ACT · III
ALMEH.
O delicate air, inviting
The birth of the sun, to fire
The heavy glooms of the sea with silver laughter:
Ye sleepy flowers, that tire
In melting dreams of the day,
To splendour disregardful, with sloth awaking;
Rejoice, rejoice, alway;
But why are ye taking
My soul to follow you after,
To awake with you, and be joyful in your delighting?
Ay me!
Enter Zapel from the garden, with a basket of flowers.
ZAPEL.
Here are thy lilies.
Al.’Tis enough of these;
I thank thee, Zapel. Now there grows a flower
Wild 'neath the castle walls, a yellow rose
It seems, of stubborn habit, branching low;
When walking on the ramparts I have seen it,
And wondered whence it drew its sustenance,
In scattered tufts upon the waste sea sand;
Go to the gate, and say I sent thee forth;
And pluck me blooms, and a young stem of it
That I may plant at home: if it should thrive,
It shall be proud I ever looked upon it.
Why dost thou laugh? Didst thou not hearken, girl?
Za. I heard thee well: Go forth, Zapel, thou saidst;
Go where thou wilt, so thou return not soon.
Now is the hour prince Ferdinand should come:
Lovers would be alone.
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Al.Be sure of this;
’Tis my sole comfort to be rid of thee;
And when we are back in Fez, I will bestow thee
Upon another mistress.
Za.If ’tis Fez,
I care not. I’ll commend me to the queen
That shall be of Morocco ... why, thou goest
The way to spoil thy fortunes, and dost shame
The suit of a most high and worthy prince
By favouring the Christian.
Al.Favouring
Dar’st thou to say?
Za.I say but what I see.
The infidel is dazzled by thy beauty;
And if thou dost not love his flatteries,
How is it that thou art found so oft alone
Where he must walk? that now these three days past
At break of dawn, ere thou wast used to stir
Thou must go forth, because the moon is bright,
Or dwindling stars should be beheld, or flowers
Gathered in dew; and I, who must be roused
To bear thee company, am in haste dismissed,
Or sent on useless errands, while the prince
Steals in my place? If I should say ’twas love....
Al. Folly! what folly in thee. And if ’twere true,
Should I need thee to tell me?
Go fetch my yellow roses.
Za.And in time:
See here he comes.
Al.Begone.
Za.Ay, I must go.
(Aside.) But I can send another.[Exit.
Al. What is it I resent? that others see us
Is our life’s evidence: loving as being
Needs this conviction.
Enter Ferdinand.
FERDINAND.
What, Almeh! thou’rt here?
Al.Didst thou think
I should play truant like an idle child,
Who when the clock has struck cannot be found,
And must be dragged to school?
Fer.O nay. But in this world,
Where all things move outside our reckoning,
To find the least desire hath come to pass
Will seem a miracle.
Al.What is thy desire?
What is the miracle?
Fer.O beauteous Almeh!
If I might call thee Christian!
Al.Nay, I know not:
But what I have learned makes me desire the name.
Fer. Now is the purpose of my expedition
Revealed: for this I sailed to Africa:
For this I was defeated, and for this
Brought captive here. ’Tis thou that art my prize.
Al. ’Twere a poor prize for so much war: but tell me,
How came it thou’rt a soldier?
Fer.Thou hast thought
My failure shames that title?
Al.Nay, I ask
How, being a Christian, thou professest arms.
Why hast thou come against us, with no plea
Save thy religion, and that happy gospel
Thou hast trampled on in coming, Peace on earth?
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Fer. Too late to ask. When conscience, like an angel,
Stood in the way to bar my setting forth,
Zeal and ambition blinded me; tho’yet
Against the voice of them that urged me on
There lacked not prodigies of heaven to stay me.
For as we sailed from Lisbon, all the host
That lined the shore with banners and gay music,
Was changed before my eyes to funeral trains
Of black and weeping mourners, who with wails
And screams affrighted us. The sun in heaven
Turned to blood-red, and doleful mists of grey
Shut us in darkness, while the sucking ebb
Dragged us to doom. And here now that I stand
In the rebuke of judgment, I have no plea
Save that I suffer: unless thou be found
My unsought prize.
Al.Thou missest the conclusion,
Considering but thyself, not those thou hast wronged.
Thou must surrender Ceuta: ’tis a debt
To justice and to peace: my father’s honour.
Thy duty towards thy wretched countrymen,
And thine own freedom—
Fer.Let no words between us
Be spoke in vain, as these words now must be.
Al. Were thy words true, my words were not in vain.
Fer. Lady, were Ceuta mine, had my sword won it,
Thy words might move, though not thy father’s threats.
Al. I hear the gate: some one comes forth. I pray
Retire, ere we be seen.[Exeunt R.
Enter Sala and Tarudante.
SALA.
I owe him life, your highness, and would stake it
A thousand times upon his princely worth.
As are his manners, you shall find his honour.
I will go fetch him.
TARUDANTE.
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Stay, I understand
Something, and know that now he is in the grounds
With the princess alone. Go if thou wilt.
Assure thyself: I need to see no more.
Sa. Await me here then while I go. I pray thee
Judge not so hastily.
Tar.I judge not hastily.
Sa. Then wait me here.
Tar.I wait for no man, Sala;
Save out of courtesy; in which I hope
I have not lacked hitherto.
Sa.You have rather set us
In everlasting debt.
Tar.Speak not of that.
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Sa. Then mock not our repayment.
Tar.Look you, Sala;
I understand to seize a prize by force,
Or kindly take a gift, but not to sue.
Sa. Yet women must be wooed.
Tar.Ay, that’s a game:
But if ’tis more than play, I’ve no mind for it.
Patch up the matter as you can. For me,
I cry To horse.
Sa.Wait but a moment longer;
I will fetch Ferdinand. (Aside.) To have two rivals,
Tho’both be princes, may be better yet
Than to have only one. [Exit.
Tar. By heaven, they trifle with me, and by waiting
I allow it; cherishing an idle softness
That fools me to take slights, yet cannot soothe
My pride to competition. Nay, nor would I
Rob grey-haired Sala of it, if he has dreamed
His heirs shall reign in Fez.... But the infidel—
How should the general countenance him,—altho’
There be some tie of chivalry between them?
A riddle it is; a riddle I leave it. Now
To save engagèd honour I must feign
Some exigency. I will go warn my men
That they break camp at sunrise. In three days
All is forgotten. [Exit.
Re-enter Sala with Ferdinand.
Fer.He is not here.
Sa.’Tis well.
Fer. What wouldst thou, Sala?
Sa.For thy safety, prince,
And for my honour both, accept the terms,
And go hence while thou mayst.
Fer.Now spare thy words;
For I am firm.
Sa.Then if thou close the door,
Thou must o’erleap the wall.
Fer.What mean’st thou?
Sa.Fly.
Feign sickness. I will let thee forth to-night.
Thou shalt be safe beyond pursuit to-morrow,
While yet ’tis thought thou keep’st thy chamber.
Fer.Nay.
Sa. As men will risk their lives to save their lives,
Risk thou thine honour now to save thine honour,—
Ay, and thy life. ’Tis looked for of no man
To make his tongue his executioner;
Nor any hath this right, to bind his brother
To die when it shall please him.
Fer.O honest Sala,
We wrong thee much in Spain: there art thou deemed
A heartless soldier; not a bloody tale
That would pass current, but usurps thy name:
Men curse by thee.
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Sa.I pray you now return,
And disabuse your friends.
Fer.Ay, that and more
When I return.
Sa.Thou never wilt return,
Unless thou fly at once.
Fer.Tell me the worst.
Sa. What think you, should I slay you with these hands?
Fer. Thou, Sala! why?
Sa.I spake not empty words.
Fer. Their darkness is to me as emptiness.
Sa. By heaven, I would not now unseal my lips,
But I know him I speak to, and my speech
Shall win thee. Hark, I have been for twenty years
Familiar with the king, one of his house;
I have known the princess Almeh from her cradle:
Her father’s only child, she hath been to me
My single joy no less: from the first words
She lisped upon my knee, unto this day,
Her sayings and doings have been still the events
Which measured time to me: her childish ways,
Her growth, well-being, happiness, were mine,
Part of my life. Whene’er I have been away
On distant service, the same couriers
That carried my despatches to the king,
Returned to me with tidings of the child,
Writ for my use, the careful chronicle
Of prattle, with whatever pretty message
She had devised to send me: as she grew
I watched her, taught her, was her friend; and while
I trod in blood, and heard the mortal gasp
Of foes my scimitar struck down to hell,
I suffered nothing to approach my soul
But what might too be hers. Sala is stern,
Men say, and register my actions bluntly
To common qualities,—I serve my age
In such a tedious practice,—but in truth
Sala is gentle as the tend’rest plant
That noonday withers, or the night frosts pinch.
I tell thee what I would not dare tell any,
Lest he should smile at me, and I should slay him:
I tell it thee, knowing thou wilt not smile.
Now late it happed that I returned to Fez
After some longer absence than was wont;
And looking still to meet the child I left,
I found her not. She had made a dizzy flight
From prettiest to fairest. Slow-working time
Had leapt in a miracle: ere one could say,
From being a child suddenly she was a woman,
Changed beyond hope, to me past hope unchanged.
Maybe thou hast never tasted, prince, this sorrow,
When fortune smiling upon those we love
Removes them from our reach—when we awake
To our small reckoning in the circumstance
We are grown to lean on.—Cursèd be the day
Whereon we met: or would thou hadst slain me there—
My wrongs are worse than death.
Fer.How! can it be?
Tell me but truth. Art thou my rival, Sala?
Thou art: thou art. Yet ’twas thyself deceived me.
Thou’st ever spoken of her as of a daughter.
Forgive me, Sala; thy familiarity
And thy years blinded me. If, ere I came
Her heart was thine, and I by pity’s softness
Have stolen the passion that was thine before,
Now by mine honour I will do thy bidding:
If ’tis the only way, I’ll fly to-night.
Thy word, and I will fly. Were ye betrothed?
Sa. Nay, prince ...
Fer.Nay?... Yet if not betrothed, maybe
Almeh hath loved thee, shewn thee preference,
Some promise ...
Sa.Nay.
Fer.Then, Sala, in plain words,
How have I wronged thee? what can be the cause
Why thou didst threat to kill me?
Sa.I said not that.
Fer. Esteem’st thou then a prince of Portugal
So much less than Morocco? ...
Sa.Dream’st thou the king
Would wed his daughter to ...
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Fer.An infidel,
Thou’dst say.
Sa.Is’t not impossible?
Fer.’Twould seem
No miracle to me shouldst thou thyself
Turn Christian.
Sa.By Allah! Hush! here is the king. Begone,
Lest my goodwill to thee be more suspected
Than it deserve.
Fer.I’ll speak with thee again.[Exit.
Sa. (solus). I have shot my best bolt forth, and missed my aim.
KING.
Sala, what dost thou here? I sent for thee.
Sa. No message, sire, hath reached me.
K.I am come myself
To find thee; I need thy counsel, and I desire
Thou wilt put off the manner of advisers,
Who affect disapprobation of whatever
Is done without their sanction; in which humour
Thou hast looked grudgingly upon the marriage
’Twixt Almeh and Morocco.
Sa.My dislike
Hath better ground.
K.Whate’er it be, I bid thee
Put thy dislike aside: the business threatens
To fail without our aid.
Sa.How so?
K.The prince
Hath been with us five days: ’tis now full time
He spoke his mind; and yet he hath said no word.
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Sa. Well, sire?
K.The cause: I’ll tell thee first my thoughts.
Sa. The fancy of a maid is as the air—
Light, uncontrollable.
K.What dream is this?
’Tis not her liking that I count. The day
That Tarudante asks her she is his:
’Tis that he doth not ask.—I have myself perceived
A melancholy habit that hath come
Upon my daughter of late, and grows apace.
I thought awhile ’twas love, but now I fear
’Tis a deep disaffection: such behaviour,
So foreign to her years, might well repel
So fine a lover.
Sa.That is not the cause.
K. I say it is. I have watched her with the prince
Now for two days, and marked in her behaviour
Indifference and abstraction.
Sa.And if ’tis so?
K. Find some device to drive these humours off.
Did I but know, could we discover, Sala,
What lies the nearest to her heart, a prompt
And unforeseen indulgence would restore
Her spirit to cheerfulness.
Sa. (aside).Now here is hope.
If I could work him to my purpose now.
K. What say’st thou?
Sa.Sire, the sufferings of the captives
First hurt your daughter’s spirit. Would you heal it,
Release them.
K.Eh! Wellah! I think thou’rt right.
Twice hath she knelt before me for these men:
I had never thought of it.
Sa. (aside).Heaven give my tongue
Persuasion.
K.I’ll do it, Sala: ’tis worth the price.
Sa. There is yet one captive whom you cannot free.
K. Who’s he?
Sa.The prince.
K.He counts not with the rest.
Sa. Nay, since his wrong and claim stand above all.
K. Thou art pleading for thyself, Sala: thou knowest
I hold the prince for Ceuta.
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Sa.So, sire; for never
Will you hold Ceuta for the prince. You asked
My advice: you have it. Where my honour weighed not,
Nor my long service finds me any favour,
Suspect not I would use a lady’s tears:
Tho’true it be, the grief that Almeh felt
Hath been tenfold increased, since the good prince
Who gave me life was asked to buy his own.
K. But if I free the rest and keep the prince?
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Sa. A stinted favour brings no gladness. Yet
You could not more, you cannot, nay you are pledged.
K. Hark, Sala: I care not if he live or die.
Did I not offer him his liberty
On a condition? Since to win Morocco
Is to have Ceuta, I may change my terms,
And use him for that purpose, tho’it stand
One remove from my object: and I see
How I can make a bargain. Fetch my daughter,
For the same day she marries Tarudante
The prince and all the captives shall be hers:
And she shall know it. Send her hither.
Sa.I go.
(Aside.) Yet the condition mars the gift for all.
[Exit Sala.
K. Nay, he shall not dissuade me. ’Twas good counsel
Slipped from him unawares; and tho’I swore
To keep the prince till he surrendered Ceuta,
That oath turned ’gainst myself I will cast o’er,
Making his liberty my tool; and what
Self-interest persuades I’ll do with grace.—
That men are strong or weak, foolish or wise,
According to the judgment of their fellows,
Is doctrine for the multitude. For me
I would possess my wisdom as my health,
In verity, not semblance.
Re-enter Almeh.
Al. My father sent for me?
K.Come hither, Almeh.
I have news for thee.
Al.Good news?
K.Thou shalt say good.
Guess.
Al. There hath something happened?
K.Something shall be.
Al. Is it peace with Portugal?
K.Nay, not so far.
Al. Tell me.
K.The Christian captives.
Al.Dare I guess
They may go free?
K.’Tis that.
Al.O kindest father,
Thou healest my heart, that hath the chief enlargement
In this deliverance. If they know it not,
May I go tell them?
K.Stay. There’s one condition.
It lies with thee to fix the day.
Al.With me?
I say to-day.
K.Thou canst not say to-day.
Al. How soon?
K.’Tis thus. I make their liberty
A gift to thee the day thou shalt be married
Al.Ah!
K.The smile that came
So quickly to thy face hath fled again.
Is the condition hard?
Al.’Tis like denial.
K. Denial!
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Al.To do the thing I never wished,
And if I wished lies not in me to do.
K. Thou dost not wish, sayst thou? It lies not in thee?
Al. ’Tis true I do not wish this marriage, sire.
K. Well, well. To wish to leave thy home and me
Were undesired: but to obey my will,
To trust thy welfare to my guidance, girl;
Not to oppose my dictates....
Al.Truly, father,
I have found as little occasion to oppose,
As I have power to stand against thy will.
K. I know it, child: but for that hold thee to blame:
Thou hast not wished: ’tis in thy power to wish.
Marriage thou dost not wish: but thou must wish
What is my will; which to make more thine own
I add this boon. Was’t not thy chief desire?
Dost thou not thank me?
Al.Alas....
K. ’Tis no small gift, the lives of fifty men.
Al. Tell me, sire; with the captives dost thou reckon
Prince Ferdinand of Portugal?
K.I knew
Thou wouldst ask this, and am content to grant it.
See how I yield. I will go fetch thy lover:
Be ready to receive him: what thou dost
Ruleth his happiness as well as mine,
And theirs whose life I give thee. Await him here.
[Going.
Al. Stay, father, stay!
K.Well, child!
Al. (aside).It cannot be:
I dare not tell—
K.What wouldst thou say?
Al.I know not.
I have not well understood; not yet considered.
K. What is there to consider?
Al.Dost thou promise
The Christian captives and prince Ferdinand
Shall all, the day I am married, be set free?
K. I do.
1350
Al.And if I marry not Morocco,
What is their fate?
K.They die; unless the prince
Al.O sire, the prince
Spared Sala’s life: thou owest as much to him:
Thou mayst not kill him.
K.See, if that’s a scruple,
How thou mayst gratify thyself and Sala.
I put this in thy power. Canst not thou thank me,
And smile on Tarudante?
Al.I thank thee, sire.
If I seemed not to thank thee, ’twas the effect
Of suddenness, nothing but suddenness.
I am glad to do it.
1360
K.I knew thou wouldst be glad.
I shall go fetch thy lover. I shall not grudge
These hogs for him. [Exit.
Al.Death, said he? He would slay him!
My gentlest prince! O bloody spirit of war,
That hast no ear where any pitiful plea
Might dare to knock.—Alas, my dismal blindness!
I am but as others are, selfish, O selfish,
That thought myself in converse with the skies;
So shamed, so small in spirit. What is my love,
My yesterday’s desire, but death to him?
And what to me? What but an empty fancy
Nursed against reason? which I cling to now
In spite of duty. Duty ... Ah, I remember
I had a childish fondness for that name,
Dreamed I would serve God willingly. But now,
Now ’tis impossible.... Now if I serve,
I do his bidding with unwilling will;
Yet must I do it.
Re-enter Ferdinand.
Fer. Princess, I come to beg.... Alas! thy sorrow
Shews me a greater care.
Al.Nay; ask thy wish.
1380
Fer. ’Tis changed to learn thy grief, and why that brightness,
That shone to cheer my life, now clouds with rain.
Al. Each hath his private grief, prince: why should I
Be wondered at, or questioned of my tears?
Enough the world is sad, and I am sad.
Fer. A twofold error, lady: the world is gay,
And thou art half its splendour. When I first
Beheld thee in this earthly paradise,
What wondrous jewels, thought I, God hath strewn
About the world, which in our count of it
Stand out of reckoning, being unseen.
1390
Al.And then
If I was light of spirit, I knew not why;
Now,—but thou speakest of some favour: tell me.
Fer. Since my request is guilty of my coming,—
’Twas for my countrymen: to-day the gate
Hath not been opened to them.
Al.I am happy, prince,
Their woes are ended. Ere thou camest hither
The king was here; and in his kindest mood
Granted their liberty.
Fer.Thy prayers, lady,
Must be the sweetest incense that from earth
Perfumes God’s mercy-seat: He bends to soften
The heart that thou beseechest.
1401
Al.Stay, ’tis thus.
They are given to me to grace my bridal.
Fer.How!
Thy bridal?
Al.When I am married where thou knowest,
The prisoners shall be mine.
Fer.And when thy bridal?
Al. Whene’er Morocco, that is come to woo me,
Shall ask to wed me.
Fer.Lady, forbid me not.
It needs no skill to read thy sorrow now:
For coldly speak’st thou, and with trembling tongue—
Al. What think’st thou then?
Fer.Forgive me, if I am bold:
Thou dost not love him thou art bid to wed.
Al. That were my blame, since he is worthy of me.
Fer. Nay, ’tis not that: but if I have guessed the truth,
O if thou hast now consented, and wilt sell
Thyself for pity of these wretched men,
Now I forbid the odious sacrifice.
Perchance thou thinkest that these many souls
Against thy single welfare, must make up
The greater stake. Not so; they’re mites and scraps
'Gainst thy immeasurable worth: a thousand
Would not complete the thousandth part of thee;
And were I where their base ill-natured wills
Obey me, thou shouldst tell them for thy slaves
As hairs upon thy head. ’Twere heavy tidings
That thou shouldst love Morocco, and being so far
Won to the faith, shouldst willingly renounce
Thy saintly liberty: but rather so,
Than that by one thou lov’st not, against thy will,
Thou shouldst be harnessed 'neath the common yoke.
Al. My will is nothing, prince, and if Morocco
Already hath three wives, I shall rank first.
Fer. Monstrous! Wilt thou stoop to such servile change?
Al. Unwittingly thou speak’st against thyself.
Fer. Alas! what words have injured me with thee?
Al. None: but thy fate is knit in one with theirs,
Whose happiness thou bidst me now not weigh.
Fer. On that day shall I too be given to thee?
Al. Betray me not, I pray.
Fer.O Mockery!
What hast thou done?
Al.The best for thee.
Fer.For me!
O nay. And for thyself?
1439
Al.Think not of me.
Fer. Not think of thee! My very thoughts of heaven
Are thoughts of thee. ’Tis now so short a time,
Nor have I on my part any desert
To challenge favour at thy gracious hands,
That I should dare to speak: nor any words
That man hath e’er invented, to combine
In sentences that mock mortality,
Are proud enough to tell thee; therefore—
I say in plainest speech, Almeh, I love thee.
For thy goodwill I thank thee: but my fate,
If thou dost love me not, or art another’s,—
Life or death, misery and imprisonment,
Slavery or freedom, count as little with me,
As when I shall be dead, where I may lie.
Say, if thou canst, thou lov’st me: and if not,
Thou shalt at least have heard, and I have told,
My tale; how to prince Ferdinand of Portugal
Thou didst appear the only being on earth
Worth his devotion; that for thy possessing
He would have given all else, to live with thee
As Christians use, in state of man and wife,
Which God hath blessed.
Al.No more, I pray no more.
The graveyard ghosts are not so waste and dead
As is thy phantom picture.
Fer.Dost thou love me?
Al. Why ask me? Yet be this an hour of truth,
Tho’all time lie. I love thee, Ferdinand,
Even as thou lovest me; would be thy wife,
To live alone with thee as Christians use.
Fer. Almeh! Weep not. Fear nothing, if thou art mine.
Al. I am nought that is not thine: only thy hope
I cannot share.
1470
Fer.How canst thou love and fear?
See, I can teach thee how to trust in love
Now with this kiss.
Re-enter King, Tarudante, and Sala.
Al. (seeing K.). Away! My father! my father!
K. What see I?
Sa. (aside). Now could I slay him.
K. (to Tar.).These white-faced Christians
Have most uncultured manners. (To F.) By my soul,
Prince Ferdinand, thou usest thy liberty
With small restraint. (To S.) Sala, conduct the prince
Into the dungeon tower: see him there locked.
Tar. (aside). ’Tis as I thought.
K.Begone, I say: my passion
Brooks not his presence.[Exit Sala with Ferdinand.
Tar. (aside).But what word for her,
The greater culprit?
1480
K. (to Al.).As for thee, my daughter,
Retire thou too. Thy blush cannot be cured
But by this felon’s punishment. Moreover,
Thou dost not well to walk even in these grounds
Unveiled without attendant.[Exit Almeh.
Tar. (aside).’Tis well said,
Without attendant. (To K.) With us, your majesty,
The women all go veiled.
K.And so with us
The custom is approved, and general.
But license hath been granted to my daughter
And her attendants, when within the walls.
Nor wilt thou find her modesty is touched
By such concession. As for Ferdinand,
Thou shalt decree his punishment.
Tar.Nay, sire;
I shall not ask that. I have here a letter
Writ by my father, urging my return:
He needs my troops. I look for your permission
To take my leave to-night. As for the matter
Which brought me here, the services already
Rendered your majesty have given me
Much pleasure, as the recital will my father,
And should confirm our friendship. I confess
’Tis disappointment to me that the league
Cannot be knit by marriage, and to have seen
The princess hath much sharpened my regret.
Could she have loved me, I had held myself
Not so unworthy of her grace.
K.Stay, stay.
Pray misinterpret not this fool’s presumption
As her consent.
Tar.O nay.
K.I see thou’rt wronged.
I bear thee no ill-will for thy resentment:
I should feel shame for thee wert thou not shamed:
But all shall be atoned for: the unbeliever
Shall pay full penalty. Thou shalt decree it.
Tar. Might that rest with me, I’d be quit of him;
Deal courteously, and send him home to Spain
To wive among his kin.
K.Be not so hasty.
Make not so much of this. I promise thee
All shall be well. Stay, prince, and Ferdinand
Shall lose his head this very day.
Tar.Your majesty
Mistakes me; I cannot sue. My troops are warned.
K. Cannot I stay thee? Now, by God, ill done.
I am wronged, wronged.
Tar.Farewell, sire: in such a soreness
Few words are wisest. What Allah forbids
Must be renounced. ’Tis of necessity
I now depart. Yet should you need me again,
Send, and I come. God’s peace be with you.[Exit.
K.He is gone—
Incredible! Consenting: I could not gloss it:
Before my eyes, the eyes of Africa.
Is this her secret? this her melancholy
That cannot love? Treachery and apostasy!
Or that sick passion is it, which some have suffered
For things strange and detestable. I will see her:
She shall renounce it.—Hola! (Calling.) Ho! within—
No cure but that: immediate disavowal,
Ere ’tis too late. O shame! (Calls.) Ho there, within!
Enter Servant.
(To servant.) Give word that the princess attend me here. [Exit servant.
That devil knows; he looked as if he knew.
And Sala knew it. ’Twas for this he urged
The villain’s liberty. He shall go free....
To hell ... and I will grant such liberty
To all who have seen him. There’s one hiding-place
Where I may stow dishonour. But for her,
My daughter; if yet perchance there is any spot
In all her heart untainted by this shame
Which I may reach, that natural piety
May feel my yearning sorrow.... Tenderly,
Re-enter Almeh.
Tenderly must I work. Lo, where she comes,
Her shameful head bowed down with consciousness.
Come, Almeh, come; come nearer. See:
Thy tender grace, thy beauty’s perfect flower,
The vesture of thy being; all thy motions,
Thoughts, and imaginations, thy desires,
Fancies, and dreams; whate’er from day to day
Thou art, and callst thyself, what is it all
But part of me? Art thou the beauteous branch,
I am the gnarlèd trunk that bore and bears thee;
The root that feeds. I call thee not to judgment;
Only to save what most I prize, thy name,
And mine: there’s one way that can be: Morocco
Hath taken his leave: before he leave must thou
Beg him to see thy injury avenged,
And for thine honour’s sake must on thy knees
Bid me revenge it. If on the same day
The Christian prince insulted thee he die,
And die at thy request, before the eyes
That saw thy shame, ere busy tongues can tell
A tale in the ear, such speedy penalty
Will fright the scandal to a tale of terror,
And save our name. Withal he is a prince,
And that a prince should die may well atone.
What sayst thou, child?
Al.Bid me not speak.
K.Thy tears
And sobs I cannot read. I bid thee speak.
Al. O father!
K.Speak!
Al.Thy words, recall thy words.
K. What words?
Al.Thy words of blood.
K.Ah, Almeh! Almeh!
Art thou my daughter?
Al.O sire, on my knees
I beg.
K.Well, what?
Al.His life! his life!
K.Ah, traitress.
Al. Was not thy first condition hard enough,
To save prince Ferdinand that I should marry
Another? and I consented: but when now
Thou knowest I love him....
K.Love him. Thou confessest!
Al. I hid it from thee but to save his life;
Now I avow it to save him. If thou’rt wronged,
’Tis I have wronged thee: so if one must die
Let it be me.
K.Then perish all of us.
Al. Nay, why, when peace hath such a simple way,
When kindness would cure all? If thou wouldst see
How noble he is, how true....
K.Silence! speak not
What thou hast dared to think, lest I should curse thee.
I in my house to see God’s holy laws
Reversed; my blood contaminate abroad
With infidels! Fly quickly. What thou hast said
Will keep thee prisoned till thy heart is changed.
Go to thy chamber. I will send thee soon
Physic to cure thee. From my sight! Away,
Traitress, apostate.
Al.O father, by thy love....
K. Away! away!
Al.By all God’s pity I pray thee:
For pity of me.
K.Begone, lest I should strike thee.
Al. Strike me, and I will bear it. I did the wrong.
Punish me and pardon. I only ask for him,
Take not his life.
K.The more thou pleadest for him,
The more I hate him.
Al.Heaven will soften thee.
Thou must relent. Thou wilt not slay us both.
K. Begone, I say. [Exit Almeh.
May all the plagues of hell
Torture these Christians evermore. I see
No safe revenge. Kill him? and the worst believed?
And he my hope of Ceuta? I cannot kill him.
It needs considerate action. Hola there. (Calling.)
I’ll speak with Sala. Hola there, hola!
Enter Servant.
Bid Sala attend me here.[Exit servant.
And if he blame me,
Because I harked not to him at the first,
He will not thwart my resolution now,
When policy and revenge are bound together.
’Tis changed. The Christian now hath done a wrong,
For which his death is due: I have my plan:
I’ll starve him till he yield. I’ll force him to it
By chains and torture till his stubborn pride
Re-enter Sala.
Sa.Peace be with you.
K. The devil take thy mocking salutation.
I have three matters for thee: attend. The first
Is that Morocco leaves us, and with him
Our army is gone; whereon the second follows:
Thou must send forth with speed to all the towns
To levy succours; and thy forces here,
Disordered in the war, visit thyself,
Reform, and make report. The third is this,
My will concerning Ferdinand,—and let that
Be first in thine attention;—’tis his death.
My hospitality which he hath wronged,
I now withhold ... to death—thou understandest?
And more, ’tis death to any that shall give him
A crust or drop of water: and I will change
His entertainment. Set him in the stables
To serve the grooms: put chains upon his feet:
Appoint a guard to enforce his tasks, and make
Mouleh their serjeant. For the execution
I hold thee liable. Let not his life
Outdrag three days. But hark: in spite of vengeance,
And in remembrance of his claim on thee,
He may go quit upon the old condition,
Ceuta:—thou understandest? Go tell him this,
The only hope my clemency allows,
But of my provocation not a word.
Be thou in time prepared to clear thyself
Of having known this mischief and concealed it.
Sa. My liege....
K.Begone and do my will. Thy words
Save to persuade the prince. Speak not to me.
It angers me to see thee. Go. I have done.
[Exit Sala.
Three days I said; three days. Within that time,
Unless I have my town, I’ll be revenged.
