Raptures cou'd be felt but for the first!
I was not! Cou'd not, be inflam'd before!
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Zor.
What then is earnest, if thy Vows were jests?
I did not think, Betrayer, to upbraid thee.
Did not intend so far to stoop my Nature,
As once to show the Villain to thy sight.
For I so well, so truly Lov'd Abdella,
To Doat upon my Wrongs in silence;
Resolv'd to Dye, and not reveal thy Falseness,
Had not Almyna's Cunning catch'd the Secret.
But since with so much art thou can'st Deny,
The Passion thou did'st once pretend to feel:
Let me a little but reproach thy Mind,
Let me a little but awake Remembrance;
If yet thou hast a Memory remaining
Of me, or thy self, of Truth, or holy Vows?
Abd.
No more unhappy Maid; I cannot bear it.
Dost thou accuse my Change, accuse the Fates!
By strong Impulse they draw, and we must follow!
O, how much better had it been for both;
That thy unvalu'd Love, I cou'd have answer'd?
That I for thee, cou'd still have kept my heart,
Where tenderness and truth is to be found:
Than have bestow'd it, on that murdering Fair,
That most inexorable Maid, that rock of Scorn,
Where all thy Peace, where all my Truth was lost.
Zor.
Oh, I've a Heart all tenderness for thee,
For at thy Sight I lose my Resolution:
My Pride and Anger melts, I lose my self,
And can no longer viewing thee, complain.
Methinks 'tis easier Dying, than Displeasing,
Ev'n now I weep for Woes, that are not mine:
For thine I weep, for thou art most unblest;
Dishonour'd, false, belov'd, and yet unloving;
Wounded by her, and yet for her despairing!
And yet, as thou hast once already chang'd,
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But my unequall'd flame can n'ere expire.
But with the Principles that gave it light expire.
Alm.
Stand'st thou unmov'd, before such melting Sorrows?
Art thou untouch'd, thou false one, at her Woes?
How dar'st thou once upbraid me cruel Man,
When thou with greater Scorn, dost treat my Sister?
What Heart but thine, cou'd be obdurate here?
For thee she Dyes, even now before thee Dyes;
The vital Oyl, should furnish Life is wanting.
Her fainting Beauties, soon will drop before thee!
Soon fall a Sacrifice to thy Inconstancy!
Guess thou, how I shall treat Zoradia's Murderer;
When I with rage and horror shall behold thee:
Oh, no! I n'ere shall bear to see the more,
Eternal Banishment, and Hate must be thy Lot;
Eternal Grief! and Misery be mine!
Zor.
Oh, speak not so unkindly to the Prince,
For see, he almost sinks at thy Displeasure.
I do forgive him all, and so maist thou;
'Tis me he has offended, but not thee.
For by his Scorn of mine, thy Charms are justify'd!
Abd.
Rather wound me still, with thy Reproaches.
Those I can better bear, than Tenderness.
Esteem and Pity, tears my aking Heart.
I wou'd be just, I wou'd be true as ever;
I wou'd adore no Beauty above yours;
Wou'd center in these Arms, my Hopes, and Joys;
Did it depend on me, I wou'd be thine.
Oh, seek Zoradia, seek this wandering heart!
Employ thy once Successful Charms, to find it:
And let thy Virgin Modesty, permit me;
Thus on thy breast, to wish it were thy Convert.
Search if there be Intelligence of Eyes.
Prove if it hovers on my Lips by Kisses;
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Oh, press me closer to thy fragrant Bosom!
Thou dost not aim to Charm, as thou wert won't!
Poynard me quickly! poynard me, Zoradia!
My traytor Heart, rebounds not at thy touch;
A cold dead Lump, I feel it in my breast:
Methinks I have my Sister, in my Arms;
It wo'nt be, thou hast my Tears, my Pity;
But every other Passion is an others.
Alm.
Alas, my Lord! the poor Zoradia sinks.
Help me, support, and bear her to the Sofa.
Barbarian, now thy Wishes are compleat,
Thy Pride accomplisht, for she Dyes before thee!
Punish him Gods, punish his stubborn Heart:
Let him in kind, suffer what he inflicts,
Still undesir'd, may he be still desiring.
My scorn, my Hatred, and his own Despair!
Eternal Grief! and gnawing Anguish, haunt him!
Rend him ye Passions, tear his peace of Soul,
Furies arise! and seize him with Distraction!
No, let him not have so great Relief as madness,
But as my Rage, may every Sense be perfect.
Long, long in Tortures, let the Tyrant live!
And may they find no end, till I forgive him.
Abd.
If thus inrag'd, be it against thy self,
The beautious Cause, not me, 'tis thou shoud'st curse.
Curse fair Almyna, Curse her murthering Eyes,
Those bright Incendiaries, those Lights to Ruin,
Those wandering Fires, misleaders of my Truth.
Curse thy transcendant Charms, those Mines of Joy,
Which thy eternal Slave thro' Miseries unthought,
With never ceasing Toil, must drudge to reach.
Alm.
Oh, may they wither first, before thee, here.
By Lightning scorch'd, by Thunder quite defac'd;
Blasted by Death, rather than touch'd by thee.
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Oh, cease your Rage, and lead me to some Gloom,
Where the remainder of my Hours may waste,
Quiet and Dark, benighted as my Hopes.
The Baleful Yew Tree, and the Mournful Cypress,
(Fit Emblems of my Sorrow) form the Shade,
On wither'd Turf, or Mossy roots extend me,
There I in Death, dear Youth, will pardon all,
If thy Compassion will but stay to wait it.
That my last Tears may fall on thy lov'd Bosom,
My last sad sighs, be breath'd within thy hearing,
Nor think the Penance much, that I enjoyn;
Can'st thou do less, for one expiring for thee,
In all her hopes, in all her Bloom expiring?
Take the cold Virgin then into thy Arms,
Drop but one Tear, upon her stiffning Clay.
And say (tho' late) that thou hast pity for me.
My soul well pleas'd shall Change its Habitation,
And still preserve for thee, its doating fondness.
Try to Inspire from thence, Almyna's Breast,
With my eternal Tenderness and Truth.
That thou maist say, none e're was Lov'd like thee;
Nor none by Love, so greatly wrong'd as me.
[Exeunt Omnes.
[Zor. led by Alm. and Abdalla.
| Almyna : Or, The Arabian Vow | |