DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Don Sebastian, King of Portugal.
Muley-Moluch, Emperor of Barbary.
Dorax, a noble Portuguese, now a renegade; formerly Don Alonzo de Sylvera, Alcade, or Governor of Alcazar.
Benducar, chief Minister, and favourite to the Emperor.
The Mufti Abdalla.
Muley-Zeydan, brother to the Emperor.
Don Antonio, a young, noble, amorous Portuguese; now a slave.
Don Alvarez, an old counsellor to Don Sebastian; now a slave also.
Mustapha, Captain of the Rabble.
Two Merchants.
Rabble.
A Servant to Benducar.
A Servant to the Mufti.
Almeyda, a captive Queen of Barbary.
Morayma, daughter to the Mufti.
Johayma, chief wife to the Mufti.
SCENE,—In the Castle of Alcazar.
DON SEBASTIAN,
KING OF PORTUGAL.
ACT I. SCENE I.
The scene at Alcazar, representing a market-place under the Castle.
Enter Muley-Zeydan and Benducar.
M. Zey. Now Africa's long wars are at an end,
And our parched earth is drenched in Christian blood;
My conquering brother will have slaves enow,
To pay his cruel vows for victory.—
What hear you of Sebastian, king of Portugal?
Bend. He fell among a heap of slaughtered Moors,
Though yet his mangled carcase is not found.
The rival of our threatened empire, Mahomet,
Was hot pursued; and, in the general rout,
Mistook a swelling current for a ford,
And in Mucazar's flood was seen to rise:
Thrice was he seen: At length his courser plunged,
And threw him off; the waves whelmed over him,
And, helpless, in his heavy arms he drowned.
308 M. Zey. Thus, then, a doubtful title is extinguished;
Thus Moluch, still the favourite of fate,
Swims in a sanguine torrent to the throne,
As if our prophet only worked for him:
The heavens, and all the stars, are his hired servants;
As Muley-Zeydan were not worth their care,
And younger brothers but the draff of nature.
Bend. Be still, and learn the soothing arts of court:
Adore his fortune, mix with flattering crowds;
And, when they praise him most, be you the loudest.
Your brother is luxurious, close, and cruel;
Generous by fits, but permanent in mischief.
The shadow of a discontent would ruin us;
We must be safe, before we can be great.
These things observed, leave me to shape the rest.
M. Zey. You have the key; he opens inward to you.
Bend. So often tried, and ever found so true,
Has given me trust; and trust has given me means
Once to be false for all. I trust not him;
For, now his ends are served, and he grown absolute,
How am I sure to stand, who served those ends?
I know your nature open, mild, and grateful:
In such a prince the people may be blest,
And I be safe.
M. Zey. My father![Embracing him.
Bend. My future king, auspicious Muley-Zeydan!
Shall I adore you?—No, the place is public:
I worship you within; the outward act
Shall be reserved till nations follow me,
And heaven shall envy you the kneeling world.—
You know the alcade of Alcazar, Dorax?
M. Zey. The gallant renegade you mean?
Bend. The same.
That gloomy outside, like a rusty chest,
309 Contains the shining treasure, of a soul
Resolved and brave: He has the soldiers' hearts,
And time shall make him ours.
M. Zey. He's just upon us.
Bend. I know him from afar,
By the long stride, and by the sullen port.—
Retire, my lord.
Wait on your brother's triumph; yours is next:
His growth is but a wild and fruitless plant;
I'll cut his barren branches to the stock,
And graft you on to bear.
M. Zey. My oracle![Exit M. Zey.
Bend. Yes, to delude your hopes.—Poor credulous fool!
To think that I would give away the fruit
Of so much toil, such guilt, and such damnation!
If I am damned, it shall be for myself.
This easy fool must be my stale, set up
To catch the people's eyes: He's tame and merciful;
Him I can manage, till I make him odious
By some unpopular act; and then dethrone him.
Enter Dorax.
Now, Dorax.
Dor. Well, Benducar.
Bend. Bare Benducar!
Dor. Thou would'st have titles; take them then,—chief minister,
First hangman of the state.
Bend. Some call me, favourite.
Dor. What's that?—his minion?—
Thou art too old to be a catamite!—
Now pr'ythee tell me, and abate thy pride,
Is not Benducar, bare, a better name
In a friend's mouth, than all those gaudy titles,
Which I disdain to give the man I love?
Bend. But always out of humour,—
310 Dor. I have cause:
Though all mankind is cause enough for satire.
Bend. Why, then, thou hast revenged thee on mankind.
They say, in fight, thou hadst a thirsty sword,
And well 'twas glutted there.
Dor. I spitted frogs; I crushed a heap of emmets;
A hundred of them to a single soul,
And that but scanty weight too. The great devil
Scarce thanked me for my pains; he swallows vulgar
Like whipped cream,—feels them not in going down.
Bend. Brave renegade!—Could'st thou not meet Sebastian?
Thy master had been worthy of thy sword.
Dor. My master!—By what title?
Because I happened to be born where he
Happened to be king?—And yet I served him;
Nay, I was fool enough to love him too.—
You know my story, how I was rewarded
For fifteen hard campaigns, still hooped in iron,
And why I turned Mahometan. I'm grateful;
But whosoever dares to injure me,
Let that man know, I dare to be revenged.
Bend. Still you run off from bias:—Say, what moves
Your present spleen?
Dor. You marked not what I told you.
I killed not one that was his maker's image;
I met with none but vulgar two-legged brutes:
Sebastian was my aim; he was a man:
Nay,—though he hated me, and I hate him,
Yet I must do him right,—he was a man,
Above man's height, even towering to divinity:
Brave, pious, generous, great, and liberal;
Just as the scales of heaven, that weigh the seasons.
He loved his people; him they idolized;
And thence proceeds my mortal hatred to him;
311 That, thus unblameable to all besides,
He erred to me alone:
His goodness was diffused to human kind,
And all his cruelty confined to me.
Bend. You could not meet him then?
Dor. No, though I sought
Where ranks fell thickest.—'Twas indeed the place
To seek Sebastian.—Through a track of death
I followed him, by groans of dying foes;
But still I came too late; for he was flown,
Like lightning, swift before me to new slaughters.
I mowed across, and made irregular harvest,
Defaced the pomp of battle, but in vain;
For he was still supplying death elsewhere.
This mads me, that perhaps ignoble hands
Have overlaid him,—for they could not conquer:
Murdered by multitudes, whom I alone
Had right to slay. I too would have been slain;
That, catching hold upon his flitting ghost,
I might have robbed him of his opening heaven,
And dragged him down with me, spite of predestination.
Bend. 'Tis of as much import as Africk's worth,
To know what came of him, and of Almeyda,
The sister of the vanquished Mahomet,
Whose fatal beauty to her brother drew
The land's third part, as Lucifer did heaven's.
Dor. I hope she died in her own female calling,
Choked up with man, and gorged with circumcision.
As for Sebastian, we must search the field;
And, where we see a mountain of the slain,
Send one to climb, and, looking down below,
There he shall find him at his manly length,
With his face up to heaven, in the red monument,
Which his true sword has digged.
Bend. Yet we may possibly hear farther news;
312 For, while our Africans pursued the chace,
The captain of the rabble issued out,
With a black shirtless train, to spoil the dead,
And seize the living.
Dor. Each of them an host,
A million strong of vermin every villain:
No part of government, but lords of anarchy,
Chaos of power, and privileged destruction.
Bend. Yet I must tell you, friend, the great must use them
Sometimes, as necessary tools of tumult.
Dor. I would use them
Like dogs in times of plague; outlaws of nature,
Fit to be shot and brained, without a process,
To stop infection; that's their proper death.
Bend. No more;—
Behold the emperor coming to survey
The slaves, in order to perform his vow.
Enter Muley-Moluch the Emperor, with Attendants; the Mufti, and Muley-Zeydan.
M. Mol. Our armours now may rust; our idle scymiters
Hang by our sides for ornament, not use:
Children shall beat our atabals and drums,
And all the noisy trades of war no more
Shall wake the peaceful morn; the Xeriff's blood
No longer in divided channels runs,
The younger house took end in Mahomet:
Nor shall Sebastian's formidable name
Be longer used to lull the crying babe.
Muf. For this victorious day, our mighty prophet
Expects your gratitude, the sacrifice
Of Christian slaves, devoted, if you won.
M. Mol. The purple present shall be richly paid;
That vow performed, fasting shall be abolished;
None e'er served heaven well with a starved face:
313 Preach abstinence no more; I tell thee, Mufti,
Good feasting is devout; and thou, our head,
Hast a religious, ruddy countenance.
We will have learned luxury; our lean faith
Gives scandal to the christians; they feed high:
Then look for shoals of converts, when thou hast
Reformed us into feasting.
Muf. Fasting is but the letter of the law,
Yet it shews well to preach it to the vulgar;
Wine is against our law; that's literal too,
But not denied to kings and to their guides;
Wine is a holy liquor for the great.
Dor. [Aside.] This Mufti, in my conscience, is some English renegado, he talks so savourily of toping.
M. Mol. Bring forth the unhappy relicks of the war.
Enter Mustapha, Captain of the Rabble, with his followers of the Black Guard, &c. and other Moors; With them a Company of Portuguese Slaves, without any of the chief Persons.
M. Mol. These are not fit to pay an emperor's vow;
Our bulls and rams had been more noble victims:
These are but garbage, not a sacrifice.
Muf. The prophet must not pick and chuse his offerings;
Now he has given the day, 'tis past recalling,
And he must be content with such as these.
M. Mol. But are these all? Speak you, that are their masters.
Must. All, upon my honour; if you will take them as their fathers got them, so; if not, you must stay till they get a better generation. These christians are mere bunglers; they procreate nothing but out of their own wives, and these have all the looks of eldest sons.
314 M. Mol. Pain of your lives, let none conceal a slave.
Must. Let every man look to his own conscience; I am sure mine shall never hang me.
Bend. Thou speak'st as if thou wert privy to concealments; then thou art an accomplice.
Must. Nay, if accomplices must suffer, it may go hard with me: but here's the devil on't, there's a great man, and a holy man too, concerned with me; now, if I confess, he'll be sure to escape between his greatness and his holiness, and I shall be murdered, because of my poverty and rascality.
Muf. [Winking at him.]
Then, if thy silence save the great and holy,
'Tis sure thou shalt go straight to paradise.
Must. 'Tis a fine place, they say; but, doctor, I am not worthy on't. I am contented with this homely world; 'tis good enough for such a poor, rascally Mussulman, as I am; besides, I have learnt so much good manners, doctor, as to let my betters be served before me.
M. Mol. Thou talk'st as if the Mufti were concerned.
Must. Your majesty may lay your soul on't. But, for my part, though I am a plain fellow, yet I scorn to be tricked into paradise; I would he should know it. The truth on't is, an't like you, his reverence bought of me the flower of all the market: these—these are but dogs-meat to them; and a round price he paid me, too, I'll say that for him; but not enough for me to venture my neck for. If I get paradise when my time comes, I can't help myself; but I'll venture nothing before-hand, upon a blind bargain.
M. Mol. Where are those slaves? produce them.
Muf. They are not what he says.
M. Mol. No more excuses. [One goes out to fetch them.
315 Know, thou may'st better dally
With a dead prophet, than a living king.
Muf. I but reserved them to present thy greatness
An offering worthy thee.
Must. By the same token there was a dainty virgin, (virgin, said I! but I wont be too positive of that, neither) with a roguish leering eye! he paid me down for her upon the nail a thousand golden sultanins, or he had never had her, I can tell him that; now, is it very likely he would pay so dear for such a delicious morsel, and give it away out of his own mouth, when it had such a farewell with it too?
Enter Sebastian, conducted in mean Habit, with Alvarez, Antonio, and Almeyda, her Face veiled with a Barnus.
M. Mol. Ay; these look like the workmanship of heaven;
This is the porcelain clay of human kind,
And therefore cast into these noble moulds.
Dor. By all my wrongs, [Aside, while the Emperor whispers Benducar.
'Tis he! damnation seize me, but 'tis he!
My heart heaves up and swells; he's poison to me;
My injured honour, and my ravished love,
Bleed at their murderer's sight.
Ben. [Aside to Dor.]
The emperor would learn these prisoners' names;
You know them?
Dor. Tell him, no;
And trouble me no more—I will not know them.
Shall I trust heaven, that heaven which I renounced,
With my revenge? Then, where's my satisfaction?
No; It must be my own, I scorn a proxy.[Aside.
M. Mol. 'Tis decreed;
These of a better aspect, with the rest,
316 Shall share one common doom, and lots decide it.
For every numbered captive, put a ball
Into an urn; three only black be there,
The rest, all white, are safe.
Muf. Hold, sir; the woman must not draw.
M. Mol O Mufti,
We know your reason; let her share the danger.
Muf. Our law says plainly, women have no souls.
M, Mol. 'Tis true; their souls are mortal, set her by;
Yet, were Almeyda here, though fame reports her
The fairest of her sex, so much, unseen,
I hate the sister of our rival-house,
Ten thousand such dry notions of our Alcoran
Should not protect her life, if not immortal;
Die as she could, all of a piece, the better
That none of her remain.
[Here an Urn is brought in; the Prisoners approach with great concernment, and among the rest, Sebastian, Alvarez, and Antonio, who come more chearfully.
Dor. Poor abject creatures, how they fear to die!
These never knew one happy hour in life,
Yet shake to lay it down. Is load so pleasant?
Or has heaven hid the happiness of death,
That men may dare to live?—Now for our heroes. [The Three approach.
O, these come up with spirits more resolved.
Old venerable Alvarez;—well I know him,
The favourite once of this Sebastian's father;
Now minister, (too honest for his trade)
Religion bears him out; a thing taught young,
In age ill practised, yet his prop in death.
O, he has drawn a black; and smiles upon't,
As who should say,—My faith and soul are white,
Though my lot swarthy: Now, if there be hereafter,
317 He's blest; if not, well cheated, and dies pleased.
Anton. [Holding his lot in his clenched hand.]
Here I have thee;
Be what thou wilt, I will not look too soon:
Thou hast a colour; if thou prov'st not right,
I have a minute good ere I behold thee.
Now, let me roll and grubble thee:
Blind men say, white feels smooth, and black feels rough;
Thou hast a rugged skin, I do not like thee.
Dor. There's the amorous airy spark, Antonio,
The wittiest woman's toy in Portugal:
Lord, what a loss of treats and serenades!
The whole she-nation will be in mourning for him,
Anton. I've a moist sweaty palm; the more's my sin:
If it be black, yet only dyed, not odious
Damned natural ebony, there's hope, in rubbing,
To wash this Ethiop white.—[Looks.] Pox o'the proverb!
As black as hell;—another lucky saying!
I think the devil's in me;—good again!
I cannot speak one syllable, but tends
To death or to damnation.[Holds up his ball.
Dor. He looks uneasy at his future journey,[Aside.
And wishes his boots off again, for fear
Of a bad road, and a worse inn at night.
Go to bed, fool, and take secure repose,
For thou shalt wake no more.[Sebastian comes up to draw.
M. Mol. [To Ben.] Mark him, who now approaches to the lottery:
He looks secure of death, superior greatness,
Like Jove, when he made Fate, and said, Thou art
The slave of my creation.—I admire him.
Bend. He looks as man was made; with face erect,
318 That scorns his brittle corpse, and seems ashamed
He's not all spirit; his eyes, with a dumb pride,
Accusing fortune that he fell not warm;
Yet now disdains to live.[Sebast. draws a black.
M. Mol. He has his wish;
And I have failed of mine.
Dor. Robbed of my vengeance, by a trivial chance! [Aside.
Fine work above, that their anointed care
Should die such little death! or did his genius
Know mine the stronger dæmon, feared the grapple,
And looking round him, found this nook of fate,
To skulk behind my sword?—Shall I discover him?—
Still he would not die mine; no thanks to my
Revenge; reserved but to more royal shambles.
'Twere base, too, and below those vulgar souls,
That shared his danger, yet not one disclosed him,
But, struck with reverence, kept an awful silence.
I'll see no more of this;—dog of a prophet![Exit Dorax.
M. Mol. One of these three is a whole hecatomb,
And therefore only one of them shall die:
The rest are but mute cattle; and when death
Comes like a rushing lion, couch like spaniels,
With lolling tongues, and tremble at the paw:
Let lots again decide it. [The Three draw again; and the Lot falls on Sebastian.
Sebast. Then there's no more to manage: if I fall,
It shall be like myself; a setting sun
Should leave a track of glory in the skies.—
Behold Sebastian, king of Portugal.
M. Mol. Sebastian! ha! it must be he; no other
Could represent such suffering majesty.
I saw him, as he terms himself, a sun
Struggling in dark eclipse, and shooting day
On either side of the black orb that veiled him.
319 Sebast. Not less even in this despicable now,
Than when my name filled Afric with affright,
And froze your hearts beneath your torrid zone.
Bend. [To M. Mol.]
Extravagantly brave! even to an impudence
Of greatness.
Sebast. Here satiate all your fury:
Let fortune empty her whole quiver on me;
I have a soul, that, like an ample shield,
Can take in all, and verge enough for more.
I would have conquered you; and ventured only
A narrow neck of land for a third world,
To give my loosened subjects room to play.
Fate was not mine,
Nor am I fate's. Now I have pleased my longing,
And trod the ground which I beheld from far,
I beg no pity for this mouldering clay;
For, if you give it burial, there it takes
Possession of your earth;
If burnt and scattered in the air, the winds,
That strow my dust, diffuse my royalty,
And spread me o'er your clime: for where one atom
Of mine shall light, know, there Sebastian reigns.
M. Mol. What shall I do to conquer thee?
Sebast. Impossible!
Souls know no conquerors.
M. Mol. I'll shew thee for a monster through my Afric.
Sebast. No, thou canst only shew me for a man:
Afric is stored with monsters; man's a prodigy,
Thy subjects have not seen.
M. Mol. Thou talk'st as if
Still at the head of battle.
Sebast. Thou mistakest,
For then I would not talk.
Bend. Sure he would sleep.
Sebast. Till doomsday, when the trumpet sounds to rise;
320 For that's a soldier's call.
M. Mol. Thou'rt brave too late;
Thou shouldst have died in battle, like a soldier.
Sebast. I fought and fell like one, but death deceived me;
I wanted weight of feeble Moors upon me,
To crush my soul out.
M. Mol. Still untameable!
In what a ruin has thy head-strong pride,
And boundless thirst of empire, plunged thy people!
Sebast. What sayst thou? ha! no more of that.
M. Mol. Behold,
What carcases of thine thy crimes have strewed,
And left our Afric vultures to devour.
Bend. Those souls were those thy God intrusted with thee,
To cherish, not destroy.
Sebast. Witness, O heaven, how much
This sight concerns me! would I had a soul
For each of these; how gladly would I pay
The ransom down! But since I have but one,
'Tis a king's life, and freely 'tis bestowed.
Not your false prophet, but eternal justice
Has destined me the lot, to die for these:
'Tis fit a sovereign so should pay such subjects;
For subjects such as they are seldom seen,
Who not forsook me at my greatest need;
Nor for base lucre sold their loyalty,
But shared my dangers to the last event,
And fenced them with their own. These thanks I pay you; [Wipes his eyes.
And know, that, when Sebastian weeps, his tears
Come harder than his blood.
M. Mol. They plead too strongly
To be withstood. My clouds are gathering too,
In kindly mixture with his royal shower.
Be safe; and owe thy life, not to my gift,
321 But to the greatness of thy mind, Sebastian.
Thy subjects too shall live; a due reward
For their untainted faith, in thy concealment.
Muf. Remember, sir, your vow.[A general shout.
M. Mol. Do thou remember
Thy function, mercy, and provoke not blood.
Mul. Zeyd. One of his generous fits, too strong to last. [Aside to Benducar.
Bend. The Mufti reddens; mark that holy cheek.[To him.
He frets within, froths treason at his mouth,
And churns it thro' his teeth; leave me to work him.
Seb. A mercy unexpected, undesired,
Surprises more: you've learnt the art to vanquish.
You could not,—give me leave to tell you, sir,—
Have given me life but in my subjects' safety:
Kings, who are fathers, live but in their people.
M. Mol. Still great, and grateful; that's thy character.—
Unveil the woman; I would view the face,
That warmed our Mufti's zeal:
These pious parrots peck the fairest fruit:
Such tasters are for kings. [Officers go to Almeyda to unveil her.
Alm. Stand off, ye slaves! I will not be unveiled.
M. Mol Slave is thy title:—force her.
Sebast. On your lives, approach her not.
M. Mol. How's this!
Sebast. Sir, pardon me,
And hear me speak.—
Aim. Hear me; I will be heard.
I am no slave; the noblest blood of Afric
Runs in my veins; a purer stream than thine:
For, though derived from the same source, thy current
Is puddled and defiled with tyranny.
M. Mol. What female fury have we here!
Aim. I should be one,
322 Because of kin to thee. Wouldst thou be touched
By the presuming hands of saucy grooms?
The same respect, nay more, is due to me:
More for my sex; the same for my descent.
These hands are only fit to draw the curtain.
Now, if thou dar'st, behold Almeyda's face.[Unveils herself.
Bend. Would I had never seen it![Aside.
Alm. She whom thy Mufti taxed to have no soul;
Let Afric now be judge.
Perhaps thou think'st I meanly hope to 'scape,
As did Sebastian, when he owned his greatness.
But to remove that scruple, know, base man,
My murdered father, and my brother's ghost,
Still haunt this breast, and prompt it to revenge.
Think not I could forgive, nor dar'st thou pardon.
M. Mol. Wouldst thou revenge thee, trait'ress, hadst thou power?
Alm. Traitor, I would; the name's more justly thine;
Thy father was not, more than mine, the heir
Of this large empire: but with arms united
They fought their way, and seized the crown by force;
And equal as their danger was their share:
For where was eldership, where none had right
But that which conquest gave? 'Twas thy ambition
Pulled from my peaceful father what his sword
Helped thine to gain; surprised him and his kingdom,
No provocation given, no war declared.
M. Mol. I'll hear no more.
Alm. This is the living coal, that, burning in me,
Would flame to vengeance, could it find a vent;
My brother too, that lies yet scarcely cold
In his deep watery bed;—my wandering mother,
Who in exile died—
O that I had the fruitful heads of Hydra,
323 That one might bourgeon where another fell!
Still would I give thee work; still, still, thou tyrant,
And hiss thee with the last.
M. Mol. Something, I know not what, comes over me:
Whether the toils of battle, unrepaired
With due repose, or other sudden qualm.—
Benducar, do the rest.[Goes off, the court follows him.
Bend. Strange! in full health! this pang is of the soul;
The body's unconcerned: I'll think hereafter.—
Conduct these royal captives to the castle;
Bid Dorax use them well, till further order.[Going off, stops.
The inferior captives their first owners take,
To sell, or to dispose.—You Mustapha,
Set ope the market for the sale of slaves.[Exit Bend.
[The Masters and Slaves come forward, and Buyers of several Qualities come in, and chaffer about the several Owners, who make their slaves do Tricks[1].
Must. My chattels are come into my hands again, and my conscience will serve me to sell them twice 324 over; any price now, before the Mufti come to claim them.
1st Mer. [To Must.] What dost hold that old fellow at?—[Pointing to Alvar.] He's tough, and has no service in his limbs.
Must. I confess he's somewhat tough; but I suppose you would not boil him, I ask for him a thousand crowns.
1st Mer. Thou mean'st a thousand marvedis.
Must. Pr'ythee, friend, give me leave to know my own meaning.
1st Mer. What virtues has he to deserve that price?
Must. Marry come up, sir! virtues, quotha! I took him in the king's company; he's of a great family, and rich; what other virtues wouldst thou have in a nobleman?
1st Mer. I buy him with another man's purse, that's my comfort. My lord Dorax, the governor, will have him at any rate:—There's hansel. Come, old fellow, to the castle.
Alvar. To what is miserable age reserved![Aside.
But oh the king! and oh the fatal secret!
Which I have kept thus long to time it better,
And now I would disclose, 'tis past my power. [Exit with his Master.
Must. Something of a secret, and of the king, I heard him mutter: a pimp, I warrant him, for I am sure he is an old courtier. Now, to put off t'other remnant of my merchandize.—Stir up, sirrah!
[To Ant.
Ant. Dog, what wouldst thou have?
Must. Learn better manners, or I shall serve you a dog-trick; come down upon all-four immediately; I'll make you know your rider.
Ant. Thou wilt not make a horse of me?
325 Must. Horse or ass, that's as thy mother made thee: but take earnest, in the first place, for thy sauciness.—[Lashes him with his Whip.]—Be advised, friend, and buckle to thy geers: Behold my ensign of royalty displayed over thee.
Ant. I hope one day to use thee worse in Portugal.
Must. Ay, and good reason, friend; if thou catchest me a-conquering on thy side of the water, lay on me lustily; I will take it as kindly as thou dost this.—
[Holds up his Whip.
Ant. [Lying down.] Hold, my dear Thrum-cap: I obey thee cheerfully.—I see the doctrine of non-resistance is never practised thoroughly, but when a man can't help himself.
Enter a second Merchant.
2d Mer. You, friend, I would see that fellow do his postures.
Must. [Bridling Ant.] Now, sirrah, follow, for you have rope enough: To your paces, villain, amble trot, and gallop:—Quick about, there.—Yeap! the more money's bidden for you, the more your credit.
[Antonio follows, at the end of the Bridle, on his Hands and Feet, and does all his Postures.
2d Mer. He is well chined, and has a tolerable good back; that is half in half.—[To Must.]—I would see him strip; has he no diseases about him?
Must. He is the best piece of man's flesh in the market, not an eye-sore in his whole body. Feel his legs, master; neither splint, spavin, nor wind-gall.
[Claps him on the Shoulder.
Mer. [Feeling about him, and then putting his Hand on his Side.] Out upon him, how his flank heaves! The whore-son is broken-winded.
326 Must. Thick-breathed a little; nothing but a sorry cold with lying out a-nights in trenches; but sound, wind and limb, I warrant him.—Try him at a loose trot a little.
[Puts the Bridle into his Hand, he strokes him.
Ant. For heaven's sake, owner, spare me: you know I am but new broken.
2d Mer. 'Tis but a washy jade, I see: what do you ask for this bauble?
Must. Bauble, do you call him? he is a substantial true-bred beast; bravely forehanded. Mark but the cleanness of his shapes too: his dam may be a Spanish gennet, but a true barb by the sire, or I have no skill in horseflesh:—Marry, I ask six hundred xeriffs for him.
Enter Mufti.
Mufti. What is that you are asking, sirrah?
Must. Marry, I ask your reverence six hundred pardons; I was doing you a small piece of service here, putting off your cattle for you.
Mufti. And putting the money into your own pocket.
Must. Upon vulgar reputation, no, my lord; it was for your profit and emolument. What! wrong the head of my religion? I was sensible you would have damned me, or any man, that should have injured you in a single farthing; for I knew that was sacrifice.
Mufti. Sacrilege, you mean, sirrah,—and damning shall be the least part of your punishment: I have taken you in the manner, and will have the law upon you.
Must. Good my lord, take pity upon a poor man in this world, and damn me in the next.
Mufti. No, sirrah, so you may repent and escape 327 punishment: Did not you sell this very slave amongst the rest to me, and take money for him?
Must. Right, my lord.
Mufti. And selling him again? take money twice for the same commodity? Oh, villain! but did you not know him to be my slave, sirrah?
Must. Why should I lie to your honour? I did know him; and thereupon, seeing him wander about, took him up for a stray, and impounded him, with intention to restore him to the right owner.
Mufti. And yet at the same time was selling him to another: How rarely the story hangs together!
Must. Patience, my lord. I took him up, as your herriot, with intention to have made the best of him, and then have brought the whole product of him in a purse to you; for I know you would have spent half of it upon your pious pleasures, have hoarded up the other half, and given the remainder in charities to the poor.
Mufti. And what's become of my other slave? Thou hast sold him too, I have a villainous suspicion.
Must. I know you have, my lord; but while I was managing this young robustious fellow, that old spark, who was nothing but skin and bone, and by consequence very nimble, slipt through my fingers like an eel, for there was no hold-fast of him, and ran away to buy himself a new master.
Muft. [To Ant.] Follow me home, sirrah:—[To Must.] I shall remember you some other time.
[Exit Mufti with Ant.
Must. I never doubted your lordship's memory for an ill turn: And I shall remember him too in the next rising of the mobile for this act of resumption; and more especially for the ghostly 328 counsel he gave me before the emperor, to have hanged myself in silence to have saved his reverence. The best on't is, I am beforehand with him for selling one of his slaves twice over; and if he had not come just in the nick, I might have pocketed up the other; for what should a poor man do that gets his living by hard labour, but pray for bad times when he may get it easily? O for some incomparable tumult! Then should I naturally wish that the beaten party might prevail; because we have plundered the other side already, and there is nothing more to get of them.
Both rich and poor for their own interest pray,
'Tis ours to make our fortune while we may;
For kingdoms are not conquered every day.[Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE I.—Supposed to be a Terrace Walk, on the side of the Castle of Alcazar.
Enter Emperor and Benducar.
Emp. And thinkst thou not, it was discovered?
Bend. No:
The thoughts of kings are like religious groves,
The walks of muffled gods: Sacred retreat,
Where none, but whom they please to admit, approach.
Emp. Did not my conscious eye flash out a flame,
To lighten those brown horrors, and disclose
The secret path I trod?
Bend. I could not find it, till you lent a clue
To that close labyrinth; how then should they?
Emp. I would be loth they should: it breeds contempt
For herds to listen, or presume to pry,
329 When the hurt lion groans within his den:
But is't not strange?
Bend. To love? not more than 'tis to live; a tax
Imposed on all by nature, paid in kind,
Familiar as our being.
Emp. Still 'tis strange
To me: I know my soul as wild as winds,
That sweep the desarts of our moving plains;
Love might as well be sowed upon our sands,
As in a breast so barren.
To love an enemy, the only one
Remaining too, whom yester sun beheld
Mustering her charms, and rolling, as she past
By every squadron, her alluring eyes,
To edge her champions' swords, and urge my ruin.
The shouts of soldiers, and the burst of cannon,
Maintain even still a deaf and murmuring noise;
Nor is heaven yet recovered of the sound,
Her battle roused: Yet, spite of me, I love.
Bend. What then controuls you?
Her person is as prostrate as her party.
Emp. A thousand things controul this conqueror:
My native pride to own the unworthy passion,
Hazard of interest, and my people's love.
To what a storm of fate am I exposed!—
What if I had her murdered!—'tis but what
My subjects all expect, and she deserves,—
Would not the impossibility
Of ever, ever seeing, or possessing,
Calm all this rage, this hurricane of soul?
Bend. That ever, ever,—
I marked the double,—shows extreme reluctance
To part with her for ever.
Emp. Right, thou hast me.
I would, but cannot kill: I must enjoy her:
I must, and what I must, be sure I will.
What's royalty, but power to please myself?
330 And if I dare not, then am I the slave,
And my own slaves the sovereigns:—'tis resolved.
Weak princes flatter, when they want the power
To curb their people; tender plants must bend:
But when a government is grown to strength,
Like some old oak, rough with its armed bark,
It yields not to the tug, but only nods,
And turns to sullen state.
Bend. Then you resolve
To implore her pity, and to beg relief?
Emp. Death! must I beg the pity of my slave?
Must a king beg?—Yes; love's a greater king;
A tyrant, nay, a devil, that possesses me:
He tunes the organs of my voice, and speaks,
Unknown to me, within me; pushes me,
And drives me on by force.—
Say I should wed her, would not my wise subjects
Take check, and think it strange? perhaps revolt?
Bend. I hope they would not.
Emp. Then thou doubtst they would?
Bend. To whom?
Emp. To her
Perhaps,—or to my brother,—or to thee.
Bend. [in disorder.]
To me! me, did you mention? how I tremble!
The name of treason shakes my honest soul.
If I am doubted, sir,
Secure yourself this moment, take my life.
Emp. No more: If I suspected thee—I would.
Bend. I thank your kindness.—Guilt had almost lost me. [Aside.
Emp. But clear my doubts:—thinkst thou they may rebel?
Bend. This goes as I would wish.—[Aside.
'Tis possible:
A secret party still remains, that lurks
Like embers raked in ashes,—wanting but
331 A breath to blow aside the involving dust,
And then they blaze abroad.
Emp. They must be trampled out.
Bend. But first be known.
Emp. Torture shall force it from them.
Bend. You would not put a nation to the rack?
Emp. Yes, the whole world; so I be safe, I care not.
Bend. Our limbs and lives
Are yours; but mixing friends with foes is hard.
Emp. All may be foes; or how to be distinguished,
If some be friends?
Bend. They may with ease be winnowed.
Suppose some one, who has deserved your trust,
Some one, who knows mankind, should be employed
To mix among them, seem a malcontent,
And dive into their breasts, to try how far
They dare oppose your love?
Emp. I like this well; 'tis wholesome wickedness.
Bend. Whomever he suspects, he fastens there,
And leaves no cranny of his soul unsearched;
Then like a bee bag'd with his honeyed venom,
He brings it to your hive;—if such a man,
So able and so honest, may be found;
If not, my project dies.
Emp. By all my hopes, thou hast described thyself:
Thou, thou alone, art fit to play that engine,
Thou only couldst contrive.
Bend. Sure I could serve you:
I think I could:—but here's the difficulty;
I am so entirely yours,
That I should scurvily dissemble hate;
The cheat would be too gross.
Emp. Art thou a statesman,
And canst not be a hypocrite? Impossible!
332 Do not distrust thy virtues.
Bend. If I must personate this seeming villain,
Remember 'tis to serve you.
Emp. No more words:
Love goads me to Almeyda, all affairs
Are troublesome but that; and yet that most.[Going.
Bid Dorax treat Sebastian like a king;
I had forgot him;—but this love mars all,
And takes up my whole breast.[Exit Emperor.
Bend. [To the Emp.] Be sure I'll tell him—
With all the aggravating circumstances[Alone.
I can, to make him swell at that command.
The tyrant first suspected me;
Then with a sudden gust he whirled about,
And trusted me too far:—Madness of power!
Now, by his own consent, I ruin him.
For, should some feeble soul, for fear or gain.
Bolt out to accuse me, even the king is cozened,
And thinks he's in the secret.
How sweet is treason, when the traitor's safe!
Sees the Mufti and Dorax entering, and seeming to confer.
The Mufti, and with him my sullen Dorax.
That first is mine already:
'Twas easy work to gain a covetous mind,
Whom rage to lose his prisoners had prepared:
Now caught himself,
He would seduce another. I must help him:
For churchmen, though they itch to govern all,
Are silly, woeful, aukward politicians:
They make lame mischief, though they mean it well:
Their interest is not finely drawn, and hid,
But seams are coarsely bungled up, and seen.
Muf. He'll tell you more.
Dor. I have heard enough already,
333 To make me loath thy morals.
Bend. [To Dor.] You seem warm;
The good man's zeal perhaps has gone too far.
Dor. Not very far; not farther than zeal goes;
Of course a small day's journey short of treason.
Muf. By all that's holy, treason was not named:
I spared the emperor's broken vows, to save
The slaves from death, though it was cheating heaven;
But I forgave him that.
Dor. And slighted o'er
The wrongs himself sustained in property;
When his bought slaves were seized by force, no loss
Of his considered, and no cost repaid.[Scornfully.
Muf. Not wholly slighted o'er, not absolutely.—
Some modest hints of private wrongs I urged.
Dor. Two-thirds of all he said: there he began
To shew the fulness of his heart; there ended.
Some short excursions of a broken vow
He made indeed, but flat insipid stuff;
But, when he made his loss the theme, he flourished,
Relieved his fainting rhetoric with new figures,
And thundered at oppressing tyranny.
Muf. Why not, when sacrilegious power would seize
My property? 'tis an affront to heaven,
Whose person, though unworthy, I sustain.
Dor. You've made such strong alliances above,
That 'twere profaneness in us laity
To offer earthly aid.
I tell thee, Mufti, if the world were wise,
They would not wag one finger in your quarrels.
Your heaven you promise, but our earth you covet;
The Phætons of mankind, who fire that world,
Which you were sent by preaching but to warm.
Bend. This goes beyond the mark.
Muf. No, let him rail;
334 His prophet works within him;
He's a rare convert.
Dor. Now his zeal yearns
To see me burned; he damns me from his church,
Because I would restrain him to his duty.—
Is not the care of souls a load sufficient?
Are not your holy stipends paid for this?
Were you not bred apart from worldly noise,
To study souls, their cures and their diseases?
If this be so, we ask you but our own:
Give us your whole employment, all your care.
The province of the soul is large enough
To fill up every cranny of your time,
And leave you much to answer, if one wretch
Be damned by your neglect.
Bend. [To the Mufti.] He speaks but reason.
Dor. Why, then, these foreign thoughts of state-employments,
Abhorrent to your function and your breedings?
Poor droning truants of unpractised cells,
Bred in the fellowship of bearded boys,
What wonder is it if you know not men?
Yet there you live demure, with down-cast eyes,
And humble as your discipline requires;
But, when let loose from thence to live at large,
Your little tincture of devotion dies:
Then luxury succeeds, and, set agog
With a new scene of yet untasted joys,
You fall with greedy hunger to the feast.
Of all your college virtues, nothing now
But your original ignorance remains;
Bloated with pride, ambition, avarice,
You swell to counsel kings, and govern kingdoms.
Muf. He prates as if kings had not consciences,
And none required directors but the crowd.
Dor. As private men they want you, not as kings;
Nor would you care to inspect their public conscience,
335 But that it draws dependencies of power
And earthly interest, which you long to sway;
Content you with monopolizing heaven,
And let this little hanging ball alone:
For, give you but a foot of conscience there,
And you, like Archimedes, toss the globe.
We know your thoughts of us that laymen are,
Lag souls, and rubbish of remaining clay,
Which heaven, grown weary of more perfect work,
Set upright with a little puff of breath,
And bid us pass for men.
Muf. I will not answer,
Base foul-mouthed renegade; but I'll pray for thee,
To shew my charity.[Exit Mufti.
Dor. Do; but forget not him who needs it most:
Allow thyself some share.—He's gone too soon;
I had to tell him of his holy jugglings;
Things that would startle faith, and make us deem
Not this, or that, but all religions false.
Bend. Our holy orator has lost the cause.[Aside.
But I shall yet redeem it.—[To Dorax.] Let him go;
For I have secret orders from the emperor,
Which none but you must hear: I must confess,
I could have wished some other hand had brought them.
When did you see your prisoner, great Sebastian?
Dor. You might as well have asked me, when I saw
A crested dragon, or a basilisk;
Both are less poison to my eyes and nature,
He knows not I am I; nor shall he see me,
Till time has perfected a labouring thought,
That rolls within my breast.
Bend. 'Twas my mistake.
I guessed indeed that time, and his misfortunes,
And your returning duty, had effaced
The memory of past wrongs; they would in me,
336 And I judged you as tame, and as forgiving.
Dor. Forgive him! no: I left my foolish faith,
Because it would oblige me to forgiveness.
Bend. I can't but grieve to find you obstinate,
For you must see him; 'tis our emperor's will,
And strict command.
Dor. I laugh at that command.
Bend. You must do more than see; serve, and respect him.
Dor. See, serve him, and respect! and after all
My yet uncancelled wrongs, I must do this!—
But I forget myself.
Bend. Indeed you do.
Dor. The emperor is a stranger to my wrongs;
I need but tell my story, to revoke
This hard commission.
Bend. Can you call me friend,
And think I could neglect to speak, at full,
The affronts you had from your ungrateful master?
Dor. And yet enjoined my service and attendance!
Bend. And yet enjoined them both: would that were all!
He screwed his face into a hardened smile,
And said, Sebastian knew to govern slaves.
Dor. Slaves are the growth of Africk, not of Europe.—
By heaven! I will not lay down my commission;
Not at his foot, I will not stoop so low:
But if there be a part in all his face
More sacred than the rest, I'll throw it there.
Bend. You may; but then you lose all future means
Of vengeance on Sebastian, when no more
Alcayde of this fort.
Dor. That thought escaped me.
Bend. Keep your command, and be revenged on both:
Nor sooth yourself; you have no power to affront him;
337 The emperor's love protects him from insults;
And he, who spoke that proud, ill-natured word,
Following the bent of his impetuous temper,
May force your reconcilement to Sebastian;
Nay, bid you kneel, and kiss the offending foot,
That kicked you from his presence.—
But think not to divide their punishment;
You cannot touch a hair of loathed Sebastian,
While Muley-Moluch lives.
Dor. What means this riddle?
Bend. 'Tis out;—there needs no Œdipus to solve it.
Our emperor is a tyrant, feared and hated;
I scarce remember, in his reign, one day
Pass guiltless o'er his execrable head.
He thinks the sun is lost, that sees not blood:
When none is shed, we count it holiday.
We, who are most in favour, cannot call
This hour our own.—You know the younger brother,
Mild Muley-Zeydan?
Dor. Hold, and let me think.
Bend. The soldiers idolize you;
He trusts you with the castle,
The key of all his kingdom.
Dor. Well; and he trusts you too.
Bend. Else I were mad,
To hazard such a daring enterprize.
Dor. He trusts us both; mark that!—Shall we betray him;
A master, who reposes life and empire
On our fidelity:—I grant he is a tyrant,
That hated name my nature most abhors:
More,—as you say,—has loaded me with scorn,
Even with the last contempt, to serve Sebastian;
Yet more, I know he vacates my revenge,
Which, but by this revolt, I cannot compass:
338 But, while he trusts me, 'twere so base a part,
To fawn, and yet betray,—I should be hissed,
And whooped in hell for that ingratitude.
Bend. Consider well what I have done for you.
Dor. Consider thou, what thou wouldst have me do.
Bend. You've too much honour for a renegade.
Dor. And thou too little faith to be a favourite.
Is not the bread thou eat'st, the robe thou wear'st,
Thy wealth, and honours, all the pure indulgence
Of him thou would'st destroy?
And would his creature, nay, his friend, betray him?
Why then no bond is left on human kind!
Distrusts, debates, immortal strifes ensue;
Children may murder parents, wives their husbands;
All must be rapine, wars, and desolation,
When trust and gratitude no longer bind.
Bend. Well have you argued in your own defence;
You, who have burst asunder all those bonds,
And turned a rebel to your native prince.
Dor. True, I rebelled: But when did I betray?—
Indignities, which man could not support,
Provoked my vengeance to this noble crime;
But he had stripped me first of my command,
Dismissed my service, and absolved my faith;
And, with disdainful language, dared my worst:
I but accepted war, which he denounced.
Else had you seen, not Dorax, but Alonzo,
With his couched lance, against your foremost Moors;
Perhaps, too, turned the fortune of the day,
Made Africk mourn and Portugal triumph.
Bend. Let me embrace thee!
Dor. Stand off, sycophant,
And keep infection distant.
Bend. Brave and honest!
Dor. In spite of thy temptations.
Bend. Call them, trials;
339 They were no more. Thy faith was held in balance,
And nicely weighed by jealousy of power.
Vast was the trust of such a royal charge:
And our wise emperor might justly fear,
Sebastian might be freed and reconciled,
By new obligements, to thy former love.
Dor. I doubt thee still: Thy reasons were too strong,
And driven too near the head, to be but artifice:
And, after all, I know thou art a statesman,
Where truth is rarely found.
Bend. Behold the emperor:—
Enter Emperor, Sebastian, and Almeyda.
Ask him, I beg thee,—to be justified,—
If he employed me not to ford thy soul,
And try the footing, whether false or firm.
Dor. Death to my eyes, I see Sebastian with him!
Must he be served?—Avoid him: If we meet,
It must be like the crush of heaven and earth,
To involve us both in ruin.[Exit.
Bend. 'Twas a bare saving game I made with Dorax;
But better so than lost. He cannot hurt me;
That I precautioned: I must ruin him.—
But now this love; ay, there's the gathering storm!
The tyrant must not wed Almeyda: No!
That ruins all the fabric I am raising.
Yet, seeming to approve, it gave me time;
And gaining time gains all.[Aside.
[Benducar goes and waits behind the Emperor. The Emperor, Sebastian, and Almeyda, advance to the front of the stage: Guards and Attendants.
Emp. to Seb. I bade them serve you; and, if they obey not,
I keep my lions keen within their dens,
340 To stop their maws with disobedient slaves.
Seb. If I had conquered,
They could not have with more observance waited:
Their eyes, hands, feet,
Are all so quick, they seem to have but one motion,
To catch my flying words. Only the alcayde
Shuns me; and, with a grim civility,
Bows, and declines my walks.
Emp. A renegade:
I know not more of him, but that he's brave,
And hates your Christian sect. If you can frame
A farther wish, give wing to your desires,
And name the thing you want.
Seb. My liberty;
For were even paradise itself my prison,
Still I should long to leap the crystal walls.
Emp. Sure our two souls have somewhere been acquainted
In former beings; or, struck out together,
One spark to Afric flew, and one to Portugal.
Expect a quick deliverance: Here's a third, [Turning to Almeyda.
Of kindred sold to both: pity our stars
Have made us foes! I should not wish her death.
Alm. I ask no pity; if I thought my soul
Of kin to thine, soon would I rend my heart-strings,
And tear out that alliance; but thou, viper,
Hast cancelled kindred, made a rent in nature,
And through her holy bowels gnawed thy way,
Through thy own blood, to empire.
Emp. This again!
And yet she lives, and only lives to upbraid me!
Seb. What honour is there in a woman's death!
Wronged, as she says, but helpless to revenge;
Strong in her passion, impotent of reason,
Too weak to hurt, too fair to be destroyed.
Mark her majestic fabric; she's a temple
341 Sacred by birth, and built by hands divine;
Her souls the deity that lodges there;
Nor is the pile unworthy of the god.
Emp. She's all that thou canst say, or I can think;
But the perverseness of her clamourous tongue
Strikes pity deaf.
Seb. Then only hear her eyes!
Though they are mute, they plead; nay, more, command;
For beauteous eyes have arbitrary power.
All females have prerogative of sex;
The she's even of the savage herd are safe;
And when they snarl or bite, have no return
But courtship from the male.
Emp. Were she not she, and I not Muley-Moluch,
She's mistress of inevitable charms,
For all but me; nor am I so exempt,
But that—I know not what I was to say—
But I am too obnoxious to my friends,
And swayed by your advice.
Seb. Sir, I advised not;
By heaven, I never counselled love, but pity.
Emp. By heaven thou didst; deny it not, thou didst:
For what was all that prodigality
Of praise, but to inflame me?
Seb. Sir—
Emp. No more;
Thou hast convinced me that she's worth my love.
Seb. Was ever man so ruined by himself?[Aside.
Alm. Thy love! That odious mouth was never framed
To speak a word so soft:
Name death again, for that thou canst pronounce
With horrid grace, becoming of a tyrant.
Love is for human hearts, and not for thine,
Where the brute beast extinguishes the man.
342 Emp. Such if I were, yet rugged lions love,
And grapple, and compel their savage dames.—
Mark my Sebastian, how that sullen frown,[She frowns.
Like flashing lightning, opens angry heaven,
And, while it kills, delights!—But yet, insult not
Too soon, proud beauty! I confess no love.
Seb. No, sir; I said so, and I witness for you,
Not love, but noble pity, moved your mind:
Interest might urge you too to save her life;
For those, who wish her party lost, might murmur
At shedding royal blood.
Emp. Right, thou instruct'st me;
Interest of state requires not death, but marriage,
To unite the jarring titles of our line.
Seb. Let me be dumb for ever; all I plead,[Aside.
Like wildfire thrown against the winds, returns
With double force to burn me.
Emp. Could I but bend, to make my beauteous foe
The partner of my throne, and of my bed—
Alm. Still thou dissemblest; but, I read thy heart,
And know the power of my own charms; thou lov'st,
And I am pleased, for my revenge, thou dost.
Emp. And thou hast cause.
Alm. I have, for I have power to make thee wretched.
Be sure I will, and yet despair of freedom.
Emp. Well then, I love;
And 'tis below my greatness to disown it;
Love thee implacably, yet hate thee too;
Would hunt thee barefoot, in the mid-day sun,
Through the parched desarts and the scorching sands,
To enjoy thy love, and, once enjoyed, to kill thee.
Alm. 'Tis a false courage, when thou threaten'st me;
Thou canst not stir a hand to touch my life:
343 Do not I see thee tremble, while thou speak'st?
Lay by the lion's hide, vain conqueror,
And take the distaff; for thy soul's my slave.
Emp. Confusion! How thou view'st my very heart!
I could as soon
Stop a spring-tide, blown in, with my bare hand,
As this impetuous love:—Yes, I will wed thee;
In spite of thee, and of myself, I will.
Alm. For what? to people Africa with monsters,
Which that unnatural mixture must produce?
No, were we joined, even though it were in death,
Our bodies burning in one funeral pile,
The prodigy of Thebes would be renewed,
And my divided flame should break from thine.
Emp. Serpent, I will engender poison with thee;
Join hate with hate, add venom to the birth:
Our offspring, like the seed of dragons' teeth,
Shall issue armed, and fight themselves to death.
Alm. I'm calm again; thou canst not marry me.
Emp. As gleams of sunshine soften storms to showers,
So, if you smile, the loudness of my rage
In gentle whispers shall return but this—
That nothing can divert my love but death.
Alm. See how thou art deceived; I am a Christian:
'Tis true, unpractised in my new belief,
Wrongs I resent, nor pardon yet with ease;
Those fruits come late, and are of slow increase
In haughty hearts, like mine: Now, tell thyself
If this one word destroy not thy designs:
Thy law permits thee not to marry me.
Emp. 'Tis but a specious tale, to blast my hopes,
And baffle my pretensions.—Speak, Sebastian,
And, as a king, speak true.
Seb. Then, thus adjured,
344 On a king's word 'tis truth, but truth ill-timed;
For her dear life is now exposed anew,
Unless you wholly can put on divinity,
And graciously forgive.
Alm. Now learn, by this,
The little value I have left for life,
And trouble me no more.
Emp. I thank thee, woman;
Thou hast restored me to my native rage,
And I will seize my happiness by force.
Seb. Know, Muley Moluch, when thou darest attempt—
Emp. Beware! I would not be provoked to use
A conqueror's right, and therefore charge thy silence.
If thou wouldst merit to be thought my friend,
I leave thee to persuade her to compliance:
If not, there's a new gust in ravishment,
Which I have never tried.
Bend. They must be watched;[Aside.
For something I observed creates a doubt. [Exeunt Emp. and Bend.
Seb. I've been too tame, have basely borne my wrongs,
And not exerted all the king within me:
I heard him, O sweet heavens! he threatened rape;
Nay, insolently urged me to persuade thee,
Even thee, thou idol of my soul and eyes,
For whom I suffer life, and drag this being.
Alm. You turn my prison to a paradise;
But I have turned your empire to a prison:
In all your wars good fortune flew before you;
Sublime you sat in triumph on her wheel,
Till in my fatal cause your sword was drawn;
The weight of my misfortunes dragged you down.
Seb. And is't not strange, that heaven should bless my arms
In common causes, and desert the best?
345 Now in your greatest, last extremity,
When I would aid you most, and most desire it,
I bring but sighs, the succours of a slave.
Alm. Leave then the luggage of your fate behind;
To make your flight more easy leave Almeyda:
Nor think me left a base, ignoble prey,
Exposed to this inhuman tyrant's lust;
My virtue is a guard beyond my strength,
And death, my last defence, within my call.
Seb. Death may be called in vain, and cannot come;
Tyrants can tie him up from your relief;
Nor has a Christian privilege to die.
Alas, thou art too young in thy new faith:
Brutus and Cato might discharge their souls,
And give them furloughs for another world;
But we, like sentries, are obliged to stand
In starless nights, and wait the appointed hour[2].
Alm. If shunning ill be good
To those, who cannot shun it but by death,
Divines but peep on undiscovered worlds,
And draw the distant landscape as they please;
But who has e'er returned from those bright regions,
To tell their manners, and relate their laws?
I'll venture landing on that happy shore
With an unsullied body and white mind;
If I have erred, some kind inhabitant
Will pity a strayed soul, and take me home.
Seb. Beware of death! thou canst not die unperjured,
346 And leave an unaccomplished love behind.
Thy vows are mine; nor will I quit my claim:
The ties of minds are but imperfect bonds,
Unless the bodies join to seal the contract.
Alm. What joys can you possess, or can I give,
Where groans of death succeed the sighs of love?
Our Hymen has not on his saffron robe;
But, muffled up in mourning, downward holds
His drooping torch, extinguished with his tears.
Seb. The God of Love stands ready to revive it,
With his etherial breath.
Alm. 'Tis late to join, when we must part so soon.
Seb. Nay, rather let us haste it, ere we part;
Our souls, for want of that acquaintance here,
May wander in the starry walks above,
And, forced on worse companions, miss ourselves.
Alm. The tyrant will not long be absent hence;
And soon I shall be ravished from your arms.
Seb. Wilt thou thyself become the greater tyrant,
And give not love, while thou hast love to give?
In dangerous days, when riches are a crime,
The wise betimes make over their estates:
Make o'er thy honour, by a deed of trust,
And give me seizure of the mighty wealth.
Alm. What shall I do? O teach me to refuse!
I would,—and yet I tremble at the grant;
For dire presages fright my soul by day,
And boding visions haunt my nightly dreams;
Sometimes, methinks, I hear the groans of ghosts,
Thin, hollow sounds, and lamentable screams;
Then, like a dying echo, from afar,
My mother's voice, that cries,—Wed not, Almeyda!
Forewarned, Almeyda, marriage is thy crime.
Seb. Some envious demon to delude our joys;
Love is not sin, but where 'tis sinful love.
Alm. Mine is a flame so holy and so clear,
That the white taper leaves no soot behind;
347 No smoke of lust; but chaste as sisters' love,
When coldly they return a brother's kiss,
Without the zeal that meets at lovers' mouths[3].
Seb. Laugh then at fond presages. I had some;—
Famed Nostradamus, when he took my horoscope,
Foretold my father, I should wed with incest.
Ere this unhappy war my mother died,
And sisters I had none;—vain augury!
A long religious life, a holy age,
My stars assigned me too;—impossible!
For how can incest suit with holiness,
Or priestly orders with a princely state?
Alm. Old venerable Alvarez—[Sighing.
Seb. But why that sigh in naming that good man?
Alm. Your father's counsellor and confident—
Seb. He was; and, if he lives, my second father.
Alm. Marked our farewell, when, going to the fight,
You gave Almeyda for the word of battle.
'Twas in that fatal moment, he discovered
The love, that long we laboured to conceal.
I know it; though my eyes stood full of tears,
Yet through the mist I saw him stedfast gaze;
Then knocked his aged breast, and inward groaned,
Like some sad prophet, that foresaw the doom
Of those whom best he loved, and could not save.
Seb. It startles me! and brings to my remembrance,
That, when the shock of battle was begun,
He would have much complained (but had not time)
Of our hid passion: then, with lifted hands,
He begged me, by my father's sacred soul,
348 Not to espouse you, if he died in fight;
For, if he lived, and we were conquerors,
He had such things to urge against our marriage,
As, now declared, would blunt my sword in battle,
And dastardize my courage.
Alm. My blood curdles,
And cakes about my heart.
Seb. I'll breathe a sigh so warm into thy bosom,
Shall make it flow again. My love, he knows not
Thou art a Christian: that produced his fear,
Lest thou shouldst sooth my soul with charms so strong,
That heaven might prove too weak.
Alm. There must be more:
This could not blunt your sword.
Seb. Yes, if I drew it, with a curst intent,
To take a misbeliever to my bed:
It must be so.
Alm. Yet—
Seb. No, thou shalt not plead,
With that fair mouth, against the cause of love.
Within this castle is a captive priest,
My holy confessor, whose free access
Not even the barbarous victors have refused;
This hour his hands shall make us one.
Alm. I go, with love and fortune, two blind guides,
To lead my way, half loth, and half consenting.
If, as my soul forebodes, some dire event
Pursue this union, or some crime unknown,
Forgive me, heaven! and, all ye blest above,
Excuse the frailty of unbounded love![Exeunt.
SCENE II.—Supposed a Garden, with lodging rooms behind it, or on the sides.
Enter Mufti, Antonio as a slave, and Johayma the Mufti's wife.
Muf. And how do you like him? look upon him well; he is a personable fellow of a Christian dog. Now, I think you are fitted for a gardener. Ha, what sayest thou, Johayma?
Joh. He may make a shift to sow lettuce, raise melons, and water a garden-plat; but otherwise, a very filthy fellow: how odiously he smells of his country garlick! fugh, how he stinks of Spain.
Muf. Why honey bird, I bought him on purpose for thee: didst thou not say, thou longedst for a Christian slave?
Joh. Ay, but the sight of that loathsome creature has almost cured me; and how can I tell that he is a christian? an he were well searched, he may prove a Jew, for aught I know. And, besides, I have always longed for an eunuch; for they say that's a civil creature, and almost as harmless as yourself, husband.—Speak, fellow, are not you such a kind of peaceable thing?
Ant. I was never taken for one in my own country; and not very peaceable neither, when I am well provoked.
Muf. To your occupation, dog; bind up the jessamines in yonder arbour, and handle your pruning-knife with dexterity: tightly I say, go tightly to your business; you have cost me much, and must earn it in your work. Here's plentiful provision for you, rascal; salading in the garden, and water in the tank, and on holidays the licking of a platter of rice, when you deserve it.
Joh. What have you been bred up to, sirrah? and 350 what can you perform, to recommend you to my service?
Ant. [Making Legs.] Why, madam, I can perform as much as any man, in a fair lady's service. I can play upon the flute, and sing; I can carry your umbrella, and fan your ladyship, and cool you when you are too hot; in fine, no service, either by day or by night, shall come amiss to me; and, besides I am of so quick an apprehension, that you need but wink upon me at any time to make me understand my duty. [She winks at him.]—Very fine, she has tipt the wink already.
[Aside.
Joh. The whelp may come to something in time, when I have entered him into his business.
Muf. A very malapert cur, I can tell him that; I do not like his fawning—You must be taught your distance, sirrah.
[Strikes him.
Joh. Hold, hold. He has deserved it, I confess; but, for once, let his ignorance plead his pardon; we must not discourage a beginner. Your reverence has taught us charity, even to birds and beasts:—here, you filthy brute, you, take this little alms to buy you plasters.
[Gives him a piece of money.
Ant. Money, and a love-pinch in the inside of my palm into the bargain.[Aside.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Sir, my lord Benducar is coming to wait on you, and is already at the palace gate.
Muf. Come in, Johayma; regulate the rest of my wives and concubines, and leave the fellow to his work.
Joh. How stupidly he stares about him, like a calf new come into the world! I shall teach you, sirrah, to know your business a little better. This 351 way, you awkward rascal; here lies the arbour; must I be shewing you eternally?
[Turning him about.
Muf. Come away, minion; you shall shew him nothing.
Joh. I'll but bring him into the arbour, where a rose-tree and a myrtle-tree are just falling for want of a prop; if they were bound together, they would help to keep up one another. He's a raw gardener, and 'tis but charity to teach him.
Muf. No more deeds of charity to-day; come in, or I shall think you a little better disposed than I could wish you.
Joh. Well, go before, I will follow my pastor.
Muf. So you may cast a sheep's eye behind you? in before me;—and you, sauciness, mind your pruning-knife, or I may chance to use it for you.
[Exeunt Mufti and Johayma.
Ant. [Alone.] Thank you for that, but I am in no such haste to be made a mussulman. For his wedlock, for all her haughtiness, I find her coming. How far a Christian should resist, I partly know; but how far a lewd young Christian can resist, is another question. She's tolerable, and I am a poor stranger, far from better friends, and in a bodily necessity. Now have I a strange temptation to try what other females are belonging to this family: I am not far from the women's apartment, I am sure; and if these birds are within distance, here's that will chuckle them together. [Pulls out his Flute.] If there be variety of Moors' flesh in this holy market, 'twere madness to lay out all my money upon the first bargain. [He plays. A Grate opens, and Morayma, the Mufti's Daughter, appears at it.]—Ay, there's an apparition! This is a morsel worthy of a Mufti; this is the relishing bit in secret; this is 352 the mystery of his Alcoran, that must be reserved from the knowledge of the prophane vulgar; this is his holiday devotion.—See, she beckons too.
[She beckons to him.
Mor. Come a little nearer, and speak softly.
Ant. I come. I come, I warrant thee; the least twinkle had brought me to thee; such another kind syllable or two would turn me to a meteor, and draw me up to thee.
Mor. I dare not speak, for fear of being overheard; but if you think my person worth your hazard, and can deserve my love, the rest this note shall tell you. [Throws down a Handkerchief.] No more, my heart goes with you.
[Exit from the Grate.
Ant. O thou pretty little heart, art thou flown hither? I'll keep it warm, I warrant it, and brood upon it in the new nest.—But now for my treasure trove, that's wrapt up in the handkerchief; no peeping here, though I long to be spelling her Arabic scrawls and pot-hooks. But I must carry off my prize as robbers do, and not think of sharing the booty before I am free from danger, and out of eye-shot from the other windows. If her wit be as poignant as her eyes, I am a double slave. Our northern beauties are mere dough to these; insipid white earth, mere tobacco pipe clay, with no more soul and motion in them than a fly in winter.
Here the warm planet ripens and sublimes
The well-baked beauties of the southern climes.
Our Cupid's but a bungler in his trade;
His keenest arrows are in Africk made.[Exit.
ACT III.
SCENE I.—A Terrace Walk; or some other public place in the castle of Alcazar.
Enter Emperor Muley-Moluch, and Benducar.
Emp. Married! I'll not believe it; 'tis imposture;
Improbable they should presume to attempt,
Impossible they should effect their wish.
Bend. Have patience, till I clear it.
Emp. I have none:
Go bid our moving plains of sand lie still,
And stir not, when the stormy south blows high:
From top to bottom thou hast tossed my soul,
And now 'tis in the madness of the whirl,
Requir'st a sudden stop? unsay thy lie;
That may in time do somewhat.
Bend. I have done:
For, since it pleases you it should be forged,
'Tis fit it should: far be it from your slave
To raise disturbance in your sacred breast.
Emp. Sebastian is my slave as well as thou;
Nor durst offend my love by that presumption.
Bend. Most sure he ought not.
Emp. Then all means were wanting:
No priest, no ceremonies of their sect;
Or, grant we these defects could be supplied,
How could our prophet do an act so base,
So to resume his gifts, and curse my conquests,
By making me unhappy? No, the slave,
That told thee so absurd a story, lied.
Bend. Yet till this moment I have found him faithful:
He said he saw it too.
Emp. Dispatch; what saw he?
354 Bend. Truth is, considering with what earnestness
Sebastian pleaded for Almeyda's life,
Enhanced her beauty, dwelt upon her praise—
Emp. O stupid, and unthinking as I was!
I might have marked it too; 'twas gross and palpable.
Bend. Methought I traced a lover ill disguised,
And sent my spy, a sharp observing slave,
To inform me better, if I guessed aright.
He told me, that he saw Sebastian's page
Run cross the marble square, who soon returned,
And after him there lagged a puffing friar;
Close wrapt he bore some secret instrument
Of Christian superstition in his hand:
My servant followed fast, and through a chink
Perceived the royal captives hand in hand;
And heard the hooded father mumbling charms,
That make those misbelievers man and wife;
Which done, the spouses kissed with such a fervour,
And gave such furious earnest of their flames,
That their eyes sparkled, and their mantling blood
Flew flushing o'er their faces.
Emp. Hell confound them!
Bend. The reverend father, with a holy leer,
Saw he might well be spared, and soon withdrew:
This forced my servant to a quick retreat,
For fear to be discovered.—Guess the rest.
Emp. I do: My fancy is too exquisite,
And tortures me with their imagined bliss.
Some earthquake should have risen and rent the ground,
Have swallowed him, and left the longing bride
In agony of unaccomplished love.[Walks disorderly.
Enter the Mufti.
Bend. In an unlucky hour
355 That fool intrudes, raw in this great affair,
And uninstructed how to stem the tide.—[Aside.
[Coming up the Mufti,—aside.]
The emperor must not marry, nor enjoy:—
Keep to that point: Stand firm, for all's at stake.
Emp. [Seeing him.]
You druggerman[4] of heaven, must I attend
Your droning prayers? Why came ye not before?
Dost thou not know the captive king has dared
To wed Almeyda? Cancel me that marriage,
And make her mine: About the business, quick!—
Expound thy Mahomet; make him speak my sense,
Or he's no prophet here, and thou no Mufti;
Unless thou know'st the trick of thy vocation,
To wrest and rend the law, to please thy prince.
Muf. Why, verily, the law is monstrous plain:
There's not one doubtful text in all the alcoran,
Which can be wrenched in favour to your project.
Emp. Forge one, and foist it into some bye-place
Of some old rotten roll: Do't, I command thee!
Must I teach thee thy trade?
Muf. It cannot be;
For matrimony being the dearest point
Of law, the people have it all by heart:
A cheat on procreation will not pass.
Besides, [In a higher tone.] the offence is so exorbitant,
To mingle with a misbelieving race,
That speedy vengeance would pursue your crime,
And holy Mahomet launch himself from heaven,
Before the unready thunderbolts were formed.
[Emperor, taking him by the throat with one hand, snatches out his sword with the other, and points it to his breast.
356 Emp. Slave, have I raised thee to this pomp and power,
To preach against my will?—Know, I am law;
And thou, not Mahomet's messenger but mine!—
Make it, I charge thee, make my pleasure lawful;
Or, first, I strip thee of thy ghostly greatness,
Then send thee post to tell thy tale above.
And bring thy vain memorials to thy prophet,
Of justice done below for disobedience.
Muf. For heaven's sake hold!—The respite of a moment!—
To think for you—
Emp. And for thyself.
Muf. For both.
Bend. Disgrace, and death, and avarice, have lost him! [Aside.
Muf. 'Tis true, our law forbids to wed a Christian;
But it forbids you not to ravish her.
You have a conqueror's right upon your slave;
And then the more despite you do a Christian,
You serve the prophet more, who loathes that sect.
Emp. O, now it mends; and you talk reason, Mufti.—
But, stay! I promised freedom to Sebastian;
Now, should I grant it, his revengeful soul
Would ne'er forgive his violated bed.
Muf. Kill him; for then you give him liberty:
His soul is from his earthly prison freed.
Emp. How happy is the prince who has a churchman,
So learned and pliant, to expound his laws!
Bend. Two things I humbly offer to your prudence.
Emp. Be brief, but let not either thwart my love.
Bend. First, since our holy man has made rape lawful,
357 Fright her with that; Proceed not yet to force:
Why should you pluck the green distasteful fruit
From the unwilling bough,
When it may ripen of itself, and fall?
Emp. Grant her a day; though that's too much to give
Out of a life which I devote to love.
Bend. Then, next, to bar
All future hopes of her desired Sebastian,
Let Dorax be enjoined to bring his head.
Emp. [To the Mufti.]
Go, Mufti, call him to receive his orders.—[Exit Mufti.
I taste thy counsel; her desires new roused,
And yet unslaked, will kindle in her fancy,
And make her eager to renew the feast.
Bend. [Aside.] Dorax, I know before, will disobey:
There's a foe's head well cropped.—
But this hot love precipitates my plot,
And brings it to projection ere its time.
Enter Sebastian and Almeyda, hand in hand; upon sight of the Emperor, they separate, and seem disturbed.
Alm. He breaks at unawares upon our walks,
And, like a midnight wolf, invades the fold.
Make speedy preparation of your soul,
And bid it arm apace: He comes for answer,
And brutal mischief sits upon his brow.
Seb. Not the last sounding could surprise me more,
That summons drowsy mortals to their doom,
When called in haste to fumble for their limbs,
And tremble, unprovided for their charge:
My sense has been so deeply plunged in joys,
The soul out-slept her hour; and, scarce awake,
Would think too late, but cannot: But brave minds,
At worst, can dare their fate.[Aside.
358 Emp. [Coming up to them.] Have you performed
Your embassy, and treated with success?
Seb. I had no time.
Emp. No, not for my affairs;
But, for your own, too much.
Seb. You talk in clouds; explain your meaning, sir.
Emp. Explain yours first.—What meant you, hand in hand?
And, when you saw me, with a guilty start,
You loosed your hold, affrighted at my presence.
Seb. Affrighted!
Emp. Yes, astonished and confounded.
Seb. What mak'st thou of thyself, and what of me?
Art thou some ghost, some demon, or some god,
That I should stand astonished at thy sight?
If thou could'st deem so meanly of my courage,
Why didst thou not engage me man for man,
And try the virtue of that Gorgon face,
To stare me into statue?
Emp. Oh, thou art now recovered; but, by heaven,
Thou wert amazed at first, as if surprised
At unexpected baseness brought to light.
For know, ungrateful man, that kings, like gods,
Are every where; walk in the abyss of minds,
And view the dark recesses of the soul.
Seb. Base and ungrateful never was I thought;
Nor, till this turn of fate, durst thou have called me:
But, since thou boast'st the omniscience of a god,
Say in what cranny of Sebastian's soul,
Unknown to me, so loathed a crime is lodged?
Emp. Thou hast not broke my trust, reposed in thee!
Seb. Imposed, but not received.—Take back that falsehood.
Emp. Thou art not married to Almeyda?
Emp. And own'st the usurpation of my love?
Seb. I own it, in the face of heaven and thee;
No usurpation, but a lawful claim,
Of which I stand possessed.
Emp. She has chosen well,
Betwixt a captive and a conqueror.
Alm. Betwixt a monster, and the best of men!—
He was the envy of his neighbouring kings;
For him their sighing queens despised their lords;
And virgin daughters blushed when he was named.
To share his noble chains is more to me,
Than all the savage greatness of thy throne.
Seb. Were I to chuse again, and knew my fate,
For such a night I would be what I am.
The joys I have possessed are ever mine;
Out of thy reach; behind eternity;
Hid in the sacred treasure of the past:
But blest remembrance brings them hourly back.
Emp. Hourly indeed, who hast but hours to live.
O, mighty purchase of a boasted bliss!
To dream of what thou hadst one fugitive night,
And never shalt have more!
Seb. Barbarian, thou canst part us but a moment!
We shall be one again in thy despite.
Life is but air,
That yields a passage to the whistling sword,
And closes when 'tis gone.
Alm. How can we better die than close embraced,
Sucking each other's souls while we expire?
Which, so transfused, and mounting both at once,
The saints, deceived, shall, by a sweet mistake,
Hand up thy soul for mine, and mine for thine.
Emp. No, I'll untwist you:
I have occasion for your stay on earth.
Let him mount first, and beat upon the wing,
And wait an age for what I here detain;
360 Or sicken at immortal joys above,
And languish for the heaven he left below.
Alm. Thou wilt not dare to break what heaven has joined?
Emp. Not break the chain; but change a rotten link,
And rivet one to last.
Think'st thou I come to argue right and wrong?—
Why lingers Dorax thus? Where are my guards, [Benducar goes out for the Guards,
and returns.
To drag that slave to death?—
Now storm and rage;[Pointing to Seb.
Call vainly on thy prophet, then defy him
For wanting power to save thee.
Seb. That were to gratify thy pride. I'll shew thee
How a man should, and how a king dare die!
So even, that my soul shall walk with ease
Out of its flesh, and shut out life as calmly
As it does words; without a sign to note
One struggle, in the smooth dissolving frame.
Alm. [To the Emp.]
Expect revenge from heaven, inhuman wretch!
Nor hope to ascend Sebastian's holy bed.
Flames, daggers, poisons, guard the sacred steps:
Those are the promised pleasures of my love.
Emp. And these might fright another, but not me;
Or me, if I designed to give you pleasure.
I seek my own; and while that lasts, you live.—
Enter two of the Guards.
Go, bear the captive to a speedy death,
And set my soul at ease.
Alm. I charge you hold, ye ministers of death!—
Speak my Sebastian;
Plead for thy life; Oh, ask it of the tyrant:
361 'Tis no dishonour; trust me, love, 'tis none.
I would die for thee, but I cannot plead;
My haughty heart disdains it, even for thee.—
Still silent! Will the king of Portugal
Go to his death like a dumb sacrifice?
Beg him to save my life in saving thine.
Seb. Farewell; my life's not worth another word.
Emp. [To the Guards.] Perform your orders.
Alm. Stay, take my farewell too!
Farewell the greatness of Almeyda's soul!—
Look, tyrant, what excess of love can do;
It pulls me down thus low as to thy feet;[Kneels to him.>
Nay, to embrace thy knees with loathing hands,
Which blister when they touch thee: Yet even thus,
Thus far I can, to save Sebastian's life.
Emp. A secret pleasure trickles through my veins:
It works about the inlets of my soul,
To feel thy touch, and pity tempts the pass:
But the tough metal of my heart resists;
'Tis warmed with the soft fire, not melted down.
Alm. A flood of scalding tears will make it run.
Spare him, Oh spare! Can you pretend to love,
And have no pity? Love and that are twins.
Here will I grow;
Thus compass you with these supplanting cords,
And pull so long till the proud fabrick falls.
Emp. Still kneel, and still embrace: 'Tis double pleasure,
So to be hugged, and see Sebastian die.
Alm. Look, tyrant, when thou nam'st Sebastian's death,
Thy very executioners turn pale.
Rough as they are, and hardened in their trade
Of death, they start at an anointed head,
And tremble to approach.—He hears me not,
Nor minds the impression of a god on kings;
362 Because no stamp of heaven was on his soul,
But the resisting mass drove back the seal.—
Say, though thy heart be rock of adamant,
Yet rocks are not impregnable to bribes:
Instruct me how to bribe thee; name thy price;
Lo, I resign my title to the crown;
Send me to exile with the man I love,
And banishment is empire.
Emp. Here's my claim,[Clapping his Hand to his Sword.
And this extinguished thine; thou giv'st me nothing.
Alm. My father's, mother's, brother's death, I pardon;
That's somewhat sure; a mighty sum of murder,
Of innocent and kindred blood struck off.
My prayers and penance shall discount for these,
And beg of heaven to charge the bill on me:
Behold what price I offer, and how dear,
To buy Sebastian's life!
Emp. Let after-reckonings trouble fearful fools;
I'll stand the trial of those trivial crimes:
But, since thou begg'st me to prescribe my terms,
The only I can offer are thy love,
And this one day of respite to resolve.
Grant, or deny; for thy next word is fate,
And fate is deaf to prayer.
Alm. May heaven be so,[Rising up.
At thy last breath, to thine! I curse thee not;
For, who can better curse the plague, or devil,
Than to be what they are? That curse be thine.—
Now, do not speak, Sebastian, for you need not;
But die, for I resign your life.—Look, heaven,
Almeyda dooms her dear Sebastian's death!
But is there heaven? for I begin to doubt;
The skies are hushed, no grumbling thunders roll.—
Now take your swing, ye impious; sin unpunished;
363 Eternal Providence seems overwatched,
And with a slumbering nod assents to murder.
Enter Dorax, attended by three Soldiers.
Emp. Thou mov'st a tortoise-pace to my relief.
Take hence that once a king; that sullen pride,
That swells to dumbness: lay him in the dungeon,
And sink him deep with irons, that, when he would,
He shall not groan to hearing; when I send,
The next commands are death.
Alm. Then prayers are vain as curses.
Emp. Much at one
In a slave's mouth, against a monarch's power.
This day thou hast to think;
At night, if thou wilt curse, thou shalt curse kindly;
Then I'll provoke thy lips, lay siege so close,
That all thy sallying breath shall turn to blessings.—
Make haste, seize, force her, bear her hence.
Alm. Farewell, my last Sebastian!
I do not beg, I challenge justice now.—
O Powers, if kings be your peculiar care,
Why plays this wretch with your prerogative?
Now flash him dead, now crumble him to ashes,
Or henceforth live confined in your own palace;
And look not idly out upon a world,
That is no longer yours.
[She is carried off struggling; Emperor and Benducar follow. Sebastian struggles in his Guards' arms, and shakes off one of them; but two others come in, and hold him; he speaks not all the while.
Dor. I find I'm but a half-strained villain yet;
But mongrel-mischievous; for my blood boiled,
To view this brutal act; and my stern soul
Tugged at my arm, to draw in her defence.[Aside.
364 Down, thou rebelling Christian in my heart!
Redeem thy fame on this Sebastian first;[Walks a turn.
Then think on other wrongs, when thine are righted.
But how to right them? on a slave disarmed,
Defenceless, and submitted to my rage?
A base revenge is vengeance on myself:—[Walks again.
I have it, and I thank thee, honest head,
Thus present to me at my great necessity.— [Comes up to Sebastian.
You know me not?
Seb. I hear men call thee Dorax.
Dor. 'Tis well; you know enough for once:—you speak too;
You were struck mute before.
Seb. Silence became me then.
Dor. Yet we may talk hereafter.
Seb. Hereafter is not mine:
Dispatch thy work, good executioner.
Dor. None of my blood were hangmen; add that falsehood
To a long bill, that yet remains unreckoned.
Seb. A king and thou can never have a reckoning.
Dor. A greater sum, perhaps, than you can pay.
Meantime, I shall make bold to increase your debt; [Gives him his Sword.
Take this, and use it at your greatest need.
Seb. This hand and this have been acquainted well: [Looks on it.
It should have come before into my grasp,
To kill the ravisher.
Dor. Thou heard'st the tyrant's orders; guard thy life
When 'tis attacked, and guard it like a man.
Seb. I'm still without thy meaning, but I thank thee.
365 Dor. Thank me when I ask thanks; thank me with that.
Seb. Such surly kindness did I never see.
Dor. [To the Captain of his Guards.]
Musa, draw out a file; pick man by man.
Such who dare die, and dear will sell their death.
Guard him to the utmost; now conduct him hence,
And treat him as my person.
Seb. Something like
That voice, methinks, I should have somewhere heard;
But floods of woes have hurried it far off,
Beyond my ken of soul. [Exit Sebastian, with the Soldiers.
Dor. But I shall bring him back, ungrateful man!
I shall, and set him full before thy sight,
When I shall front thee, like some staring ghost,
With all my wrongs about me.—What, so soon
Returned? this haste is boding.
Enter to him Emperor, Benducar, and Mufti.
Emp. She's still inexorable, still imperious,
And loud, as if, like Bacchus, born in thunder.
Be quick, ye false physicians of my mind;
Bring speedy death, or cure.
Bend. What can be counselled, while Sebastian lives?
The vine will cling, while the tall poplar stands;
But, that cut down, creeps to the next support,
And twines as closely there.
Emp. That's done with ease; I speak him dead:—proceed.
Muf. Proclaim your marriage with Almeyda next,
That civil wars may cease; this gains the crowd:
Then you may safely force her to your will;
For people side with violence and injustice,
When done for public good.
366 Emp. Preach thou that doctrine.
Bend. The unreasonable fool has broached a truth,
That blasts my hopes; but, since 'tis gone so far,
He shall divulge Almeyda is a Christian;
If that produce no tumult, I despair.[Aside.
Emp Why speaks not Dorax?
Dor. Because my soul abhors to mix with him.
Sir, let me bluntly say, you went too far,
To trust the preaching power on state-affairs
To him, or any heavenly demagogue:
'Tis a limb lopt from your prerogative,
And so much of heaven's image blotted from you.
Muf. Sure thou hast never heard of holy men,
(So Christians call them) famed in state affairs!
Such as in Spain, Ximenes, Albornoz;
In England, Wolsey; match me these with laymen.
Dor. How you triumph in one or two of these,
Born to be statesmen, happening to be churchmen!
Thou call'st them holy; so their function was:
But tell me, Mufti, which of them were saints?—
Next sir, to you: the sum of all is this,—
Since he claims power from heaven, and not from kings,
When 'tis his interest, he can interest heaven
To preach you down; and ages oft depend
On hours, uninterrupted, in the chair.
Emp. I'll trust his preaching, while I rule his pay;
And I dare trust my Africans to hear
Whatever he dare preach.
Dor. You know them not.
The genius of your Moors is mutiny;
They scarcely want a guide to move their madness;
Prompt to rebel on every weak pretence;
Blustering when courted, crouching when opprest;
Wise to themselves, and fools to all the world;
Restless in change, and perjured to a proverb.
They love religion sweetened to the sense;
367 A good, luxurious, palatable faith.
Thus vice and godliness,—preposterous pair!—
Ride cheek by jowl, but churchmen hold the reins:
And whene'er kings would lower clergy-greatness,
They learn too late what power the preachers have,
And whose the subjects are; the Mufti knows it,
Nor dares deny what passed betwixt us two.
Emp. No more; whate'er he said was my command.
Dor. Why, then, no more, since you will hear no more;
Some kings are resolute to their own ruin.
Emp. Without your meddling where you are not asked,
Obey your orders, and dispatch Sebastian.
Dor. Trust my revenge; be sure I wish him dead.
Emp. What mean'st thou? What's thy wishing to my will?
Dispatch him; rid me of the man I loath.
Dor I hear you, sir; I'll take my time, and do't.
Emp. Thy time! What's all thy time? What's thy whole life
To my one hour of ease? No more replies,
But see thou dost it; or—
Dor. Choke in that threat; I can say or as loud.
Emp. 'Tis well; I see my words have no effect,
But I may send a message to dispose you.[Is going off.
Dor. Expect an answer worthy of that message.
Muf. The prophet owed him this;
And, thanked be heaven, he has it.[Aside.
Bend. By holy Alla, I conjure you stay,
And judge not rashly of so brave a man. [Draws the Emperor aside, and whispers him.
I'll give you reasons why he cannot execute
Your orders now, and why he will hereafter.
368 Muf. Benducar is a fool, to bring him off;
I'll work my own revenge, and speedily.[Aside.
Bend. The fort is his, the soldiers' hearts are his;
A thousand Christian slaves are in the castle,
Which he can free to reinforce his power;
Your troops far off, beleaguering Larache,
Yet in the Christians' hands.
Emp. I grant all this;
But grant me he must die.
Bend. He shall, by poison;
'Tis here, the deadly drug, prepared in powder,
Hot as hell fire: Then, to prevent his soldiers
From rising to revenge their general's death,
While he is struggling with his mortal pangs,
The rabble on the sudden may be raised
To seize the castle.
Emp. Do't;—'tis left to thee.
Bend. Yet more;—but clear your brow, for he observes. [They whisper again.
Dor. What, will the favourite prop my falling fortunes?
O prodigy of court![Aside
[Emp. and Bend. return to Dor.
Emp. Your friend has fully cleared your innocence;
I was too hasty to condemn unheard,
And you, perhaps, too prompt in your replies.
As far as fits the majesty of kings,
I ask excuse.
Dor. I'm sure I meant it well.
Emp. I know you did:—This to our love renewed.— [Emp. drinks.
Benducar, fill to Dorax. [Bend. turns, and mixes a Powder in it.
Dor. Let it go round, for all of us have need
To quench our heats: 'Tis the king's health, Benducar, [He drinks.
369 And I would pledge it, though I knew 'twere poison.
Bend. Another bowl; for what the king has touched,
And you have pledged, is sacred to your loves. [Drinks out of another Bowl.
Muf. Since charity becomes my calling, thus
Let me provoke your friendship; and heaven bless it,
As I intend it well.
[Drinks; and, turning aside, pours some drops out of a little vial into the Bowl; then presents it to Dorax.
Dor. Heaven make thee honest;
On that condition we shall soon be friends.[Drinks.
Muf. Yes, at our meeting in another world;
For thou hast drunk thy passport out of this.
Not the Nonacrian font, nor Lethe's lake,
Could sooner numb thy nimble faculties,
Than this, to sleep eternal.[Aside.
Emp. Now farewell, Dorax; this was our first quarrel,
And, I dare prophecy, will prove our last. [Exeunt Emp. Bend. and the Mufti.
Dor. It may be so.—I'm strangely discomposed;
Quick shootings thro' my limbs, and pricking pains,
Qualms at my heart, convulsions in my nerves,
Shiverings of cold, and burnings of my entrails,
Within my little world make medley war,
Lose and regain, beat, and are beaten back,
As momentary victors quit their ground.—
Can it be poison! Poison's of one tenor,
Or hot, or cold; this neither, and yet both.
Some deadly draught, some enemy of life,
Boils in my bowels, and works out my soul.
Ingratitude's the growth of every clime;
Africk, the scene removed, is Portugal.
Of all court service, learn the common lot,—
To-day 'tis done, to-morrow 'tis forgot.
370 Oh, were that all! my honest corpse must lie
Exposed to scorn, and public infamy;
My shameful death will be divulged alone;
The worth and honour of my soul unknown.[Exit.
SCENE II.—A Night-Scene of the Mufti's Garden, where an Arbour is discovered.
Enter Antonio.
Ant. She names herself Morayma; the Mufti's only daughter, and a virgin! This is the time and place that she appointed in her letter, yet she comes not. Why, thou sweet delicious creature, why torture me with thy delay! Dar'st thou be false to thy assignation? What, in the cool and silence of the night, and to a new lover?—Pox on the hypocrite, thy father, for instructing thee so little in the sweetest point of his religion.—Hark, I hear the rustling of her silk mantle. Now she comes, now she comes:—no, hang it, that was but the whistling of the wind through the orange-trees.—Now, again, I hear the pit-a-pat of a pretty foot through the dark alley:—No, 'tis the son of a mare, that's broken loose, and munching upon the melons.—Oh, the misery of an expecting lover! Well, I'll e'en despair, go into my arbour, and try to sleep; in a dream I shall enjoy her, in despite of her.
[Goes into the Arbour, and lies down.
Enter Johayma, wrapt up in a Moorish mantle.
Joh. Thus far my love has carried me, almost without my knowledge whither I was going. Shall I go on? shall I discover myself?—What an injury am I doing to my old husband! Yet what injury, since he's old, and has three wives, and six concubines, 371 besides me! 'tis but stealing my own tithe from him.
[She comes a little nearer the Arbour.
Ant. [Raising himself a little, and looking.] At last 'tis she; this is no illusion, I am sure; 'tis a true she-devil of flesh and blood, and she could never have taken a fitter time to tempt me.
Joh. He's young and handsome—
Ant. Yes, well enough, I thank nature.[Aside.
Joh. And I am yet neither old nor ugly: Sure he will not refuse me.
Ant. No; thou may'st pawn thy maidenhead upon't, he wont.[Aside.
Joh. The Mufti would feast himself upon other women, and keep me fasting.
Ant. O, the holy curmudgeon![Aside.
Joh. Would preach abstinence, and practise luxury! but, I thank my stars, I have edified more by his example than his precept.
Ant. [Aside.] Most divinely argued; she's the best casuist in all Africk. [He rushes out, and embraces her.] I can hold no longer from embracing thee, my dear Morayma; the old unconscionable whoreson, thy father, could he expect cold chastity from a child of his begetting?
Joh. What nonsense do you talk? do you take me for the Mufti's daughter?
Ant. Why, are you not, madam?[Throwing off her barnus.
Joh. I find you had an appointment with Morayma.
Ant. By all that's good, the nauseous wife![Aside.
Joh. What! you are confounded, and stand mute?
Ant. Somewhat nonplust, I confess, to hear you deny your name so positively. Why, are not you Morayma, the Mufti's daughter? Did not I see you with him: did not he present me to you? were you not so charitable as to give me money? ay, and to 372 tread upon my foot, and squeeze my hand too, if I may be so bold to remember you of past favours?
Joh. And you see I am come to make them good; but I am neither Morayma, nor the Mufti's daughter.
Ant. Nay, I know not that: but I am sure he is old enough to be your father; and either father, or reverend father, I heard you call him.
Joh. Once again, how came you to name Morayma?
Ant. Another damned mistake of mine: for, asking one of my fellow-slaves, who were the chief ladies about the house, he answered me, Morayma and Johayma; but she, it seems, is his daughter, with a pox to her, and you are his beloved wife.
Joh. Say your beloved mistress, if you please; for that's the title I desire. This moonshine grows offensive to my eyes; come, shall we walk into the arbour? there we may rectify all mistakes.
Ant. That's close and dark.
Joh. And are those faults to lovers?
Ant. But there I cannot please myself with the sight of your beauty.
Joh. Perhaps you may do better.
Ant. But there's not a breath of air stirring.
Joh. The breath of lovers is the sweetest air; but you are fearful.
Ant. I am considering indeed, that, if I am taken with you—
Joh. The best way to avoid it is to retire, where we may not be discovered.
Ant. Where lodges your husband?
Joh. Just against the face of this open walk.
Ant. Then he has seen us already, for aught I know.
Joh. You make so many difficulties, I fear I am displeasing to you.
373 Ant. [Aside.] If Morayma comes, and takes me in the arbour with her, I have made a fine exchange of that diamond for this pebble.
Joh. You are much fallen off, let me tell you, from the fury of your first embrace.
Ant. I confess I was somewhat too furious at first, but you will forgive the transport of my passion; now I have considered it better, I have a qualm of conscience.
Joh. Of conscience! why, what has conscience to do with two young lovers that have opportunity?
Ant. Why, truly, conscience is something to blame for interposing in our matters: but how can I help it, if I have a scruple to betray my master?
Joh. There must be something more in't; for your conscience was very quiet when you took me for Morayma.
Ant. I grant you, madam, when I took you for his daughter; for then I might have made you an honourable amends by marriage.
Joh. You Christians are such peeking sinners! you tremble at a shadow in the moonshine.
Ant. And you Africans are such termagants, you stop at nothing. I must be plain with you,—you are married, and to a holy man, the head of your religion: go back to your chamber; go back, I say, and consider of it for this night, as I will do on my part: I will be true to you, and invent all the arguments I can to comply with you; and who knows but at our next meeting the sweet devil may have more power over me? I am true flesh and blood, I can tell you that for your comfort.
Joh. Flesh without blood, I think thou art; or, if any, it is as cold as that of fishes. But I'll teach thee, to thy cost, what vengeance is in store for refusing a lady who has offered thee her love.—Help, 374 help, there! will nobody come to my assistance?
Ant. What do you mean, madam? for heaven's sake, peace; your husband will hear you; think of your own danger, if you will not think of mine.
Joh. Ungrateful wretch, thou deservest no pity!—Help, help, husband, or I shall be ravished! the villain will be too strong for me! Help, help, for pity of a poor distressed creature!
Ant. Then I have nothing but impudence to assist me: I must drown her clamour, whatever comes on't.
[He takes out his Flute, and plays as loud as he can possibly, and she continues crying out.
Enter the Mufti, in his Night-gown, and two Servants.
Muf. O thou villain, what horrible impiety art thou committing! what, ravishing the wife of my bosom!—Take him away; ganch him[5], impale him, rid the world of such a monster!
[Servants seize him.
Ant. Mercy, dear master, mercy! hear me first, and after, if I have deserved hanging, spare me not. What have you seen to provoke you to this cruelty?
Muf. I have heard the outcries of my wife; the bleatings of the poor innocent lamb.—Seen nothing, sayst thou? If I see the lamb lie bleeding, and the butcher by her with his knife drawn, and bloody, is not that evidence sufficient of the murder? I come too late, and the execution is already done.
375 Ant. Pray think in reason, sir; is a man to be put to death for a similitude? No violence has been committed; none intended; the lamb's alive: and, if I durst tell you so, no more a lamb than I am a butcher.
Joh. How's that, villain, dar'st thou accuse me?
Ant. Be patient, madam, and speak but truth, and I'll do any thing to serve you: I say again, and swear it too, I'll do any thing to serve you.
[Aside.
Joh. [Aside.] I understand him; but I fear it is now too late to save him:—Pray, hear him speak, husband; perhaps he may say something for himself; I know not.
Muf. Speak thou, has he not violated my bed, and thy honour?
Joh. I forgive him freely, for he has done nothing. What he will do hereafter to make me satisfaction, himself best knows.
Ant. Any thing, any thing, sweet madam: I shall refuse no drudgery.
Muf. But did he mean no mischief? was he endeavouring nothing?
Joh. In my conscience, I begin to doubt he did not.
Muf. It's impossible:—then what meant all those outcries?
Joh. I heard music in the garden, and at an unseasonable time of night; and I stole softly out of my bed, as imagining it might be he.
Muf. How's that, Johayma? imagining it was he, and yet you went?
Joh. Why not, my lord? am not I the mistress of the family? and is it not my place to see good order kept in it? I thought he might have allured some of the she-slaves to him, and was resolved to prevent what might have been betwixt him and 376 them; when, on the sudden, he rushed out upon me, caught me in his arms with such a fury—
Muf. I have heard enough.—Away with him!
Joh. Mistaking me, no doubt, for one of his fellow-slaves: with that, affrighted as I was, I discovered myself, and cried aloud; but as soon as ever he knew me, the villain let me go; and I must needs say, he started back as if I were some serpent; and was more afraid of me than I of him.
Muf. O thou corrupter of my family, that's cause enough of death!—once again, away with him.
Joh. What, for an intended trespass? No harm has been done, whatever may be. He cost you five hundred crowns, I take it.
Muf. Thou say'st true, a very considerable sum: he shall not die, though he had committed folly with a slave; it is too much to lose by him.
Ant. My only fault has ever been to love playing in the dark; and the more she cried, the more I played, that it might be seen I intended nothing to her.
Muf. To your kennel, sirrah; mortify your flesh, and consider in whose family you are.
Joh. And one thing more,—remember from henceforth to obey better.
Muf. [Aside.] For all her smoothness, I am not quite cured of my jealousy; but I have thought of a way that will clear my doubts.
[Exit Muf. with Joh. and Servants.
Ant. I am mortified sufficiently already, without the help of his ghostly counsel. Fear of death has gone farther with me in two minutes, than my conscience would have gone in two months. I find myself in a very dejected condition, all over me; poor sin lies dormant; concupiscence is retired to his winter-quarters; and if Morayma should now 377 appear,—I say no more; but, alas for her and me!
[Morayma comes out of the Arbour, she steals behind him, and claps him on the Back.
Mor. And if Morayma should appear, as she does appear,—alas! you say, for her and you.
Ant. Art thou there, my sweet temptation! my eyes, my life, my soul, my all!
Mor. A mighty compliment! when all these, by your own confession, are just nothing.
Ant. Nothing, till thou camest to new create me; thou dost not know the power of thy own charms: Let me embrace thee, and thou shalt see how quickly I can turn wicked.
Mor. [Stepping back.] Nay, if you are so dangerous, it is best keeping you at a distance, I have no mind to warm a frozen snake in my bosom; he may chance to recover, and sting me for my pains.
Ant. Consider what I have suffered for thy sake already, and make me some amends; two disappointments in a night: O cruel creature!
Mor. And you may thank yourself for both. I came eagerly to the charge before my time, through the back-walk behind the arbour; and you, like a fresh-water soldier, stood guarding the pass before. If you missed the enemy, you may thank your own dulness.
Ant. Nay, if you will be using stratagems, you shall give me leave to make use of my advantages, now I have you in my power: we are fairly met; I'll try it out, and give no quarter.
Mor. By your favour, sir, we meet upon treaty now, and not upon defiance.
Ant. If that be all, you shall have carte blanche immediately; for I long to be ratifying.
Mor. No; now I think on't, you are already 378 entered into articles with my enemy Johayma:—"Any thing to serve you, madam; I shall refuse no drudgery:"—Whose words were those, gentleman? was that like a cavalier of honour?
Ant. Not very heroic; but self-preservation is a point above honour and religion too. Antonio was a rogue, I must confess; but you must give me leave to love him.
Mor. To beg your life so basely, and to present your sword to your enemy; Oh, recreant!
Ant. If I had died honourably, my fame indeed would have sounded loud, but I should never have heard the blast:—Come, don't make yourself worse-natured than you are; to save my life, you would be content I should promise any thing.
Mor. Yes, if I were sure you would perform nothing.
Ant. Can you suspect I would leave you for Johayma?
Mor. No; but I can expect you would have both of us. Love is covetous; I must have all of you; heart for heart is an equal trick. In short, I am younger, I think handsomer, and am sure I love you better. She has been my stepmother these fifteen years: You think that is her face you see, but it is only a daubed vizard; she wears an armour of proof upon it; an inch thick of paint, besides the wash. Her face is so fortified, that you can make no approaches to it without a shovel; but, for her constancy, I can tell you for your comfort, she will love till death, I mean till yours; for when she has worn you out, she will certainly dispatch you to another world, for fear of telling tales, as she has already served three slaves, your predecessors, of happy memory, in her favours. She has made my pious father a three-piled cuckold to my knowledge; and now she would be robbing me of my single sheep too.
379 Ant. Pr'ythee, prevent her then; and at least take the shearing of me first.
Mor. No; I'll have a butcher's pennyworth of you; first secure the carcase, and then take the fleece into the bargain.
Ant. Why, sure, you did not put yourself and me to all this trouble for a dry come-off; by this hand—
[Taking it.
Mor. Which you shall never touch, but upon better assurances than you imagine.
[Pulling her hand away.
Ant. I'll marry thee, and make a Christian of thee, thou pretty damned infidel.
Mor. I mean you shall; but no earnest till the bargain be made before witness: there is love enough to be had, and as much as you can turn you to, never doubt; but all upon honourable terms.
Ant. I vow and swear by Love; and he's a deity in all religions.
Mor. But never to be trusted in any: he has another name too, of a worse sound. Shall I trust an oath, when I see your eyes languishing, your cheeks flushing, and can hear your heart throbbing? No, I'll not come near you: he's a foolish physician, who will feel the pulse of a patient, that has the plague-spots upon him.
Ant. Did one ever hear a little moppet argue so perversely against so good a cause! Come, pr'ythee, let me anticipate a little of my revenue.
Mor. You would fain be fingering your rents before-hand; but that makes a man an ill husband ever after. Consider, marriage is a painful vocation, as you shall prove it; manage your incomes as thriftily as you can, you shall find a hard task on't to make even at the year's end, and yet to live decently.
Ant. I came with a Christian intention to revenge 380 myself upon thy father, for being the head of a false religion.
Mor. And so you shall; I offer you his daughter for your second. But since you are so pressing, meet me under my window to-morrow night, body for body, about this hour; I'll slip down out of my lodging, and bring my father in my hand.
Ant. How, thy father!
Mor. I mean, all that's good of him; his pearls and jewels, his whole contents, his heart and soul; as much as ever I can carry! I'll leave him his Alcoran, that's revenue enough for him; every page of it is gold and diamonds. He has the turn of an eye, a demure smile, and a godly cant, that are worth millions to him. I forgot to tell you, that I will have a slave prepared at the postern gate, with two horses ready saddled.—No more, for I fear I may be missed; and think I hear them calling for me.—If you have constancy and courage—
Ant. Never doubt it; and love in abundance, to wander with thee all the world over.
Mor. The value of twelve hundred thousand crowns in a casket!—
Ant. A heavy burden, heaven knows! but we must pray for patience to support it.
Mor. Besides a willing titt, that will venture her corps with you. Come, I know you long to have a parting blow with me; and therefore, to shew I am in charity—
[He kisses her.
Ant. Once more for pity, that I may keep the flavour upon my lips till we meet again.
Mor. No, frequent charities make bold beggars; and, besides, I have learned of a falconer, never to feed up a hawk when I would have him fly. That's enough; but, if you would be nibbling, here's a hand to stay your stomach.
[Kissing her hand.
381 Ant. Thus conquered infidels, that wars may cease,
Are forced to give their hands, and sign the peace.
Mor. Thus Christians are outwitted by the foe;
You had her in your power, and let her go.
If you release my hand, the fault's not mine;
You should have made me seal, as well as sign.
[She runs off, he follows her to the door; then comes back again, and goes out at the other.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.—BENDUCAR'S Palace, in the Castle of Alcazar.
Benducar solus.
Bend. My future fate, the colour of my life,
My all, depends on this important hour:
This hour my lot is weighing in the scales,
And heaven, perhaps, is doubting what to do.
Almeyda and a crown have pushed me forward:
'Tis fixed, the tyrant must not ravish her;
He and Sebastian stand betwixt my hopes;
He most, and therefore first to be dispatched.
These, and a thousand things, are to be done
In the short compass of this rolling night;
And nothing yet performed,
None of my emissaries yet returned.
Enter Haly, first Servant.
Oh Haly, thou hast held me long in pain.
What hast thou learnt of Dorax? is he dead?
Haly. Two hours I warily have watched his palace;
All doors are shut, no servant peeps abroad;
Some officers, with striding haste, passed in,
382 While others outward went on quick dispatch.
Sometimes hushed silence seemed to reign within;
Then cries confused, and a joint clamour, followed;
Then lights went gliding by, from room to room,
And shot, like thwarting meteors, cross the house.
Not daring further to inquire, I came
With speed, to bring you this imperfect news.
Bend. Hence I conclude him either dead, or dying.
His mournful friends, summoned to take their leaves,
Are thronged about his couch, and sit in council.
What those caballing captains may design,
I must prevent, by being first in action.—
To Muley-Zeydan fly with speed, desire him
To take my last instructions; tell the importance,
And haste his presence here.—[Exit Haly.
How has this poison lost its wonted way?
It should have burnt its passage, not have lingered
In the blind labyrinths and crooked turnings
Of human composition; now it moves
Like a slow fire, that works against the wind,
As if his stronger stars had interposed.—
Enter Hamet.
Well, Hamet, are our friends, the rabble, raised?
From Mustapha what message?
Ham. What you wish.
The streets are thicker in this noon of night,
Than at the mid-day sun; a drowsy horror
Sits on their eyes, like fear, not well awake;
All crowd in heaps, as, at a night alarm,
The bees drive out upon each others backs,
To imboss their hives in clusters; all ask news;
Their busy captain runs the weary round,
To whisper orders; and, commanding silence,
Makes not noise cease, but deafens it to murmurs.
Bend. Night wastes apace; when, when will he appear!
383 Ham. He only waits your summons.
Bend. Haste their coming.
Let secrecy and silence be enjoined
In their close march. What news from the lieutenant?
Ham. I left him at the gate, firm to your interest,
To admit the townsmen at their first appearance.
Bend. Thus far 'tis well: Go, hasten Mustapha. [Exit Hamet.
Enter Orchan, the third Servant.
O, Orchan, did I think thy diligence
Would lag behind the rest!—What from the Mufti?
Orc. I sought him round his palace; made inquiry
Of all the slaves; in short, I used your name,
And urged the importance home; but had for answer,
That, since the shut of evening, none had seen him.
Bend. O the curst fate of all conspiracies!
They move on many springs; if one but fail,
The restiff machine stops. In an ill hour he's absent;
'Tis the first time, and sure will be the last,
That e'er a Mufti was not in the way,
When tumults and rebellion should be broached.
Stay by me; thou art resolute and faithful;
I have employment worthy of thy arm.[Walks.
Enter Muley-Zeydan.
Mul. Zeyd. You see me come, impatient of my hopes,
And eager as the courser for the race:
Is all in readiness?
Bend. All but the Mufti.
Mul. Zeyd. We must go on without him.
Bend. True, we must;
For 'tis ill stopping in the full career,
Howe'er the leap be dangerous and wide.
Orc. [Looking out.]
I see the blaze of torches from afar,
384 And hear the trampling of thick-beating feet;
This way they move.
Bend. No doubt, the emperor.
We must not be surprised in conference.
Trust to my management the tyrant's death,
And haste yourself to join with Mustapha.
The officer, who guards the gate, is yours:
When you have gained that pass, divide your force;
Yourself in person head one chosen half,
And march to oppress the faction in consult
With dying Dorax. Fate has driven them all
Into the net; you must be bold and sudden:
Spare none; and if you find him struggling yet
With pangs of death, trust not his rolling eyes
And heaving gasps; for poison may be false,—
The home thrust of a friendly sword is sure.
Mul. Zeyd. Doubt not my conduct; they shall be surprised.
Mercy may wait without the gate one night,
At morn I'll take her in.
Bend. Here lies your way;
You meet your brother there.
Mul. Zeyd. May we ne'er meet!
For, like the twins of Leda, when I mount,
He gallops down the skies.[Exit Mul. Zeyd.
Bend. He comes:—Now, heart,
Be ribbed with iron for this one attempt;
Set ope thy sluices, send the vigorous blood
Through every active limb for my relief;
Then take thy rest within thy quiet cell,
For thou shalt drum no more.
Enter Emperor, and Guards attending him.
Emp. What news of our affairs, and what of Dorax?
Is he no more? say that, and make me happy.
Bend. May all your enemies be like that dog,
385 Whose parting soul is labouring at the lips.
Emp. The people, are they raised?
Bend. And marshalled too;
Just ready for the march.
Emp. Then I'm at ease.
Bend. The night is yours; the glittering host of heaven
Shines but for you; but most the star of love,
That twinkles you to fair Almeyda's bed.
Oh, there's a joy to melt in her embrace,
Dissolve in pleasure,
And make the gods curse immortality,
That so they could not die.
But haste, and make them yours.
Emp. I will; and yet
A kind of weight hangs heavy at my heart;
My flagging soul flies under her own pitch,
Like fowl in air too damp, and lugs along,
As if she were a body in a body,
And not a mounting substance made of fire.
My senses, too, are dull and stupified,
Their edge rebated:—sure some ill approaches,
And some kind sprite knocks softly at my soul,
To tell me, fate's at hand[6].
386 Bend. Mere fancies all.
Your soul has been before-hand with your body,
And drunk so deep a draught of promised bliss,
She slumbers o'er the cup; no danger's near,
But of a surfeit at too full a feast.
Emp. It may be so; it looks so like the dream
That overtook me, at my waking hour,
This morn; and dreams, they say, are then divine,
When all the balmy vapours are exhaled,
And some o'erpowering god continues sleep.
'Twas then, methought, Almeyda, smiling, came,
Attended with a train of all her race,
Whom, in the rage of empire, I had murdered:
But now, no longer foes, they gave me joy
Of my new conquest, and, with helping hands,
Heaved me into our holy prophet's arms,
Who bore me in a purple cloud to heaven[7].
Bend. Good omen, sir; I wish you in that heaven
Your dream portends you,—
Which presages death.[Aside.
Emp. Thou too wert there;
387 And thou, methought, didst push me from below,
With thy full force, to Paradise.
Bend. Yet better.
Emp. Ha! what's that grizly fellow, that attends thee?
Bend. Why ask you, sir?
Emp. For he was in my dream,
And helped to heave me up.
Bend. With prayers and wishes;
For I dare swear him honest.
Emp. That may be;
But yet he looks damnation.
Bend. You forget
The face would please you better. Do you love,
And can you thus forbear?
Emp. I'll head my people,
Then think of dalliance when the danger's o'er.
My warlike spirits work now another way,
And my soul's tuned to trumpets.
Bend. You debase yourself,
To think of mixing with the ignoble herd;
Let such perform the servile work of war,
Such who have no Almeyda to enjoy.
What, shall the people know their god-like prince
Skulked in a nightly skirmish? Stole a conquest,
Headed a rabble, and profaned his person,
Shouldered with filth, borne in a tide of ordure,
And stifled with their rank offensive sweat?
Emp. I am off again; I will not prostitute
The regal dignity so far, to head them.
Bend. There spoke a king.
Dismiss your guards, to be employed elsewhere
In ruder combats; you will want no seconds
In those alarms you seek.
Emp. Go, join the crowd;—[To the Guards.
Benducar, thou shalt lead them in my place.[Exeunt Guards.
388 The God of Love once more has shot his fires
Into my soul, and my whole heart receives him.
Almeyda now returns with all her charms;
I feel her as she glides along my veins,
And dances in my blood. So when our prophet
Had long been hammering, in his lonely cell,
Some dull, insipid, tedious Paradise,
A brisk Arabian girl came tripping by;
Passing she cast at him a side-long glance,
And looked behind, in hopes to be pursued:
He took the hint, embraced the flying fair,
And, having found his heaven, he fixed it there.[Exit Emperor.
Bend. That Paradise thou never shalt possess.
His death is easy now, his guards are gone,
And I can sin but once to seize the throne;
All after-acts are sanctified by power.
Orc. Command my sword and life.
Bend. I thank thee, Orchan,
And shall reward thy faith. This master-key
Frees every lock, and leads us to his person;
And, should we miss our blow,—as heaven forbid!—
Secures retreat. Leave open all behind us;
And first set wide the Mufti's garden gate,
Which is his private passage to the palace;
For there our mutineers appoint to meet,
And thence we may have aid.—Now sleep, ye stars,
That silently o'erwatch the fate of kings!
Be all propitious influences barred,
And none but murderous planets mount the guard. [Exit with Orchan.
SCENE II.—A Night-Scene of the Mufti's Garden.
Enter the Mufti alone, in a Slave's Habit, like that of Antonio.
Muf. This it is to have a sound head-piece; by this I have got to be chief of my religion; that is, honestly speaking, to teach others what I neither know nor believe myself. For what's Mahomet to me, but that I get by him? Now for my policy of this night: I have mewed up my suspected spouse in her chamber;—no more embassies to that lusty young stallion of a gardener. Next, my habit of a slave; I have made myself as like him as I can, all but his youth and vigour; which when I had, I passed my time as well as any of my holy predecessors. Now, walking under the windows of my seraglio, if Johayma look out, she will certainly take me for Antonio, and call to me; and by that I shall know what concupiscence is working in her. She cannot come down to commit iniquity, there's my safety; but if she peep, if she put her nose abroad, there's demonstration of her pious will; and I'll not make the first precedent for a churchman to forgive injuries.
Enter Morayma, running to him with a Casket in her hand, and embracing him.
Mor. Now I can embrace you with a good conscience; here are the pearls and jewels, here's my father.
Muf. I am indeed thy father; but how the devil didst thou know me in this disguise? and what pearls and jewels dost thou mean?
Mor. [Going back.] What have I done, and what will now become of me!
Muf. Art thou mad, Morayma?
390 Mor. I think you'll make me so.
Muf. Why, what have I done to thee? Recollect thyself, and speak sense to me.
Mor. Then give me leave to tell you, you are the worst of fathers.
Muf. Did I think I had begotten such a monster!—Proceed, my dutiful child, proceed, proceed.
Mor. You have been raking together a mass of wealth, by indirect and wicked means: the spoils of orphans are in these jewels, and the tears of widows in these pearls.
Muf. Thou amazest me!
Mor. I would do so. This casket is loaded with your sins; 'tis the cargo of rapines, simony, and extortions; the iniquity of thirty years muftiship converted into diamonds.
Muf. Would some rich railing rogue would say as much to me, that I might squeeze his purse for scandal!
Mor. No, sir, you get more by pious fools than railers, when you insinuate into their families, manage their fortunes while they live, and beggar their heirs, by getting legacies, when they die. And do you think I'll be the receiver of your theft? I discharge my conscience of it: Here, take again your filthy mammon, and restore it, you had best, to the true owners.
Muf. I am finely documented by my own daughter!
Mor. And a great credit for me to be so: Do but think how decent a habit you have on, and how becoming your function to be disguised like a slave, and eaves-dropping under the women's windows, to be saluted, as you deserve it richly, with a piss-pot. If I had not known you casually by your shambling gait, and a certain reverend awkwardness that is natural to all of your function, 391 here you had been exposed to the laughter of your own servants; who have been in search of you through the whole seraglio, peeping under every petticoat to find you.
Muf. Pr'ythee, child, reproach me no more of human failings; they are but a little of the pitch and spots of the world, that are still sticking on me; but I hope to scour them out in time. I am better at bottom than thou thinkest; I am not the man thou takest me for.
Mor. No, to my sorrow, sir, you are not.
Muf. It was a very odd beginning though, methought, to see thee come running in upon me with such a warm embrace; pr'ythee, what was the meaning of that violent hot hug?
Mor. I am sure I meant nothing by it, but the zeal and affection which I bear to the man of the world, whom I may love lawfully.
Muf. But thou wilt not teach me, at this age, the nature of a close embrace?
Mor. No, indeed; for my mother-in-law complains, that you are past teaching: But if you mistook my innocent embrace for sin, I wish heartily it had been given where it would have been more acceptable.
Muf. Why this is as it should be now; take the treasure again, it can never be put into better hands.
Mor. Yes, to my knowledge, but it might. I have confessed my soul to you, if you can understand me rightly. I never disobeyed you till this night; and now, since, through the violence of my passion, I have been so unfortunate, I humbly beg your pardon, your blessing, and your leave, that, upon the first opportunity, I may go for ever from your sight; for heaven knows, I never desire to see you more.
392 Muf. [Wiping his eyes.] Thou makest me weep at thy unkindness; indeed, dear daughter, we will not part.
Mor. Indeed, dear daddy, but we will.
Muf. Why, if I have been a little pilfering, or so, I take it bitterly of thee to tell me of it, since it was to make thee rich; and I hope a man may make bold with his own soul, without offence to his own child. Here, take the jewels again; take them, I charge thee, upon thy obedience.
Mor. Well then, in virtue of obedience, I will take them; but, on my soul, I had rather they were in a better hand.
Muf. Meaning mine, I know it.
Mor. Meaning his, whom I love better than my life.
Muf. That's me again.
Mor. I would have you think so.
Muf. How thy good nature works upon me! Well, I can do no less than venture damning for thee; and I may put fair for it, if the rabble be ordered to rise to-night.
Enter Antonio, in a rich African habit.
Ant. What do you mean, my dear, to stand talking in this suspicious place, just underneath Johayma's window?—[To the Mufti.] You are well met, comrade; I know you are the friend of our flight: are the horses ready at the postern gate?
Muf. Antonio, and in disguise! now I begin to smell a rat.
Ant. And I another, that out-stinks it. False Morayma, hast thou thus betrayed me to thy father!
Mor. Alas! I was betrayed myself. He came disguised like you, and I, poor innocent, ran into his hands.
393 Muf. In good time you did so; I laid a trap for a bitch-fox, and a worse vermin has caught himself in it. You would fain break loose now, though you left a limb behind you; but I am yet in my own territories, and in call of company; that's my comfort.
Ant. [Taking him by the throat.] No; I have a trick left to put thee past thy squeaking. I have given thee the quinsy; that ungracious tongue shall preach no more false doctrine.
Mor. What do you mean? you will not throttle him? consider he's my father.
Ant. Pr'ythee, let us provide first for our own safety; if I do not consider him, he will consider us, with a vengeance, afterwards.
Mor. You may threaten him for crying out; but, for my sake, give him back a little cranny of his windpipe, and some part of speech.
Ant. Not so much as one single interjection.—Come away, father-in-law, this is no place for dialogues; when you are in the mosque, you talk by hours, and there no man must interrupt you. This is but like for like, good father-in-law; now I am in the pulpit, it is your turn to hold your tongue. [He struggles.] Nay, if you will be hanging back, I shall take care you shall hang forward.
[Pulls him along the Stage, with his Sword at his Reins.
Mor. The other way to the arbour with him; and make haste, before we are discovered.
Ant. If I only bind and gag him there, he may commend me hereafter for civil usage; he deserves not so much favour by any action of his life.
Mor. Yes, pray bate him one,—for begetting your mistress.
Ant. I would, if he had not thought more of thy 394 mother than of thee. Once more, come along in silence, my Pythagorean father-in-law.
Joh. [At the Balcony.] A bird in a cage may peep, at least, though she must not fly.—What bustle's there beneath my window? Antonio, by all my hopes! I know him by his habit. But what makes that woman with him, and a friend, a sword drawn, and hasting hence? This is no time for silence:—Who's within? call there, where are the servants? why, Omar, Abedin, Hassan, and the rest, make haste, and run into the garden; there are thieves and villains; arm all the family, and stop them.
Ant. [Turning back.] O that screech owl at the window! we shall be pursued immediately; which way shall we take?
Mor. [Giving him the Casket.] 'Tis impossible to escape them; for the way to our horses lies back again by the house, and then we shall meet them full in the teeth. Here, take these jewels; thou mayst leap the walls, and get away.
Ant. And what will become of thee, then, poor kind soul?
Mor. I must take my fortune. When you are got safe into your own country, I hope you will bestow a sigh on the memory of her who loved you.
Ant. It makes me mad to think, how many a good night will be lost betwixt us! Take back thy jewels; 'tis an empty casket without thee: besides, I should never leap well with the weight of all thy father's sins about me; thou and they had been a bargain.
Mor. Pr'ythee take them, 'twill help me to be revenged on him.
Ant. No, they'll serve to make thy peace with him.
395 Mor. I hear them coming; shift for yourself at least; remember I am yours for ever.
[Servants crying, "this way, this way," behind the Scenes.
Ant. And I but the empty shadow of myself without thee!—Farewell, father-in-law, that should have been, if I had not been curst in my mother's belly.—Now, which way, Fortune?
[Runs amazedly backwards and forwards. Servants within, "Follow, follow; yonder are the villains."
O, here's a gate open; but it leads into the castle; yet I must venture it.
[A shout behind the Scenes, where Antonio is going out.
There's the rabble in a mutiny; what, is the devil up at midnight! However, 'tis good herding in a crowd.
[Runs out. Mufti runs to Morayma, and lays hold on her, then snatches away the Casket.
Muf. Now, to do things in order, first I seize upon the bag, and then upon the baggage; for thou art but my flesh and blood, but these are my life and soul.
Mor. Then let me follow my flesh and blood, and keep to yourself your life and soul.
Muf. Both, or none; come away to durance.
Mor. Well, if it must be so, agreed; for I have another trick to play you, and thank yourself for what shall follow.
Enter Servants.
Joh. [From above.] One of them took through the private way into the castle; follow him, be sure, for these are yours already.
Mor. Help here quickly, Omar, Abedin! I have hold on the villain that stole my jewels; but 'tis a 396 lusty rogue, and he will prove too strong for me. What! help, I say; do you not know your master's daughter?
Muf. Now, if I cry out, they will know my voice, and then I am disgraced for ever. O thou art a venomous cockatrice!
Mor. Of your own begetting.[The Servants seize him.
1 Serv. What a glorious deliverance have you had, madam, from this bloody-minded Christian!
Mor. Give me back my jewels, and carry this notorious malefactor to be punished by my father.—I'll hunt the other dry-foot.
[Takes the jewels, and runs out after Antonio at the same passage.
1 Serv. I long to be hanselling his hide, before we bring him to my master.
2 Serv. Hang him, for an old covetous hypocrite; he deserves a worse punishment himself, for keeping us so hardly.
1 Serv. Ay, would he were in this villain's place! thus I would lay him on, and thus.[Beats him.
2 Serv. And thus would I revenge myself of my last beating.[He beats him too, and then the rest.
Muf. Oh, ho, ho!
1 Serv. Now, supposing you were the Mufti, sir.— [Beats him again.
Muf. The devil's in that supposing rascal!—I can bear no more; and I am the Mufti. Now suppose yourselves my servants, and hold your hands: an anointed halter take you all!
1 Serv. My master!—You will pardon the excess of our zeal for you, sir: Indeed we all took you for a villain, and so we used you.
Muf. Ay, so I feel you did; my back and sides are abundant testimonies of your zeal.—Run, rogues, 397 and bring me back my jewels, and my fugitive daughter; run, I say.
[They run to the gate, and the first Servant runs back again.
1 Serv. Sir, the castle is in a most terrible combustion; you may hear them hither.
Muf. 'Tis a laudable commotion; the voice of the mobile is the voice of heaven.—I must retire a little, to strip me of the slave, and to assume the Mufti, and then I will return; for the piety of the people must be encouraged, that they may help me to recover my jewels, and my daughter.
[Exeunt Mufti and Servants.
SCENE III.—Changes to the Castle Yard,
And discovers Antonio, Mustapha, and the Rabble shouting. They come forward.
Ant. And so at length, as I informed you, I escaped out of his covetous clutches; and now fly to your illustrious feet for my protection.
Must. Thou shalt have it, and now defy the Mufti. 'Tis the first petition that has been made to me since my exaltation to tumult, in this second night of the month Abib, and in the year of the Hegira,—the Lord knows what year; but 'tis no matter; for when I am settled, the learned are bound to find it out for me; for I am resolved to date my authority over the rabble, like other monarchs.
Ant. I have always had a longing to be yours again, though I could not compass it before; and had designed you a casket of my master's jewels too; for I knew the custom, and would not have appeared before a great person, as you are, without a present: But he has defrauded my good intentions, and basely robbed you of them; 'tis a prize worthy 398 a million of crowns, and you carry your letters of marque about you.
Must. I shall make bold with his treasure, for the support of my new government.—[The people gather about him.]—What do these vile raggamuffins so near our person? your savour is offensive to us; bear back there, and make room for honest men to approach us: These fools and knaves are always impudently crowding next to princes, and keeping off the more deserving: Bear back, I say.—[They make a wider circle.]—That's dutifully done! Now shout, to shew your loyalty. [A great shout.]—Hear'st thou that, slave Antonio? These obstreperous villains shout, and know not for what they make a noise. You shall see me manage them, that you may judge what ignorant beasts they are.—For whom do you shout now? Who's to live and reign; tell me that, the wisest of you?
1 Rabble. Even who you please, captain.
Must. La, you there! I told you so.
2 Rabble. We are not bound to know, who is to live and reign; our business is only to rise upon command, and plunder.
3 Rabble. Ay, the richest of both parties; for they are our enemies.
Must. This last fellow is a little more sensible than the rest; he has entered somewhat into the merits of the cause.
1 Rabble. If a poor man may speak his mind. I think, captain, that yourself are the fittest to live and reign; I mean not over, but next, and immediately under, the people; and thereupon I say, A Mustapha, a Muatapha!
Omnes. A Mustapha, a Mustapha!
Must. I must confess the sound is pleasing, and tickles the ears of my ambition; but alas, good people, it must not be! I am contented to be a poor 399 simple viceroy. But prince Muley-Zeydan is to be the man: I shall take care to instruct him in the arts of government, and in his duty to us all; and, therefore, mark my cry, A Muley-Zeydan, a Muley-Zeydan!
Omnes. A Muley-Zeydan, a Muley-Zeydan!
Must. You see, slave Antonio, what I might have been?
Ant. I observe your modesty.
Must. But for a foolish promise, I made once to my lord Benducar, to set up any one he pleased.—
Re-enter the Mufti, with his Servants.
Ant. Here's the old hypocrite again.—Now stand your ground and bate him not an inch. Remember the jewels, the rich and glorious jewels; they are designed to be yours, by virtue of prerogative.
Must. Let me alone to pick a quarrel; I have an old grudge to him upon thy account.
Muf. [Making up to the Mobile.] Good people, here you are met together.
1 Rabble. Ay, we know that without your telling: But why are we met together, doctor? for that's it which no body here can tell.
2 Rabble. Why, to see one another in the dark; and to make holiday at midnight.
Muf. You are met, as becomes good Mussulmen, to settle the nation; for I must tell you, that, though your tyrant is a lawful emperor, yet your lawful emperor is but a tyrant.
Ant. What stuff he talks!
Must. 'Tis excellent fine matter, indeed, slave Antonio! He has a rare tongue! Oh, he would move a rock, or elephant!
Ant. What a block have I to work upon! [Aside.]—But still, remember the jewels, sir; the jewels.
Must. Nay, that's true, on the other side; the 400 jewels must be mine. But he has a pure fine way of talking; my conscience goes along with him, but the jewels have set my heart against him.
Muf. That your emperor is a tyrant, is most manifest; for you were born to be Turks, but he has played the Turk with you, and is taking your religion away.
2 Rabble. We find that in our decay of trade. I have seen, for these hundred years, that religion and trade always go together.
Muf. He is now upon the point of marrying himself, without your sovereign consent: And what are the effects of marriage?
3 Rabble. A scolding domineering wife, if she prove honest; and, if a whore, a fine gaudy minx, that robs our counters every night, and then goes out, and spends it upon our cuckold-makers.
Muf. No; the natural effects of marriage are children: Now, on whom would he beget these children? Even upon a Christian! O, horrible! how can you believe me, though I am ready to swear it upon the Alcoran! Yes, true believers, you may believe, that he is going to beget a race of misbelievers.
Must. That's fine, in earnest; I cannot forbear hearkening to his enchanting tongue.
Ant. But yet remember—
Must. Ay, ay, the jewels! Now again I hate him; but yet my conscience makes me listen to him.
Muf. Therefore, to conclude all, believers, pluck up your hearts, and pluck down the tyrant. Remember the courage of your ancestors; remember the majesty of the people; remember yourselves, your wives, and children; and, lastly, above all, remember your religion, and our holy Mahomet. All these require your timeous assistance;—shall I say, they beg it? No; they claim it of you, by all the 401 nearest and dearest ties of these three P's, self-preservation, our property, and our prophet.—Now answer me with an unanimous cheerful cry, and follow me, who am your leader, to a glorious deliverance.
Omnes. A Mufti, a Mufti![Following him off the stage.
Ant. Now you see what comes of your foolish qualms of conscience; the jewels are lost, and they are all leaving you.
Must. What, am I forsaken of my subjects? Would the rogue purloin my liege people from me!—I charge you, in my own name, come back, ye deserters, and hear me speak.
1 Rabble. What, will he come with his balderdash, after the Mufti's eloquent oration?
2 Rabble. He's our captain, lawfully picked up, and elected upon a stall; we will hear him.
Omnes. Speak, captain, for we will hear you.
Must. Do you remember the glorious rapines and robberies you have committed? Your breaking open and gutting of houses, your rummaging of cellars, your demolishing of Christian temples, and bearing off, in triumph, the superstitious plate and pictures, the ornaments of their wicked altars, when all rich moveables were sentenced for idolatrous, and all that was idolatrous was seized? Answer first, for your remembrance of all these sweetnesses of mutiny; for upon those grounds I shall proceed.
Omnes. Yes, we do remember, we do remember.
Must. Then make much of your retentive faculties.—And who led you to those honey-combs? Your Mufti? No, believers; he only preached you up to it, but durst not lead you: He was but your counsellor, but I was your captain; he only looed you, but, 'twas I that led you.
Omnes. That's true, that's true.
402 Ant. There you were with him for his figures.
Must. I think I was, slave Antonio. Alas, I was ignorant of my own talent!—Say then, believers, will you have a captain for your Mufti, or a Mufti for your captain? And, further, to instruct you how to cry, will you have A mufti, or No mufti?
Omnes. No Mufti, no Mufti!
Must. That I laid in for them, slave Antonio—Do I then spit upon your faces? Do I discourage rebellion, mutiny, rapine, and plundering? You may think I do, believers; but, heaven forbid! No, I encourage you to all these laudable undertakings; you shall plunder, you shall pull down the government; but you shall do this upon my authority, and not by his wicked instigation.
3 Rabble. Nay, when his turn is served, he may preach up loyalty again, and restitution, that he might have another snack among us.
1 Rabble. He may indeed; for it is but his saying it is sin, and then we must restore; and therefore I would have a new religion, where half the commandments should be taken away, the rest mollified, and there should be little or no sin remaining.
Omnes. Another religion, a new religion, another religion!
Must. And that may easily be done, with the help of a little inspiration; for I must tell you, I have a pigeon at home, of Mahomet's own breed; and when I have learnt her to pick pease out of my ear, rest satisfied till then, and you shall have another. But, now I think on't, I am inspired already, that 'tis no sin to depose the Mufti.
Ant. And good reason; for when kings and queens are to be discarded, what should knaves do any longer in the pack?
Omnes. He is deposed, he is deposed, he is deposed!
403 Must. Nay, if he and his clergy will needs be preaching up rebellion, and giving us their blessing, 'tis but justice they should have the first-fruits of it.—Slave Antonio, take him into custody; and dost thou hear, boy, be sure to secure the little transitory box of jewels. If he be obstinate, put a civil question to him upon the rack, and he squeaks, I warrant him.
Ant. [Seizing the Mufti.] Come, my quondam master, you and I must change qualities.
Muf. I hope you will not be so barbarous to torture me: we may preach suffering to others, but, alas! holy flesh is too well pampered to endure martyrdom.
Must. Now, late Mufti, not forgetting my first quarrel to you, we will enter ourselves with the plunder of your palace: 'tis good to sanctify a work, and begin a God's name.
1 Rabble. Our prophet let the devil alone with the last mob.
Mob. But he takes care of this himself.
As they are going out, enter Benducar, leading Almeyda: he with a sword in one hand; Benducar's Slave follows, with Muley-Moluch's head upon a spear.
Must. Not so much haste, masters; comeback again; you are so bent upon mischief, that you take a man upon the first word of plunder. Here is a sight for you; the emperor is come upon his head to visit you. [Bowing.] Most noble emperor, now I hope you will not hit us in the teeth, that we have pulled you down; for we can tell you to your face, that we have exalted you.
[They all shout.
Bend. Think what I am, and what yourself may be, [To Almeyda apart.
404 In being mine: refuse not proffered love,
That brings a crown.
Alm. [To him.] I have resolved,
And these shall know my thoughts.
Bend. [To her.] On that I build.— [He comes up to the Rabble.
Joy to the people for the tyrant's death!
Oppression, rapine, banishment, and blood,
Are now no more; but speechless as that tongue,
That lies for ever still.
How is my grief divided with my joy,
When I must own I killed him! Bid me speak;
For not to bid me, is to disallow
What for your sakes is done.
Must. In the name of the people, we command you speak: but that pretty lady shall speak first; for we have taken somewhat of a liking to her person.—Be not afraid, lady, to speak to these rude raggamuffians; there is nothing shall offend you, unless it be their stink, an't please you.
[Making a leg.
Alm. Why should I fear to speak, who am your queen?
My peaceful father swayed the sceptre long,
And you enjoyed the blessings of his reign,
While you deserved the name of Africans.
Then, not commanded, but commanding you,
Fearless I speak: know me for what I am.
Bend. How she assumes! I like not this beginning. [Aside.
Alm. I was not born so base to flatter crowds,
And move your pity by a whining tale.
Your tyrant would have forced me to his bed;
But in the attempt of that foul brutal act,
These loyal slaves secured me by his death. [Pointing to Benducar.
405 Bend. Makes she no more of me than of a slave?—[Aside.
Madam, I thought I had instructed you[To Almeyda.
To frame a speech more suiting to the times:
The circumstances of that dire design,
Your own despair, my unexpected aid,
My life endangered by his bold defence,
And, after all, his death, and your deliverance,
Were themes that ought not to be slighted o'er.
Must. She might have passed over all your petty businesses, and no great matter; but the raising of my rabble is an exploit of consequence, and not to be mumbled up in silence, for all her pertness.
Alm. When force invades the gift of nature, life,
The eldest law of nature bids defend;
And if in that defence a tyrant fall,
His death's his crime, not ours,
Suffice it, that he's dead; all wrongs die with him;
When he can wrong no more, I pardon him:
Thus I absolve myself, and him excuse,
Who saved my life and honour, but praise neither.
Bend. 'Tis cheap to pardon, whom you would not pay.
But what speak I of payment and reward!
Ungrateful woman, you are yet no queen,
Nor more than a proud haughty christian slave:
As such I seize my right.[Going to lay hold of her.
Alm. [Drawing a Dagger.] Dare not to approach me!—
Now, Africans,
He shows himself to you; to me he stood
Confessed before, and owned his insolence
To espouse my person, and assume the crown,
Claimed in my right; for this, he slew your tyrant;
Oh no! he only changed him for a worse;
Embased your slavery by his own vileness,
406 And loaded you with more ignoble bonds.
Then think me not ungrateful, not to share
The imperial crown with a presuming traitor.
He says, I am a Christian; true, I am,
But yet no slave: If Christians can be thought
Unfit to govern those of other faith,
'Tis left for you to judge.
Bend. I have not patience; she consumes the time
In idle talk, and owns her false belief:
Seize her by force, and bear her thence unheard.
Alm. [To the People.]
No, let me rather die your sacrifice,
Than live his triumph.
I throw myself into my people's arms;
As you are men, compassionate my wrongs,
And, as good men, protect me.
Ant. Something must be done to save her. [Aside to Must.] This is all addressed to you, sir: she singled you out with her eye, as commander in chief of the mobility.
Must. Think'st thou so, slave Antonio?
Ant. Most certainly, sir; and you cannot, in honour, but protect her: now look to your hits, and make your fortune.
Must. Methought, indeed, she cast a kind leer towards me. Our prophet was but just such another scoundrel as I am, till he raised himself to power, and consequently to holiness, by marrying his master's widow. I am resolved I'll put forward for myself; for why should I be my lord Benducar's fool and slave, when I may be my own fool and his master?
Bend. Take her into possession, Mustapha.
Must. That's better counsel than you meant it: Yes, I do take her into possession, and into protection too. What say you, masters, will you stand by me?
407 Omnes. One and all, one and all.
Bend. Hast thou betrayed me, traitor?—Mufti, speak, and mind them of religion.
[Mufti shakes his head.
Must. Alas! the poor gentleman has gotten a cold with a sermon of two hours long, and a prayer of fear; and, besides, if he durst speak, mankind is grown wiser at this time of day than to cut one another's throats about religion. Our Mufti's is a green coat, and the Christian's is a black coat; and we must wisely go together by the ears, whether green or black shall sweep our spoils.
[Drums within, and shouts.
Bend. Now we shall see whose numbers will prevail:
The conquering troops of Muley-Zeydan come,
To crush rebellion, and espouse my cause.
Must. We will have a fair trial of skill for it, I can tell him that. When we have dispatched with Muley-Zeydan, your lordship shall march, in equal proportions of your body, to the four gates of the city, and every tower shall have a quarter of you.
[Antonio draws them up, and takes Alm. by the hand. Shouts again, and Drums.
Enter Dorax and Sebastian, attended by African Soldiers and Portugueses. Almeyda and Sebastian run into each others arms, and both speak together.
Seb. and Alm. My Sebastian! my Almeyda!
Alm. Do you then live?
Seb. And live to love thee ever.
Bend. How! Dorax and Sebastian still alive!
The Moors and Christians joined!—I thank thee, prophet.
Dor. The citadel is ours; and Muley-Zeydan
Safe under guard, but as becomes a prince.
408 Lay down your arms; such base plebeian blood
Would only stain the brightness of my sword,
And blunt it for some nobler work behind.
Must. I suppose you may put it up without offence to any man here present. For my part, I have been loyal to my sovereign lady, though that villain Benducar, and that hypocrite the Mufti, would have corrupted me; but if those two escape public justice, then I and all my late honest subjects here deserve hanging.
Bend. [To Dor.] I'm sure I did my part to poison thee,
What saint soe'er has soldered thee again:
A dose less hot had burst through ribs of iron.
Muf. Not knowing that, I poisoned him once more,
And drenched him with a draught so deadly cold,
That, hadst not thou prevented, had congealed
The channel of his blood, and froze him dry.
Bend. Thou interposing fool, to mangle mischief,
And think to mend the perfect work of hell!
Dor. Thus, when heaven pleases, double poisons cure[8].
I will not tax thee of ingratitude
To me, thy friend, who hast betrayed thy prince:
Death he deserved indeed, but not from thee.
But fate, it seems, reserved the worst of men
To end the worst of tyrants.—
Go, bear him to his fate,
And send him to attend his master's ghost.
Let some secure my other poisoning friend,
Whose double diligence preserved my life.
Ant. You are fallen into good hands, father-in-law; your sparkling jewels, and Morayma's eyes, 409 may prove a better bail than you deserve.
Muf. The best that can come of me, in this condition, is, to have my life begged first, and then to be begged for a fool afterwards[9].
[Exeunt Antonio, with the Mufti; and, at the same time, Benducar is carried off.
Dor. [To Must.]
You, and your hungry herd, depart untouched;
For justice cannot stoop so low, to reach
The groveling sin of crowds: but curst be they,
Who trust revenge with such mad instruments,
Whose blindfold business is but to destroy;
And, like the fire, commissioned by the winds,
Begins on sheds, but, rolling in a round,
On palaces returns. Away, ye scum,
That still rise upmost when the nation boils;
Ye mongrel work of heaven, with human shapes,
Not to be damned or saved, but breathe and perish,
That have but just enough of sense, to know
The master's voice, when rated, to depart. [Exeunt Mustapha and Rabble.
Alm. With gratitude as low as knees can pay [Kneeling to him.
To those blest holy fires, our guardian angels,
Receive these thanks, till altars can be raised.
Dor. Arise, fair excellence, and pay no thanks, [Raising her up.
Till time discover what I have deserved.
Seb. More than reward can answer.
If Portugal and Spain were joined to Africa,
410 And the main ocean crusted into land,
If universal monarchy were mine,
Here should the gift be placed.
Dor. And from some hands I should refuse that gift.
Be not too prodigal of promises;
But stint your bounty to one only grant,
Which I can ask with honour.
Seb. What I am
Is but thy gift; make what thou canst of me,
Secure of no repulse.
Dor. [To Seb.] Dismiss your train.—
[To Alm.] You, madam, please one moment to retire.
[Sebastian signs to the Portugueses to go off; Almeyda, bowing to him, gives off also. The Africans follow her.
Dor. [To the Captain of the Guard.]
With you one word in private.[Goes out with the Captain.
Seb. [Solus.] Reserved behaviour, open nobleness,
A long mysterious track of stern bounty:
But now the hand of fate is on the curtain,
And draws the scene to sight.
Re-enter Dorax, having taken off his Turban, and put on a Peruke, Hat, and Cravat.
Dor. Now, do you know me?
Seb. Thou shouldst be Alonzo.
Dor. So you should be Sebastian:
But when Sebastian ceased to be himself,
I ceased to be Alonzo.
Seb. As in a dream,
I see thee here, and scarce believe mine eyes.
Dor. Is it so strange to find me, where my wrongs,
And your inhuman tyranny, have sent me?
Think not you dream; or, if you did, my injuries
411 Shall call so loud, that lethargy should wake,
And death should give you back to answer me.
A thousand nights have brushed their balmy wings
Over these eyes; but ever when they closed,
Your tyrant image forced them ope again,
And dried the dews they brought:
The long expected hour is come at length,
By manly vengeance to redeem my fame;
And, that once cleared, eternal sleep is welcome.
Seb. I have not yet forgot I am a king,
Whose royal office is redress of wrongs:
If I have wronged thee, charge me face to face;—
I have not yet forgot I am a soldier.
Dor. 'Tis the first justice thou hast ever done me.
Then, though I loath this woman's war of tongues,
Yet shall my cause of vengeance first be clear;
And, honour, be thou judge.
Seb. Honour befriend us both.—
Beware I warn thee yet, to tell thy griefs
In terms becoming majesty to hear:
I warn thee thus, because I know thy temper
Is insolent, and haughty to superiors.
How often hast thou braved my peaceful court,
Filled it with noisy brawls, and windy boasts;
And with past service, nauseously repeated,
Reproached even me, thy prince?
Dor. And well I might, when you forgot reward,
The part of heaven in kings; for punishment
Is hangman's work, and drudgery for devils.—
I must, and will reproach thee with my service,
Tyrant!—It irks me so to call my prince;
But just resentment, and hard usage, coined
The unwilling word; and, grating as it is,
Take it, for 'tis thy due.
Seb. How, tyrant?
Dor. Tyrant.
412 Seb. Traitor!—that name thou canst not echo back;
That robe of infamy, that circumcision
Ill hid beneath that robe, proclaim thee traitor;
And, if a name
More foul than traitor be, 'tis renegade.
Dor. If I'm a traitor, think,—and blush, thou tyrant,—
Whose injuries betrayed me into treason,
Effaced my loyalty, unhinged my faith,
And hurried me, from hopes of heaven, to hell.
All these, and all my yet unfinished crimes,
When I shall rise to plead before the saints,
I charge on thee, to make thy damning sure.
Seb. Thy old presumptuous arrogance again,
That bred my first dislike, and then my loathing.—
Once more be warned, and know me for thy king.
Dor. Too well I know thee, but for king no more.
This is not Lisbon; nor the circle this,
Where, like a statue, thou hast stood besieged
By sycophants and fools, the growth of courts;
Where thy gulled eyes, in all the gaudy round,
Met nothing but a lie in every face,
And the gross flattery of a gaping crowd,
Envious who first should catch, and first applaud,
The stuff of royal nonsense: When I spoke,
My honest homely words were carped and censured
For want of courtly style; related actions,
Though modestly reported, passed for boasts;
Secure of merit if I asked reward,
Thy hungry minions thought their rights invaded,
And the bread snatched from pimps and parasites.
Henriquez answered, with a ready lie,
To save his king's,—the boon was begged before!
Seb. What say'st thou of Henriquez? Now, by heaven,
Thou mov'st me more by barely naming him,
413 Than all thy foul unmannered scurril taunts.
Dor. And therefore 'twas, to gall thee, that I named him.
That thing, that nothing, but a cringe and smile;
That woman, but more daubed; or, if a man,
Corrupted to a woman; thy man-mistress.
Seb. All false as hell, or thou.
Dor. Yes; full as false
As that I served thee fifteen hard campaigns,
And pitched thy standard in these foreign fields:
By me thy greatness grew, thy years grew with it,
But thy ingratitude outgrew them both.
Seb. I see to what thou tend'st: but, tell me first,
If those great acts were done alone for me?
If love produced not some, and pride the rest?
Dor. Why, love does all that's noble here below;
But all the advantage of that love was thine.
For, coming fraughted back, in either hand
With palm and olive, victory and peace,
I was indeed prepared to ask my own,
(For Violante's vows were mine before:)
Thy malice had prevention, ere I spoke;
And asked me Violante for Henriquez.
Seb. I meant thee a reward of greater worth.
Dor. Where justice wanted, could reward be hoped?
Could the robbed passenger expect a bounty
From those rapacious hands, who stripped him first?
Seb. He had my promise, ere I knew thy love.
Dor. My services deserved thou shouldst revoke it.
Seb. Thy insolence had cancelled all thy service:
To violate my laws, even in my court,
Sacred to peace, and safe from all affronts;
Even to my face, and done in my despite,
Under the wing of awful majesty,
To strike the man I loved!
414 Dor. Even in the face of heaven, a place more sacred,
Would I have struck the man, who, prompt by power,
Would seize my right, and rob me of my love:
But, for a blow provoked by thy injustice,
The hasty product of a just despair,
When he refused to meet me in the field,
That thou shouldst make a coward's cause thy own!
Seb. He durst; nay more, desired, and begged with tears,
To meet thy challenge fairly: 'Twas thy fault
To make it public; but my duty, then,
To interpose, on pain of my displeasure,
Betwixt your swords.
Dor. On pain of infamy,
He should have disobeyed.
Seb. The indignity, thou didst, was meant to me:
Thy gloomy eyes were cast on me with scorn,
As who should say,—the blow was there intended:
But that thou didst not dare to lift thy hands
Against anointed power. So was I forced
To do a sovereign justice to myself,
And spurn thee from my presence.
Dor. Thou hast dared
To tell me, what I durst not tell myself:
I durst not think that I was spurned, and live;
And live to hear it boasted to my face.
All my long avarice of honour lost,
Heaped up in youth, and hoarded up for age!
Has honour's fountain then sucked back the stream?
He has; and hooting boys may dry-shod pass,
And gather pebbles from the naked ford.—
Give me my love, my honour; give them back—
Give me revenge, while I have breath to ask it!
Seb. Now, by this honoured order which I wear,
More gladly would I give, than thou dar'st ask it;
Nor shall the sacred character of king
415 Be urged, to shield me from thy bold appeal.
If I have injured thee, that makes us equal;
The wrong, if done, debased me down to thee.
But thou hast charged me with ingratitude;
Hast thou not charged me? speak!
Dor. Thou know'st I have:
If thou disown'st that imputation, draw,
And prove my charge a lie.
Seb. No; to disprove that lie, I must not draw.
Be conscious to thy worth, and tell thy soul,
What thou hast done this day in my defence.
To fight thee after this, what were it else
Than owning that ingratitude thou urgest?
That isthmus stands between two rushing seas;
Which, mounting, view each other from afar,
And strive in vain to meet.
Dor. I'll cut that isthmus.
Thou know'st I meant not to preserve thy life,
But to reprieve it, for my own revenge.
I saved thee out of honourable malice:
Now, draw;—I should be loth to think thou dar'st not:
Beware of such another vile excuse.
Seb. O patience, heaven!
Dor. Beware of patience, too;
That's a suspicious word. It had been proper,
Before thy foot had spurned me; now 'tis base:
Yet, to disarm thee of thy last defence,
I have thy oath for my security.
The only boon I begged was this fair combat:
Fight, or be perjured now; that's all thy choice.
Seb. Now can I thank thee as thou would'st be thanked. [Drawing.
Never was vow of honour better paid,
If my true sword but hold, than this shall be.
The sprightly bridegroom, on his wedding night,
More gladly enters not the lists of love:
416 Why, 'tis enjoyment to be summoned thus.
Go, bear my message to Henriquez ghost;
And say, his master and his friend revenged him.
Dor. His ghost! then is my hated rival dead?
Seb. The question is beside our present purpose:
Thou seest me ready; we delay too long.
Dor. A minute is not much in either's life,
When there's but one betwixt us; throw it in,
And give it him of us who is to fail.
Seb. He's dead; make haste, and thou may'st yet o'ertake him.
Dor. When I was hasty, thou delayed'st me longer—
I pr'ythee let me hedge one moment more
Into thy promise: For thy life preserved,
Be kind; and tell me how that rival died,
Whose death, next thine, I wished.
Seb. If it would please thee, thou shouldst never know;
But thou, like jealousy, enquir'st a truth,
Which, found, will torture thee.—He died in fight;
Fought next my person; as in concert fought;
Kept pace for pace, and blow for every blow;
Save when he heaved his shield in my defence,
And on his naked side received my wound.
Then, when he could no more, he fell at once;
But rolled his falling body cross their way,
And made a bulwark of it for his prince.
Dor. I never can forgive him such a death!
Seb. I prophesied thy proud soul could not bear it.—
Now, judge thyself, who best deserved my love?
I knew you both; and (durst I say) as heaven
Foreknew, among the shining angel host,
Who would stand firm, who fall.
Dor. Had he been tempted so, so had he fallen;
And so had I been favoured, had I stood.
417 Seb. What had been, is unknown; what is, appears.
Confess, he justly was preferred to thee.
Dor. Had I been born with his indulgent stars,
My fortune had been his, and his been mine.—
O worse than hell! what glory have I lost,
And what has he acquired, by such a death!
I should have fallen by Sebastian's side,
My corps had been the bulwark of my king.
His glorious end was a patched work of fate,
Ill sorted with a soft effeminate life;
It suited better with my life than his,
So to have died: Mine had been of a piece,
Spent in your service, dying at your feet.
Seb. The more effeminate and soft his life,
The more his fame, to struggle to the field,
And meet his glorious fate. Confess, proud spirit,
(For I will have it from thy very mouth)
That better he deserved my love than thou?
Dor. O, whither would you drive me? I must grant,—
Yes, I must grant, but with a swelling soul,—
Henriquez had your love with more desert.
For you he fought, and died: I fought against you;
Through all the mazes of the bloody field,
Hunted your sacred life; which that I missed
Was the propitious error of my fate,
Not of my soul: My soul's a regicide.
Seb. [More calmly.]
Thou might'st have given it a more gentle name.
Thou meant'st to kill a tyrant, not a king:
Speak, didst thou not, Alonzo?
Dor. Can I speak!
Alas, I cannot answer to Alonzo!—
No, Dorax cannot answer to Alonzo;
Alonzo was too kind a name for me.
Then, when I fought and conquered with your arms,
418 In that blest age, I was the man you named:
Till rage and pride debased me into Dorax,
And lost, like Lucifer, my name above.
Seb. Yet twice this day I owed my life to Dorax.
Dor. I saved you but to kill you: There's my grief.
Seb. Nay, if thou can'st be grieved, thou can'st repent;
Thou could'st not be a villain, though thou would'st:
Thou own'st too much, in owning thou hast erred;
And I too little, who provoked thy crime.
Dor. O stop this headlong torrent of your goodness!
It comes too fast upon a feeble soul,
Half drowned in tears before: Spare my confusion;
For pity spare; and say not first, you erred;
For yet I have not dared, through guilt and shame,
To throw myself beneath your royal feet.—[Falls at his feet.
Now spurn this rebel, this proud renegade;
'Tis just you should, nor will I more complain.
Seb. Indeed thou should'st not ask forgiveness first;
But thou prevent'st me still, in all that's noble. [Taking him up.
Yes, I will raise thee up with better news.
Thy Violante's heart was ever thine;
Compelled to wed, because she was my ward,
Her soul was absent when she gave her hand;
Nor could my threats, or his pursuing courtship,
Effect the consummation of his love:
So, still indulging tears, she pines for thee,
A widow, and a maid.
Dor. Have I been cursing heaven, while heaven blest me?
I shall run mad with extacy of joy:
What! in one moment, to be reconciled
419 To heaven, and to my king, and to my love!—
But pity is my friend, and stops me short,
For my unhappy rival:—Poor Henriquez!
Seb. Art thou so generous, too, to pity him?
Nay, then, I was unjust to love him better.
Here let me ever hold thee in my arms;[Embracing him.
And all our quarrels be but such as these,
Who shall love best, and closest shall embrace.
Be what Henriquez was,—be my Alonzo.
Dor. What, my Alonzo, said you? my Alonzo!
Let my tears thank you, for I cannot speak;
And, if I could,
Words were not made to vent such thoughts as mine.
Seb. Some strange reverse of fate must sure attend
This vast profusion, this extravagance
Of heaven, to bless me thus. 'Tis gold so pure,
It cannot bear the stamp, without alloy.—
Be kind, ye powers! and take but half away:
With ease the gifts of fortune I resign;
But let my love and friend be ever mine.[Exeunt.
ACT V. SCENE I.
The Scene is, a Room of State.
Enter Dorax and Antonio.
Dor. Joy is on every face, without a cloud;
As, in the scene of opening paradise,
The whole creation danced at their new being,
Pleased to be what they were, pleased with each other,
Such joy have I, both in myself and friends;
And double joy that I have made them happy.
Ant. Pleasure has been the business of my life;
And every change of fortune easy to me,
420 Because I still was easy to myself.
The loss of her I loved would touch me nearest;
Yet, if I found her, I might love too much,
And that's uneasy pleasure.
Dor. If she be fated
To be your wife, your fate will find her for you:
Predestinated ills are never lost.
Ant. I had forgot
To inquire before, but long to be informed,
How, poisoned and betrayed, and round beset,
You could unwind yourself from all these dangers,
And move so speedily to our relief?
Dor. The double poisons, after a short combat,
Expelled each other in their civil war,
By nature's benefit, and roused my thoughts
To guard that life which now I found attacked.
I summoned all my officers in haste,
On whose experienced faith I might rely;
All came resolved to die in my defence,
Save that one villain who betrayed the gate.
Our diligence prevented the surprise
We justly feared: So Muley-Zeydan found us
Drawn up in battle, to receive the charge.
Ant. But how the Moors and Christian slaves were joined,
You have not yet unfolded.
Dor. That remains.
We knew their interest was the same with ours:
And, though I hated more than death Sebastian,
I could not see him die by vulgar hands;
But, prompted by my angel, or by his,
Freed all the slaves, and placed him next myself,
Because I would not have his person known.
I need not tell the rest, the event declares it.
Ant. Your conquests came of course; their men were raw,
And yours were disciplined.—One doubt remains,
421 Why you industriously concealed the king,
Who, known, had added courage to his men?
Dor. I would not hazard civil broils betwixt
His friends and mine; which might prevent our combat.
Yet, had he fallen, I had dismissed his troops;
Or, if victorious, ordered his escape.—
But I forgot a new increase of joy
To feast him with surprise; I must about it:
Expect my swift return.[Exit.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Here's a lady at the door, that bids me tell you, she is come to make an end of the game, that was broken off betwixt you.
Ant. What manner of woman is she? Does she not want two of the four elements? has she any thing about her but air and fire?
Serv. Truly, she flies about the room as if she had wings instead of legs; I believe she's just turning into a bird:—A house bird I warrant her:—And so hasty to fly to you, that, rather than fail of entrance, she would come tumbling down the chimney, like a swallow.
Enter Morayma.
Ant. [Running to her, and embracing her.] Look, if she be not here already!—What, no denial it seems will serve your turn? Why, thou little dun, is thy debt so pressing?
Mor. Little devil, if you please: Your lease is out, good master conjurer, and I am come to fetch your soul and body; not an hour of lewdness longer in this world for you.
Ant. Where the devil hast thou been? and how the devil didst thou find me here?
Mor. I followed you into the castle-yard, but 422 there was nothing but tumult and confusion: and I was bodily afraid of being picked up by some of the rabble; considering I had a double charge about me,—my jewels, and my maidenhead.
Ant. Both of them intended for my worship's sole use and property.
Mor. And what was poor little I among them all?
Ant. Not a mouthful a-piece: 'Twas too much odds, in conscience!
Mor. So, seeking for shelter, I naturally ran to the old place of assignation, the garden-house; where, for the want of instinct, you did not follow me.
Ant. Well, for thy comfort, I have secured thy father; and I hope thou hast secured his effects for us.
Mor. Yes, truly, I had the prudent foresight to consider, that, when we grow old, and weary of solacing one another, we might have, at least, wherewithal to make merry with the world; and take up with a worse pleasure of eating and drinking, when we were disabled for a better.
Ant. Thy fortune will be even too good for thee; for thou art going into the country of serenades and gallantries, where thy street will be haunted every night with thy foolish lovers, and my rivals, who will be sighing and singing, under thy inexorable windows, lamentable ditties, and call thee cruel, and goddess, and moon, and stars, and all the poetical names of wicked rhime; while thou and I are minding our business, and jogging on, and laughing at them, at leisure minutes, which will be very few; take that by way of threatening.
Mor. I am afraid you are not very valiant, that you huff so much beforehand. But, they say, your 423 churches are fine places for love-devotion; many a she-saint is there worshipped.
Ant. Temples are there, as they are in all other countries, good conveniences for dumb interviews. I hear the protestants are not much reformed in that point neither; for their sectaries call their churches by the natural name of meeting-houses. Therefore I warn thee in good time, not more of devotion than needs must, good future spouse, and always in a veil; for those eyes of thine are damned enemies to mortification.
Mor. The best thing I have heard of Christendom is, that we women are allowed the privilege of having souls; and I assure you, I shall make bold to bestow mine upon some lover, whenever you begin to go astray; and, if I find no convenience in a church, a private chamber will serve the turn.
Ant. When that day comes, I must take my revenge, and turn gardener again; for I find I am much given to planting.
Mor. But take heed, in the mean time, that some young Antonio does not spring up in your own family; as false as his father, though of another man's planting.
Re-enter Dorax, with Sebastian and Almeyda, Sebastian enters speaking to Dorax, while in the mean time Antonio presents Morayma to Almeyda.
Seb. How fares our royal prisoner, Muley-Zeydan?
Dor. Disposed to grant whatever I desire,
To gain a crown, and freedom. Well I know him,
Of easy temper, naturally good,
And faithful to his word.
Seb. Yet one thing wants,
To fill the measure of my happiness;
424 I'm still in pain for poor Alvarez' life.
Dor. Release that fear, the good old man is safe;
I paid his ransom,
And have already ordered his attendance.
Seb. O bid him enter, for I long to see him.
Enter Alvarez with a Servant, who departs when Alvarez is entered.
Alv. Now by my soul, and by these hoary hairs, [Falling down, and embracing the King's knees.
I'm so o'erwhelmed with pleasure, that I feel
A latter spring within my withering limbs,
That shoots me out again.
Seb. Thou good old man,[Raising him.
Thou hast deceived me into more, more joys,
Who stood brim-full before.
Alv. O my dear child,—
I love thee so, I cannot call thee king,—
Whom I so oft have dandled in these arms!
What, when I gave thee lost, to find thee living!
'Tis like a father, who himself had 'scaped
A falling house, and, after anxious search,
Hears from afar his only son within;
And digs through rubbish, till he drags him out,
To see the friendly light.
Such is my haste, so trembling is my joy,
To draw thee forth from underneath thy fate.
Seb. The tempest is o'erblown, the skies are clear,
And the sea charmed into a calm so still,
That not a wrinkle ruffles her smooth face.
Alv. Just such she shows before a rising storm;
And therefore am I come with timely speed,
To warn you into port.
Alm. My soul forebodes
Some dire event involved in those dark words,
And just disclosing in a birth of fate.[Aside.
Alv. Is there not yet an heir of this vast empire,
425 Who still survives, of Muley-Moluch's branch?
Dor. Yes, such a one there is a captive here,
And brother to the dead.
Alv. The powers above
Be praised for that! My prayers for my good master,
I hope, are heard.
Seb. Thou hast a right in heaven.
But why these prayers for me?
Alv. A door is open yet for your deliverance.—
Now you, my countrymen, and you, Almeyda,
Now all of us, and you, my all in one,
May yet be happy in that captive's life.
Seb. We have him here an honourable hostage
For terms of peace; what more he can contribute
To make me blest, I know not.
Ah. Vastly more;
Almeyda may be settled in the throne,
And you review your native clime with fame.
A firm alliance and eternal peace,
The glorious crown of honourable war,
Are all included in that prince's life.
Let this fair queen be given to Muley-Zeydan,
And make her love the sanction of your league.
Seb. No more of that; his life's in my dispose,
And prisoners are not to insist on terms;
Or, if they were, yet he demands not these.
Alv. You should exact them.
Alm. Better may be made,
These cannot: I abhor the tyrant's race,—
My parents' murderers, my throne's usurpers.
But, at one blow, to cut off all dispute,
Know this, thou busy, old, officious man,—
I am a Christian; now be wise no more;
Or, if thou wouldst be still thought wise, be silent.
Alv. O, I perceive you think your interest touched:
'Tis what before the battle I observed;
But I must speak, and will.
426 Seb. I pr'ythee, peace;
Perhaps she thinks they are too near of blood.
Alv. I wish she may not wed to blood more near.
Seb. What if I make her mine?
Alv. Now heaven forbid!
Seb. Wish rather heaven may grant;
For, if I could deserve, I have deserved her:
My toils, my hazards, and my subjects' lives,
Provided she consent, may claim her love;
And, that once granted, I appeal to these,
If better I could chuse a beauteous bride.
Ant. The fairest of her sex.
Mor. The pride of nature.
Dor. He only merits her, she only him;
So paired, so suited in their minds and persons,
That they were framed the tallies for each other.
If any alien love had interposed,
It must have been an eye-sore to beholders,
And to themselves a curse.
Alv. And to themselves
The greatest curse that can be, were to join.
Seb. Did not I love thee past a change to hate,
That word had been thy ruin; but no more,
I charge thee, on thy life, perverse old man!
Alv. Know, sir, I would be silent if I durst:
But if, on shipboard, I should see my friend
Grown frantic in a raging calenture,
And he, imagining vain flowery fields,
Would headlong plunge himself into the deep,—
Should I not hold him from that mad attempt,
Till his sick fancy were by reason cured?
Seb. I pardon thee the effects of doting age,
Vain doubts, and idle cares, and over-caution;
The second nonage of a soul more wise,
But now decayed, and sunk into the socket;
Peeping by fits, and giving feeble light.
Alv. Have you forgot?
427 Seb. Thou mean'st my father's will,
In bar of marriage to Almeyda's bed.
Thou seest my faculties are still entire,
Though thine are much impaired. I weighed that will,
And found 'twas grounded on our different faiths;
But, had he lived to see her happy change,
He would have cancelled that harsh interdict,
And joined our hands himself.
Alv. Still had he lived and seen this change,
He still had been the same.
Seb. I have a dark remembrance of my father:
His reasonings and his actions both were just;
And, granting that, he must have changed his measures.
Alv. Yes, he was just, and therefore could not change.
Seb. 'Tis a base wrong thou offer'st to the dead.
Alv. Now heaven forbid,
That I should blast his pious memory!
No, I am tender of his holy fame;
For, dying, he bequeathed it to my charge.
Believe, I am; and seek to know no more,
But pay a blind obedience to his will;
For, to preserve his fame, I would be silent.
Seb. Crazed fool, who would'st be thought an oracle,
Come down from off the tripos, and speak plain.
My father shall be justified, he shall:
'Tis a son's part to rise in his defence,
And to confound thy malice, or thy dotage.
Alv. It does not grieve me, that you hold me crazed;
But, to be cleared at my dead master's cost,
O there's the wound! but let me first adjure you,
By all you owe that dear departed soul,
No more to think of marriage with Almeyda.
428 Seb. Not heaven and earth combined can hinder it.
Alv. Then witness heaven and earth, how loth I am
To say, you must not, nay, you cannot, wed:
And since not only a dead father's fame,
But more, a lady's honour, must be touched,
Which, nice as ermines, will not bear a soil,
Let all retire, that you alone may hear
What even in whispers I would tell your ear. [All are going out.
Alm. Not one of you depart; I charge you, stay!
And were my voice a trumpet loud as fame,
To reach the round of heaven, and earth, and sea,
All nations should be summoned to this place,
So little do I fear that fellow's charge:
So should my honour, like a rising swan,
Brush with her wings the falling drops away,
And proudly plough the waves.
Seb. This noble pride becomes thy innocence;
And I dare trust my father's memory,
To stand the charge of that foul forging tongue.
Alv. It will be soon discovered if I forge.
Have you not heard your father in his youth,
When newly married, travelled into Spain,
And made a long abode in Philip's court?
Seb. Why so remote a question, which thyself
Can answer to thyself? for thou wert with him,
His favourite, as I oft have heard thee boast,
And nearest to his soul.
Alv. Too near, indeed; forgive me, gracious heaven,
That ever I should boast I was so near,
The confident of all his young amours!—
And have not you, unhappy beauty, heard,[To Alm.
Have you not often heard, your exiled parents
Were refuged in that court, and at that time?
Alm. 'Tis true; and often since my mother owned,
How kind that prince was to espouse her cause;
429 She counselled, nay enjoined me on her blessing,
To seek the sanctuary of your court;
Which gave me first encouragement to come,
And, with my brother, beg Sebastian's aid.
Seb. Thou helpst me well to justify my war:
[To Alm.] My dying father swore me, then a boy,
And made me kiss the cross upon his sword,
Never to sheath it, till that exiled queen
Were by my arms restored.
Alm. And can you find
No mystery couched in this excess of kindness?
Were kings e'er known, in this degenerate age,
So passionately fond of noble acts,
Where interest shared not more than half with honour?
Seb. Base grovelling soul, who know'st not honour's worth,
But weigh'st it out in mercenary scales!
The secret pleasure of a generous act
Is the great mind's great bribe.
Alv. Show me that king, and I'll believe the Phœnix.
But knock at your own breast, and ask your soul,
If those fair fatal eyes edged not your sword
More than your father's charge, and all your vows?
If so,—and so your silence grants it is,—
Know king, your father had, like you, a soul,
And love is your inheritance from him.
Almeyda's mother, too, had eyes, like her,
And not less charming; and were charmed no less
Than yours are now with her, and hers with you.
Alm. Thou liest, impostor! perjured fiend, thou liest!
Seb. Was't not enough to brand my father's fame,
But thou must load a lady's memory?
O infamous! O base, beyond repair!
And to what end this ill-concerted lie,
Which palpable and gross, yet granted true,
430 It bars not my inviolable vows?
Alv. Take heed, and double not your father's crimes;
To his adultery do not add your incest.
Know, she's the product of unlawful love,
And 'tis your carnal sister you would wed.
Seb. Thou shalt not say thou wer't condemned unheard;
Else, by my soul, this moment were thy last.
Alm. But think not oaths shall justify thy charge,
Nor imprecations on thy cursed head;
For who dares lie to heaven, thinks heaven a jest.
Thou hast confessed thyself the conscious pandar
Of that pretended passion;
A single witness infamously known,
Against two persons of unquestioned fame.
Alv. What interest can I have, or what delight,
To blaze their shame, or to divulge my own?
If proved, you hate me; if unproved, condemn.
Not racks or tortures could have forced this secret,
But too much care to save you from a crime,
Which would have sunk you both. For, let me say,
Almeyda's beauty well deserves your love.
Alm. Out, base impostor! I abhor thy praise.
Dor. It looks not like imposture; but a truth,
On utmost need revealed.
Seb. Did I expect from Dorax this return?
Is this the love renewed?
Dor. Sir, I am silent;
Pray heaven my fears prove false!
Seb. Away! you all combine to make me wretched.
Alv. But hear the story of that fatal love,
Where every circumstance shall prove another;
And truth so shine by her own native light,
That, if a lie were mixt, it must be seen.
Seb. No; all may still be forged, and of a piece.
No; I can credit nothing thou canst say.
Alv. One proof remains, and that's your father's hand,
431 Firmed with his signet; both so fully known,
That plainer evidence can hardly be,
Unless his soul would want her heaven awhile,
And come on earth to swear.
Seb. Produce that writing.
Alv. [To Dorax.] Alonzo has it in his custody;
The same, which, when his nobleness redeemed me,
And in a friendly visit owned himself
For what he is, I then deposited,
And had his faith to give it to the king.
Dor. Untouched, and sealed, as when intrusted with me, [Giving a sealed Paper to the King.
Such I restore it with a trembling hand,
Lest aught within disturb your peace of soul.
Seb. Draw near, Almeyda; thou art most concerned,
For I am most in thee.—[Tearing open the Seals.
Alonzo, mark the characters;
Thou know'st my father's hand, observe it well;
And if the impostor's pen have made one slip
That shews it counterfeit, mark that, and save me.
Dor. It looks indeed too like my master's hand:
So does the signet: more I cannot say;
But wish 'twere not so like.
Seb. Methinks it owns
The black adultery, and Almeyda's birth;
But such a mist of grief comes o'er my eyes,
I cannot, or I would not, read it plain.
Alm. Heaven cannot be more true, than this is false.
Seb. O couldst thou prove it with the same assurance!
Speak, hast thou ever seen my father's hand?
Alm. No; but my mother's honour has been read
By me, and by the world, in all her acts,
In characters more plain and legible
Than this dumb evidence, this blotted lie.—
432 Oh that I were a man, as my soul's one,
To prove thee traitor, and assassinate
Of her fame! thus moved, I'd tear thee thus,— [Tearing the Paper.
And scatter o'er the field thy coward limbs,
Like this foul offspring of thy forging brain. [Scattering the Paper.
Alv. Just so shalt thou be torn from all thy hopes;
For know, proud woman, know, in thy despite,
The most authentic proof is still behind,—
Thou wear'st it on thy finger: 'Tis that ring,
Which, matched to that on his, shall clear the doubt.
'Tis no dumb forgery, for that shall speak,
And sound a rattling peal to either's conscience.
Seb. This ring, indeed, my father, with a cold
And shaking hand, just in the pangs of death,
Put on my finger, with a parting sigh;
And would have, spoke, but faultered in his speech,
With undistinguished sound.
Alv. I know it well,
For I was present.—Now, Almeyda, speak,
And truly tell us how you came by yours.
Alm. My mother, when I parted from her sight
To go to Portugal, bequeathed it to me,
Presaging she should never see me more.
She pulled it from her finger, shed some tears,
Kissed it, and told me 'twas a pledge of love,
And hid a mystery of great importance,
Relating to my fortunes.
Alv. Mark me now,
While I disclose that fatal mystery:—
Those rings, when you were born and thought another's,
Your parents, glowing yet in sinful love,
Bid me bespeak: a curious artist wrought them.
With joints so close, as not to be perceived,
Yet are they both each other's counterpart;
433 Her part had Juan inscribed, and his had Zayda,
(You know those names are theirs,) and in the midst
A heart divided in two halves was placed.
Now, if the rivets of those rings inclosed
Fit not each other, I have forged this lie;
But, if they join, you must for ever part.
[Sebastian pulling off his Ring, Almeyda does the same, and gives it to Alvarez, who unscrews both the Rings, and fits one half to the other[10].
Seb. Now life, or death.
Alm. And either thine, or ours.—
I'm lost for ever.
[Swoons. The Women and Morayma take her up, and carry her off. Sebastian here stands amazed without motion, his eyes fixed upward.
Seb. Look to the queen, my wife; for I am past
All power of aid to her, or to myself.
Alv. His wife! said he, his wife! O fatal sound!
For, had I known it, this unwelcome news
434 Had never reached their ears:
So they had still been blest in ignorance,
And I alone unhappy.
Dor. I knew it, but too late, and durst not speak.
Seb. [Starting out of his amazement.]
I will not live, no not a moment more;
I will not add one moment more to incest;
I'll cut it off, and end a wretched being:
For, should I live, my soul's so little mine,
And so much hers, that I should still enjoy.—
Ye cruel powers,
Take me, as you have made me, miserable;
You cannot make me guilty; 'twas my fate,
And you made that, not I. [Draws his Sword. Antonio and Alvarez lay hold on him, and Dorax wrests the Sword out of his hand.
Ant. For heaven's sake hold, and recollect your mind!
Alv. Consider whom you punish, and for what;
Yourself unjustly; you have charged the fault
On heaven, that best may bear it.
Though incest is indeed a deadly crime,
You are not guilty, since unknown 'twas done,
And, known, had been abhorred.
Seb. By heaven, you're traitors all, that hold my hands.
If death be but cessation of our thought,
Then let me die, for I would think no more.
I'll boast my innocence above,
And let them see a soul they could not sully,
I shall be there before my father's ghost,
That yet must languish long in frosts and fires,
For making me unhappy by his crime.—
Stand oft, and let me take my fill of death;[Struggling again.
For I can hold my breath in your despite,
435 And swell my heaving soul out when I please.
Alv. Heaven comfort you!
Seb. What, art thou giving comfort!
Wouldst thou give comfort, who hast given despair?
Thou seest Alonzo silent; he's a man.
He knows, that men, abandoned of their hopes,
Should ask no leave, nor stay for sueing out
A tedious writ of ease from lingering heaven,
But help themselves as timely as they could,
And teach the Fates their duty.
Dor. [To Alv. and Ant.] Let him go;
He is our king, and he shall be obeyed.
Alv. What, to destroy himself? O parricide!
Dor. Be not injurious in your foolish zeal,
But leave him free; or, by my sword, I swear
To hew that arm away, that stops the passage
To his eternal rest.
Ant. [Letting go his hold.] Let him be guilty of his own death, if he pleases; for I'll not be guilty of mine, by holding him.
[The King shakes off Alv.
Alv. [To Dor.] Infernal fiend,
Is this a subject's part?
Dor. 'Tis a friend's office.
He has convinced me, that he ought to die;
And, rather than he should not, here's my sword,
To help him on his journey.
Seb. My last, my only friend, how kind art thou,
And how inhuman these!
Dor. To make the trifle, death, a thing of moment!
Seb. And not to weigh the important cause I had
To rid myself of life!
Dor. True; for a crime
So horrid, in the face of men and angels,
As wilful incest is!
Seb. Not wilful, neither.
Dor. Yes, if you lived, and with repeated acts
436 Refreshed your sin, and loaded crimes with crimes,
To swell your scores of guilt.
Seb. True; if I lived.
Dor. I said so, if you lived.
Seb. For hitherto was fatal ignorance,
And no intended crime.
Dor. That you best know;
But the malicious world will judge the worst.
Alv. O what a sophister has hell procured,
To argue for damnation!
Dor. Peace, old dotard.
Mankind, that always judge of kings with malice,
Will think he knew this incest, and pursued it.
His only way to rectify mistakes,
And to redeem her honour, is to die.
Seb. Thou hast it right, my dear, my best Alonzo!
And that, but petty reparation too;
But all I have to give.
Dor. Your, pardon, sir;
You may do more, and ought.
Seb. What, more than death?
Dor. Death! why, that's children's sport; a stage-play death;
We act it every night we go to bed.
Death, to a man in misery, is sleep.
Would you,—who perpetrated such a crime,
As frightened nature, made the saints above
Shake heavens eternal pavement with their trembling
To view that act,—would you but barely die?
But stretch your limbs, and turn on t'other side.
To lengthen out a black voluptuous slumber,
And dream you had your sister in your arms?
Seb. To expiate this, can I do more than die?
Dor. O yes, you must do more, you must be damned;
You must be damned to all eternity;
And sure self-murder is the readiest way.
Dor. Why, is that news?
Alv. O horror, horror!
Dor. What, thou a statesman,
And make a business of damnation
In such a world as this! why, 'tis a trade;
The scrivener, usurer, lawyer, shopkeeper,
And soldier, cannot live but by damnation.
The politician does it by advance,
And gives all gone beforehand.
Seb. O thou hast given me such a glimpse of hell,
So pushed me forward, even to the brink
Of that irremeable burning gulph,
That, looking in the abyss, I dare not leap.
And now I see what good thou mean'st my soul,
And thank thy pious fraud; thou hast indeed
Appeared a devil, but didst an angel's work.
Dor. 'Twas the last remedy, to give you leisure;
For, if you could but think, I knew you safe.
Seb. I thank thee, my Alonzo; I will live,
But never more to Portugal return;
For, to go back and reign, that were to show
Triumphant incest, and pollute the throne.
Alv. Since ignorance—
Seb. O, palliate not my wound;
When you have argued all you can, 'tis incest.
No, 'tis resolved: I charge you plead no more;
I cannot live without Almeyda's sight,
Nor can I see Almeyda, but I sin.
Heaven has inspired me with a sacred thought,
To live alone to heaven, and die to her.
Dor. Mean you to turn an anchorite?
Seb. What else?
The world was once too narrow for my mind,
But one poor little nook will serve me now,
To hide me from the rest of human kind.
Africk has deserts wide enough to hold
438 Millions of monsters; and I am, sure, the greatest.
Alv. You may repent, and wish your crown too late.
Seb. O never, never; I am past a boy:
A sceptre's but a plaything, and a globe
A bigger bounding stone. He, who can leave
Almeyda, may renounce the rest with ease.
Dor. O truly great!
A soul fixed high, and capable of heaven.
Old as he is, your uncle cardinal
Is not so far enamoured of a cloister,
But he will thank you for the crown you leave him.
Seb. To please him more, let him believe me dead,
That he may never dream I may return.
Alonzo, I am now no more thy king,
But still thy friend; and by that holy name
Adjure thee, to perform my last request;—
Make our conditions with yon captive king;
Secure me but my solitary cell;
'Tis all I ask him for a crown restored.
Dor. I will do more:
But fear not Muley-Zeydan; his soft metal
Melts down with easy warmth, runs in the mould,
And needs no further forge.[Exit Dorax.
Re-enter Almeyda led by Morayma, and followed by her Attendants.
Seb. See where she comes again!
By heaven, when I behold those beauteous eyes,
Repentance lags, and sin comes hurrying on.
Alm. This is too cruel!
Seb. Speak'st thou of love, of fortune, or of death,
Or double death? for we must part, Almeyda.
Alm. I speak of all,
For all things that belong to us are cruel;
But, what's most cruel, we must love no more.
O 'tis too much that I must never see you,
But not to love you is impossible.
439 No, I must love you; heaven may bate me that,
And charge that sinful sympathy of souls
Upon our parents, when they loved too well.
Seb. Good heaven, thou speak'st my thoughts, and I speak thine!
Nay, then there's incest in our very souls,
For we were formed too like.
Alm. Too like indeed,
And yet not for each other.
Sure when we part, (for I resolved it too,
Though you proposed it first,) however distant,
We shall be ever thinking of each other,
And the same moment for each other pray.
Seb. But if a wish should come athwart our prayers!
Alm. It would do well to curb it, if we could.
Seb. We cannot look upon each other's face,
But, when we read our love, we read our guilt:
And yet, methinks, I cannot chuse but love.
Aim. I would have asked you, if I durst for shame,
If still you loved? you gave it air before me.
Ah, why were we not born both of a sex?
For then we might have loved without a crime.
Why was not I your brother? though that wish
Involved our parents' guilt, we had not parted;
We had been friends, and friendship is no incest.
Seb. Alas, I know not by what name to call thee!
Sister and wife are the two dearest names,
And I would call thee both, and both are sin.
Unhappy we! that still we must confound
The dearest names into a common curse.
Alm. To love, and be beloved, and yet be wretched!
Seb. To have but one poor night of all our lives;
It was indeed a glorious, guilty night;
So happy, that—forgive me, heaven!—I wish,
With all its guilt, it were to come again.
Why did we know so soon, or why at all,
That sin could be concealed in such a bliss?
440 Alm. Men have a larger privilege of words,
Else I should speak; but we must part, Sebastian,—
That's all the name that I have left to call thee;—
I must not call thee by the name I would;
But when I say Sebastian, dear Sebastian,
I kiss the name I speak.
Seb. We must make haste, or we shall never part.
I would say something that's as dear as this;
Nay, would do more than say: One moment longer,
And I should break through laws divine and human,
And think them cobwebs spread for little man,
Which all the bulky herd of nature breaks.
The vigorous young world was ignorant
Of these restrictions; 'tis decrepit now;
Not more devout, but more decayed, and cold.—
All this is impious, therefore we must part;
For, gazing thus, I kindle at thy sight,
And, once burnt down to tinder, light again
Much sooner than before.
Re-enter Dorax.
Alm. Here comes the sad denouncer of my fate,
To toll the mournful knell of separation;
While I, as on my deathbed, hear the sound,
That warns me hence for ever.
Seb. [To Dor.] Now be brief,
And I will try to listen,
And share the minute, that remains, betwixt
The care I owe my subjects, and my love.
Dor. Your fate has gratified you all she can;
Gives easy misery, and makes exile pleasing.
I trusted Muley-Zeydan as a friend,
But swore him first to secrecy: He wept
Your fortune, and with tears not squeezed by art,
But shed from nature, like a kindly shower:
In short, he proffered more than I demanded;
A safe retreat, a gentle solitude,
441 Unvexed with noise, and undisturbed with fears.
I chose you one—
Alm. O do not tell me where;
For, if I knew the place of his abode,
I should be tempted to pursue his steps,
And then we both were lost.
Seb. Even past redemption;
For, if I knew thou wert on that design,
(As I must know, because our souls are one,)
I should not wander, but by sure instinct
Should meet thee just half-way in pilgrimage,
And close for ever; for I know my love
More strong than thine, and I more frail than thou.
Alm. Tell me not that; for I must boast my crime,
And cannot bear that thou should'st better love.
Dor. I may inform you both; for you must go,
Where seas, and winds, and deserts will divide you.
Under the ledge of Atlas lies a cave,
Cut in the living rock by Nature's hands,
The venerable seat of holy hermits;
Who there, secure in separated cells,
Sacred even to the Moors, enjoy devotion;
And from the purling streams, and savage fruits.
Have wholesome beverage, and unbloody feasts.
Seb. 'Tis penance too voluptuous for my crime[11].
Dor. Your subjects, conscious of your life, are few;
But all desirous to partake your exile,
And to do office to your sacred person.
The rest, who think you dead, shall be dismissed.
Under safe convoy, till they reach your fleet.
442 Alm. But how am wretched I to be disposed?—
A vain enquiry, since I leave my lord;
For all the world beside is banishment.
Dor. I have a sister, abbess in Terceras,
Who lost her lover on her bridal day.
Alm. There fate provided me a fellow-turtle,
To mingle sighs with sighs, and tears with tears.
Dor. Last, for myself, if I have well fulfilled
My sad commission, let me beg the boon,
To share the sorrows of your last recess,
And mourn the common losses of our loves.
Alv. And what becomes of me? must I be left,
As age and time had worn me out of use?
These sinews are not yet so much unstrung,
To fail me when my master should be served;
And when they are, then will I steal to death,
Silent and unobserved, to save his tears.
Seb. I've heard you both;—Alvarez, have thy wish;—
But thine, Alonzo, thine is too unjust.
I charge thee with my last commands, return,
And bless thy Violante with thy vows.—
Antonio, be thou happy too in thine.
Last, let me swear you all to secrecy;
And, to conceal my shame, conceal my life.
Dor. Ant. Mor. We swear to keep it secret.
Alm. Now I would speak the last farewell, I cannot.
It would be still farewell a thousand times;
And, multiplied in echoes, still farewell.
I will not speak, but think a thousand thousand.
And be thou silent too, my last Sebastian;
So let us part in the dumb pomp of grief.
My heart's too great, or I would die this moment;
But death, I thank him, in an hour, has made
A mighty journey, and I haste to meet him. [She staggers, and her Women hold her up.
Seb. Help to support this feeble drooping flower.
This tender sweet, so shaken by the storm;
443 For these fond arms must thus be stretched in vain,
And never, never must embrace her more.
'Tis past:—my soul goes in that word—farewell.
[Alvarez goes with Sebastian to one end of the Stage; Women, with Almeyda, to the other: Dorax coming up to Antonio and Morayma, who stand on the middle of the Stage.
Dor. Haste to attend Almeyda:—For your sake
Your father is forgiven; but to Antonio
He forfeits half his wealth. Be happy both;
And let Sebastian and Almeyda's fate
This dreadful sentence to the world relate,—
That unrepented crimes, of parents dead,
Are justly punished on their children's head.
Footnotes:
- This whimsical account of the Slave-market is probably taken from the following passage in the "Captivity and escape of Adam Elliot, M.A."—"By sun-rising next morning, we were all of us, who came last to Sallee, driven to market, where, the Moors sitting taylor-wise on stalls round about, we were severally run up and down by persons who proclaimed our qualities or trades, and what might best recommend us to the buyer. I had a great black who was appointed to sell me; this fellow, holding me by the hand, coursed me up and down from one person to another, who called upon me at pleasure to examine what trade I was of, and to see what labour my hands had been accustomed to. All the seamen were soon bought up, but it was mid-day ere I could meet with a purchaser."—See A modest Vindication of Titus Oates, London, 1682.
- The knight much wondered at his sudden wit;
- And said, The term of life is limited,
- Ne may a man prolong nor shorten it;
- The soldier may not move from watchful sted,
- Nor leave his stand until his captain bed.
- Fairy Queen, Book i. Canto 9.
- The same artifice is used in "Œdipus," vol. vi. p. 149. to impress, by a description of the feelings of the unfortunate pair towards each other, a presentiment of their fatal relationship. The prophecy of Nostradamus is also obviously imitated from the response of the Delphic Pythoness to Œdipus.—Ibid. See p. 156.
- For, interpreter; more usually spelled dragoman.
- A horrid Moorish punishment. The criminal was precipitated from a high tower upon iron scythes and hooks, which projected from its side. This scene Settle introduces in one of his tragedies.
- These presages of misfortune may remind the reader of the ominous feelings of the Duke of Guise, in the scene preceding his murder. The superstitious belief, that dejection of spirits, without cause, announces an impending violent death, is simply but well expressed in an old ballad called the "Warning to all Murderers:"
- And after this most bad pretence,
- The gentleman each day
- Still felt his heart to throb and faint,
- And sad he was alway.
- His sleep was full of dreadful dreams,
- In bed where he did lie;
- His heart was heavy in the day,
- Yet knew no reason why.
- And oft as he did sit at meat,
- His nose most suddenly
- Would spring and gush out crimson blood,
- And straight it would be dry.
- There is great art in rendering the interpretation of this ominous dream so ingeniously doubtful. The latter circumstance, where the Emperor recognises his murderer as a personage in his vision, seems to be borrowed from the story of one of the caliphs, who, before his death, dreamed, that a sable hand and arm shook over his head a handful of red earth, and denounced, that such was the colour of the earth on which he should die. When taken ill on an expedition, he desired to know the colour of the earth on which his tent was pitched. A negro slave presented him with a specimen; and in the black's outstretched arm, bared, from respect, to the elbow, as well as in the colour of the earth, the caliph acknowledged the apparition he had seen in his sleep, and prepared for immediate death.
- Et quum fata volunt, bina venena juvant.—Ausonius.
- Idiots were anciently wards of the crown; and the custody of their person, and charge of their estate, was often granted to the suit of some favourite, where the extent of the latter rendered it an object of plunder. Hence the common phrase of being begged for a fool.
- This incident seems to be taken from the following passage in the Continuation of the Adventures of Don Sebastian.
- "In Moran, an island some half league from Venice, there is an abbot called Capelo, a gentleman of Venice, a grave personage, and of great authority, hearing that the king laid wait for certain jewels that he had lost, (hoping thereby to recover some of them,) having a diamond in his keeping with the arms of Portugal, came to the town to the conventicles of St Francis, called Frari, where the king lay concealed, for that he was pursued by some that meant him no good, who no sooner beheld the ring, but he said, 'Verily this is mine, and I either lost the same in Flanders, or else it was stolen from me.' And when the king had put it upon his finger, it appeared otherwise engraven than before. The abbot enquiring of him that brought him the ring, how he came by it? he answered, it is true that the king hath said. Hence arose a strange rumour of a ring, that, by turning the stone, you might discern three great letters engraven, S.R.P. as much as to say, Sebastianus Rex Portugallix."—Harl. Mis. vol. v. p. 462.
- It is said, in the pamphlets alluded to, that Don Sebastian, out of grief and shame for having fought against the advice of his generals, and lost the flower of his army, took the resolution of never returning to his country, but of burying himself in a hermitage; and that he resided for three years as an anchorite, on the top of a mountain in Dalmatia.
"In Moran, an island some half league from Venice, there is an abbot called Capelo, a gentleman of Venice, a grave personage, and of great authority, hearing that the king laid wait for certain jewels that he had lost, (hoping thereby to recover some of them,) having a diamond in his keeping with the arms of Portugal, came to the town to the conventicles of St Francis, called Frari, where the king lay concealed, for that he was pursued by some that meant him no good, who no sooner beheld the ring, but he said, 'Verily this is mine, and I either lost the same in Flanders, or else it was stolen from me.' And when the king had put it upon his finger, it appeared otherwise engraven than before. The abbot enquiring of him that brought him the ring, how he came by it? he answered, it is true that the king hath said. Hence arose a strange rumour of a ring, that, by turning the stone, you might discern three great letters engraven, S.R.P. as much as to say, Sebastianus Rex Portugallix."—Harl. Mis. vol. v. p. 462.
EPILOGUE,
SPOKEN BETWIXT ANTONIO AND MORAYMA
Mor. I quaked at heart, for fear the royal fashion
Should have seduced us two to separation:
To be drawn in, against our own desire,
Poor I to be a nun, poor you, a friar.
| Ant. I trembled, when the old man's hand was in, He would have proved we were too near of kin: Discovering old intrigues of love, like t'other, Betwixt my father and thy sinful mother; To make us sister Turk and Christian brother. | } } } |
Mor. Excuse me there; that league should have been rather
Betwixt your mother and my Mufti father;
'Tis for my own and my relations' credit,
Your friends should bear the bastard, mine should get it.
Ant. Suppose us two, Almeyda and Sebastian,
With incest proved upon us—
Mor. Without question,
Their conscience was too queazy of digestion.
Ant. Thou wouldst have kept the counsel of thy brother,
And sinned, till we repented of each other.
Mor. Beast as you are, on Nature's laws to trample!
'Twere fitter that we followed their example.
And, since all marriage in repentance ends,
'Tis good for us to part when we are friends.
To save a maid's remorses and confusions,
E'en leave me now before we try conclusions.
Ant. To copy their example, first make certain
Of one good hour, like theirs, before our parting;
Make a debauch, o'er night, of love and madness;
And marry, when we wake, in sober sadness.
Mor. I'll follow no new sects of your inventing.
One night might cost me nine long months repenting;
445 First wed, and, if you find that life a fetter,
Die when you please; the sooner, sir, the better.
My wealth would get me love ere I could ask it:
Oh! there's a strange temptation in the casket.
All these young sharpers would my grace importune,
And make me thundering votes of lives and fortune[1].
Footnote:
- Alluding to the addresses upon the Revolution.