No more, my life; talk not of tears or grief;
Affliction is no more, now thou art found.
Why dost thou weep, and hold thee from my

arms,

My arms which ache to hold thee fast, and grow To thee with twining? Come, come to my heart! Alm. I will, for I should never look enough. They would have married me; but I had sworn To Heaven and thee, and sooner would have died

Osm. Perfection of all faithfulness and love! Alm. Indeed I would-Nay, I would tell thee all,

If I could speak; how I have mourned and prayed:

For I have prayed to thee, as to a saint;
And thou hast heard my prayer; for thou art

come

To my distress, to my despair, which Heaven
Could only, by restoring thee, have cured.
Osm. Grant me but life, good Heaven, but
length of days,

To pay some part, some little of this debt,
This countless sum of tenderness and love,
For which I stand engaged to this all-excellence;
Then bear me in a whirlwind to my fate,
Snatch me from life, and cut me short un-
warned:

Then, then, 'twill be enough—I shall be old,
I shall have passed all æras then

Of yet unmeasured time; when I have made
This exquisite, this most amazing goodness,
Some recompence of love and matchless truth.
Alm. 'Tis more than recompence to see thy
face:

If Heaven is greater joy, it is no happiness,
For 'tis not to be borne-What shall I say?
I have a thousand things to know and ask,
And speak―That thou art here beyond all hope,
All thought; and all at once thou art before me,
And with such suddenness hast hit my sight,
Is such surprise, such mystery, such extasy,
It hurries all my soul, and stuns my sense.
Sure from thy father's tomb thou didst arise?
Osm. I did; and thou, my love, didst call me;
thou.

Alm. True; but how cam'st thou there? Wert

thou alone?

Osm. I was, and lying on my father's lead,
When broken echoes of a distant voice
Disturbed the sacred silence of the vault,
In murmurs round my head. I rose and lis-
tened,

And thought I heard thy spirit call Alphonso;
I thought I saw thee too; but, Oh, I thought

not

That I indeed should be so blest to see theeAlm. But still, how cam'st thou thither? How thus?- -Ha!

What's he, who, like thyself, is started here
Ere seen?

Osm. Where? Ha! What do I see, Antonio! I am fortunate indeed-my friend, too, safe! Heli. Most happily, in finding you thus blessed. Alm. More miracles! Antonio escaped!

Osm. And twice escaped; both from the rage of seas

And war: for in the fight I saw him fall.

Heli. But fell unhurt, a prisoner as yourself, And as yourself made free; hither I came, Impatiently to seek you, where I knew Your grief would lead you to lament Anselmo. Osm. There are no wonders; or else all is wonder.

Heli. I saw you on the ground, and raised you up,

When with astonishment I saw Almeria.
Osm. I saw her too, and therefore saw not

thee.

Alm. Nor I; nor could I, for my eyes were

yours.

Osm. What means the bounty of all-gracious
Heaven,

That persevering still, with open hand,
It scatters good, as in a waste of mercy!
Where will this end? But Heaven is infinite
In all, and can continue to bestow,

When scanty number shall be spent in telling. Leon. Or I am deceived, or I beheld the glimpse

Of two in shining habits cross the aisle;
Who, by their pointing, seem to mark this place.
Alm. Sure I have dreamt, if we must part so

happiness.

Harbour no thought that may disturb thy peace;
But gently take thyself away, lest she
Should come, and see the straining of my eyes
To follow thee.

Retire, my love, I'll think how we may meet
To part no more; my friend will tell thee all;
How I escaped, how I am here, and thus ;
How I am not called Alphonso now, but Osmyn;
And he Heli. All, all he will unfold,
Ere next we mect---

Alm. Sure we shall meet again——

Osm. We shall; we part not but to meet again.

Gladness and warmth of ever-kindling love
Dwell with thee, and revive thy heart in absence!
[Exeunt ALM. LEON. and HELI.
Yet I behold her-yet-and now no more.
Turn your lights inward, eyes, and view my
thoughts,

So shall you still behold her-'twill not be.
Oh, impotence of sight! Mechanic sense!
Which to exterior objects ow'st thy faculty,
Not seeing of election, but necessity.
Thus do our eyes, as do all common mirrors,
Successively reflect succeeding images:
Not what they would, but must; a star, or
toad;

Just as the hand of chance administers.
Not so the mind, whose undetermined view
Resolves, and to the present adds the past,
Essaying farther to futurity;

But that in vain. I have Almeria here
At once, as I before have seen her often-

Enter ZARA and SELIM.

Zara. See where he stands, folded and fixed to earth,

Stiff'ning in thought, a statue among statues!-
Why, cruel Osmyn, dost thou fly me thus?
Is it well done? Is this, then, the return
For fame, for honour, and for empire lost?
But what is loss of honour, fame, and empire?
Is this the recompence reserved for love?
Why dost thou leave my eyes, and fly my arms,
To find this place of horror and obscurity?
Am I more loathsome to thee than the grave,
That thou dost seek to shield thee there, and
shun

My love? But to the grave I'll follow thee-
He looks not, minds not, hears not! barbarous
man!

Am I neglected thus! Am I despised!
Not heard! Ungrateful Osmyn!
Osm. Ha, 'tis Zara!

Zara. Yes, traitor; Zara, lost, abandoned Zara, Is a regardless suppliant now, to Osmyn.

The slave, the wretch that she redeemed from death,

Disdains to listen now, or look on Zara.

Osm. Far be the guilt of such reproaches from

came to mourn,

And only for his sorrows chose this solitude? Look round; joy is not here, nor cheerfulness. You have pursued misfortune to its dwelling, Yet look for gaiety and gladness there.

Zara. Inhuman! Why, why dost thou rack me thus,

And, with perverseness, from the purpose answer?

What is it to me, this house of misery?
What joy do I require? if thou dost mourn,
I come to mourn with thee, to share thy griefs,
And give thee, for them, in exchange, my love.
Osm. Oh! that's the greatest grief-I am so
poor,

I have not wherewithal to give again.

Zara. Thou hast a heart, though 'tis a savage

Compassion! scarce will it own that name, so

soon,

So quickly, was it love; for thou wert godlike
Even then. Kneeling on earth, I loosed my hair,
And with it dried thy watery cheeks, then chafed
Thy temples, till reviving blood arose,

And, like the morn, vermillioned o'er thy face.
Oh, Heaven! how did my heart rejoice and ache,
When I beheld the day-break of thy eyes,
And felt the balm of thy respiring lips!

Osm. Oh, call not to my mind what you have done;

It sets a debt of that account before me, Which shews me poor and bankrupt even in hopes.

Zara. The faithful Selim, and my women,

know

The danger which I tempted to conceal you.
You know how I abused the credulous king;
What arts I used to make you pass on him,
When he received you as the prince of Fez,
And, as my kinsman, honoured and advanced you.
Oh! why do I relate what I have done?
What did I not? Was't not for you this war
Commenced? Not knowing who you were, nor
why

You hated Manuel, I urged my husband
To this invasion; where he late was lost,
Where all is lost, and I am made a slave.
Look on me now; from empire fallen to slavery;
Think on my sufferings first, then look on me;
Think on the cause of all, then view thyself:
Reflect on Osmyn, and then look on Zara,
The fallen, the lost, and now the captive Zara,
And now abandoned—Say, what then is Os-
myn?

Osm. A fatal wretch-A huge, stupendous ruin, That, tumbling on its prop, crushed all beneath, And bore contiguous palaces to earth.

Zara. Yet thus, thus fallen, thus levelled with the vilest,

If I have gained thy love, 'tis glorious ruin;
Ruin! 'tis still to reign, and to be more
A queen; for what are riches, empire, power,
But larger means to gratify the will?
The steps on which we tread, to rise and reach
Our wish; and that obtained, down with the
scaffolding

Of sceptres, crowns, and thrones; they've serv'd their end,

And are, like lumber, to be left and scorned. Osm. Why was I made the instrument, to throw In bonds the frame of this exalted mind!

Zara. We may be free; the conqueror is mine; In chains unseen I hold him by the heart, And can unwind or strain him as I please. Give me thy love, I'll give thee liberty.

Osm. In vain you offer, and in vain require, What neither can bestow. Set free yourself, And leave a slave the wretch that would be so. Zara. Thou canst not mean so poorly as thou talk'st.

Osm. Alas! You know me not.

Zara. Not who thou art :

But what this last ingratitude declares,

This grovelling baseness-Thou say'st true, I know

Thee not; for what thou art yet wants a name;
But something so unworthy and so vile,
That to have loved thee makes me yet more lost
Than all the malice of my other fate.
Traitor, monster, cold, and perfidious slave!
A slave not daring to be free, nor dares
To love above him; for 'tis dangerous.
"Tis that, I know; for thou dost look, with eyes
Sparkling desire, and trembling to possess.
I know my charms have reached thy very soul,
And thrilled thee through with darted fires; but.
thou

Zara. As I could wish; by Heaven, I'll be revenged.

Enter the KING, PEREZ, and Attendants. King. Why does the fairest of her kind withdraw

Her shining from the day, to gild this scene
Of death and night? Ha! what disorder's this?
Somewhat I heard of king and rival mentioned.
What's he that dares be rival to the king,
Or lift his eyes to like where I adore?

Zara. There, he, your prisoner, and that was my slave.

King. How? better than my hopes! Does she accuse him? [Aside.

Zara. Am I become so low by my captivity, And do your arms so lessen what they conquer, That Zara must be made the sport of slaves? And shall the wretch, whom yester sun beheld Waiting my nod, the creature of my power, Presume to-day to plead audacious love, And build bold hopes on my dejected fate? King. Better for him to tempt the rage of Heaven,

And wrench the bolt red-hissing from the hand Of him that thunders, than but to think that insolence.

'Tis daring for a god. Hence to the wheel
With that Ixion, who aspires to hold
Divinity embraced: to whips and prisons
Drag him with speed, and rid me of his face.

[Guards seize OSMYN, and exeunt. Zara. Compassion led me to bemoan his state, Whose former faith had merited much more: And, through my hopes in you, I undertook He should be set at large; thence sprung his insolence,

And what was charity, he construed love.

King. Enough; his punishment be what you

please.

But let me lead you from this place of sorrow,
To one where young delights attend, and joys,
Yet new, unborn, and blooming in the bud,
Which wait to be full-blown at your approach,
And spread, like roses, to the morning sun:
Where every hour shall roll in circling joys,
And love shall wing the tedious wasting day.
Life, without love, is load; and time stands still:
What we refuse to him, to death we give;
And then, then only, when we love, we live.
[Exeunt.

'Be doubled in thy mercies to my son! 'Not for myself, but him, hear me, all-gracious'— 'Tis wanting what should follow-Heaven should follow;

But 'tis torn off-Why should that word alone
Be torn from this petition? 'Twas to Heaven,
But Heaven was deaf, Heaven heard him not;
but thus,

Thus as the name of Heaven from this is torn,
So did it tear the ears of mercy from
His voice, shutting the gates of prayer against
him.

If piety be thus debarred access

On high, and of good men the very best
Is singled out to bleed, and bear the scourge,
What is reward? Or what is punishment?
But who shall dare to tax eternal justice!
Yet I may think I may, I must; for thought
Precedes the will to think, and error lives
Ere reason can be born. Reason, the power
To guess at right and wrong, the twinkling lamp
Of wandering life, that winks and wakes by

turns,

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?

Helt. 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 frontiers,

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-

alty;

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-

sion.

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 sight

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 blessings it withheld from him. In that assurance live; which time, I hope, And our next meeting, will confirm.

Osm. Farewell,

Zara. Oh, that thy heart had taught

Thy tongue that saying!
Ösm. Zara! I am betrayed

By my surprise.

[Lifting her veil.

Zara. What! does my face displease thee?
That, having seen it, thou dost turn thy eyes
Away, as from deformity and horror?
If so, this sable curtain shall again

Be drawn, and I will stand before thee, seeing,
And unseen. Is it my love? Ask again
That question; speak again in that soft voice;
And look again with wishes in thy eyes!-
Oh, no! thou canst not, for thou seest me now,
As she, whose savage breast hath been the cause
Of these thy wrongs; as she, whose barbarous

rage

Has loaded thee with chains and galling irons. Well dost thou scorn me, and upbraid my falseness;

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, working by secret causes,
Has made, per-force, subservient to that end
The heavenly powers allot me; no, not you,
But destiny, and inauspicious stars,
Have cast me down to this low being. Or,
Granting you had, from you I have deserved it.
Zura. Canst thou forgive me, then? wilt thou
believe

So kindly of my fault, to call it madness?
Oh, give that madness yet a milder name,
And call it, passion! then, be still more kind,
And call that passion love.

Osm. Give it a name,

Or being, as you please, such I will think it. Zara. Oh, thou dost wound me more with this thy goodness,

Than e'er thou couldst with bitterest 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 had not been this thing.

Zara. What thing?

Osm. This slave.

Zara. Oh, Heaven! my fears interpret This thy silence; somewhat of high concern, Long fashioning within thy labouring mind, And now just ripe for birth, my rage has ruined. Have I done this? Tell me, am I so cursed?

Osm. Time may have still one fated hour to come,

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

I more

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.

[Exit.

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 meet 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

cruelty!

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.

Alm. Oh, say not so!