 | The Faithful Bride of Granada |  |
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ACT III.
SCENE A Mosque.The Tomb of Ozmin.
Enter Abdolin and Selim.
Abd.
The Solemn sadness of this pompous Woe,
Spreads a dark Gloom upon our Bridegrooms Joy:
In Despair he mourns; but I have Comfort
Amidst this Ruine, and this Scene of Death.
Love whispers now, that fair one shall be mine;
My Soul assents to the kind presaging Hope,
And secret Pleasures fill my beating Heart.
Selim.
From Death, the most detested Foe of Nature,
Can Hope, Life's precious Cordial, rise?
Can the fantastick Dreams of Love create
A Joy so vain, as built on certain ruine?
Abd.
Yes, the certain ruine of my curst Rival
Leaves the beautious Mourner to another Fate.
The furious Abenede will never yield,
Nor give the Daughter of her murder'd Lord
To one, whom more than Hell, she hates and loaths.
Zelinda now is left to her Command;
And that way my Access is easy made,
Our Friendship, and our Line the same; the same
Mortal Hate we bear to the Abencerragoes.
Selim.
O Pity a Prince of the Zegree Name
Shou'd be a Woman's Slave; Woman, the Bar
To our Ambition; all our Noble Deeds,
Our Mother's softness, still taints the Hero;
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And laughs ev'n at the Wisdom of a Demy-God,
What might besieg'd Granada hope from you?
What might insulting Spain, with Terror dread,
Did not love possess your Soul, and every thought?
Abd.
It do's, it shall; Glory and Fame must wait
Till that much dearer Charm is satisfi'd.
Then will I rouze, shake off the weaker Fires,
And burn in Martial Heats alone!
(Flourish Musick.
Cease we now this talk; see the Rites begin;
The Ceremony past, proclaim our Will aloud.
Enter Abenede, Zelinda in Mourning attended: Abinomin, and several Prisoners: Oliman, Abass, and, many Slaves: Solemn Musick, Drums, Trumpets: After the Musick.
Abene.
Oh Prophet! Let the Widows Prayer ascend;
Accept these our Imperfect pious Rites,
And grant the Spirit of my murder'd Lord
Eternal Rest, Eternal Lawrel wreaths;
Give the Joys our Acoran has promis'd,
All but Immortal Love, and that reserve,
Till I shall find the God-like Shade; Till I
Shall bless his Aireal Form with lasting Joys,
With never dying Charms; Oh my Ozmin!
Abd.
Laments are vain; let Vengeance take its way.
Zel.
A Sigh reaches the high Arch of Heaven
Soon as loudest Cries. Hear then, my Father,
From thy sacred Seat, behold my Sorrows,
View the sad Heart that swells for thy dear loss,
And bursts with silent Woe.
Ol.
Here Kneels, of the Noble Race of Ozmin,
One who lov'd, who serv'd, and honour'd him,
(Kneeling.
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And wet the Hero's empty Shrine,
Abd.
Enough, my Friends, of fruitless Grief; Proceed;
And let our purpos'd Justice streight begin.
Herald proclaim.—
Herald.
Hear the Will of our great Granada's Prince,
Whosoever can a true discovery make
Of Lord Ozmin's Murder, shall streight receive
His own demanded Summe for a Reward,
If joyn'd in the bloody Fact, full pardon.
Abass.
Ha! said he, Pardon! Is pardon promis'd?
Ol.
It is, what ails this Slave to tremble so?
Abd.
Speak, knowst thou ought?
Aben.
Oh! quick disclose the horrid Deed!
Freedom and Pardon waits on thy Confession;
Speak thro' all thy trembling Fears,
Speak thou Wretch—
Thou cou'dst but be an Instrument alone,
Speak, and command Forgiveness.
Abass.
Oh dismal Load of too depressing Guilt!
Let my sincerce discovery of the Truth,
In part discharge my Duty; what Ozmin's Murder,
And my Conscience ne're cou'd do,
This mournful Widows Tears at last has done:
Remorse has seiz'd me, and too late Repentance:
For Oh, the fatal Deed none can recal!
Zelin.
Oh Heavens! among us is there one so vile,
So bold a Slave in acting Wickedness,
As dare fulfil a Crime so black as this?
Abass.
There is, there is; nay, this place contains
A thing more vile, more horrid far than me;
Yet he, with unchang'd Cheeks the Prologue hears,
Of that dire Story, which will taint his Name,
His noble Blood and Family for ever.
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Point at the Villain; nor let his Looks, or Power—
Awe or prevent thy Purpose.
Aben.
Hasten to shew him to my impatient Fury.
Abass.
It's Lord Abinomin!
Abin.
Ha!
Aben.
Hold! dare not to interrupt him: Go on.
Abass.
'Twas that base Lord, who with invenom'd Breath,
Perswaded us to perpetrate this Deed.
He tempted us, with large and great Rewards;
And, led by him, disguis'd with poyson'd Daggers,
By most unequal force, brave Ozmin fell.
His cautious Fears dispatch'd the other Slaves.
Me he preserv'd, in hopes that future Service,
And future Mischiefs shou'd employ my Hands;
But an inlightning Ray from Mahomet,
Has turn'd my horrid Purposes, and brought
Repentance, which possess now my Soul.
Abin.
Ye heavenly Powers, d'ye hear the Traytor?
And dare he speak this in your aweful Temple!
Nor is there no avenging Bolt, no Power
Will strike the Villain, and defend the wrong'd?
Zelin.
None, my Abinomin. Oh! hard fated pair!
Oh! miserable me!
Aben.
What says our Daughter?
Zelin.
Alas! What boots it longer to conceal
My Immense Portion of unbounded Woe?
My Husband of my Fathers Blood accus'd!
Oh! shocking Blow; Oh Fate! it is too much,
Too much for me to bear. Oh! Oh!—
(Faints.
Aben.
Hence, to thy Grave be gone, there hide thy Shame;
No helping Hand of mine shall bring thee back—
To hated Life—
Abin.
Oh! Rear thy drooping Head, my dying Fair;
To these who are Confederates in my Ruine
I'll make no Answer—
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I'm Innocent: swear that I lov'd your Father
With more eager Love than all
These outward Mourners, these dark Designers,
These Plotters!
Close not thy Eyes in Death, O my Zelinda!
Let them shine forth when mine are sunk for ever.
Abd.
Whom wou'dst thou injure with a Villains Name?
On the base Murderer will stick the stain,
And on thy black Accomplices.
Abin.
Yes, they are all Infernal plotting Villains,
Who dare accuse me of so damn'd a Falshhood.
Abd.
Ha! Traitor! the leading Circumstance is plain,
Thy treasonable bold attempt to gain.
This precious Jewel of the Zegree-Line
Declares thee guilty; but by our Prophet,
Thou shalt repent this rashness: Not that fam'd Hero,
Who aim'd at the Imperial VVife of Jove,
Shall dearer pay for his presumptuous Fact;
You shall no longer view thy fancy'd Treasure,
And in Revenge, the Thunderer I'll out-do.
Abin.
Thy Vengeance! VVhat art thou?
Princes no longer bear that Character
Than they maintain the Attributes of Justice:
Passion still ranks them with the vilest Slaves,
And shews too plain, some private guilt, some baseness,
VVhich but glanc'd at by the smallest touch,
Gives the ungovernable Monsters starts
Of madness—
Abd.
'Tis thou art mad; Chains! Fetters! Dungeons! dark
As thy own Bosom, even black as Hell,
Be now thy Doom, till sacred abus'd Justice
Drags thee to Racks, and unthought of Horrors!
Abin.
If thou, Abdolin, art of noble Blood,
If thou art ought but empty Pageant shew,
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A perfect stranger to Imperial Virtues,
Disclose it now, lend me a Sword, that like
A Soldier, I may face this accusation.
I will forget my Birth was next to Royal,
And in this Cause encounter that base Slave.
Him, and Fetters on, let 'em come all,
Bold in my Innocence, they shall confess
The hellish Artifice, and lay the Scene
Of their curst mischiefs open.
Abd.
This is the common Cant of every Villain,
T'impeach their Accusers of Confederate malice;
With smooth and idle Protestations damp
The foulness of such Facts.
Aben.
Oh, Royal Sir! I beg you'd hear no more,
But send him from my sight, to Axes, Gibbets,
Wheels, and Sulphurous Fires: My murder'd Lord
Cries out Revenge; his presence is more dreadful
Than all the Furies lowest Hell can form.
Abd.
Be gone, and bear him to that horrid Dungeon,
Where never chearful Ray of Light yet enter'd:
As his vile Deeds were most unnatural,
So be his Punishment; from all the Comforts
That fruitful Nature yeilds, exclude the Villain.
Instead of fair Zelinda's charming Voice,
Let Snakes and croaking Toads still wound his Ears:
From the dark Cave let noisome Vapours rise,
And so confound each Sence with various Ills.
Abin.
Inhumane malice! yet 'tis weak, because
It cannot reach the Mind; my Soul is free:
And tho' your Prisons hold my earthly Part,
Yet thro' that Dungeon and its own weak Frame,
It shall make way, and mount to brighter Regions,
Where it shall taste Immortal Happiness.
But Oh! there is a pang my Love pulls back,
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Than what your Rage or Malice can invent;
This weeping brightness, her convulsive Sorrows,
They shake my very Frame, and stagger all
My boasted Resolutions: Guard her, Heaven;
Preserve her Innocence from Foes like mine.
Zel.
Oh! Whither are you going?
Who tares my Love thus rudely from my Arms?
If he is guilty, I am guilty too.
O, drag me with him to the loathsome Dungeon!
There I will dig one Grave, our sure and last
Sad Nuptial Bed; there we'll for ever lye,
Nor wake again to feel these racking Terrors.
Abd.
Come this way, Madam, you are Innocent.
Zelin.
Oh! it is false, it's I alone am guilty;
It's I that brought this Fate upon my Love,
My faithful Husband; but I'll share it with him;
I will by Heaven and Earth, and all that's dear
And good, I will.
Abin.
Oh, take her from me, this unman's my Soul.
Now ye Confederate Villains, ye may laugh:
Yes, ye insulting Zegrees, now rejoyce—
Abinomin melts like a Child before ye.
Aben.
Tare her from him—
Force from my sight that Blot of all her Race.
Abin.
Zelinda, Oh! Farewel:—
(Forc'd off.
Zel.
Oh, Torture! my Sence is in the dire Confusion lost,
And Agonies, like dashing Waves, rowl o're
My Soul; O! when shall I have Peace?
Aben.
Never, whilst Murder stalks in open Air;
Whilst Children cease to pay their filial Tears,
And weep, and rave for murderers of Fathers.
Oh, ill inverted World! So Earth-born Sons
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Whats produc'd, turns on the productive Power.
Sure thy Fathers' Shade will rise and blast thee.
Zelin.
No, no, his sacred Spirit will acquit my Lord,
And throw the Guilt on you, Oh, cruel Prince!
Oh, barb'rous Kinsman, and thou Infernal Slave,
Be sure ye prove my Lord a Murderer,
Be sure ye do, or ye shall answer it;
I'll raise the Hyarchy of Heaven against ye,
Call all the unbrib'd Saints for Evidence,
And prove ye Devils.
Abd.
Watch her, Abenede, her furious wildness
Threatens some dangerous Consequence.
Ol.
Our Laws Require the Abencerragoes Death,
The Holy Alcoran speaks plain in this;
Life for Life, even in the self same manner.—
Pardon my Zeal,—
Ozmin was my Patron, Kinsman, Friend.
Aben.
It well becomes thee. But secure that Slave:
And let Abinomin's Tryal strait Commence;
Perhaps his Death our Daughters love will end.
Abd.
Selim, This very Moment give out Orders,
That all the Judges, and the Dervise meet;
There produce the Proofs most manifest,
And let the Law take its directed Course.
Aben.
O Prince! the Powers above reward your Virtue:
I could fall down before such Royal Goodness.
Friendship continu'd after Death, is always
Most wonderful, and greatly to be prais'd,
But in this wrerched Age, it's seldom practis'd;
So for Abdolin wou'd my poor Lord have done;
Thus your most noble Nature prompts your Actions,
To Right the Widow, and revenge the dead.
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The Evidence of this Slave, or what Proofs else,
Oliman, you can by strickt enquiry get
We to your Caution and your Prudence-leave:
Hence with all Signs of Truce, and the least Shadow
Of happy Peace, with these foul Enemies;
Let every hostile Action now begin:
A sad Example they have already set us,
Which we in bloody Tracts must imitate
For Mercy now wou'd blush if we forgave,
Or if we shou'd forget our loud-tongu'd wrongs.
Aben.
Think, Sir, no more of Mercy.—
We'll feast our Vengeance with the flowing Blood
Of all the Abencerragoes cruel Race.
Abd.
Only Zelinda spare, forgive the Errors
Of her offending Youth, with mildness teach her,
And bring her back to the sacred Tract of Duty.
Aben.
Let her abhor that Viper Abinomin,
And I again with Joy will entertain her,
As a blest Relict of the Man I lov'd.
Abd.
There you are right; Nature and Holy Justice
Start wide at thought of his much loath'd Embraces,
And scatter Curses on her beautious Frame.
Aben.
Blow, Oliman, that warm Reflection up;
Tell her the horror of her Father's Death,
Source of her Life, the Author of her Being;
Say this, and more, too much you cannot say.
Unerring Powers! Then guide my eager Hand,
When blinded by thy Rage, suspecting all,
Let Vengeance only on the Guilty fall.
(Exit.
Abd.
Her Rage is just, a Woman's Fury guides thee,
To dear Revenge, Revenge on him we hate;
The Death of that great Man whom we have lov'd:
But woudst thou, Oliman, succeed in all
The Offices, which in our State your Kinsman,
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Our common Foe to loath, the Abencerrago;
Inspire in her for me some grateful Thoughts,
And if I gain that beautious Paradice,
Then, Oliman, shall thy Ambition rise.
(Exit ud suis.
Ol.
Sink em both, Ambition, Love, and all
Those subtle Arts which lower Hell engenders
Within the poisonous Breast of deceiv'd Man:
Yet hold, my Brain, hold but some Hours more,
Till fill'd with mischiefs new, and exquisite,
And unheard, burst with the pondrous Weight,
Then scatter round Contagions, greater far
Than my wrack'd Thought can fashion or invent.
Guards, be kind to this most useful Slave,
Confine him, where I may visit him,
Retire, be careful, and expect Rewards.
(Exeunt all but Olim.
Ol.
Solus.
What vast Destruction Love will make!
The Prince Abinomin and I must fall,
A general ruine seems to threaten all.
Abinomin alone has got the start,
Possest the Virgins Person and her Heart;
But dearly shall he rue those Feasts of Joy,
And curse the Fair, which will his Life destroy.
(Exit.
End of the Third ACT.
| The Faithful Bride of Granada | |