Chapter XIII: Act IV: Scene I

_Enter_ ABENAMAR, _and Soldier._

_Aben._ Haste and conduct the prisoner to my sight.
[_Exit Soldier, and immediately enters with_ SELIN
_bound._

_Aben._ Did you, according to my orders, write? [_To_ SELIN And have you summoned Ozmyn to appear?

_Selin._ I am not yet so much a slave to fear, Nor has your son deserved so ill of me, That by his death or bonds I would be free.

_Aben._ Against thy life thou dost the sentence give; Behold how short a time thou hast to live.

_Selin._ Make haste, and draw the curtain while you may; You but shut out the twilight of my day. Beneath the burden of my age I bend: You kindly ease me ere my journey's end. [_To them a Soldier with_ OZMYN; OZMYN _kneels._

_Aben._ to _Selin._ It is enough, my promise makes you free; Resign your bonds, and take your liberty.

_Ozm._ Sir, you are just, and welcome are these bands; 'Tis all the inheritance a son demands.

_Selin._ Your goodness, O my Ozmyn, is too great; I am not weary of my fetters yet: Already, when you move me to resign, I feel them heavier on your feet than mine.

_Enter another Soldier._

_Sold._ A youth attends you in the outer room, Who seems in haste, and does from Ozmyn come.

_Aben._ Conduct him in.--

_Ozm._ Sent from Benzayda, I fear, to me.

_To them_ BENZAYDA, _in the habit of a man._

_Benz._ My Ozmyn here!

_Ozm._ Benzayda! 'tis she!-- Go youth, I have no business for thee here; Go to the Albayzyn, and attend me there. I'll not be long away; I pray thee go, By all our love and friendship--

_Benz._ Ozmyn, no: I did not take on me this bold disguise, For ends so low, to cheat your watchmen's eyes. When I attempted this, it was to do An action, to be envied even by you; But you, alas, have been too diligent, And what I purposed fatally prevent! Those chains, which for my father I would bear, I take with less content to find you here; Except your father will that mercy show, That I may wear them both for him and you.

_Aben._ I thank thee, fortune! thou hast, in one hour, Put all I could have asked thee in my power. My own lost wealth thou giv'st not only back, But driv'st upon my coast my pirate's wreck.

_Selin._ With Ozmyn's kindness I was grieved before, But yours, Benzayda, has' undone me more.

_Aben._ to a _Soldier._ Go fetch new fetters, and the daughter bind.

_Ozm._ Be just at least, sir, though you are not kind: Benzayda is not as a prisoner brought, But comes to suffer for another's fault.

_Aben._ Then, Ozmyn, mark, that justice which I do, I, as severely, will exact from you: The father is not wholly dead in me; Or you may yet revive it, if it be. Like tapers new blown out, the fumes remain, To catch the light, and bring it back again. Benzayda gave you life, and set you free; For that, I will restore her liberty.

_Ozm._ Sir, on my knees I thank you.

_Aben._ Ozmyn, hold; One part of what I purpose is untold: Consider, then, it on your part remains, When I have broke, not to resume your chains. Like an indulgent father, I have paid All debts, which you, my prodigal, have made. Now you are clear, break off your fond design, Renounce Benzayda, and be wholly mine.

_Ozm._ Are these the terms? Is this the liberty? Ah, sir, how can you so inhuman be? My duty to my life I will prefer; But life and duty must give place to her.

_Aben._ Consider what you say, for, with one breath, You disobey my will, and give her death.

_Ozm._ Ah, cruel father, what do you propose! Must I then kill Benzayda, or must lose? I can do neither; in this wretched state. The least that I can suffer is your hate; And yet that's worse than death: Even while I sue, And choose your hatred, I could die for you. Break quickly, heart, or let my blood be spilt By my own hand, to save a father's guilt.

_Benz._ Hear me, my lord, and take this wretched life, To free you from the fear of Ozmyn's wife. I beg but what with ease may granted be, To spare your son, and kill your enemy; Or, if my death's a grace too great to give, Let me, my lord, without my Ozmyn live. Far from your sight and Ozmyn's let me go, And take from him a care, from you a foe.

_Ozm._ How, my Benzayda! can you thus resign That love, which you have vowed so firmly mine? Can you leave me for life and liberty?

_Benz._ What I have done will show that I dare die; But I'll twice suffer death, and go away, Rather than make you wretched by my stay: By this my father's freedom will be won; And to your father I restore a son.

_Selin._ Cease, cease, my children, your unhappy strife, Selin will not be ransomed by your life. Barbarian, thy old foe defies thy rage; [_To_ ABEN. Turn, from their youth, thy malice to my age.

_Benz._ Forbear, dear father! for your Ozmyn's sake, Do not such words to Ozmyn's father speak.

_Ozm._ Alas, 'tis counterfeited rage; he strives But to divert the danger from our lives: For I can witness, sir, and you might see, How in your person he considered me. He still declined the combat where you were; And you well know it was not out of fear.

_Benz._ Alas, my lord, where can your vengeance fall? Your justice will not let it reach us all. Selin and Ozmyn both would sufferers be; And punishment's a favour done to me. If we are foes, since you have power to kill, 'Tis generous in you not to have the will; But, are we foes? Look round, my lord, and see; Point out that face which is your enemy. Would you your hand in Selin's blood embrue? Kill him unarmed, who, armed, shunned killing you? Am I your foe? Since you detest my line, That hated name of Zegry I resign: For you, Benzayda will herself disclaim; Call me your daughter, and forget my name.

_Selin._ This virtue would even savages subdue; And shall it want the power to vanquish you?

_Ozm._ It has, it has; I read it in his eyes; 'Tis now not anger, 'tis but shame denies; A shame of error, that great spirits find, When keeps down virtue struggling in the mind.

_Aben._ Yes, I am vanquished! The fierce conflict's past, And shame itself is now o'ercome at last. 'Twas long before my stubborn mind was won; But, melting once, I on the sudden run; Nor can I hold my headlong kindness more, Than I could curb my cruel rage before. [_Runs to_ BENZ., _and embraces her._ Benzayda, 'twas your virtue vanquished me; That could alone surmount my cruelty. [_Runs to_ SELIN, _and unbinds him._ Forgive me, Selin, my neglect of you; But men, just waking, scarce know what they do.

_Ozm._ O father!

_Benz._ Father!

_Aden._ Dare I own that name! Speak, speak it often, to remove my shame. [_They all embrace him._ O Selin, O my children, let me go! I have more kindness than I yet can show. For my recovery I must shun your sight; Eyes used to darkness cannot bear the light. [_He runs in, they following him._

SCENE II.--_The Albayzyn._

_Enter_ ALMANZOR, ABDELMELECH, _Soldiers._

_Almanz._ 'Tis war again, and I am glad 'tis so; Success shall now by force and courage go. Treaties are but the combat of the brain, Where still the stronger lose, and weaker gain.

_Abdelm._ On this assault, brave sir, which we prepare, Depends the sum and fortune of the war. Encamped without the fort the Spaniard lies, And may, in spite of us, send in supplies. Consider yet, ere we attack the place, What 'tis to storm it in an army's face.

_Almanz._ The minds of heroes their own measures are, They stand exempted from the rules of war. One loose, one sally of the hero's soul, Does all the military art controul; While timorous wit goes round, or fords the shore, He shoots the gulph, and is already o'er; And, when the enthusiastic fit is spent, Looks back amazed at what he underwent. [_Exeunt._ [_An alarum within._

_Re-enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ ABDELMELECH, _with their Soldiers._

_Abdelm._ They fly, they fly; take breath and charge again.

_Almanz._ Make good your entrance, and bring up more men. I feared, brave friend, my aid had been too late.

_Abdelm._ You drew us from the jaws of certain fate. At my approach, The gate was open, and the draw-bridge down; But, when they saw I stood, and came not on, They charged with fury on my little band, Who, much o'erpowered, could scarce the shock withstand.

_Almanz._ Ere night we shall the whole Albayzyn gain. But see, the Spaniards march along the plain To its relief; you, Abdelmelech, go, And force the rest, while I repulse the foe. [_Exit_ ALMANZOR.

_Enter_ ABDALLA, _and some few Soldiers, who seem fearful._

_Abdal._ Turn cowards, turn! there is no hope in flight; You yet may live, if you but dare to fight. Come, you brave few, who only fear to fly, We're not enough to conquer, but to die.

_Abdelm._ No, prince, that mean advantage I refuse; 'Tis in your power a nobler fate to choose. Since we are rivals, honour does command We should not die, but by each other's hand. Retire; and, if it prove my destiny [_To his men._ To fall, I charge you let the prince go free. [_The Soldiers depart on both sides._

_Abdal._ O, Abdelmelech, that I knew some way This debt of honour, which I owe, to pay! But fate has left this only means for me, To die, and leave you Lyndaraxa free.

_Abdelm._ He, who is vanquished and is slain, is blest; The wretched conqueror can ne'er have rest; But is reserved a harder fate to prove. Bound in the fetters of dissembled love.

_Abdal._ Now thou art base, and I deserve her more; Without complaint I will to death adore. Dar'st thou see faults, and yet dost love pretend? I will even Lyndaraxa's crimes defend.

_Abdelm._ Maintain her cause, then, better than thy own,-- Than thy ill got, and worse defended throne. [_They fight,_ ABDALLA _falls._

_Abdelm._ Now ask your life.

_Abdal._ 'Tis gone; that busy thing, The soul, is packing up, and just on wing, Like parting swallows, when they seek the spring: Like them, at its appointed time, it goes, And flies to countries more unknown than those.

_Enter_ LYNDARAXA _hastily, sees them, and is going out again._
ABDELMELECH _stops her._

_Abdelm._ No, you shall stay, and see a sacrifice, Not offered by my sword, but by your eyes. From those he first ambitious poison drew, And swelled to empire from the love of you. Accursed fair! Thy comet-blaze portends a prince's fate; And suffering subjects groan beneath thy weight.

_Abdal._ Cease, rival, cease! I would have forced you, but it wonnot be; I beg you now, upbraid her not for me. You, fairest, to my memory be kind! [_To_ LYNDAR. Lovers like me your sex will seldom find. When I usurped a crown for love of you, I then did more, than, dying, now I do. I'm still the same as when my love begun; And, could I now this fate foresee or shun, Would yet do all I have already done. [_Dies._ [_She puts her handkerchief to her eyes._

_Abdelm._ Weep on, weep on, for it becomes you now; These tears you to that love may well allow. His unrepenting soul, if it could move Upward in crimes, flew spotted with your love; And brought contagion to the blessed above.

_Lyndar._ He's gone, and peace go with a constant mind! His love deserved I should have been more kind; But then your love and greater worth I knew: I was unjust to him, but just to you.

_Abdelm._ I was his enemy, and rival too, Yet I some tears to his misfortune owe: You owe him more; weep then, and join with me: So much is due even to humanity.

_Lyndar._ Weep for this wretch, whose memory I hate! Whose folly made us both unfortunate! Weep for this fool, who did my laughter move! This whining, tedious, heavy lump of love!

_Abdelm._ Had fortune favoured him, and frowned on me, I then had been that heavy fool, not he: Just this had been my funeral elegy. Thy arts and falsehood I before did know, But this last baseness was concealed till now; And 'twas no more than needful to be known; I could be cured by such an act alone. My love, half blasted, yet in time would shoot; But this last tempest rends it to the root.

_Lyndar._ These little piques, which now your anger move, Will vanish, and are only signs of love. You've been too fierce; and, at some other time, I should not with such ease forgive your crime: But, in a day of public joy like this, I pardon, and forget whate'er's amiss.

_Abdelm._ These arts have oft prevailed, but must no more: The spell is ended, and the enchantment o'er. You have at last destroyed, with much ado, That love, which none could have destroyed, but you. My love was blind to your deluding art; But blind men feel, when stabbed so near the heart.

_Lyndar._ I must confess there was some pity due; But I concealed it out of love to you.

_Abdelm._ No, Lyndaraxa; 'tis at last too late: Our loves have mingled with too much of fate. I would, but cannot now, myself deceive: O that you still could cheat, and I believe!

_Lyndar._ Do not so light a quarrel long pursue: You grieve your rival was less loved than you. 'Tis hard, when men of kindness must complain!

_Abdelm._ I'm now awake, and cannot dream again.

_Lyndar._ Yet hear--

_Abdelm._ No more; nothing my heart can bend: That queen, you scorned, you shall this night attend. Your life the king has pardoned for my sake; But on your pride I some revenge must take. See now the effects of what your arts designed! Thank your inconstant and ambitious mind. 'Tis just that she, who to no love is true, Should be forsaken, and contemned, like you.

_Lyndar._ All arts of injured women I will try: First I will be revenged; and then I'll die. But like some falling tower, Whose seeming firmness does the sight beguile, So hold I up my nodding head a while, Till they come under; and reserve my fall, That with my ruins I may reach them all,

_Abdelm._ Conduct her hence. [_Exit_ LYNDAR. _guarded._

_Enter a Soldier._

_Sold._ Almanzor is victorious without fight; The foes retreated when he came in sight. Under the walls, this night, his men are drawn, And mean to seek the Spaniard with the dawn.

_Abdelm._ The sun's declined: Command the watch be set without delay, And in the fort let bold Benducar stay.-- [_Exit Sold._ I'll haste to court, where solitude I'll fly, And herd, like wounded deer, in company. But oh, how hard a passion to remove, When I must shun myself, to 'scape from love! [_Exit._

SCENE III.--_A Gallery in the Alhambra._

ZULEMA, HAMET.

_Hamet._ I thought your passion for the queen was dead, Or that your love had, with your hopes, been fled.

_Zul._ 'Twas like a fire within a furnace pent: I smothered it, and kept it long from vent; But, fed with looks, and blown with sighs so fast, It broke a passage through my lips at last.

_Hamet._ Where found you confidence your suit to move? Our broken fortunes are not fit to love. Well; you declared your love:--What followed then?

_Zul._ She looked as judges do on guilty men, When big with fate they triumph in their dooms, And smile before the deadly sentence comes. Silent I stood, as I were thunder-struck; Condemned and executed with a look.

_Hamet._ You must, with haste, some remedy prepare: Now you are in, you must break through the snare.

_Zul._ She said, she would my folly yet conceal; But vowed my next attempt she would reveal.

_Hamet._ 'Tis dark; and in this lonely gallery, Remote from noise, and shunning every eye, One hour each evening she in private mourns, And prays, and to the circle then returns.

_Zul._ These lighted tapers show the time is nigh. Perhaps my courtship will not be in vain: At least, few women will of force complain.

_At the other end of the Gallery, enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ ESPERANZA.

_Hamet._ Almanzor, and with him The favourite slave of the sultana queen.

_Zul._ Ere they approach, let us retire unseen, And watch our time when they return again: Then force shall give, if favour does deny; And, that once done, we'll to the Spaniards fly. [_Exeunt_ ZUL. _and_ HAMET.

_Almanz._ Now stand; the apartment of the queen is near; And, from this place, your voice will reach her ear. [ESPERANZA _goes out._

SONG, IN TWO PARTS.

I.

He. _How unhappy a lover am I,
While I sigh for my Phillis in vain;
All my hopes of delight
Are another man's right,
Who is happy, while I am in pain!_

II.

She. _Since her honour allows no relief,
But to pity the pains which you bear,
'Tis the best of your fate
In a hopeless estate,
To give o'er, and betimes to despair._

III.

He. _I have tried the false med'cine in vain;
For I wish what I hope not to win:
From without, my desire
Has no food to its fire;
But it burns and consumes me within._

IV.

She. _Yet, at least, 'tis a pleasure to know
That you are not unhappy alone:
For the nymph you adore
Is as wretched, and more;
And counts all your sufferings her own._

V.

He. _O ye gods, let me suffer for both;
At the feet of my Phyllis I'll lie:
I'll resign up my breath,
And take pleasure in death
To be pitied by her when I die._

VI.

She. _What her honour denied you in life,
In her death she will give to your love.
Such flame as is true
After fate will renew,
For the souls to meet closer above._

_Enter_ ESPERANZA _again, after the Song._

_Almanz._ Accept this diamond, till I can present Something more worthy my acknowledgement. And now farewell: I will attend, alone, Her coming forth; and make my sufferings known. [_Exit_ ESPERANZA. A hollow wind comes whistling through that door, And a cold shivering seizes me all o'er; My teeth, too, chatter with a sudden fright:-- These are the raptures of too fierce delight, The combat of the tyrants, hope and fear; Which hearts, for want of field-room, cannot bear. I grow impatient;--this, or that's the room:-- I'll meet her;--now methinks, I her her come. [_He goes to the door; the Ghost of his Mother meets him: He starts back: The Ghost stands in the door._ Well may'st thou make thy boast, whate'er thou art! Thou art the first e'er made Almanzor start. My legs Shall bear me to thee in their own despite: I'll rush into the covert of thy night, And pull thee backward, by the shroud, to light; Or else I'll squeeze thee, like a bladder, there, And make thee groan thyself away to air. [_The Ghost retires._ So, thou art gone! Thou canst no conquest boast: I thought what was the courage of a ghost.-- The grudging of my ague yet remains; My blood, like icicles, hangs in my veins, And does not drop:--Be master of that door, We two will not disturb each other more. I erred a little, but extremes may join; That door was hell's, but this is heaven's and mine. [_Goes to the other door, and is met again by the Ghost._ Again! by heaven, I do conjure thee, speak! What art thou, spirit? and what dost thou seek? [_The Ghost comes on softly after the conjuration; and_ ALMANZOR _retires to the middle of the stage._

_Ghost._ I am the ghost of her who gave thee birth; The airy shadow of her mouldering earth. Love of thy father me through seas did guide; On seas I bore thee, and on seas I died. I died; and for my winding sheet a wave I had, and all the ocean for my grave. But, when my soul to bliss did upward move, I wandered round the crystal walls above; But found the eternal fence so steeply high, That, when I mounted to the middle sky, I flagged, and fluttered down, and could not fly. Then, from the battlements of the heavenly tower, A watchman angel bid me wait this hour; And told me, I had yet a task assigned, To warn that little pledge I left behind; And to divert him, ere it were too late, From crimes unknown, and errors of his fate.

_Almanz._ Speak, holy shade; thou parent-form, speak on! [_Bowing._ Instruct thy mortal-elemented son; For here I wander, to myself unknown. But O, thou better part of heavenly air, Teach me, kind spirit, since I'm still thy care, My parents' names: If I have yet a father, let me know To whose old age my humble youth must bow, And pay its duty, if he mortal be, Or adoration, if a mind, like thee.

_Ghost._ Then, what I may, I'll tell.-- From ancient blood thy father's lineage springs, Thy mother's thou deriv'st from stems of kings. A Christian born, and born again that day, When sacred water washed thy sins away. Yet, bred in errors, thou dost misemploy That strength heaven gave thee, and its flock destroy.

_Almanz._ By reason, man a godhead may discern, But how he should be worshipped cannot learn.

_Ghost._ Heaven does not now thy ignorance reprove, But warns thee from known crimes of lawless love. That crime thou knowest, and, knowing, dost not shun, Shall an unknown and greater crime pull on: But if, thus warned, thou leav'st this cursed place, Then shalt thou know the author of thy race. Once more I'll see thee; then my charge is done. Far hence, upon the mountains of the moon, Is my abode; where heaven and nature smile, And strew with flowers the secret bed of Nile. Blessed souls are there refined, and made more bright, And, in the shades of heaven, prepared for light. [_Exit Ghost._

_Almanz._ O heaven, how dark a riddle's thy decree, Which bounds our wills, yet seems to leave them free! Since thy fore-knowledge cannot be in vain, Our choice must be what thou didst first ordain. Thus, like a captive in an isle confined, Man walks at large, a prisoner of the mind: Wills all his crimes, while heaven the indictment draws, And, pleading guilty, justifies the laws. Let fate be fate; the lover and the brave Are ranked, at least, above the vulgar slave. Love makes me willing to my death to run; And courage scorns the death it cannot shun.

_Enter_ ALMAHIDE _with a taper._

_Almah._ My light will sure discover those who talk.-- Who dares to interrupt my private walk?

_Almanz._ He, who dares love, and for that love must die, And, knowing this, dares yet love on, am I.

_Almah._ That love which you can hope, and I can pay, May be received and given in open day: My praise and my esteem you had before; And you have bound yourself to ask no more.

_Almanz._ Yes, I have bound myself; but will you take The forfeit of that bond, which force did make?

_Almah._ You know you are from recompence debarred; But purest love can live without reward.

_Almanz._ Pure love had need be to itself a feast; For, like pure elements, 'twill nourish least.

_Almah._ It therefore yields the only pure content; For it, like angels, needs no nourishment. To eat and drink can no perfection be; All appetite implies necessity.

_Almanz._ 'Twere well, if I could like a spirit live; But, do not angels food to mortals give? What if some demon should my death foreshow, Or bid me change, and to the Christians go; Will you not think I merit some reward, When I my love above my life regard?

_Almah._ In such a case your change must be allowed: I would myself dispense with what you vowed.

_Almanz._ Were I to die that hour when I possess, This minute shall begin my happiness.

_Almah._ The thoughts of death your passion would remove; Death is a cold encouragement to love.

_Almanz._ No; from my joys I to my death would run, And think the business of my life well done: But I should walk a discontented ghost, If flesh and blood were to no purpose lost.

_Almah._ You love me not, Almanzor; if you did, You would not ask what honour must forbid.

_Almanz._ And what is honour, but a love well hid?

_Almah._ Yes, 'tis the conscience of an act well done, Which gives us power our own desires to shun; The strong and secret curb of headlong will; The self-reward of good, and shame of ill.

_Almanz._ These, madam, are the maxims of the day, When honour's present, and when love's away. The duty of poor honour were too hard, In arms all day, at night to mount the guard. Let him, in pity, now to rest retire; Let these soft hours be watched by warm desire.

_Almah._ Guards, who all day on painful duty keep, In dangers are not privileged to sleep.

_Almanz._ And with what dangers are you threatened here? Am I, alas! a foe for you to fear? See, madam, at your feet this enemy; [_Kneels._ Without your pity and your love I die.

_Almah._ Rise, rise, and do not empty hopes pursue; Yet think that I deny myself, not you.

_Almanz._ A happiness so high I cannot bear: My love's too fierce, and you too killing fair. I grow enraged to see such excellence!-- If words, so much disordered, give offence, My love's too full of zeal to think of sense. Be you like me; dull reason hence remove, And tedious forms, and give a loose to love. Love eagerly; let us be gods to-night; And do not, with half yielding, clash delight.

_Almah._ Thou strong seducer, opportunity! Of womankind, half are undone by thee! Though I resolve I will not be misled, I wish I had not heard what you have said! I cannot be so wicked to comply; And, yet, am most unhappy to deny! Away!

_Almanz._ I will not move me from this place: I can take no denial from that face!

_Almah._ If I could yield,--but think not that I will,-- You and myself I in revenge should kill; For I should hate us both, when it were done, And would not to the shame of life be won.

_Almanz._ Live but to-night, and trust to-morrow's mind: Ere that can come, there's a whole life behind. Methinks, already crowned with joys I lie, Speechless and breathless, in an ecstasy! Not absent in one thought: I am all there: Still close, yet wishing still to be more near.

_Almah._ Deny your own desires; for it will be Too little now to be denied by me. Will he, who does all great, all noble seem, Be lost and forfeit to his own esteem? Will he, who may with heroes claim a place, Belie that fame, and to himself be base? Think how august and godlike you did look, When my defence, unbribed, you undertook; But, when an act so brave you disavow, How little, and how mercenary now!

_Almanz._ Are, then, my services no higher prized? And can I fall so low, to be despised?

_Almah._ Yes; for whatever may be bought, is low; And you yourself, who sell yourself, are so. Remember the great act you did this day: How did your love to virtue then give way! When you gave freedom to my captive lord,-- That rival who possessed what you adored,-- Of such a deed what price can there be made? Think well; is that an action to be paid? It was a miracle of virtue shown; And wonders are with wonder paid alone. And would you all that secret joy of mind, Which great souls only in great actions find, All that, for one tumultuous minute lose?

_Almanz_, I would that minute before ages chuse. Praise is the pay of heaven for doing good; But love's the best return for flesh and blood.

_Almah._ You've moved my heart so much, I can deny No move; but know, Almanzor, I can die. Thus far my virtue yields; if I have shown More love than what I ought, let this atone. [_Going to stab herself._

_Almanz._ Hold, hold! Such fatal proofs of love you shall not give: Deny me; hate me; both are just,--but live! Your virtue I will ne'er disturb again; Nor dare to ask, for fear I should obtain.

_Almah._ 'Tis generous to have conquered your desire; You mount above your wish, and lose it higher. There's pride in virtue, and a kindly heat; Not feverish, like your love, but full as great. Farewell; and may our loves hereafter be But image-like, to heighten piety.

_Almanz._ 'Tis time I should be gone.-- Alas! I am but half converted yet; All I resolve, I with one look forget; And, like a lion, whom no arts can tame, Shall tear even those, who would my rage reclaim. [_Exeunt severally._ [ZULEMA _and_ HAMET _watch_ ALMANZOR; _and when he is gone, go in after the Queen._

_Enter_ ABDELMELECH _and_ LYNDARAXA.

_Lyndar._ It is enough, you've brought me to this place: Here stop, and urge no further my disgrace. Kill me; in death your mercy will be seen, But make me not a captive to the queen.

_Abdelm._ 'Tis therefore I this punishment provide: This only can revenge me on your pride. Prepare to suffer what you shun in vain; And know, you now are to obey, not reign.

_Enter_ ALMAHIDE _shrieking; her hair loose; she runs over the
stage._

_Almah._ Help, help, O heaven, some help!

_Enter_ ZULEMA _and_ HAMET.

_Zul._ Make haste before, And intercept her passage to the door.

_Abdelm._ Villains, what act are you attempting here!

_Almah._ I thank thee, heaven! some succour does appear.
[_As_ ABDELMELECH _is going to help the Queen,_
LYNDARAXA _pulls out his sword, and holds it._

_Abdelm._ With what ill fate my good design is curst!

_Zul._ We have no time to think; dispatch him first.

_Abdelm._ O for a sword! [_They make at_ ABDELMELECH; _he goes off at
one door, while the Queen escapes at the
other._

_Zul._ Ruined!

_Hamet._ Undone!

_Lyndar._ And, which is worst of all, He is escaped.

_Zul._ I hear them loudly call.

_Lyndar._ Your fear will lose you; call as loud as they: I have not time to teach you what to say. The court will in a moment all be here; But second what I say, and do not fear. Call help; run that way; leave the rest to me. [ZUL. _and_ HAMET _retire, and within cry,_--Help!

_Enter, at several doors, the King_, ABENAMAR, SELIN, OZMYN,
ALMANZOR, _with Guards attending_ BOABDELIN.

_Boab._ What can the cause of all this tumult be? And what the meaning of that naked sword?

_Lyndar._ I'll tell, when fear will so much breath afford.-- The queen and Abdelmelech--'Twill not out-- Even I, who saw it, of the truth yet doubt, It seems so strange.

_Almanz._ Did she not name the queen? Haste; speak.

_Lyndar._ How dare I speak what I have seen?-- With Hamet, and with Zulema I went, To pay both theirs, and my acknowledgment To Almahide, and by her mouth implore Your clemency, our fortunes to restore. We chose this hour, which we believed most free, When she retired from noise and company. The ante-chamber past, we gently knocked, Unheard it seems, but found the lodgings locked, In duteous silence while we waited there, We first a noise, and then long whispers hear; Yet thought it was the queen at prayers alone, Till she distinctly said,--If this were known, My love, what shame, what danger would ensue! Yet I,--and sighed,--could venture more for you!

_Boab._ O heaven, what do I hear!

_Almanz._ Let her go on.

_Lyndar._ And how,--then murmured in a bigger tone Another voice,--and how should it be known? This hour is from your court attendants free; The king suspects Almanzor, but not me.

_Zul._ I find her drift; Hamet, be confident; [_At the door._ Second her words, and fear not the event.

ZULEMA _and_ HAMET _enter. The King embraces them._

_Boab._ Welcome, my only friends;--behold in me, O kings, behold the effects of clemency! See here the gratitude of pardoned foes! That life, I gave them, they for me expose!

_Hamet._ Though Abdelmelech was our friend before, When duty called us, he was so no more.

_Almanz._ Damn your delay!--you torturers, proceed! I will not hear one word but Almahide.

_Boab._ When you, within, the traitor's voice did hear, What did you then?

_Zul._ I durst not trust my ear; But, peeping through the key-hole, I espied The queen, and Abdelmelech by her side; She on the couch, he on her bosom lay; Her hand about his neck his head did stay, And from his forehead wiped the drops away.

_Boab._ Go on, go on, my friends, to clear my doubt; I hope I shall have life to hear you out.

_Zul_ What had been, sir, you may suspect too well; What followed, modesty forbids to tell: Seeing what we had thought beyond belief, Our hearts so swelled with anger and with grief, That, by plain force, we strove the door to break. He, fearful, and with guilt, or love, grown weak, Just as we entered, 'scaped the other way; Nor did the amazed queen behind him stay.

_Lyndar._ His sword, in so much haste, he could not mind; But left this witness of his crime behind.

_Boab._ O proud, ungrateful, faithless womankind! How changed, and what a monster am I made! My love, my honour, ruined and betrayed!

_Almanz._ Your love and honour! mine are ruined worse:-- Furies and hell!--What right have you to curse? Dull husband as you are, What can your love, or what your honour, be? I am her lover, and she's false to me.

_Boab._ Go; when the authors of my shame are found, Let them be taken instantly and bound: They shall be punished as our laws require: 'Tis just, that flames should be condemned to fire. This, with the dawn of morning shall be done.

_Aben._ You haste too much her execution. Her condemnation ought to be deferred; With justice, none can be condemned unheard.

_Boab._ A formal process tedious is, and long; Besides, the evidence is full and strong.

_Lyndar._ The law demands two witnesses; and she Is cast, for which heaven knows I grieve, by three.

_Ozm._ Hold, sir! since you so far insist on law, We can from thence one just advantage draw: That law, which dooms adultresses to die, Gives champions, too, to slandered chastity.

_Almanz._ And how dare you, who from my bounty live, Intrench upon my love's prerogative? Your courage in your own concernments try; Brothers are things remote, while I am by.

_Ozm._ I knew not you thus far her cause would own, And must not suffer you to fight alone: Let two to two in equal combat join; You vindicate her person, I her line.

_Lyndar._ Of all mankind, Almanzor has least right In her defence, who wrong'd his love, to fight.

_Almanz._ 'Tis false: she is not ill, nor can she be; She must be chaste, because she's loved by me.

_Zul._ Dare you, what sense and reason prove, deny?

_Almanz._ When she's in question, sense and reason lie.

_Zul._ For truth, and for my injured sovereign, What I have said, I will to death maintain.

_Ozm._ So foul a falsehood, whoe'er justifies, Is basely born, and, like a villain, lies. In witness of that truth, be this my gage. [_Takes a ring from his finger._

_Hamet._ I take it; and despise a traitor's rage.

_Boab._ The combat's yours.--A guard the lists surround; Then raise a scaffold in the encompassed ground, And, by it, piles of wood; in whose just fire, Her champions slain, the adultress shall expire.

_Aben._ We ask no favour, but what arms will yield.

_Boab._ Choose, then, two equal judges of the field: Next morning shall decide the doubtful strife, Condemn the unchaste, or quit the virtuous wife.

_Almanz._ But I am both ways cursed: For Almahide must die, if I am slain; Or for my rival I the conquest gain. [_Exeunt._