University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Almida, Sophia.
ALMIDA.
Am I awake?
From the drear tomb am I indeed emerg'd?
Immortal powers! and is it then for this
Ye give me back my life? has fate spun out
For this curst hour, the remnant of my days?

SOPHIA.
Perhaps he fear'd without disguise—

ALMIDA.
Was that
My Tancred's voice? didst thou remark, Sophia,
His haughty coldness, his insulting pride,
The calm disdain with which he dar'd oppress me?
Hatred and scorn beam'd from his angry eye.
Did he but save me from my cruel tyrants,
To plunge himself the dagger in my heart?

SOPHIA.
Rage, or confusion glow'd upon his cheek,
His falt'ring voice affected seeming coldness:
Yet his turn'd eye conceal'd a rising tear.

ALMIDA.
Amazing change! perplexity and grief
Fill my astonish'd soul! can he be jealous?
Of whom? or why?—in vain I pause or think;
Reflexion lends no light to guide my thoughts.
Tis mystery all! A labyrinth of woe!
Yet 'tis to him, I owe these lengthen'd days,
This poor remainder of a life I hate,
Which but for him, had never been in danger.

SOPHIA.
Alas! he knows not this. The public voice
Misleads the firmest heart. That slave, his death,
Your letter found upon him unaddress'd,
Has left suspicion free to form conjectures.
Then the report that Solyman had ask'd,
Presuming from success, your hand in marriage.
Your gen'rous silence, that conceal'd your lover,
From the pursuit of unrelenting foes,
May in appearance wrong you; and perhaps—

ALMIDA.
How! wouldst thou hint that Tancred thinks me false?

SOPHIA.
Forgive a lover, if deceiv'd, he—

ALMIDA.
No:
Had a whole world combin'd to paint me guilty,
His single heart against a world misled
Should have stood forth, a witness to my honour.
Was it from pity then he sav'd my life?
How I despise the thought! why have I liv'd
Thus to be made a wretch, the sport of fortune?
Ungrateful Tancred! Can'st thou then suspect me?
But know my heart, superior to its wrongs,
From this sad moment casts thee off for ever!
Can I forget the life I owe him? No:
Yet if he thinks me of his love unworthy,
'Tis he that sinks indeed! unworthy mine!

SOPHIA.
Suppose he knew not—

ALMIDA.
Vain excuse! he knew not!
Me he should have known; he should have learnt
Better to prize the heart he dares mistrust.
My soul's as haughty as his arm is brave,
As great, as true, as generous as his own;
More tender far! and not like his suspicious!
I'll root him hence, and with him all mankind;
A wretched herd, or wicked all or false;
Cruel or weak; deceiving or deceiv'd.
Wrapt up and buried in my deep affliction,
I'll fly from Tancred, and a faithless world.