University of Virginia Library

ACT. IV.

SCENE
Abenamar, and servants.
Aben.
Hast; and conduct the Pris'ner to my sight.

Exit servant, and immediately enters with Selin bound.
[to Selin.
Aben.
Did you, according, to my orders, write?
And have you summon'd Ozmyn to appear?

Selin.
I am not yet so much a slave to fear:
Nor has your Son deserv'd so ill of me
That, by his death or bonds, I would be free.

Aben.
Against thy life thou dost the sentence give:
Behold how short a time thou hast to live.

Selin.
Make haste; and draw the Curtain while you may:
You but shut out the twilight of my day:
Beneath the burden of my age I bend;
You, kindly ease me 'ere my Journey's end.

To them a servant, with Ozmyn; Ozmyn kneels.
Aben.
to Selin.
It is enough: my promise makes you free:
Resign your bonds; and take your liberty.

Ozmyn.
Sir, you are just; and welome are these bands:
'Tis all th'inheritance a son demands.

Selin.
Your goodness, O my Ozmyn, is too great:
I am not weary of my fetters yet:
Already when you move me to resign:
I feel 'em heavier on your feet than mine.

Another Souldier or Servant.
Sold.
A youth attends you in the outter room;
Who seems in hast; and does from Ozmyn come.

Aben.
Conduct him in:—

Ozm.
Sent from Benzayda I fear to me.

[To them Benzayda in the habit of a man.
Benz.
My Ozmyn here!

Ozmyn.
Benzaida! 'tis she!
[to her.
Go, youth; I have no business for thee here:
Go to th'Albayzin; and attend me there.
I'le not be long away; I prithee goe;
By all our Love and frindship—

Ben.
Ozmyn, no.
I did not take on me this bold disguise,
For ends so low to cheat your watchmens eies.
When I attempted this; it was to doe
An Action, to be envy'd ev'n by you:
But you, alas, have been too diligent,
And, what I purpos'd, fatally prevent!
Those chains, which for my father I would bear,
I take with less content, to find you here.
Except your father will that mercy show,
That I may wear 'em both for him and you.

Aben.
I thank thee, fortune; thou hast, in one hour,
Put all I could have ask'd thee in my pow'r.
My own lost wealth thou giv'st not only back,
But driv'st upon my Coast my Pyrats wrack.

Selin.
With Ozmyns kindness I was griev'd before;
But yours, Benzaida, has undone me more.

Aben.
to Sold.
Go fetch new fetters, and the daughter binde

Ozm.
Be just, at least, Sir, though you are not kind.
Benzayda, is not, as a Pris'ner, brought;
But comes to suffer for anothers fau't.

Aben.
Then Ozmyn, mark; that justice which I doe,
I, as severely will exact from you.
The father is not wholly dead in me:
Or you may yet revive it, if it be.
Like tapers new blown out, the fumes remain
To catch the light; and bring it back again.
—Benzaida gave you life, and set you free;
For that I will restore her liberty.

Ozmyn.
Sir, on my knees I thank you.

Aben.
Oxmyn hold
One part of what I purpose is untold:
Consider, then, it on your part remains,
When I have broke, not to resume your chains.
Like an Indulgent father, I have pai'd
All debts, which you, my Prodigal, have made.
Now you are clear, break off your fond design;
Renounce Benzaida; and be wholly mine.

Ozmyn.
Are these the termes? is this the liberty?
Ah, Sir, how can you so inhumane be?
My duty to my life I will prefer;
But life and duty must give place to her.

Aben.
Consider what you say; for, with one breath,
You disobey my will; and give her death.

Ozmyn.
Ah, cruel father, what do you propose!
Must I, then, kill Benzaida, or must loose?
I can do neither; in this wretched state
The least that I can suffer is your hate:
And yet, that's worse than death: Ev'n while I sue,
And choose your hatred, I could dye for you.
Break quickly, heart; or let my blood be spilt
By my own hand, to save a fathers guilt.

Benz.
Hear me, my Lord, and take this wretched life,
To free you from the fear of Ozmyns wife.
I beg but what with ease may granted be;
To spare your son; and kill your Enemy.
Or, if my death's a grace too great to give;
Let me, my Lord, without my Ozmyn live.
Far from your sight, and Ozmin's let me goe,
And take from him a Care; from you a foe.

Ozmyn.
How, my Benzaida! can you thus resign
That love, which you have vow'd so firmly mine?
Can you leave me for life and liberty?

Ben.
What I have done will show that I dare dy.
But I'le twice suffer death; and go away;
Rather than make you wretched by my stay;
By this my father's freedom will be won;
And to your father I restore a Son.

Selin.
Cease, cease, my children, your unhappy strife.
Selin will not be ransom'd by your life.
[to Aben.
Barbarian, thy old foe defyes thy rage:
Turn from their Youth thy malice to my Age.

Ben.
Forbear, dear father, for your Ozmyn's sake:
Do not, such words to Ozmyn's father speak.

Ozm.
Alas, 'tis counterfeited rage; he strives
But to divert the danger from our lives.
For, I can witness, Sir, and you might see
How in your person he consider'd me.
He still declin'd the Combate where you were;
And you well know it was not out of fear.

Ben.
Alas, my Lord, where can your vengeance fall:
Your justice will not let it reach us all:
Selin and Ozmin both would suff'rers be;
And punishment's a favour done to me.
If we are foes: since you have pow'r to kill
'Tis gen'rous in you not to have the will.
But are we foes? look round, my Lord; and see;
Point out that face which is your Enemy.
Would you your hand in Selins blood embrue?
Kill him unarm'd, who, arm'd, shun'd killing you!
Am I your foe? since you detest my line,
That hated name of Zegry I resign:
For you, Benzayda will her self disclaim:
Call me your daughter, and forget my name.

Selin.
This vertue wou'd even Savages subdue;
And shall it want the pow'r to vanquish you?

Ozmyn.
It has, it has: I read it in his eyes;
'Tis now not anger; 'tis but shame denyes.
A shame of errour; that great spirits find,
Which keeps down vertue strugling in the mind.

Aben.
Yes; I am vanquish'd! the fierce conflict's past:
And shame it self is novv ore'come at last.
'Twas long before my stubborn Mind was won;
But, melting once, I on the suddain run.
Nor can I hold my headlong kindness, more
Than I could curb my cruel Rage before.
[Runs to Benz. and embraces her.
Benzayda, 'twas your Vertue vanquish'd me:
That, could alone surmount my Cruelty.
Runs to Selin; and unbinds him.
Forgive me, Selin, my neglect of you!
But men, just waking, scarce know what they do.

Ozm.
O Father!

Benz.
Father!

Aben.
Dare I own that name!
Speak; speak it often, to remove my shame!
[They all embrace him.
O Selin; O my Children, let me goe!
I have more kindness then I yet can show.
For my recov'ry, I must shun your sight:
Eyes, us'd to darkness, cannot bear the light.

[He runs in, they following him.
Scene The Albayzin.
Almanzor, Abdelmelech, Soldiers.
Almanz.
'Tis War again; and I am glad 'tis so;
Success, shall now by force and courage goe.
Treaties are but the combats of the Brain,
Where still the stronger loose, and weaker gain.

Abdelm.
On this Assault, brave Sir, which we prepare,
Depends the Sum and Fortune of the War.
Encamp'd without the Fort the Spaniard lies;
And may, in spight of us, send in supplies.
Consider yet, e're we attacque the place,
What 'tis to storm it in an Armies face.

Almanz.
The minds of Heroes their own measures are,
They stand exempted from the rules of War.
One Loose, one Sallye of the Heroes Soul,
Does all the Military Art controul.
While tim'rous Wit goes round, or foords the shore;
He shoots the Gulph; and is already o're.
And, when th'Enthusiastique fit is spent,
Looks back amaz'd at what he underwent.

[An Alarm within.
Exeunt.
Enter Almanzor and Abdelmelech with their Soldiers.
Abdelm.
They fly, they fly; take breath and charge agen.

Almanz.
Make good your entrance, and bring up more men
I fear'd, brave Friend, my Aid had been too late,

Abdelm.
You drew us from the jaws of certain Fate.
At my approach—
The Gate was open, and the Draw-bridge down;
But, when they saw I stood, and came not on,
They charg'd with fury on my little Band;
Who, much o're-powr'd, could scarce the shock withstand.

Almanz.
E're night we shall the whole Albayzin gain,
But see the Spaniards march along the Plain,
To its relief: you Abdelmelech, goe
And force the rest, while I repulse the Foe.
Exit Almanzor.

Enter Abdalla, and some few Soldiers who seem fearful.
Abdal.
Turn, Cowards, turn; there is no hope in flight;
You yet may live, if you but dare to fight.
Come, you brave few, who onely fear to fly:
We're not enough to Conquer but to Dye.

Abdelm.
No, Prince; that mean advantage I refuse:
'Tis in your pow'r a nobler Fate to choose.
Since we are Rivals, Honour does command,
We should not dye but by each others hand.
[To his men.
Retire; and if it prove my destiny
To fall; I charge you let the Prince goe free.

[The Soldiers depart on both sides.
Abdal.
O, Abdelmelech, that I knew some way
This debt of Honour which I owe, to pay.
But Fate has left this onely means for me,
To dye; and leave you Lyndaraxa free.

Abdelm.
He who is vanquish'd and is slain, is blest:
The wretched Conquerour can ne're have rest:
But is reserv'd a harder fate to prove;
(Bound in the Fetters of dissembled Love.)

Abdal.
Now thou art base; and I deserve her more:
Without complaint I will to death adore.
Dar'st thou see faults: and yet dost Love pretend?
I will, ev'n Lyndaraxa's Crimes defend.

Abdelm.
Maintain her cause, then, better than thy own,
Than thy ill got, and worse defended Throne.

[They fight, Abdalla falls.
Abdelm.
Now ask your life.

Abdal.
'Tis gone; that busy thing
The Soul, is packing up; and just on wing.
Like parting Swallows, when they seek the Spring.
Like them, at its appointed time, it goes;
And flies to Countreys more unknown than those.

Enter Lyndaraxa hastily, sees them, and is going out again.
Abdelmelech
stopping her.
No; you shall stay; and see a Sacrifice;
Not offer'd by my Sword but by your Eyes.
From those he first Ambitions poyson drew;
And swell'd to Empire for the love of you.
Accursed fair!
Thy Comet-blaze portends a Princes fate;
And suff'ring Subjects groan beneath thy weight.

Abdal.
Cease Rival, cease!
I would have forc'd you; but it wonnot be:
[to Lynd.
I beg you now, upbraid her not for me.
You fairest, to my memory be kind:
Lovers like me your sex will seldom find.
When I usurp'd a Crown for love of you,
I, then, did more than dying now I do.
I'me still the same as when my love begun:
And could I now this fate foresee or shun;
Would yet do all I have already done.

dyes.
[she puts her handkerchief to her eies.
Abdelm.
Weep on; weep on; for it becomes you now:
These tears you to that love may well allow.
His unrepenting Soul, if it could move
Upward, in Crimes, flew spotted with your love;
And brought Contagion to the blest above.

Lind.
He's gone; and peace go with a constant mind:
His love deserv'd I should have been more kind.
But then your love and greater worth I knew:
I was unjust to him, but just to you.

Abdelm.
I was his Enemy and Rival too;
Yet I some tears to his misfortunes owe:
You ow him more; weep then; and join with me:
So much is due ev'n to Humanity.

Lynd.
Weep for this wretch, whose memory I hate!
Whose folly made us both unfortunate!
Weep for this fool, who did my laughter move;
This, whining, tedious, heavy lump of Love!

Abdelm.
Had Fortune favour'd him, and frown'd on me,
I then had been that heavy fool, not he:
Just this had been my fun'ral Elegy.
Thy arts and falshood I before did know;
But this last baseness was conceal'd till now.
And 'twas no more than needful to be known;
I could be cur'd by such an act alone.
My love, half blasted, yet in time would shoot;
But this last tempest rends it to the root.

Lyn.
These little picques, which now your Anger move,
Will vanish; and are onely signes of love.
You've been too fierce; and, at some other time,
I should not with such ease forgive your Crime.
But, in a day of publick joy, like this,
I pardon; and forget what ere's amiss.

Abdelm.
These Arts have oft prevail'd; but must no more:
The spell is ended; and th'Enchantment 'ore.
You have at last destroy'd, with much adoe;
That love, which none could have destroy'd, but you.
My love was blind to your deluding Art;
But blind men feel, when stabb'd so neer the heart.

Lynd.
I must confess there was some pity due:
But I conceal'd it out of Love to you.

Abdelm.
No, Lyndaraxa; 'tis at last too late:
Our loves have mingled with too much of fate.
I would; but cannot now my self deceive:
O that you still could cheat, and I believe!

Lynd.
Do not so light a quarrel long pursue:
You grieve your Rival was less lov'd than you.
'Tis hard, when men, of kindness, must complain!

Abdelm.
I'm now awake, and cannot dream again!

Lynd.
Yet hear—

Abdelm.
No more: nothing my heart can bend:
That Queen you scorn'd, you shall this night, attend:
Your life the King has pardon'd for my sake;
But, on your Pride, I some revenge must take.
See now th'effects of what your Arts design'd:
Thank your inconstant, and ambitious Mind.
'Tis just that she who to no Love is true,
Should be forsaken, and contemn'd, like you.

Lynd.
All Arts of injur'd Women I will try:
First I will be reveng'd; and then I'le die.
But like some falling Tow'r—
Whose seeming firmness does the sight beguile,
So hold I up my nodding head awhile;
Till they come under, and reserve my fall;
That with my ruines I may reach 'em all.

Abdelm.
Conduct her hence.—

Exit Lyndaraxa guarded.
Enter a Soldier.
Sold.
Almanzor is victorious without fight;
The Foes retreated when he came in sight.
Under the Walls, this night, his men are drawn;
And mean to seek the Spaniard with the dawn.

Abdel.
The Sun's declin'd:
Command the Watch be set without delay;
And in the Fort let bold Benducar stay:
[aside.
I'le haste to Court, where Solitude I'le fly;
And heard, like wounded Deer, in company.
But oh, how hard is passion to remove,
When I must shun my self to 'scape from Love!

Exit.
Scene.
The Alhambra, or a Gallery.
Zulema, Hamet.
Hamet.
I thought your passion for the Queen was dead:
Or that your love had, with your hopes, been fled.

Zulema.
'Twas like a fire within a furnace pent:
I smother'd it, and kept it long from vent.
But (fed with looks; and blown with sighs, so fast)
It broke a passage through my lips, at last.

Ham.
Where found you confidence your suit to move?
Our broken fortunes are not fit to love.
Well; you declar'd your love: what follow'd then?

Zulema.
She look'd as Judges do on guilty men:
When big with fate they triumph in their doomes,
And smile before the deadly sentence comes.
Silent I stood as I were thunder—strooke;
Condemn'd and executed with a look.

Hamet.
You must, with haste, some remedy prepare:
Now you are in, you must break through the snare.

Zulema.
She said she would my folly yet conceal,
But vow'd my next attempt she would reveal.

Hamet.
'Tis dark; and, in this lonely Gallery,
(Remote from noyse, and shunning every eye)
One hour each Evening she in private mourns,
And prayes, and to the Cercle then returnes.
Now, if you dare, attempt her passing by.—

Zulema.
These lighted tapers show the time is nigh.
Perhaps my Courtship will not be in vain.
At least few women will of force complain.

At the other end of the Gallery, Enter Almanzor and Esperanza.
Hamet.
Almanzor and with him—
The favourite slave of the Sultana Queen:

Zul.
E're they approach, let us retire unseen.
And watch our time when they return agen
Then force shall give, if favour does deny;
And, that once done, we'll to the Spaniards fly.

Exeunt.
Almanz.
Now stand; th'Apartment of the Queen is neer,
And, from this place your voice will reach her ear.

[Esperanza goes out.
Song, In two Parts.
He.

She.

He.

She.

He.

She.

Enter Esperanza again after the Song.
Almanz.
Accept this Diamond, till I can present
Something more worthy my acknowledgement.
And now, farewell; I will attend, alone,
Her coming forth; and make my suff'rings known.
Exit Esperanza.
Solus.
A hollow wind comes whistling through that door;
And a cold shivering seizes me all o're.
My Teeth, too, chatter, with a suddain fright:
These are the raptures of too fierce delight!
The combate of the Tyrants, Hope and Fear;
Which Hearts, for want of Field-room, cannot bear.
I grow impatient, this, or that's the room:
I'le meet her; now, methinks, I hear her come.

He goes to the door; the Ghost of his Mother meets him, he starts back: the Ghost stands in the door.
Almanz.
Well mayst thou make thy boast, what e're thou art;
Thou art the first e're made Almanzor start.
My Legs—
Shall bear me to thee in their own despight:
I'le rush into the Covert of thy Night,
And pull thee backward by thy shrowd, to light.
Or else I'le squeeze thee, like a Bladder, there:
And make thee groan thy self away to Air.
[The Ghost retires.
So; art thou gone! thou canst no Conquest boast:
I thought what was the courage of a Ghost.—
—The grudging of my Ague yet remains:
My blood, like Ysicles, hangs in my veins,
And does not drop: be master of that door,
We two, will not disturb each other more.
Ierr'd a little, but extremes may joyn;
That door was Hell's; but this is Heav'ns and mine.
Goes to the other door and is met again by the Ghost.
Again! by Heav'n I do conjure thee, speak.
What art thou, Spirit; and what dost thou seek?
The Ghost comes on, softly, after the Conjuration: and Almanzor retires to the middle of the Stage.
Ghost! I am the Ghost of her who gave thee birth:
The Airy shadow of her mouldring Earth.
Love of thy Father me through Seas did guide;
On Sea's I bore thee, and on Sea's I dy'd.
I dy'd; and for my Winding-sheet, a Wave
I had; and all the Ocean for my Grave.
But, when my soul to bliss did upward move,
I wander'd round the Chrystal walls above;
But found th'eternal fence so steepy high,
That, when I mounted to the middle Sky,
I flagg'd, and flutter'd down; and could not fly.
Then, from the Battlements of th'Heav'nly Tow'r,
A Watchman Angel bid me waite this hour;
And told me I had yet a task assign'd,
To warn that little pledge I left behind;
And to divert him, e're it were too late,
From Crimes unknown; and errors of his Fate.

[Almanzor bowing.
Speak, Holy Shade; thou Parent form, speak on:
Instruct thy mortal Elemented Son;
(For here I wander to my self unknown.)
But oh, thou better part of Heav'nly Air,
Teach me, kind spirit, (since I am still thy care,)
My Parents names!
If I have yet a Father, let me know
To whose old age my humble youth must bow;
And pay its duty, if he mortal be,
Or Adoration, if a Mind like thee.

Ghost.
Then, what I may, I'le tell.—
From antient Blood thy Fathers Linage springs,
Thy Mothers thou deriv'st from stemms of Kings.
A Christian born, and born again, that day,
When sacred Water wash'd thy sins away.
Yet bred in errors thou dost mis-imploy
That strength Heav'n gave thee, and its flock destroy.

Almanz.
By Reason, Man a Godhead may discern:
But, how he would be worshipt, cannot learn.

Ghost.
Heav'n does not now thy Ignorance reprove;
But warns thee from known Crimes of lawless Love.
That Crime thou know'st, and knowing, dost not shun,
Shall an unknown, and greater Crime pull on:
But, if thus warn'd, thou leav'st this cursed place,
Then shalt thou know the Author of thy Race.
Once more I'le see thee: when my charge is done,
Far hence, upon the Mountains of the Moon
Is my abode, where Heav'n and Nature smile;
And strew with Flowers the secret bed of Nyle.
Blest Souls are there refin'd, and made more bright,
And, in the shades of Heav'n, prepar'd for light.
Exit Ghost.

Almanz.
Oh Heav'n, how dark a Riddle's thy Decree,
Which bounds our Wills, yet seems to leave 'em free!
Since thy fore-knowledge cannot be in vain,
Our choice must be what thou didst first ordain:
Thus, like a Captive in an Isle confin'd,
Man walks at large, a Pris'ner of the Mind:
Wills all his Crimes, while Heav'n th'Indictment draws;
And, pleading guilty, justifies the Laws.—
Let Fate be Fate; the Lover and the Brave
Are rank'd, at least, above the vulgar Slave:
Love makes me willing to my death to run;
And courage scorns the death it cannot shun.

Enter Almahide with a Tapor.
Almah.
My Light will sure discover those who talk;—
Who dares to interrupt my private Walk?

Almanz.
He who dares love; and for that love must dy,
And, knowing this, dares yet love on, am I.

Almah.
That love which you can hope, and I can pay
May be receiv'd and giv'n in open day;
My praise and my esteem you had before:
And you have bound your self to ask no more.

Almanz.
Yes, I have bound my self, but will you take
The forfeit of that bond which force did make?

Almah.
You know you are from recompence debarr'd,
But purest love can live without reward.

Almanz.
Pure love had need be to it self a feast;
For, like pure Elements, 'twill nourish least.

Almah.
It therefore yields the only pure content;
For it, like Angels, needs no Nourishment.
To eat and drink can no perfection be;
All Appetite implies Necessity:

Almanz.
'Twere well, if I could like a spirit live:
But do not Angels food to Mortals give.—
What if some Dæmon should my death foreshow,
Or bid me change, and to the Christians goe,
Will you not think I merit some reward,
When I my love above my life regard?

Almah.
In such a case your change must be allow'd;
I would, my self, dispence with what you vow'd.

Almanz.
Were I to dye that hour when I possess;
This minute should begin my happiness.

Almah.
The thoughts of death your passion would remove.
Death is a cold encouragement to love!

Alman.
No; from my joyes I to my death would run;
And think the business of my life well done.
But I should walk a discontented Ghost,
If flesh and blood were to no purpose lost.

Almah.
You love me not, Almanzor; if you did,
You would not ask what honour must forbid.

Alman.
And what is Honour, but a Love well hid?

Almah.
Yes; 'tis the Conscience of an Act well done:
Which gives us pow'r our own desires to shun.
The strong, and secret curb of headlong Will;
The self reward of good; and shame of ill.

Almanz.
These, Madam, are the Maximes of the Day;
When Honour's present, and when Lov's away.
The duty of poor Honour were too hard,
In Arms all day, at night to mount the Guard.
Let him in pity, now, to rest retire;
Let these soft hours be watch'd by warm desire.

Almah.
Guards, who all day on painful duty keep,
In dangers are not priviledg'd to sleep.

Alman.
And with what dangers are you threaten'd here?
Am I, alas, a foe for you to fear?
See, Madam, at your feet this Enemy:
[kneels.
Without your pity and your Love I die.

Almah.
Rise, rise: and do not empty hopes pursue:
Yet think, that I deny my self not you.

Alman.
A happiness so nigh, I cannot bear:
My loves too fierce; and you too killing fair.
I grow enrag'd to see such Excellence:
If words so much disorder'd, give offence,
My love's too full of zeal to think of sence.
Be you like me; dull Reason hence remove;
And tedious formes; and give a loose to love.
Love eagerly; let us be gods to night;
And do not, with half yielding, dash delight.

Almah.
Thou strong Seducer, Opportunity!
Of womankind, half are undone by thee!
Though I resolve I will not be misled,
I wish I had not heard what you had sed!
I cannot be so wicked to comply;
And, yet, am most unhappy to deny!
Away:

Alman.
I will not move me from this place:
I can take no denial from that face!

Almah.
If I could yield; (but think not that I will:)
You and my self, I in revenge, should kill.
For I should hate us both, when it were done:
And would not to the shame of life be wonn.

Alman.
Live but to night; and trust to morrows mind:
'Ere that can come, there's a whole life behind.
Methinks already crown'd with joyes, I lie;
Speechless and breathless in an Extasie.
Not absent in one thought: I am all there:
Still closs; yet wishing still to be more near.

Almah.
Deny your own desires: for it will be
Too little now to be deni'd by me.
Will he who does all great, all noble seem,
Be lost and forfeit to his own Esteem?
Will he, who may with Heroes claim a place,
Belie that fame, and to himself be base?
Think how August and god-like you did look
When my defence, unbrib'd you undertook.
But, when an Act so brave you disavow,
How little, and how mercenary now!

Almanz.
Are, then, my Services no higher priz'd?
And can I fall so low to be despis'd?

Almah.
Yes; for whatever may be bought, is low,
And you your self, who sell your self, are so.
Remember the great Act you did this day:
How did your Love to Vertue then give way?
When you gave freedom to my Captive Lord;
That Rival, vvho possest vvhat you ador'd.
Of such a deed vvhat price can there be made?
Think vvell: is that an Action to be paid?
It vvas a Myracle of Vertue shovvn:
And vvonders are vvith vvonder paid alone.
And would you all that secret joy of mind
Which great Souls onely in great actions find,
All that, for one tumultuous Minute loose?

Alman.
I wou'd that minute before ages choose.
Praise is the pay of Heav'n for doing good;
But Loves the best return for flesh and blood.

Almah.
You've mov'd my heart, so much, I can deny
No more; but know, Almanzor, I can dye.
Thus far, my vertue yields; if I have shown
More Love, than what I ought, let this attone.

[Going to stab herself.
Almanz.
Hold, hold!
Such fatal proofs of love you shall not give:
Deny me; hate me; (both are just) but live!
Your Vertue I will ne'r disturb again:
Nor dare to ask, for fear I should obtain.

Almah.
'Tis gen'rous to have conquer'd your desire;
You mount above your wish; and loose it higher.
There's pride in vertue; and a kindly heat:
Not feverish, like your love; but full as great.
Farewell; and may our loves hereafter, be,
But Image-like, to heighten piety.

Almanz.
'Tis time I should be gone!
Alas I am but half converted yet:
All I resolve, I with one look, forget.
And, like a Lyon whom no Arts can tame;
Shall tear, ev'n those, who would my rage reclaime.

Exeunt severally.
Zulema and Hamet watch Almanzor: and when he is gone, go in after the Queen.
Enter Abdelmelech and Lyndaraxa.
Lynd.
It is enough; you've brought me to this place:
Here stop: and urge no further, my disgrace.
Kill me: in death your mercy will be seen,
But make me not a Captive to the Queen:

Abdelm.
'Tis therefore I this punishment provide:
This only can revenge me on your pride.
Prepare to suffer what you shun in vain.
And know, you now are to obey, not raign.

Enter Almahide; schrieking: her hair loose; she runs over the stage.
Almah.
Help; help: oh heav'n, some help.

Enter Zulema and Hamet.
Zul.
—Make haste before,
And intercept her passage to the door:

Abdelm.
Villains, what Act are you attempting here!

Almah.
I thank thee, heav'n; some succour does appear.

As Abdelmelech is going to help the Queen: Lyndaraxa pulls out his Sword: and holds it.
Abdelm.
With what ill fate, my good design is curst!

Zul.
We have no time to think: dispatch him first.

Abdelm.
Oh for a sword!

They make at Abdemelech: he goes off at one door, while the Queen escapes at the other.
Zul.
Ruin'd!

Hamet.
Undone!

Lynd.
And which is worst of all
He escap'd:

Zul.
I hear 'em loudly call.

Lynd.
Your fear will loose you: call as loud as they.
I have not time to teach you what to say:
The Court, will in a moment, all be here.
But second what I say, and do not fear.
Call help; run that way; leave the rest to me.

Zulema and Hamet retire, and within cry help.
Enter at several doors, the King, Abenamar, Selin, Ozmyn, Almanzor, with guards attending Boabdelin.
Boab.
What can the cause of all this tumult be?
And what the meaning of that naked sword?

Lynd.
I'le tell, when fear will so much breath afford.
The Queen and Abdelmelech.—T'will not out—
Ev'n I, who saw it, of the truth yet doubt,
It seems so strange.

Almanz.
Did she not name the Queen!
Haste; speak:

Lynd.
How dare I speak what I have seen!
With Hamet, and with Zulema, I went
To pay both theirs, and my acknowledgement
To Almahide; and by her Mouth implore
Your Clemency, our Fortunes to restore.
We chose this hour, which we believ'd most free,
When she retir'd from noise and company.
The Antichamber past, we gently knockt,
(Unheard it seems) but found the Lodgings lockt.
In dutious silence while we waited there,
We, first a noise, and then long whispers hear:
Yet thought it was the Queen at Pray'rs alone,
Till she distinctly said,—If this were known
My Love, what shame, what danger would ensue!
Yet I (and sigh'd) could venture more for you!

Boab.
O Heav'n, what do I hear,

(Almanz.)
Let her go on.

Lynd.
And how, (then murmur'd in a bigger tone,
Another voice) and how should it be known?
This hour is from your Court Attendants, free:
The King suspects Almanzor; but not me.

[Zulema, at the door.
I find her drift: Hamet be Confident;
Second her words; and fear not the event.

Zulema and Hamet Enter. The King embraces them.
Boab.
Welcome, my onely Friends; Behold in me
O Kings, behold th'effects of Clemency!
See here the gratitude of pardon'd foes!
That life I gave 'em, they for me expose!

Hamet.
Though Abdelmelech was our Friend before,
When Duty call'd us he was so no more.

Almanz.
Damn your delay, you Torturers proceed,
I will not hear one word, but Almahide.

Boab.
When you, within, the Traitors voice did hear,
What did you, then?

Zul.
I durst not trust my Ear:
But, peeping through the Key-hole, I espy'd
The Queen; and Abdelmelech by her side:
She on the Couch, he on her bosom lay,
Her Hand, about his Neck, his Head did stay,
And, from his Forehead wip'd the drops away.

Boab.
Go on, go on my friends, to clear my doubt
I hope I shall have life to hear you out.

Zul.
What had been, Sir, you may suspect too well:
What follow'd, Modesty forbids to tell:
Seeing, what we had thought beyond belief,
Our hearts so swell'd with anger and with grief,
That, by plain force, we strove the door to break:
He, fearful, and with guilt, or Love, grown weak,
Just as we enter'd, scap'd the other way:
Nor did th'amazed Queen behind him stay:

Lynd.
His sword, in so much haste he could not mind:
But left this witness of his Crime behind.

Boab.
O proud, ingrateful, faithless, womankind!
How chang'd, and what a Monster am I made!
My Love, my Honour, ruin'd and betray'd!

Almanz.
Your Love and Honour! mine are ruin'd worse:
Furies and Hell what right have you to curse!
Dull, Husband as you are,—
What can your Love, or what your Honour be!
I am her Lover, and she's false to me.

Boab.
Goe, when the Authors of my shame are found,
Let 'em be taken instantly, and bound:
They shall be punish'd as our Laws require:
'Tis just, that Flames should be condemn'd to fire.
This, with the dawn of morning shall be done.

Aben.
You haste too much her Execution.
Her Condemnation ought to be deferr'd:
With justice, none can be condemn'd unheard.

Boab.
A formal Process, tedious is, and long:
Besides, the evidence is full and strong.

Lynd.
The Law demands two witnesses; and she
Is cast; (for which Heav'n knows I grieve) by three.

Ozm.
Hold, Sir; since you so far insist on Law;
We can, from thence, one just advantage draw:
That Law, which dooms Adultresses to die,
Gives Champions, too, to slander'd Chastity.

Almanz.
And how dare you, who from my Bounty live,
Intrench upon my Loves Prerogative.
Your courage in your own concernments try;
Brothers are things remote while I am by.

Ozm.
I knew not you thus far her cause would own;
And must not suffer you to fight alone:
Let two to two in equal combat joyn;
You vindicate her Person, I her Line.

Lynd.
Of all Mankind Almanzor has least right
In her defence, who wrong'd his Love, to fight.

Almanz.
'Tis false; she is not ill, nor can she be;
She must be Chaste, because she's lov'd by me.

Zul.
Dare you, what Sence and Reason prove, deny?

Almanz.
When she's in question, Sence and Reason lye.

Zul.
For Truth, and for my injur'd Soveraign,
What I have said, I will to death maintain.

Ozm.
So foul a falshood, who e'r justifies
Is basely born; and, like a Villain, lies.
In witness of that Truth, be this my Gage.

[Takes a Ring from his finger.
Hamet.
I take it; and despise a Traytors Rage.

Boab.
The Combat's yours; a Guard the Lists surround;
Then raise a Scaffold in th'incompast ground:
And, by it, piles of Wood; in whose just fire,
Her Champion's slain, th'Adultress shall expire.

Aben.
We ask no favour, but what Arms will yield:

Boab.
Choose then two equal Judges of the Field,
Next morning shall decide the doubtful strife;
Condemn th'unchaste, or quit the vertuous Wife.

Almanz.
But I am both wayes, curst.—
For Almahide must dye, if I am slain;
Or, for my Rival, I the Conquest gain.

Exeunt.