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And I have heard imperfectly his loss;
But, fearful to renew your troubles past,
I never did presume to ask the story.

Alm. If for my swelling heart I can, I'll tell thee.
I was a welcome captive in Valentia,
Even on the day when Manuel, my father,
Led on his conquering troops high as the gates
Of king Anselmo's palace; which, in rage,
And heat of war, and dire revenge, he fired.
The good king, flying to avoid the flames,
Started amidst his foes, and made captivity
His fatal refuge-Would that I had fallen
Amidst those flames-but 'twas not so decrced.
Alphonso, who foresaw my father's cruelty,
Had borne the queen and me on board a ship,
Ready to sail; and, when this news was brought,
We put to sea; but being betrayed by some
Who knew our flight, we closely were pursued
And almost taken; when a sudden storm
Drove us, and those that followed, on the coast
Of Afric: There our vessel struck the shore,
And, bulging 'gainst a rock, was dashed in pieces;
But heaven spared me for yet much more afflic-
tion!

Conducting them who followed us, to shun
The shore, and save me floating on the waves,
While the good queen and my Alphonso perished.
Leon. Alas! were you then wedded to Al-
phonso?

Alm. That day, that fatal day, our hands were joined.

For when my lord beheld the ship pursuing,
And saw her rate so far exceeding ours,
He came to me, and begged me by my love,
I would consent the priest should make us one;
That, whether death or victory ensued,
I might be his, beyond the power of fate;
The queen too did assist his suit-I granted;
And in one day was wedded and a widow.
Leon. Indeed 'twas mournful-
Alm. 'Twas as I have told thee-
For which I mourn, and will for ever mourn;
Nor will I change these black and dismal robes,
Or ever dry these swoln and watery eyes,
Or ever taste content, or peace of heart,
While I have life, and thought of my Alphonso.
Leon. Look down, good heaven, with pity on

her sorrows,

And grant that time may bring her some relief! Alm. Oh, no! time gives increase to my afflictions.

The circling hours, that gather all the woes Which are diffused through the revolving year, Come heavy laden with the oppressing weight To me; with me successively, they leave

The sighs, the tears, the groans, the restless cares, And all the damps of grief, that did retard their flight:

They shake their downy wings, and scatter all
The dire collected dews on my poor head,
Then fly with joy and swiftness from me.
[Shouts at a distance.

Leon. Hark!

The distant shouts proclaim your father's triumph. O cease, for heaven's sake, assuage a little

This torrent of your grief; for, this I fear, 'Twill urge his wrath, to see you drowned in tears. When joy appears in every other face.

Alm. And joy he brings to every other heart, But double, double weight of woe to mine: For with him Garcia comes-Garcia, to whom

down, look

I must be sacrificed, and all the vows
I
gave my dear Alphonso basely broken.
No, it shall never be; for I will die
First, die ten thousand deaths-Look
down,
Alphonso, hear the sacred vow I make! [Kneels.
One moment, cease to gaze on perfect bliss,
And bend thy glorious eyes to earth and me!
And thou, Anselmo, if yet thou art arrived,
Through all impediments of purging fire,
To that bright heaven, where my Alphonso reigns,
Behold thou also, and attend my vow!
If ever I do yield, or give consent,
By any action, word, or thought, to wed
Another lord, may then just heaven shower down
Unheard of curses on me, greater far
(If such there be in angry heaven's vengeance)
Than any I have yet endur'd! And now [Rising.
My heart has some relief; having so well
Discharged this debt, incumbent on my love.
Yet one thing more I would engage from thee.
Leon. My heart, my life, and will, are only

yours.

Alm. I thank thee. 'Tis but this: anon, when
all

Are wrapped and busied in the general joy,
Thou wilt withdraw, and privately with me
Steal forth, to visit good Anselmo's tomb.

Leon. Alas! I fear some fatal resolution.
Alm. No, on my life, my faith, I mean no ill,
Nor violence-I feel myself more light,
And more at large, since I have made this vow.
Perhaps I would repeat it there more solemnly.
'Tis that, or some such melancholy thought;
Upon my word, no more.

Leon. I will attend you.

Enter ALONZO.

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Chariots of war, adorned with glittering gems,
Succeed; and next, a hundred neighing steeds,
White as the fleecy rain on Alpine hills,
That bound and foam, and champ the golden bit,
As they disdained the victory they grace.
Prisoners of war in shining fetters follow;
And captains of the noblest blood of Afric
Sweat by his chariot wheel, and lick and grind,
With gnashing teeth, the dust his triumphs raise.
The swarming populace spread every wall,
And cling, as if with claws they did enforce
Their hold; through clifted stones stretching and
staring,

As if they were all eyes, and every limb
Would feel its faculty of admiration;
While you alone retire, and shun this sight;
This sight, which is indeed not seen (though
twice

The multitude should gaze) in absence of your eyes.

Alm. My lord, my eyes ungratefully behold The gilded trophies of exterior honours;

Nor will my ears be charmed with sounding words,

Or pompous phrase, the pageantry of fools.
But that my father is returned in safety,
I bend to heaven with thanks.

Gon. Excellent princess !

But 'tis a task unfit for my weak age,
With dying words to offer at your praise.
Garcia, my son, your beauty's lowest slave,
Has better done, in proving with his sword
The force and influence of your matchless charms.
Alm. I doubt not of the worth of Garcia's deeds,
Which had been brave, though I had neʼer been
born.

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Gon. But tears of joy.

Believe me, sir, to see you thus, has filled
Mine eyes with more delight than they can hold.
King. By heaven, thou lov'st me, and I'm
pleased thou dost;

Take it for thanks, old man, that I rejoice
To see thee weep on this occasion-Some
Here are, who seem to mourn at our success.
Why is't, Almeria, that you meet our eyes,
Upon this solemn day, in these sad weeds?
In opposition to my brightness, you
And yours are all like daughters of affliction.

Alm. Forgive me, sir, if I in this offend.
The year, which I have vowed to pay to heaven,
In mourning and strict life, for my deliverance
From wreck and death, wants yet to be expired.

King. Your zeal to heaven is great, so is your debt:

Yet something, too, is due to me, who gave
That life, which heaven preserved. A day be-
stowed

In filial duty, had atoned and given
A dispensation to your vow-No more!
'Twas weak and wilful-and a woman's error.
Yet, upon thought, it doubly wounds my sight,
To see that sable worn upon the day,
Succeeding that, in which our deadliest foe,
Hated Anselmo, was interred-By heaven,
It looks as thou didst mourn for him! just so
Thy senseless vow appeared to bear its date,
Not from that hour wherein thou wert preserved,
But that wherein the cursed Alphonso perished.
Ha! What? thou dost not weep to think of that!
Gon. Have patience, royal sir; the princess

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When my first foe was laid in earth; such enmity,
Such detestation bears my blood to his,

My daughter should have revelled at his death,
She should have made these palace walls to shake,
And all this high and ample roof to ring
With her rejoicings. What, to mourn and weep!
Then, then to weep, and pray, and grieve! by
heaven,

There's not a slave, a shackled slave of mine, But should have smiled that hour through all his care,

And shook his chains, in transport and rude har

mony.

Gon. What she has done, was in excess of goodness;

Betrayed by too much piety, to seem
As if she had offended. Sure, no more.

King. To seem is to commit, at this conjuncture.
I would not have a seeming sorrow seen
To-day.-Retire; divest yourself with speed
Of that offensive black: on me be all
The violation of your vow; for you

It shall be your excuse, that I command it. Gar. [Kneeling.] Your pardon, sir, if I presume so far,

As to remind you of your gracious promise. King. Rise, Garcia, I forgot.-Yet stay, Almeria.

Alm. My boding heart!-What is your pleasure, sir?

King. Draw near, and give your hand, and,

Garcia, yours:

Receive this lord, as one whom I have found
Worthy to be your husband, and my son.

Gar. Thus let me kneel to take--O not to take-
But to devote, and yield myself for ever
The slave and creature of my royal mistress!
Gon. O let me prostrate pay my worthless
thanks-

King. No more: my promise long since passed, thy services,

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but he,

Great sir, at her request, attends on Zara. King. He is your prisoner; as you please dispose him.

Gar. I would oblige him, but he shuns my kindness;

And with a haughty mien, and stern civility,
Dumbly declines all offers. If he speak,
'Tis scarce above a word; as he were born
Alone to do, and did disdain to talk;
At least to talk where he must not command.
King. Such sullenness, and in a man so brave,
Must have some other cause than his captivity.
Did Zara, then, request he might attend her!
Gar. My lord, she did.

King. That, joined with his behaviour, Begets a doubt. I'd have them watched; perhaps

Her chains hang heavier on him than his own. Enter ALONZO, ZARA, and OSMYN bound, conducted by PEREZ and a guard, and attended by SELIM and several mutes and eunuchs in a train.

King. What welcome, and what honours,

beauteous Zara,

A king and conqueror can give, are yours.
A conqueror indeed, where you are won;
Who with such lustre strike admiring eyes,
That had our pomp been with your presence
graced,

The expecting crowd had been deceived; and

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Per. Great sir,

Your order was she should not wait your triumph, But at some distance follow, thus attended.

King. 'Tis false; 'twas more; I bid she should
be free;

If not in words, I bid it by my eyes.
Her eyes did more than bid-Free her and her's,
With speed-yet stay-my hands alone can make
Fit restitution here. Thus I release you,
And, by releasing you, enslave myself.

Zara. Such favours, so conferred, though when
unsought,

Deserve acknowledgment from noble minds.
Such thanks as one, hating to be obliged,
Yet hating more ingratitude, can pay,
I offer.

King. Born to excel, and to command!
As by transcendent beauty to attract
All eyes; so, by pre-eminence of soul,
To rule all hearts!-

Garcia, what's he, who, with contracted brow,

[Beholding OSMYN as they unbind him. And sullen port, glooms downward with his eyes, At once regardless of his chains, or liberty? Gar. That, sir, is he of whom I spoke; that's Osmyn.

King. He answers well the character you gave him.

Whence comes it, valiant Osmyn, that a man
So great in arms, as thou art said to be,
So hardly can endure captivity,
The common chance of war?

Osm. Because captivity

Has robbed me of a dear and just revenge.
King. I understand not that.

Osm. I would not have you.

Zara. That gallant Moor in battle lost a friend, Whom more than life he loved; and the regret, Of not revenging on his foes that loss, Has caused this melancholy and despair.

King. She does excuse him; 'tis as I suspected. [To Gon. Gon. That friend might be herself; seem not to heed

His arrogant reply: she looks concerned.
King. I'll have inquiry made; perhaps his
friend

Yet lives, and is a prisoner. His name?
Zara. Heli.

King. Garcia, that search shall be your care:
It shall be mine to pay devotion here;
At this fair shrine to lay my laurels down,
And raise love's altar on the spoils of war.
Conquest and triumph, now, are mine no more;
Nor will I victory in camps adore:

For, lingering there, in long suspence she stands,

Shifting the prize in unresolving hands;
Unused to wait, I broke through her delay,
Fixed her by force, and snatched the doubtful
day.

Now late I find that war is but her sport;

In love the goddess keeps her awful court;
Fickle in fields, unsteadily she flies,
But rules with settled sway in Zara's eyes.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I-Representing the Aisle of a Temple.

GARCIA, HELI, PEREZ.

Gar. This way, we're told, Osmyn was seen to walk;

Chusing this lonely mansion of the dead,
To mourn, brave Heli, thy mistaken fate.

Heli. Let Heaven with thunder to the centre strike me,

If to arise in very deed from death,
And to revisit, with my long-closed eyes,
This living light, could to my soul or sense
Afford a thought, or shew a glimpse of joy,
In least proportion to the vast delight
I feel, to hear of Osmyn's name; to hear
That Osmyn lives, and I again shall see him.
Gar. I've heard, with admiration, of your
friendship.

Per. Yonder, my lord, behold the noble Moor.
Heli. Where? Where?

Gar. I saw him not, nor any like him—— Per. I saw him when I spoke, thwarting my view, And striding with distempered haste; his eyes Seemed flame, and flashed upon me with a glance; Then forward shot their fires which he pursued, As to some object frightful, yet not feared.

Gar. Let's haste to follow him, and know the

cause.

Heli. My lord, let me entreat you to forbear: Leave me alone, to find and cure the cause. I know his melancholy, and such starts Are usual to his temper. It might raise him To act some violence upon himself, So to be caught in an unguarded hour, And when his soul gives all her passion way, Secure and loose in friendly solitude. I know his noble heart would burst with shame, To be surprised by strangers in its frailty.

Gar. Go, generous Heli, and relieve your
friend.

Far be it from me officiously to pry
Or press upon the privacies of others.

[Exit HELI.

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Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA.

Alm. It was a fancied noise, for all is hushed. Leon. It bore the accent of a human voice. Alm. It was thy fear, or else some transient wind

Whistling through hollows of this vaulted aisle. We'll listen

Leon. Hark!

Alm. No, all is hushed, and still as death-'tis dreadful!

How reverend is the face of this tall pile,
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,
To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof,
By its own weight made stedfast and immoveable,
Looking tranquillity. It strikes an awe
And terror on my aching sight; the tombs
And monumental caves of death look cold,
And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart.
Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice;
Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear
Thy voice-my own affrights me with its echoes.
Leon. Let us return; the horror of this place,
And silence, will increase your melancholy.

Alm. It may my fears, but cannot add to that.
No, I will on; shew me Anselmo's tomb,
Lead me o'er bones and skulls, and mouldering

earth,

Of human bodies; for I'll mix with them,
Or wind me in the shroud of some pale corpse,
Yet green in earth, rather than be the bride
Of Garcia's more detested bed: that thought
Exerts my spirits, and my present fears
Are lost in dread of greater ill. Then shew me,
Lead me, for I am bolder grown: lead on
Where I may kneel, and pay my vows again,
To him, to Heaven, and my Alphonso's soul.
Leon. I go; but Heaven can tell with what re-
gret.
[Exeunt.

Enter HELI.

Heli. I wander through this maze of monu

ments,

Yet cannot find him-Hark! sure 'tis the voice Of one complaining-There it sounds !—I'll follow it. [Exit.

SCENE II.-Opening, discovers a place of Tombs: one Monument, fronting the view, greater than the rest.

Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA. Leon. Behold the sacred vault, within whose womb

The poor remains of good Anselmo rest,
Yet fresh and unconsumed by time or worms.
What do I see? Oh, Heaven! either my eyes
Are false, or still the marble door remains
Unclosed; the iron gates, that lead to death
Beneath, are still wide stretched upon their hinge,
And staring on us with unfolded leaves!

Alm. Sure 'tis the friendly yawn of death for

me;

And that dumb mouth, significant in show,
Invites me to the bed, where I alone

Shall rest; shews me the grave, where nature,

weary

And long oppressed with woes and bending cares,
May lay the burthen down, and sink in slumbers
Of peace eternal. Death, grim death, will fold
Me in his leaden arms, and press me close
To his cold clayey breast: My father, then,
Will cease his tyranny; and Garcia, too,
Will fly my pale deformity with loathing.
My soul, enlarged from its vile bonds, will mount,
And range the starry orbs, and milky-ways,
Of that refulgent world, where I shall swim
In liquid light, and float, on seas of bliss,
To my Alphonso's soul. Oh, joy too great!
Oh, ecstacy of thought! Help me, Anselmo;
Help me, Alphonso; take me, reach thy hand;
To thee, to thee I call; to thee, Alphonso:
Oh, Alphonso!

OSMYN ascending from the tomb.

Osm. Who calls that wretched thing that was Alphonso?

Alm. Angels, and all the host of heaven, support me!

Osm. Whence is that voice, whose shrillness, from the grave,

And growing to his father's shroud, roots up
Alphonso?

Alm. Mercy! Providence! Oh, speak,
Speak to it quickly, quickly; speak to me,
Comfort me, help me, hold me, hide me, hide me,
Leonora, in thy bosom, from the light,
And from my eyes!

Osm. Amazement and illusion!

Rivet and nail me where I stand, ye powers,

[Coming forward. That, motionless, I may be still deceived! Let me not stir, nor breathe, lest I dissolve That tender, lovely form of painted air, So like Almeria. Ha! it sinks, it falls; I'll catch it ere it goes, and grasp her shade! 'Tis life! 'tis warm! 'tis she, 'tis she herself! Nor dead, nor shade, but breathing and alive! It is Almeria, it is my wife!

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Osm. Where is she!

Let me behold, and touch her, and be sure
'Tis she; shew me her face, and let me feel
Her lips with mine-'Tis she, I am not deceived;
I taste her breath, I warm her and am warmed.
Look up, Almeria, bless me with thy eyes;
Look on thy love, thy lover, and thy husband!
Alm. I have sworn I'll not wed Garcia: why
do ye force me?

Is this a father?

Osm. Look on thy Alphonso.

Thy father is not here, my love, nor Garcia:
Nor am I what I seem, but thy Alphonso.
Wilt thou not know me? Hast thou then forgot
me?

Hast thou thy eyes, yet canst not see Alphonso?
Am I so altered, or art thou so changed,
That, seeing my disguise, thou seest not me?

Alm. It is, it is Alphonso! 'tis his face,
His voice-I know him now, I know him all.
Oh, take me to thy arms, and bear me hence,
Back to the bottom of the boundless deep,
To seas beneath, where thou so long hast dwelt.
Oh, how hast thou returned? How hast thou
charmed

The wildness of the waves and rocks to this; That, thus relenting, they have given thee back To earth, to light and life, to love and me?

Osm. Óh, I'll not ask, nor answer, how or why We both have backward trod the paths of fate, To meet again in life; to know I have thee, Is knowing more than any circumstance, Or means, by which I have theeTo fold thee thus, to press thy balmy lips, And gaze upon thy eyes, is so much joy, I have not leisure to reflect, or know, Or trifle time in thinking.

Alm. Stay a while-

Let me look on thee yet a little more. Osm. What would'st thou? thou dost put me from thee.

Alm. Yes.

Osm. And why? What dost thou mean? Why dost thou gaze so?

Alm. I know not; 'tis to see thy face, I. think

It is too much! too much to bear and live!
To see thee thus again is such profusion
Of joy, of bliss-I cannot bear I must
Be mad-I cannot be transported thus.
Osm. Thou excellence, thou joy, thou heaven
of love!

Alm. Where hast thou been? and how art thou alive?

How is all this? All-powerful Heaven, what are we?

Oh, my strained heart-let me again behold thee, For I weep to see thee-Art thou not paler? Much, much; how thou art changed!

Osm. Not in my love.

Alm. No, no! thy griefs, I know, have done

this to thee.

Thou hast wept much, Alphonso; and, I fear, Too much, too tenderly, lamented me.

Osm. Wrong not my love, to say too tenderly.

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