University of Virginia Library

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!