Fooling the follower, betwixt shade and shining. | What noise! Who's there? My friend? How cam'st thou hither?
Heli. The time's too precious to be spent in
telling.
The captain, influenced by Almeria's power,
Gave order to the guards for my admittance.
Osm. How does Almeria? But I know she is As I am. Tell me, may I hope to see her? Heli. You may. Anon, at midnight, when the king
Is gone to rest, and Garcia is retired,
Who takes the privilege to visit late,
Presuming on a bridegroom's right, she'll come.
Osm. She'll come; 'tis what I wish, yet what
I fear.
She'll come; but whither, and to whom? Oh,
Heaven!
To a vile prison, and a captived wretch;
To one whom, had she never known, she had Been happy. Why, why was that heavenly crea
Abandoned o'er to love what Heaven forsakes?
Why does she follow, with unwearied steps,
One, who has tired misfortune with perusing?
One driven about the world, like blasted leaves
And chaff, the sport of adverse winds; 'till late,
At length imprisoned in some cleft of rock,
On earth it rests, and rots to silent dust?
Heli. Have hopes, and hear the voice of better
fate.
I have learned there are disorders ripe for mutiny Among the troops, who thought to share the plunder,
Which Manuel to his own use and avarice Converts. This news has reached Valentia's
Where many of your subjects, long oppressed
With tyranny, and grievous impositions,
Are risen in arms, and call for chiefs to head
And lead them, to regain their rights and liberty.
Osm. By Heaven, thou hast roused me from
my lethargy!
The spirit which was deaf to my own wrongs,
And the loud cries of my dead father's blood,
Deaf to revenge-nay, which refused to hear
The piercing sighs and murmurs of my love
Yet unenjoyed; what not Almeria could
Revive and raise, my people's voice has wakened.
Heli. Our posture of affairs, and scanty time,
My lord, require you should compose yourself.
Osm. Oh, my Antonio! I am all on fire;
My soul is up in arms, ready to charge
And bear amidst the foe with conquering troops.
I hear them call to lead them on to liberty,
To victory; their shouts and clamours rend
My ears, and reach the heavens. Where is the
king?
Where is Alphonso? Ha! where! where indeed?
Oh, I could tear and burst the strings of life,
To break these chains. Off, off, ye stains of roy-
Off, slavery. O curse! that I alone
Can beat and flutter in my cage, when I Would soar and stoop at victory beneath.
Heli. Our posture of affairs, and scanty time, My lord, require you should compose yourself, And think on what we may reduce to practice. Zara, the cause of your restraint, may be The means of liberty restored. That gained, Occasion will not fail to point out ways For your escape. Mean time, I have thought already
With speed and safety to convey myself,
Where, not far off, some malcontents hold coun-
cil
Nightly, who hate this tyrant; some, who love
Anselmo's memory, and will, for certain,
When they shall know you live, assist your cause.
Osm. My friend and counsellor, as thou think'st
fit,
So do. I will, with patience, wait my fortune.
Heli. When Zara comes, abate of your aver-
Osm. I hate her not, nor can dissemble love: But as I may I'll do. I have a paper
Which I would shew thee, friend, but that the
Would hold thee here, and clog thy expedition. Within I found it, by my father's hand 'Twas writ; a prayer for me, wherein appears Paternal love, prevailing o'er his sorrows; Such sanctity, such tenderness, so mixed With grief, as would draw tears from inhu manity.
Heli. The care of providence sure left it there, To arm your mind with hope. Such piety Was never heard in vain. Heaven has in store For you those bessings it withheld from him. In that assurance live; which time, I hope, And our next meeting, will confirm.
Could one who loved, thus torture whom she loved?
No, no, it must be hatred, dire revenge,
And detestation, that could use thee thus.
So dost thou think; then do but tell me so;
Tell me; and thou shalt see how I'll revenge
Thee on this false one, how I'll stab and tear
This heart of flint, till it shall bleed; and thou
Shalt weep for mine, forgetting thy own miseries.
Osm. You wrong me, beauteous Zara, to be-
lieve
I bear my fortunes with so low a mind,
As still to meditate revenge on all,
Whom chance, or fate, workingby secret causes,
Has made, per-force, subserviert to that end
The heavenly powers allot me; no, not you,
But destiny, and inauspicious sturs,
Have cast me down to this low being. Or,
Granting you had, from you I lave deserved it.
Zura. Canst thou forgive me then? wilt thou
So kindly of my fault, to call it madness?
Oh, give that madness yet a miller name,
And call it, passion! then, be sill more kind,
And call that passion love.
Or being, as you please, such Iwill think it. Zara Oh, thou dost wound ne more with this thy goodness,
Than e'er thou couldst with biterest reproaches; Thy anger could not pierce thus to my heart. Osm. Yet I could wish
Zara. Haste me to know it what?
Osm. That at this time I lad not been this
Which, winged with liberty, might overtake
Occasion past.
Zara. Swift as occasion, I
Myself will fly; and earlier than the morn, Wake thee to freedom. Now 'tis late; and yet Some news few minutes past arrived, which seemed
To shake the temper of the king-Who knows What racking cares disease a monarch's bed? Or love, that late at night still lights his lamp, And strikes his rays through dusk and folded lids, Forbidding rest, may stretch his eyes awake, And force their balls abroad at this dead hour. I'll try.
Osm. I have not merited this grace; Nor, should my secret purpose take effect, Can I repay, as you require, such benefits.
Zara. Thou canst not owe me more, nor have
To give, than I have already lost. But now,
So does the form of our engagements rest,
Thou hast the wrong till I redeem thee hence;
That done, I leave thy justice to return
My love. Adieu.
Osm. This woman has a soul
Of godlike mould, intrepid and commanding,
And challenges, in spite of me, my best
Esteem; to this, she's fair, few more can boast
Of personal charms, or with less vanity
Might hope to captivate the hearts of kings;
But she has passions which outstrip the wind,
And tear her virtues up, as tempests root
The sea. I fear, when she shall know the truth,
Some swift and dire event of her blind rage
Will make all fatal. But, behold, she comes
For whom I fear, to shield me from my fears,
The cause and comfort of my boding heart!
Enter ALMERIA.
My life, my health, my liberty, my all!
How shall I welcome thee to this sad place?
How speak to thee the words of joy and trans-
port?
How run into thy arms, withheld by fetters?
Or take thee into mine, while I'm thus mana-
cled,
And pinioned, like a thief or murderer ?
Shall I not hurt and bruise thy tender body,
And stain thy bosom with the rust of these
Rude irons? Must I meet thee thus, Almeria?
Alm. Thus, thus; we parted, thus to mect
again.
Thou toldst me thou wouldst think how we might meet,
To part no more-Now, we will part no more; For these, thy chains, or death, shall join us ever. Osm. Hard means to ratify that word! Oh
That ever I should think beholding thee
A torture! Yet such is the bleeding anguish
Of my heart, to see thy sufferings-Oh, Heaven!
That I could almost turn my eyes away,
Or wish thee from my sight.
Though 'tis because thou lov'st me. Do not say,
On any terms, that thou dost wish me from thee.
No, no, 'tis better thus, that we together
Feed on each other's heart, devour our woes
With mutual appetite; and, mingling in
One cup the common stream of both our eyes,
Drink bitter draughts, with never-slaking thirst;
Thus better, than for any cause to part.
What dost thou think? Look not so tenderly
Upon me-speak, and take me in thy arms-
Thou canst not; thy poor arms are bound, and
strive,
In vain, with the remorseless chains, which gnaw
And eat into thy flesh, festering thy limbs
With rankling rust.
Osm. Oh! 0
Alm. Give me that sigh.
Why dost thou heave, and stifle in thy griefs?
Thy heart will burst, thy eyes look red, and start;
Give thy soul way, and tell me thy dark thought.
Osm. For this world's rule, I would not wound
thy breast
With such a dagger as then struck my heart.
Alm. Why? why? To know it, cannot wound
Than knowing thou hast felt it. Tell it me.
Thou giv'st me pain with too much tenderness.
Osm. And thy excessive love distracts my sense.
Oh, wouldst thou be less killing soft, or kind,
Grief could not double thus his darts against me.
Alm. Thou dost me wrong, and grief too robs
my heart,
If there he shoot not every other shaft;
Thy second self should feel each other wound,
And woe should be in equal portions dealt.
I am thy wife-
Osm.” Oh, thou hast searched too deep:
There, there I bleed; there pull the cruel cords,
That strain my cracking nerves; engines and
wheels,
That piece-meal grind, are beds of down and
To that soul-racking thought.
Alm. Then I am cursed
Indeed, if that be so! if I am thy torment,
Kill me, then, kill me, dash me with thy chains,
Tread on me: What, am I the bosom-snake
That sucks thy warm life-blood, and gnaws thy
heart?
Oh, that thy words had force to break those
bonds,
As they have strength to tear this heart in sunder,
So shouldst thou be at large from all oppression!
Am I, am I of all thy woes the worst
Osm. My all of bliss, my everlasting life,
Soul of my soul, and end of all my wishes,
Why dost thou thus unman me with thy words,
And melt me down to mingle with thy weepings?
Why dost thou ask? Why dost thou talk thus
piercingly?
Thy sorrows have disturbed thy peace of mind,
And thou dost speak of miseries impossible.
Alm. Didst not thou say, that racks and wheels
were balm,
And beds of ease, to thinking me thy wife?
Osm. No, no; nor should the subtlest pains
that hell,
Or hell-born malice, can invent, extort
A wish, or thought, from me to have thee other.
But thou wilt know what harrows up my heart:
Thou art my wife-nay, thou art yet my bride-
The sacred union of connubial love
Yet unaccomplished: his mysterious rites
Delayed; nor has our Hymeneal torch
Yet lighted up his last most grateful sacrifice;
But dashed with rain from eyes, and swailed with
sighs,
Burns dim, and glimmers with expiring light.
Is this dark cell a temple for that god?
Or this vile earth an altar for such offerings?
This den for slaves, this dungeon dariped with
Is this our marriage-bed? are these our joys?
Is this to call thee mine Oh, hold, my heart!
To call thee mine! Yes; thus, even thus, to call
Thee mine, were comfort, joy, extremest extasy.
But, Oh, thou art not mine, not even in misery;
And 'tis denied to me to be so blessed,
As to be wretched with thee.
The extremest malice of our fate can hinder:
That still is left us, and on that we'll feed,
As on the leavings of calamity.
There we will feast and smile or past distress,
And hug, in scorn of it, our mucual ruin.
Osm. Oh, thou dost talk, my love, as one re
Because not knowing danger. But look forward;
Think of to-morrow, when thou shalt be torn
From these weak, struggling unextended arms:
Think how my heart will heave, and eyes will strain,
To grasp and reach what is denied my hands:
Think how the blood will start, and tears will
gush,
To follow thee, my separating soul.
Think how I am, when thou shalt wed with
Garcia!
Then will I smear these walls with blood, disfigure
And dash my face, and rive my clotted hair,
Break on the flinty floor my throbbing breast,
And grovel, with gashed hands, to scratch a grave,
Stripping my nails to tear this pavement up,
And bury me alive!
Alm. Heart-breaking horror!
Osm. Then Garcia shall lie panting on thy
bosom,
Luxurious, revelling amidst thy charms;
And thou, per-force, must yield, and aid his
Hell! hell! have I not cause to rage and rave?
What are all racks, and wheels, and whips, to this?
Are they not soothing softness, sinking case,
And wafting air, to this? Oh, my Almeria!
What do the damn'd endure, but to despair,
But knowing heaven, to know it lost for ever?
Alm. Oh, I am struck; thy words are bolts of ice,
Which, shot into my breast, now melt and chill me.
I chatter, shake, and faint, with thrilling fears,
No, hold me not! Oh, let us not support,
But sink each other deeper yet, down, down,
Conduct you forth, as not perceiving her,
But till she's gone; then bless me thus again.
Zara. Trembling and weeping as he leads her
forth!
Confusion in his face, and grief in hers!
'Tis plain I have been abused-Death and de-
struction!
How shall I search into this mystery?
The bluest blast of pestilential air
Strike, damp, deaden her charms, and kill his eyes!
Perdition catch them both, and ruin part them!
Osm. This charity to one unknown, and thus
[Aloud to ALMERIA as she goes out.
Distressed, Heaven will repay; all thanks are
poor.
[Exit ALMERIA.
Zara. Damn'd, dann'd dissembler! Yet I will
be calm,
Choak in my rage, and know the utmost depth
Of this deceiver.-You seem much surprised.
Osm. At your return so soon, and unexpected!
Zara. And so unwished, unwanted too, it seems.
Confusion! Yet I will contain myself.-
You are grown a favourite since last we parted;
Perhaps I am saucy and intruding—
Osm. Madam!
Zara. I did not know the princess' favourite. Your pardon, sir-mistake me not; you think I am angry; you are deceived. I came to set You free; but shall return much better pleased To find you have an interest superior.
Osm. You do not come to mock my miseries? Zura. I do.
Osm. I could at this time spare your mirth. Zara. I know thou couldst; but I am not often pleased,
And will indulge it now. What miseries?
Who would not be thus happily confined,
To be the care of weeping inajesty;
To have contending queens, at dead of night,
Forsake their down, to wake with watery eyes,
And watch, like tapers, o'er your hours of rest?
Oh, curse! I cannot hold-
Osm. Come, 'tis too much.
Zara. Villain!
Osm. How, madam!
Zara. Thou shalt die.
Osm. I thank you.
Zura. Thou liest, for now I know for whom thou'dst live.
Osm. Then you may know for whom I'd die. Zara. Hell! hell!
Yet I will be calm-Dark and unknown be
But now the dawn begins, and the slow hand Of fate is stretched to draw the veil, and leave Thee bare, the naked mark of public view.
Osm. You may be still deceived, 'tis in my power
Zara. Ha! say'st thou-but I will prevent itWho waits there? As you will answer it, look this slave [To the guard Attempt no means to make himself away. I have been deceived. The public safety now Requires he should be more confined, and none, No, not the princess, suffered or to see Or speak with him. I'll quit you to the king.Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent The base injustice thou hast done my love: Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past distress, And all those ills which thou so long hast mourned, Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned. [Ereant.
More than his crown, to impart ere Osmyn die. Sel. It needs not, for the king will straight be here,
And, as to your revenge, not his own interest, Pretend to sacrifice the life of Osmyn.
Zara. What shall I say, invent, contrive, advise? Something to blind the king, and save his life, In whom I live. Spite of my rage and pride, I am a woman, and a lover still.
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Oh! 'tis more grief but to suppose his death,
Than still to meet the rigour of his scorn.
From my despair my anger had its source;
When he is dead I must despair for ever.
For ever! that's despair—it was distrust
- Before; distrust will ever be in love,
And anger in distrust; both short-lived pains.
But in despair, an ever-during death,
No term, no bound, but infinite of woe.
Oh, torment, but to think! what then to bear?
Not to be borne-Devise the means to shun it,
Quick; or, by Heaven, this dagger drinks thy
blood.
Sel. My life is yours, nor wish I to preserve it,
But to serve you. I have already thought.
Zara. Forgive my rage; I know thy love and
truth.
But
say, what's to be done, or when, or how,
Shall I prevent or stop the approaching danger?
Sel. You must still seem more resolute, and
fixed
On Os myn's death; too quick a change of mercy
Might breed suspicion of the cause. Advise
That execution may be done in private.
Zara. On what pretence?
Sel. Your own request's enough.
However, for a colour, tell him, you
Have cause to fear his guards may be corrupted,
And some of them bought off to Osmyn's interest,
Who, at the place of execution, will
Attempt to force his way for an escape;
The state of things will countenance all suspicions.
Then offer to the king, to have him strangled
In secret, by your mutes; and get an order,
That none but mutes may have admittance to him.
I can no more, the king is here. Obtain
This grant, and I'll acquaint you with the rest.
Enter KING, GONSALEZ, and PErez. King. Bear to the dungeon those rebellious slaves,
The ignoble curs that yelp to fill the cry,
And spend their mouths in barking tyranny.
But for their leaders, Sancho and Ramirez,
Let them be led away to present death.
Perez, see it performed.
Gons. Might I presume,
Their execution better were deferred,
Till Osmyn die. Mean time we may learn more Of this conspiracy.
Stay, soldier; they shall suffer with the Moor. Are none of those returned who followed Heli? Gons. None, sir. Some papers have been since discovered
In Roderigo's house, who fled with him,
Which seemed to intimate, as if Alphonso
Were still alive, and arming in Valentia:
Which wears, indeed, the colour of a truth,
They who are fled have that way bent their course.
Of the same nature divers notes have been
Dispersed, to amuse the people; whereupon
Some, ready of belief, have raised this rumour,
That, being saved upon the coast of Afric,
He there disclosed himself to Albuccacim,
And, by a secret compact made with him,
Opened and urged the way to this invasion;
While he himself, returning to Valentia,
In private, undertook to raise this tumult.
Żara. Ha! hear'st thou that? Is Osmyn then
Alphonso?
Oh, Heaven! a thousand things occur at once
To my remembrance now, that make it plain.
Oh, certain death for him, as sure despair
For me, if it be known-If not, what hope
Have I? Yet 'twere the lowest baseness now,
To yield him up-No, I will conceal him,
And try the force of yet more obligations.
Gons. 'Tis not impossible. Yet it may be,
That same impostor has usurped his name.
Your beauteous captive Zara can inform,
If such a one, so escaping, was received,
At any time, in Albuccacim's court.
King. Pardon, fair excellence, this long neglect:
An unforeseen, unwelcome hour of business,
Has thrust between us and our while of love;
But wearing, now, apace with ebbing sand,
Will quickly waste and give again the day.
Zara. You're too secure: the danger is more
imminent
Than your high courage suffers you to see;
While Osmyn lives, you are not safe.
King. His doom
Is passed; if you revoke it not, he dies.
Zara. 'Tis well. By what I heard upon your
I find I can unfold what yet concerns
You more. One, who did call himself Alphonso,
Was cast upon my coast, as 'tis reported,
And oft had private conference with the king;
To what effect I knew not then: but he,
Alphonso, secretly departed, just
About the time our arms embarked for Spain.
What I know more is, that a triple league,
Of strictest friendship, was professed between
Alphonso, Heli, and the traitor Osmyn.
King. Public report is ratified in this.
Zara. And Osmyn's death required, of strong necessity.
King. Give order strait, that all the prisoners
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