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One to the gunners on St Jago's tower: bid | Is safe enough, I warrant him, for one:

them, for shame,

Level their cannon lower: on my soul,
They're all corrupted with the gold of Barbary,
To carry over, and not hurt the Moor.

Enter a Second Captain.

2 Capt. My lord, here's fresh intelligence arrived.

Our army, led by valiant Torrismond,
Is now in hot engagement with the Moors;
'Tis said, within their trenches.

Bert. I think all fortune is reserved for him.
He might have sent us word though,
And then we could have favoured his attempt
With sallies from the town.

Alph. It could not be:

We were so close block'd up, that none could peep

Upon the walls and live; but yet 'tis time.

Bert. No, 'tis too late; I will not hazard it: On pain of death, let no man dare to sally. Ped. [Aside.] Oh, envy, envy, how it works within him!

How now! what means this show?

Alph. 'Tis a procession:

The queen is going to the great cathedral,
To
pray for our success against the Moors.

:

Ped. Very good she usurps the throne, keeps the old king in prison, and, at the same time, is praying for a blessing: Oh, religion and roguery, how they go together!

[Shout and flourish of trumpets.

A Procession of Priests and Choiristers in white, with tapers, followed by the Queen and Ladies, goes over the stage; the Choiristers singing.

Look down, ye bless'd above, look down ;
Behold our weeping matrons tears,
Behold our tender virgins fears,
And with success our armies crown.

Look down, ye bless'd above, look down ;
Oh, save us, save us, and our state restore ;
For pity, pity, pity we implore;
For pity, pity, pity we implore.

[The Procession goes off, and shout within.

Enter LORENZO, who kneels to ALPHONSO. Bert. [To ALPH.] A joyful cry; and see your son, Lorenzo. Good news, kind Heav'n!

Alph. [To LOR.] Oh, welcome, welcome! Is the general safe?

How near our army? When shall we be succoured?

Or are we succour'd? Are the Moors removed? Answer these questions first, and then a thousand more;

Answer them all together.

Lor. Yes, when I have a thousand tongues, I will.

The general's well; his army too is safe

As victory can make them: the Moors' king

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At dawn of day our general cleft his pate,
Spite of his woollen night-cap: a slight wound;
Perhaps he may recover.

Alph. Thou revivest me.

Ped. By my computation now, the victory was gained before the procession was made for it, and yet it will go hard but the priests will make a miracle of it.

Lor. Yes, faith, we came, like bold intruding

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Lor. Then look to see a storm on Torrismond's. Looks fright not men: the general has seen Moors

With as bad faces, no dispraise to Bertran's. Ped. 'Twas rumour'd in the camp he loves the queen.

Lor. He drinks her health devoutly.

Alph. That may breed bad blood 'twixt him and Bertran.

Ped. Yes, in private.

But Bertran has been taught the arts of courts,
To gild a face with smiles, and leer a man to ruin.
Ch, here they come.-

Enter TORRISMOND and Officers on one side,
BERTRAN, attended, on the other; they embrace,
BERTRAN bowing low.
Just as I prophesied.

Lor. Death and hell! he laughs at him! in's face too.

Ped. Oh, you mistake him! 'twas an humble grin,

The fawning joy of courtiers and of dogs.

Lor. [Aside.] Here are nothing but lies to be expected. I'll e'en go lose myself in some blind alley, and try if any courteous damsel will think me worth the finding. [Exit LOR.

Alph. Now he begins to open.

Bert. Your country rescu'd, and your queen reliev'd!

A glorious conquest, noble Torrismond!
The people rend the skies with loud applause,
And Heav'n can hear no other name but yours.
The thronging crowds press on you as you pass,
And with their eager joy make triumph slow.
Tor. My lord, I have no taste
Of popular applause; the noisy praise
Of giddy crowds, as changeable as winds,
Still vehement, and still without a cause;
Servants to chance, and blowing in the tide
Of swoll'n success; but veering with its ebb,
It leaves the channel dry.

Bert. So young a stoic!

Tor. You wrong me, if you think I'll sell one drop

Within these veins for pageants; but let honour
Call for my blood, and sluice it into streams:
Turn Fortune loose again to my pursuit,
And let me hunt her through embattled foes,
In dusty plains, amidst the cannon's roar,
There will I be the first.

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You brand us all with black ingratitude;
For times to come shall say, our Spain, like
Rome,

Neglects her champions after noble acts,
And lets their laurels wither on their heads.
Tor. A statue for a battle blindly fought,
Where darkness and surprise made conquest
cheap!

Where Virtue borrowed but the arms of Chance, And struck a random blow! 'Twas Fortune's work,

And Fortune take the praise.

Bert. Yet happiness

Is the first fame. Virtue without success
Is a fair picture shewn by an ill light;
But lucky men are favourites of Heaven;
And whom should kings esteem above Heaven's
darlings?

The praises of a young and beauteous queen
Shall crown your glorious acts.

Ped. [To ALPI.] There sprung the mine. Tor. The queen! that were a happiness too great!

Named you the queen, my lord?

Bert. Yes. You have scen her, and you must confess,

A praise, a smile, a look from her is worth
The shouts of thousand amphitheatres.
She, she shall praise you; for I can oblige her:
To-morrow will deliver all her charms
Into my arms, and make her mine for ever.
Why stand you mute?

Tor. Alas, I cannot speak!

Bert. Not speak, my lord! How were your
thoughts employed?

Tor. Nor can I think; for I am lost in thought.
Bert. Thought of the queen, perhaps?

Tor. Why, if it were,

Heaven may be thought on, though too high to climb.

Bert. Oh, now I find where your ambition drives!

You ought not to think of her.

Tor. So I say too;

I ought not: madmen ought not to be mad,
But who can help his frenzy?

Bert. Fond young man!

The wings of your ambition must be clipped. Your shame-faced virtue shunned the people's praise,

And senate's honours; but 'tis well we know What price you hold yourself at. You have

fought

With some success, and that has scaled your pardon.

Tor. Pardon from thee! Oh, give me patience, Heaven!

Thrice vanquished Bertran, if thou darest, look

out

Upon yon slaughtered host, that field of blood;

Which makes it pass unquestioned through the There seal my pardon, where thy fame was lost.

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Ped. He's ruined, past redemption! Aiph. [To TOR.] Learn respect To the first prince o' the blood.

Bert. Oh, let him rave;

I'll not contend with madmen.

Tor. I've done.

I know 'twere madness to declare this truth,
And yet 'twere baseness to deny my love.
'Tis true, my hopes are vanishing as clouds,
Lighter than children's bubbles blown by wind;
My merit's but the rash result of chance;
My birth unequal; all the stars against me ;
Power, promise, choice, the living and the dead;
Mankind my foes, and only love my friend;
But such a love, kept at such awful distance,
As, what it loudly dares to tell, a rival
Shall fear to whisper there. Queens may be loved,
And so may gods; else why are altars raised?
Why shines the sun, but that he may be viewed?
But oh, when he's too bright, if then we gaze,
'Tis but to weep, and close our eyes in darkness!
[Exit.
Bert. 'Tis well: the goddess shall be told,
she shall,

Of her new worshipper.

[Exit.

Ped. So, here's fine work!
He supplied his only foe with arms
For his destruction. Old Penelope's tale
Inverted: he has unravelled all by day,
That he has done by night. What, planet-struck!
Aiph. I wish I were, to be past sense of this.
Ped. Would I had but a lease of life so long,
As till my flesh and blood rebelled this way
Against our sovereign lady! Mad for a queen,
With a globe in one hand, and a sceptre in t'other;
A very pretty moppet!

Alph. Then to declare his madness to his rival,
His father absent on an embassy,
Himself a stranger, almost wholly friendless!
A torrent, rolling down a precipice,
Is easier to be stopped than is his ruin.

Ped. 'Tis fruitless to complain : Haste to the
court;

Enter ELVIRA, veiled.

Elv. Stranger! cavalier!-Will you not hear me, you Moor-killer, you matador? Lor. Meaning me, madam ?

Elv. Face about, man: you a soldier, and afraid of the enemy!

Lor. I must confess, I did not expect to have been charged first. I see souls will not be lost for want of diligence in this devil's reign. [Aside.] --Now, madam Cynthia behind a cloud, your will and pleasure with me?

Elv. You have the appearance of a cavalier; and if you are as deserving as you seem, perhaps you may not repent of your adventure. If a lady like you well enough to hold discourse with you at first sight, you are gentleman enough, I hope, to help her out with an apology, and to lay the blame on stars, or destiny, or what you please, to excuse the frailty of a woman.

Lor. Oh, I love an easy woman! there's such ado to crack a thick-shelled inistress, we break our teeth, and find no kernel. 'Tis generous in you to take pity on a stranger, and not to suffer him to fall into ill hands at his first arrival.

Elv. You have a better opinion of me than I deserve. You have not seen me yet, and therefore I am confident you are heart-whole.

Lor. Not absolutely slain, I must confess, but I am drawing on apace. You have a dangerous tongue in your head, I can tell you that; and if your eyes prove of as killing metal, there's but one way with me. Let me see you, for the safeguard of my honour: 'tis but decent the cannon should be drawn down upon me before I yield.

Elo. What a terrible similitude have you made, colonel, to shew that you are inclining to the wars! I could answer you with another in my profession. Suppose you were in want of money-would you not be glad to take a sum upon content in a sealed bag, without peeping? -But however I will not stand with you for a [Exit. sample. [Lifts up her veil.

Improve your interest there, for pardon from
the queen.
Alph. Weak remedies;
But all must be attempted.

Enter LORENZO.

Lor. Well, I am the most unlucky rogue! I have been ranging over half the town, but have sprung no game. Our women are worse infidels than the Moors: I told them I was one of their knights-errant, that delivered them from ravishment; and I think in my conscience that's their quarrel to me.

Ped. Is this a time for fooling? Your cousin is run honourably mad in love with her majesty : he is split upon a rock; and you, who are in chace of harlots, are sinking in the main ocean. I think the devil's in the family. [Erit.

Lor. My cousin ruined, says he?-Hum!-Not that I wish my cousin's ruin; that were unchristian; but if the general's ruined, I am heir; there's comfort for a Christian. Money I have, I thank the honest Moors for't; but I want a mistress. I am willing to be lewd, but the tempter is wanting on his part.

Lor. What eyes were there! how keen their glances! you do well to keep them veiled: they are too sharp to be trusted out of the scabbard.

Elv. Perhaps, now, you may accuse my forwardness; but this day of jubilee is the only time of freedom I have had; and there is nothing so extravagant as a prisoner, when he gets loose a little, and is immediately to return to his fet

ters.

Lor. To confess freely to you, madam-I was never in love with less than your whole sex before; but now I have seen you, I am in the direct road of languishing and sighing; and if love goes on as it begins, for aught I know, by tomorrow morning you may hear of me in rhyme and sonnet. I tell you truly, I do not like these symptoms in myself. Perhaps I may go shufflingly at first; for I was never before walked in trammels; yet I shall drudge and moil at constancy, till I have worn off the hitching in my

pace.

Elv. Oh, sir, there are arts to reclaim the wildest men, as there are to make spaniels fetch and carry-chide them often, and feed them seldom. Now I know your temper, you may thank yourself if you are kept to hard meat-you are in for years, if you make love to me.

Lor. I hate a formal obligation, with an anno Domini at the end on't: there may be an evil meaning in the word years, called matrimony. Elv. I can easily rid you of that fear; I wish I could rid myself as easily of the bondage. Lor. Then you are married?

Eto. If a covetous, and a jealous, and an old man be a husband.

Lor. Three as good qualities for my purpose as I could wish. Now, Love be praised!

Enter ELVIRA's Duenna, and whispers to her. Elv. [Aside.] If I get not home before my husband, I shall be ruined-[To him.] I dare not stay to tell you where--Farewell-Could I once [Exit. Lor. This is unconscionable dealing; to be made a slave, and not know whose livery I wear. -Who have we yonder?

more

Enter GOMEZ.

By that shambling in his walk, it should be my rich old banker Gomez, whom I knew at Barcelona. As I live, 'tis he! [To GOMEZ.] What, old Mammon, here!

Gom. How! young Belzebub ?

Lor. What devil has set his claws in thy haunches, and brought thee hither to Saragossa? Sure he meant a farther journey with thee.

Gom. I always remove before the enemy: when the Moors are ready to besiege one town, I shift my quarters to the next: I keep as far from the infidels as I can.

Lor. That's but a hair's-breadth at farthest. Gom. Well, you have got a famous victory; all true subjects are overjoyed at it; there are bonfires decreed: an' the times had not been so hard, my billet should have been burnt too.

Lor. I dare say for thee, thou hast such a respect for a single billet, that thou wouldst almost have thrown on thyself to save it: thou art for saving every thing but thy soul.

Gom. Well, well, you'll not believe me generous till I carry you to the tavern, and crack half a pint with you at my own charge.

Lor. No; I'll keep thee from hanging thyself for such an extravagance; and, instead of it, thou shalt do me a mere verbal courtesy. I have just now seen a most incomparable young lady. Gom. Whereabouts did you see this most incomparable young lady?—My mind misgives me plaguily. [Aside. Lor. Here, man; just before this corner house: pray Heaven it prove no bawdy-house. Gom. [Aside.] Pray Heaven he does not make

it one!

Lor. What dost thou mutter to thyself? Hast thou any thing to say against the honesty of that house?

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Gom. Not I, colonel: the walls are very honest stone, and the timber very honest wood, for aught I know; but for the woman I cannot say, till I know her better. Describe her person, and if she live in this quarter, I may give you tidings of her.

Lor. She's of a middle stature, dark-coloured hair, the most bewitching leer with her eyes, the most roguish cast; her cheeks are dimpled when she smiles, and her smiles would tempt an hermit.

Gom. [Aside. I am dead, I am buried, I am damned!-Go on-colonel-Have you no other marks of her?

Lor. Thou hast all her marks, but that she has a husband, a jealous, covetous old hunks. Speak; canst thou tell me news of her?

Gom. Yes, this news, colonel, that you have seen your last of her.

Lor. If thou helpest me not to the knowledge of her, thou art a circumcised Jew.

Gom. Circumcise me no more than I circumcise you, Colonel Hernando. Once more, you have seen your last of her.

Lor. [Aside.] I am glad he knows me only by that name of Hernando, by which I went at Barcelona; now he can tell no tales of me to my father. [To him.] Come, thou wert ever good-natured, when thou couldst get by it Look here, rogue; 'tis of the right damning colour: thou art not proof against gold, sure! Do not I know thee for a covetous

Gom. Jealous old hunks: Those were the marks of your mistress's husband, as I remember, colonel.

Lor. O, the devil! What a rogue in understanding was I, not to find him out sooner!

[Aside.

Gom. Do, do, look sillily, good colonel; 'tis a decent melancholy after an absolute defeat. Lor. Faith, not for that, dear Gomez-butGom. But-no pumping, my dear colonel. Lor. Hang pumping. I was thinking a little upon a point of gratitude. We two have been long acquaintance: I know thy merits, and can make some interest. Go to! Thou wert born to authority: I'll make thee alcaide-mayor of Saragossa.

Gom. Satisfy yourself: you shall not make me what you think, colonel.

Lor. Faith but I will: thou hast the face of a magistrate already.

Gom. And you would provide me with a magistrate's head to my magistrate's face. I thank you, colonel.

Lor. Come, thou art so suspicious upon an idle story. That woman I saw, I mean that little, crooked, ugly woman, for t'other was a lie-is no more thy wife-as I'll go home with thee, and satisfy thee immediately, my dear friend.

Gom. I shall not put you to that trouble; no, not so much as a single visit; not so much as an embassy by a civil old woman, nor a serenade of twincledum twincledum under my windows: nay, I will advise you, out of tenderness to your per son, that you walk not near yon corner house by night; for, to my certain knowledge, there are

blunderbusses planted in every loop-hole, that go off constantly of their own accord, at the squeaking of a fiddle, and the thrumming of a guitar.

Lor. Art thou so obstinate? Then I denounce open war against thee: I'll demolish thy citadel by force; or, at least, I'll bring my whole regiment upon thee; my thousand red locusts, that shall devour thee in free quarter.-Farewell, Wrought Night-Cap.

[Exit. Gom. Farewell, Buff! Free quarter for a regiment of red-coat locusts! 1 hope to see them all in the Red Sea first. But oh, this Jezebel of mine! I'll get a physician that shall prescribe her

an ounce of camphire every morning for her breakfast, to abate incontinency. She shall never peep abroad, no, not to church for confession; and for never going, she shall be condemned for a heretic. She shall have stripes by troy weight, and sustenance by drachms and scruples; nay, I'll have a fasting almanack printed on purpose for her use, in which

No carnival nor Christmas shall appear, But Lents and Ember-weeks shall fill the year. [Exit.

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Ped. 'Tis that has taught him this. What learn our youth abroad, but to refine The homely vices of their native land? Give me an honest homespun country clown Of our own growth; his dulness is but plain, But theirs embroidered; they are sent out fools, And come back fops.

Alph. You know what reasons urged me ; But now I have accomplished my designs, I should be glad he knew them. His wild riots Disturb my soul; but they would sit more close, Did not the threatened downfal of our house, In Torrismond, o'erwhelm my private ills. Enter BERTRAN, attended, and whispering with a Courtier aside.

Bert. I would not have her think he dared to
love her;

If he presumes to own it, she's so proud,
He tempts his certain ruin.

Alph. [To PED.] Mark how disdainfully he throws his eyes on us : Our old imprisoned king wore no such looks. Ped. O, would the general shake off his dotage to the usurping queen,

And re-enthrone good venerable Sancho!
I'll undertake, should Bertran sound his trumpets,
And Torrismond but whistle through his fingers,
He draws his army off.

Alph. I told him so,

But had an answer louder than a storm.

Ped. Now plague and pox on his smock-loyalty! I hate to see a brave bold fellow sotted, Made sour and senseless, turned to whey, by love; A drivelling hero, fit for a romance,

O, here he comes; what will their greeting be?

Enter TORRISMOND, attended. BERTRAN and he meet, and jostle.

Bert. Make way, my lords, and let the pageant

pass.

Tor. I make my way where'er I see my foe, But you, my lord, are good at a retreat. I have no Moors behind me.

Bert. Death and hell!

Dare to speak thus when you come out again. Tor. Dare to provoke me thus, insulting man. Enter TERESA.

Ter. My lords, you are too loud so near the
queen;

You, Torrismond, have much offended her.
"Tis her command you instantly appear,
To answer your demeanour to the prince.

[Exit TERESA, BERTRAN with his company
following her.

Tor. O, Pedro! O, Alphonso! pity me! A grove of pikes,

Whose polished steel from far severely shines, Are not so dreadful as this beauteous queen.

Alph. Call up your courage timely to your aid, And, like a lion pressed upon the toils, Leap on your hunters. Speak your actions boldly. There is a time when modest virtue is Allowed to praise itself.

Ped. Heart, you were hot enough, too hot, but

now;

Your fury then boiled upward to a foam;
But since this message came, you sink and settle,
As if cold water had been poured upon you.

Tor. Alas, thou knowest not what it is to love!
When we behold an angel, not to fear,
Is to be impudent. No, I'm resolved,
Like a led victim, to my death I'll go,
And, dying, bless the hand that gave the blow.
[Excunt.

SCENE II-Draws, and shews the Queen sitting in state; BERTRAN standing next her; then TERESA, &c. She rises, and comes to the front. Qu. [To BERT.] I blame not you, my lord: my father's will,

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