University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Tancred, follow'd by two Squires who bear his lance, buckler, &c. Aldamon. Soldiers.
TANCRED.
Hail to these native shores! Immortal powers!
How my heart glows with rapture at their sight!
O Aldamon! 'tis heaven itself has planted
Deep in each gen'rous breast, our country's love,
Mix'd with, nay stronger than the love of fame,
Or liberty, or life—to thy kind zeal,
I owe my safe return. From this blest hour,
Fortune shall smile, shall crown my rising hopes;
Thou worthy friend! thou know'st not all I owe thee.

ALDAMON.
Your goodness rates my services too high;
I'm but a soldier, a plain citizen.

TANCRED.
As thou I am, for citizens are brothers;
Long have I prov'd thy faith.

ALDAMON.
My only merit,
Is to have follow'd you with zeal sincere;
Taught by your bright example, I too learnt
To tread the path of glory. By the ties
Of love and duty, to your house devoted,
All that warm gratitude can pay, I owe.

TANCRED.
Thou kindest friend! thou ow'st me only friendship.
Behold these sacred ramparts; how my soul
Pants to defend 'em! Venerable walls,
Dear to my heart, which here first beat with life,
Am I then banish'd from ye! Say Aldamon,
What happy spot contains the fair Almida?

ALDAMON.
That ancient building is her father's palace:
This street leads to it: further yon' behold,
Th'august tribunal, where our warrior knights,
And awful senate meet; the public law,
Equal and firm to fix; the commonwealth
To govern and protect; and long ere now
The faithless Mussulman had met his fate,
Had not their best support in you been absent.
There hang their bucklers, cyphers, and devices,
Which to the world, the splendor of their deeds,
With warlike pomp proclaim; amidst these names
To glory sacred, Tancred's name is wanting.

TANCRED.

ALDAMON.
My lord, 'twas Arnolph.

TANCRED.
The father of Almida!

ALDAMON.
Long he suffer'd
The hate injurious of an odious faction;
But now his just authority regain'd,
His name and probity by all are cherish'd.
By age enfeebled—Orbassan succeeds him.

TANCRED.
Ha! my dire foe. He whose unmanly rage
Pursued my infant years, with deadliest hate;
To whom I owe the ruin of my house!
What rumour too is that, which fame has spread
Of his audacious rashness? Is it true,
That he has practis'd on a father's weakness?
Nay more, obtain'd the hope of his alliance,
And rais'd his wish presumptuous to his daughter?

ALDAMON.
Confus'dly yesterday, I heard it murmur'd.
Far from the town, retir'd within that fort
Where I receiv'd you, little do I know
What in these walls has past; I love them not,
They hold your persecutors.

TANCRED.
In thy bosom
My heart reposes with unbounded trust;
Fly to Almida: tell her an unknown,
From his first years devoted to her mother,
A friend to all her race, with ardent pray'r,
Entreats a secret interview.

ALDAMON.
I go;
Nor in her family am I a stranger;
Ought that belongs to you, will there be welcome.
I fly to serve you, and I hope success.

SCENE II.

Tancred. His Squires at a distance.
TANCRED.
Ye guardian powers! who smile on love and virtue,
'Twas ye who led me hither. How my breast
Throbs with desire and transport, to behold
Her whom my soul adores! The time that stands
Between us and our hopes, seems to the mind
A space eternal. Something cold like doubt
Steals o'er my joy: yet what should I mistrust?
Almida must be true; and from dishonour,
The only ill I fear, her faith ensures me.
Far from Illyria, and the camp of Cæsar,
For her at last I seek my country's bosom;
Ungrateful country! yet amidst my woes,
After Almida, dearest to my heart.
Whence is this Orbassan? what his exploits?
What laurels grace his brow, that he should dare
With soaring pride aspire to my Almida?
A prize which only heroes should contend for;
And mine by all the sacred laws of love;
Nor shall he win her from me, but with life.
Nay more, her truth would reach beyond my grave,
Her gen'rous mind, would scorn another's vows,
Her heart is faithful, constant, worthy mine,
Above dissimulation, fears, or weakness.

SCENE III.

Tancred, Aldamon.
TANCRED.
Ah! thou hast seen, hast spoke with my Almida;
Lead me this moment to her—gods! thou weep'st!

ALDAMON.
Let us away; misfortune, shame and terror,
Dwell in these hated walls—

TANCRED.
What of Almida?

ALDAMON.
Enquire no more, and let us hasten hence;
For guilt and horror taint the very air!

TANCRED.
Has Orbassan prevail'd? O matchless traitress!
Her father's enemy and mine—

ALDAMON.
Her father
This very morning sign'd their nuptial contrac.t

TANCRED.
Have I then liv'd to this excess of misery!

ALDAMON.
Nay more, your confiscated wealth and fortune
Were to have swell'd your rival's odious triumph;
Who from the senate has obtain'd—

TANCRED.
The wretch!
He robs me of what a hero heeds not;
But thou, Almida, his—it shall not be.

ALDAMON.
Far deeper woes the angry fates prepare you.

TANCRED.
Speak, cruel! speak, nor keep me on the rack.

ALDAMON.
Almida destin'd to your rival's arms,
Already blaz'd with hymeneal torches
The shining temple. Round the holy altar,
In sacred vestments stood th'expecting priests,
Waiting in vain the bride—her perjur'd heart
Both you, and Orbassan, at once betray'd.

TANCRED.
Mysterious fate! for whom?

ALDAMON.
For Solyman.

TANCRED.
How! Solyman! ill omens wait his name,
He once in secret sigh'd for her at Byzantium;
But she repuls'd his vows with cold disdain,
And generous own'd the preference she gave me:
Away! it cannot be, 'tis some delusion;
Her gentle mind, the seat of every virtue,
Could never stoop to this—

ALDAMON.
With grief I speak it,
The horrid tale is told by every tongue.

TANCRED.
No: 'tis the work of envy and imposture.
“Proscrib'd in infancy, by sorrow rear'd,
“Self form'd, and early train'd in honour's school,
“Hunted from state to state, have I not suffer'd
“All that unfeeling hatred could invent,
“To blast my fame?
Alas! too well I know
What impious rage can do. Almida virtuous
Is sure a suffering victim—but I trifle—
This instant lead me to her, I must see her,
Know all her wrongs—lead on.

ALDAMON.
Ah! stop, my lord;
Alas! for words to cloath the dreadful tale.
Torn from the bosom of her wretched father
She is in chains—

TANCRED.
In chains!

ALDAMON.
And now, even here,
Doom'd to the scaffold, by a rigorous sentence;
An ignominious death—

TANCRED.
Struck to the earth,
By heav'ns immediate flash, the dying wretch
Feels less amazing horror, than thy words
Pour thro' my soul!

ALDAMON.
Alas! if she dies guiltless
A deed more rueful never stain'd the world!
Thro'out the town, one general murmur runs
Of pity and surprize: yet none dare more
Than sigh, or weep.

TANCRED.
Whilst I have life, she dies not.

ALDAMON.
Tho' fill'd with terror at so dire a scene,
The people flock innumerous to behold it;
Eager to view a sight of woe, they gather
Curious and turbulent around her prison,
Hast'ning the hour of fate to feed their wonder!
This place, these portals, silent now and desart,
Will soon be throng'd with crouding citizens.
Ah! let us hence!

TANCRED.
What reverend figure's that?
Pale grief sits on his front; with trembling steps
He issues from the temple; a sad train
Follow, and seem to share his heart's affliction.

ALDAMON.
'Tis the unhappy father—

TANCRED.
Let me meet him;
Mean time retire: be careful to conceal me.
How my soul pities him!

SCENE IV.

Tancred, Arnolph. Aldamon at a distance.
ARNOLPH.
Hasten, kind Gods,
Death's friendly stroke, to save me from distraction!

TANCRED.
Most noble Arnolph, you behold in me
One of those knights, who in these holy wars,
Beneath your sacred banners seek for glory;
Nay, I came here to meet—forgive my weakness—
[agitated.
Your sorrows move my soul—O let me mingle
With yours these tears that sympathetic rise!

ARNOLPH.
By all abandon'd, no kind voice but thine
Has dar'd speak comfort to a wretched father.
Excuse these eyes, obscur'd by age and grief;
Who art thou?

TANCRED.
I'm a stranger,
Full of respect, of pity for your woes.
Like you unfortunate, taught by my own
Too well I guess the pangs that wring your soul;
Anxious—yet fearful—I would learn the cause—
Can it be true—your daughter—

ARNOLPH.
Yes—she dies—

TANCRED.
Gods! is she guilty?

ARNOLPH.
Spare a father's blush,
Who childless had not known the dreadful curse,
In his last days, of infamy and woe!

TANCRED.
Yet fame spoke loudly of her worth and beauty.
Tho' born in distant climes, inspir'd esteem
And veneration for Almida fill'd me.
I should have thought had virtue left the skies,
Her throne on earth had been your daughter's bosom.

ARNOLPH.
What aggravates my grief, and to the grave
Drives me with shame and rage, is that she loves,
She glories in her crime. Thus not a knight
Will stir to save her. Tho' with deep regret
They sign'd unanimous the deadly sentence,
In spight of our most ancient solemn law,
Which grants the fair, when injur'd or accus'd,
A knight, whose gen'rous arm in single combat
Her cause may fight, and if victorious clear her;
O shame to these white hairs! my daughter dies,
And not one knight appears—

TANCRED.
One will appear.

ARNOLPH.
Can there be hope for a sad father?

TANCRED.
Yes,
One will appear; not for Almida's sake,
Guilty she merits not the hero's sword;
But your fair fame, your virtue, and your years
Deserve protection, and will find a champion.

ARNOLPH.
Methinks you raise my sinking soul from death:
Yet I must doubt—who will, alas! for us
Enter the lists? all shun us; every heart
Turns with aversion from us. Ah, you flatter;
Whose arm will venture—

TANCRED.
Mine.

ARNOLPH.
Yours!

TANCRED.
Yes, mine;
And if the gods should grant my sword success,
The only favour or reward I ask,
Is not to be detain'd; and by Almida
Unseen, unknown, immediate to depart.

ARNOLPH.
Sure heaven in pity sent thee to my aid;
But tell me first to whom in my misfortunes
Such kind respect, such gratitude I owe;
All speaks thee noble and of high descent.

TANCRED.
Arnolph explore no further; my dark fate,
In sorrow's gloom plung'd deep, would shun enquiry.

SCENE V.

Tancred, Arnolph, Orbassan. Knights, Attendants.
ORBASSAN.
[to Arnolph.
The state in danger asks our present thoughts;
At dawn we purpos'd from our walls to issue;
We are prevented. Those who here betray'd us
Have doubtless warn'd the foe, and Solyman
Determines now to tempt the fate of battle.
We'll march to meet him; the mean while, my lord,
Retire from hence, avoid a sight too dreadful.

ARNOLPH.
Enough, my lord. The only hope that's left me
Is to fall bravely in th'approaching combat.
This valiant knight shall thither guide my steps,
And tho' my race is blasted by dishonour,
This arm shall perish fighting for the state.

ORBASSAN.
Such noble sentiments become you well;
Go to the field, and shun this dreadful scene,
The horrid pomp of death, which here approaches,
'Twould be too terrible!

ARNOLPH.
Just gods, assist me!

ORBASSAN.
From this sad view avert a father's eye.
My place and rigorous duty here detain me,
To keep in bounds a giddy daring people:
Our laws require this solemn dreadful act!
Dire as they are, I must protect them here;
But you, not destin'd to this cruel charge,
No power can force you to look sternly on,
While a lov'd daughter bleeds!—retire—they come.

TANCRED.
No. Father! stay—

ORBASSAN.
Ha! who art thou?

TANCRED.
Thy foe;
This old man's friend—perhaps too his avenger;
Nor less than thou important to the state.

SCENE VI.

The scene opening discovers Almida in chains, as led to execution, surrounded by guards. Knights, people, &c. fill the scene.
ARNOLPH.
Support me generous stranger—'tis my daughter!

TANCRED.
Gods! is it thus we meet!

ALMIDA.
Eternal goodness!
All time before thy eye omniscient stands;
Thou read'st my soul, and thou alone art just!
“Drove on by passion, blinded oft by fury,
“Weak mortals talk, condemn, and judge by hazard.
Knights—countrymen—who in the bloody sentence
That robs me of my life have borne a share,
'Tis not to you I stoop to clear my fame;
That God who sees us, must decide between us.
Tame instruments of stern unjust oppression,
'Tis true I scorn'd your laws, nay more, I broke 'em;
Tyrannical they had no pow'r to bind me.
A father would have forc'd my hand unwilling;
I disobey'd him. Orbassan I slighted;
Haughty and rude, he thought to bend me to him.
These are my crimes, if they are worthy death
Strike—but first learn the secret of my heart;
The soul prepar'd at heaven's high throne to answer,
Addresses man unmov'd and void of fear.
Know then ye witnesses of my sad fate,
And you my father, you at least whose kindness
Should have prevented—Gods! what do I see?
[seeing Tancred.
Immortal powers! 'tis he!—I sink—assist—

[faints in Sophia's arms.
TANCRED.
Her perjur'd heart shrinks at my sight—no matter—
Suspend ye ministers of death your vengeance,
Stay your dire hand; I here assume her cause;
I am her knight; her desolated father
Avows my arm, to innocence propitious:
Open the lists, and let the judges sit.
Thou haughty Orbassan I here defy thee;
[throws his gauntlet.
Or snatch my life, or meet from me thy fate.
Thy name and deeds are not to fame unknown;
The gage of combat here I throw before thee—dar'st thou take up?

ORBASSAN.
Thy arrogance but ill deserves this honour;
[points to his squire to take up the glove.
Yet since a father deigns admit thy claim,
I will vouchsafe to measure swords with thee
To crush thy bold defiance. What thy rank,
Or whence art thou? these arms obscure announce
Few signs of glory.

TANCRED.
Soon thy spoils may deck them;
My name's a secret, such as yet I mean it,
But thou shalt learn it in the field. Let's go.

ORBASSAN.
Open the barrier. Let Almida free,
'Till the event of this slight combat's over;
And know my friends, that as I quit the lists
I head your troops, and march to save the state.

SCENE VII.

Arnolph, Almida. The guards take off her chains.
ALMIDA.
Merciful powers! where am I? ah! he's gone!
Sure 'twas a vision! some angelic form
Assum'd his shape.

ARNOLPH.
Fear has disturb'd her senses;
Speak my Almida, 'tis thy father calls thee.

ALMIDA.
Why do you soothe me thus? am I not lost?
Have you not given me up to shame and death?

ARNOLPH.
O thou all-gracious heaven! whose hand supreme
Has taken her defence, admit my pray'r,
Her fault forgive, or clear her innocence!
Thy will suspends our fate: must I adore
Thy mercy, or thy justice, active here?
Tell me, Almida, tell me in what light
Must I behold thee?

ALMIDA.
With a father's kindness.
On the grave's brink with tottering feet I stand;
Still o'er my head the knife uplifted hangs.
As to my honour 'tis unblemish'd, pure.
But ah! in pity lead me, lead me hence!
Save a distrest, an almost dying daughter
From this dire scene, from an insulting crowd,
Who gaze unpitying at my strange misfortunes,
View all my sorrows with unhallow'd eye,
Stare at my tears—those bitter tears, just heav'n!
Shed in a cause so virtuous, so unknown!