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the whole black brood of Granada ! and I would taat every jontleman of England discharged his trust with as much honesty and feeling as my friend here of the copper complexion. You will consent then, honest fellow, to my taking a solitary trot here, without remuneration.

Sadi. I dare not. My master is severe-his servants pregnant with jealousy and suspicion. Each is ever a spy upon his fellow.

Were I found negligent, upon so slight a ground, too, I could not answer it; 'twere danger of my place, my life, my-[Kilmallock shows the ring.)-ehumph-oh-hum!-stand back, you knaves, or--Zorayda !

Whispering. Kilm. Count Virolet-on to the castle. Whispering.

Sadi. Fellows, this fool's refractory-I'll along with him to our master at the castle,-follow but to the next turning—then leave me, rogues-- I'll manage him from thence, I warrant. Why, how now, sirrah! Face to the moat, you rogue! oh, what, you come about, friend, de you-on, slaves, on !

[Exeunt, Sadi driving Kilmallock across the draw

bridge to the Castle.

STENE II.-An Apartment in the Castle of Bulcazin Mu

ley. Enter BulcazỊN Muley and GANEM, L. Bulca. So great the Spaniard's army, say you? why, By Allah! Ganem, 'tis not credible ! It is a Christian fiction : I've no faith in't:I have no faith in anything that's Christian :It cannot be. Ganem. It is most certain, sir :

is new returned who took their number. Last night, with 'vantage of the cooling breeze, That stilly fanned the parched and sun-cracked earth, King Ferdinand, before his new-built town, That braves our walls, in person did review Full fifty thousand Spanish men in arms,Lusty and fresh :-their polished coats of mail Gleamed, in faint pride, beneath the silver moon; Which hung, in maiden sorrow, o'er their heads, As looking pale at man, intent on slaughter.

Our spy

Bulcı. Now may the pestilent dew of vaporous night Pierce to their marrow !-sap their hated bones! The flagging air blow hot and moist upon

them!
May the high prophet, who protects our battles,
Pour, from the ponderous and scowling clouds,
Deluge on deluge down ! till the swollen Darro
O’erflood its limits; and the sodden Christians
Rot, like starved carrion, in the drowned field.
What, has the king sent for me?

Ganem. Even now.-
He waits your coming, sir, at the Alhambra.

Bulca. Say, I attend his bidding. Stay; come back
Evermore to and fro! evermore care !
Council, despatches, court, mosque, garrison !
Threading the city's avenues, to goad
The sluggish guard to duty; then at night,
Eaves-dropping to entrap the mutineer;
Or plodding by the blue and paly lamp
In painful rumination. This it is
To be a governor!-a dogged mule,
That climbs the craggy mountain with his load,
Enjoys a life of ease to't. I do envy
The vilest beast, that sweats beneath his burden;
For mine's upon the brain.—Dull, thoughtless hound !
Why art not gone

?
Ganem. It was your will, so please you,
To call me back again.

Bulca. Oh, true, good Ganem !
Go to Zorayda, my daughter ;-tell her,
Ere I go forth I fain would speak with her.

Erit Ganem, s
There is another toil !—to guard a daughter !
And watch the youthful shoots of disposition,
In a green growing girl.
She has seemed sad of late ; but yesternoon,
As I did question her, in casual talk,
When she had been at mosque, a stealing tear
Dropped from her cheek upon my hand.–At mosque !
The sil y fool is vapourish.—Her mother,
That's dead, was Christian--umph !-oh, Mahomet!
If that I thought 'twere so, my scimetar
Should--pish! it cannot be. Sweet wench, I wrong her.

Enter ZORAYDA, R. Zoray. I am here, father; would you aught with me?

Bulca. Come hither, wench-I must to the Alhambra : Should Giafar arrive ere my return, There is a writing sealed up in my cabinet, (This is the key,) you must deliver to him.

- Why dost not take it, dreamer? My Zorayda!
Art thou not well ? my child! why dost thou tremble ?

Zoray. 'Tis that your sternness terrifies me, father,
My heart's brimful when you are kind to me
And my eyes, too :-no wonder, then, I tremble,
When you speak angrily.

Bulca. My dear, dear daughter!
Cheer thee, my child :—the duties which of late
Do throng upon me, may go nigh, belike,
To make me somewhat fretful. These vile Christians
Vex thy poor father sore, Zorayda :
Would it not glad thee, wench, to see these dogs
Dragged through our town in chains ?

Zoray. No, trust me, father ;
For when the captives pass, that dig our garden,
Pining in wretchedness, and spirit-broken,
Poor hearts ! I turn my head aside, and weep
To see a sight so piteous. Surely, father,
When heav'n made man, it never was ordained
That he should make his fellow-creatures slaves,
And gall them with such cruelty.

Bulca. How now !
Dost lean to them ? observe me well, Zorayda-
I do misdoubt thee heavily; yea, heavily.
These Christians, on whose miseries your eye,
Lavish in baby bounty, drops a tear,
Have been our nation's scourge. This wretched corner
This Moorish kingdom of Granada, here,
A very patch on Spain's broad territory,
Which all was ours, is all that they have left us.
Therefore take heed. I could more readily
Suck poison from a cold and speckled toad,
And, as I drained his venom, think the bees
Distilled their mountain honey on my lip,
Than smother in my breast that rooted hate

I bear a loathsome Christian. Mark me, girl!
Thou art my heart's dear love: do not prove changeling.
Should'st mingle with my heart's antipathy,
Unmoved I'd see thee drooping on a death-bed,
And let my curse fall bitter on thee. Think cn't;
And so farewell.

(Exit, R.
Zoray. Alas, the day, my father!
Could'st use thy daughter thus! and stab thine enemies
Through thy poor child! those enemies could teach thee
A heaven-born duty in their holy writ,
Unpractised here, called Christian charity,
Worth all the Koran. How now, Agnes ?

Enter AGNES, L. Agnes. Haste you, madam-Count Virolet is uneasy at your stay. He is stalking to and fro your chamber, to give his patience exercise.

Zoray. Softly, beseech you. Why, he knew my father, Who is but now gone forth to the Alhambra, Sent for me on the sudden. Tell me, Agnes, Are Christian lovers ever thus impetuous ? Trust me, I fear them rash and sudden, Agnes. Will they not tarry ?

Agnes. Truly, madam, I'm little skilled in 'em. I! my father kept me close at home, in Andalusia, till I should go as a lay-sister to the Ursulines; and, on that day, as we journeyed thither, the Moors, as you know, madam, pursued my poor father, and made ine a slave. None have discoursed to me tenderly but Sadi. I have seen little of Christian love :--but I have often heard say 'uis not of the waiting sort.-Will it please you go, madam ?

Zoray. Ay, wench; and further, too, than it may please

me.

Girl, here has been my father, loud in anger :
He has so wrung me with unkindly words !
And all about these Christians.

Wert thou me,
What course wouldst thou follow, Agnes ?

Agnes. I have but a shallow wit to advise, madam ; but I would, for my own part, do like other Spanish girls when they have opportunity.

Zoray. And what do they, when fathers are unkind ? Agnes. They run away, madam.

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SCENE II.)

Zoray. Beshrew me, now, my heart does sink with in

me

I was

of

Yet I can ne'er forget my mother's counsel,
As I watched by her on the night she died.
And there is something here that whispers me,
I shall not be at peace

till I am Christian.
Should Virolet's entreaty, and the harshness
I meet with here at home, hasten my flight,
Wouldst follow with me, Agnes ?

Agnes. Follow you! Oh, the Virgin! it shows little love to follow you into liberty. Would I had the means to show more!

Zoray. Wherefore, good Agnes ?

Agnes. Because you have been kind to me: brought here a slave; torn from my poor old father. My heart had broke with sorrow, but for you, lady. You took me to you, and dried the tears that ran trickling down my face, with words of comfort and compassion. My fortunes have been always humble, lady; but I can be grateful and trusty ; and I should be a-weary my life, if I forgot to love those whose charity and goodness had preserved it. I would follow you through the world, lady.

Zora. Sweet heart, I thank thee ! listen to me, Agnes; My father will return anon : meanwhile, (A chance which never may befal again,) I have his cabinet in charge-he keeps The key in't of the little western gate, Through which in private he is wont to pass Forth from the city. Virolet has moved me With reasons strong, and honey-sweet persuasion. “If zeal and earnest inovements of the soul, " Which bid me shun the path of unbelievers,

May plead a maid's excuse for leaping thus "Beyond the pale of seeming, surely, Agnes, "I may be bold to venture.'

father! We must away to-night.

Agnes. To-night, lady ?
Zoray. Or never, girl.
Agnes. What-and unprotected, madam ?
Zoray. No, Agnes; Virolet will guard us.

Agnes. True, madam; yet he is but one- and in ine night I am apt ti feel disheartened. I could wish, now

Oh, my

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