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The Works Of John Dryden, Volume 4 (of 18) by John Dryden

J >> John Dryden >> The Works Of John Dryden, Volume 4 (of 18)




_Enter_ ALMANZOR; _seeing_ ALMAHIDE _approach him, he speaks._

_Almanz._ So Venus moves, when to the Thunderer,
In smiles or tears, she would some suit prefer;
When with her cestus girt,
And drawn by doves, she cuts the liquid skies,
And kindles gentle fires where'er she flies:
To every eye a goddess is confest,
By all the heavenly nation she is blest,
And each with secret joy admits her to his breast.--
Madam your new commands I come to know,
If yet you can have any where I go. [_To her bowing._
If to the regions of the dead they be,
You take the speediest course to send by me.

_Almah._ Heaven has not destined you so soon to rest:
Heroes must live to succour the distrest.

_Almanz._ To serve such beauty all mankind should live;
And, in our service, our reward you give.
But stay me not in torture, to behold
And ne'er enjoy. As from another's gold
The miser hastens, in his own defence,
And shuns the sight of tempting excellence;
So, having seen you once so killing fair,
A second sight were but to move despair.
I take my eyes from what too much would please,
As men in fevers famish their disease.

_Almah._ No; you may find your cure an easier way,
If you are pleased to seek it,--in your stay.
All objects lose by too familiar view,
When that great charm is gone, of being new;
By often seeing me, you soon will find
Defects so many, in my face and mind,
That to be freed from love you need not doubt;
And, as you looked it in, you'll look it out.

_Almanz._ I rather, like weak armies, should retreat,
And so prevent my more entire defeat.
For your own sake in quiet let me go;
Press not too far on a despairing foe:
I may turn back, and armed against you move,
With all the furious train of hopeless love.

_Almah._ Your honour cannot to ill thoughts give way,
And mine can run no hazard by your stay.

_Almanz._ Do you then think I can with patience see
That sovereign good possessed, and not by me?
No; I all day shall languish at the sight,
And rave on what I do not see all night;
My quick imagination will present
The scenes and images of your content.

_Almah._ These are the day-dreams which wild fancy yields,
Empty as shadows are, that fly o'er fields.
Oh, whither would this boundless fancy move!
'Tis but the raging calenture of love.
Like a distracted passenger you stand,
And see, in seas, imaginary land,
Cool groves, and flowery meads; and while you think
To walk, plunge in, and wonder that you sink.

_Almanz._ Love's calenture too well I understand;
But sure your beauty is no fairy-land!
Of your own form a judge you cannot be;
For, glow-worm like, you shine, and do not see.

_Almah._ Can you think this, and would you go away?

_Almanz._ What recompence attends me, if I stay?

_Almah._ You know I am from recompence debarred,
But I will grant your merit a reward;
Your flame's too noble to deserve a cheat,
And I too plain to practise a deceit.
I no return of love can ever make,
But what I ask is for my husband's sake;
He, I confess, has been ungrateful too,
But he and I are ruined if you go:
Your virtue to the hardest proof I bring;--
Unbribed, preserve a mistress and a king.

_Almanz._ I'll stop at nothing that appears so brave:
I'll do't, and now I no reward will have.
You've given my honour such an ample field,
That I may die, but that shall never yield.
Spite of myself I'll stay, fight, love, despair;
And I can do all this, because I dare.
Yet I may own one suit--
That scarf, which, since by you it has been borne,
Is blessed, like relicks which by saints were worn.

_Almah._ Presents like this my virtue durst not make,
But that 'tis given you for my husband's sake. [_Gives the scarf._

_Almanz._ This scarf to honourable rags I'll wear,
As conquering soldiers tattered ensigns bear;
But oh, how much my fortune I despise,
Which gives me conquest, while she love denies! [_Exeunt._


ACT III.

SCENE I.--_The Alhambra._

_Enter_ ALMAHIDE _and_ ESPERANZA.

_Esper._ Affected modesty has much of pride;
That scarf he begged, you could not have denied;
Nor does it shock the virtue of a wife,
When given that man, to whom you owe your life.

_Almah._ Heaven knows, from all intent of ill 'twas free,
Yet it may feed my husband's jealousy;
And for that cause I wish it were not done.

_To them_ BOABDELIN, _and walks apart._

See, where he comes, all pensive and alone;
A gloomy fury has o'erspread his face:
'Tis so! and all my fears are come to pass.

_Boab._ Marriage, thou curse of love, and snare of life, [_Aside_
That first debased a mistress to a wife!
Love, like a scene, at distance should appear,
But marriage views the gross-daubed landscape near.
Love's nauseous cure! thou cloyest whom thou should'st please;
And, when thou cur'st, then thou art the disease.
When hearts are loose, thy chain our bodies ties;
Love couples friends, but marriage enemies.
If love like mine continues after thee,
'Tis soon made sour, and turned by jealousy;
No sign of love in jealous men remains,
But that which sick men have of life--their pains.

_Almah._ Has my dear lord some new affliction had? [_Walking to him._
Have I done any thing that makes him sad?

_Boab._ You! nothing: You! But let me walk alone.

_Almah._ I will not leave you till the cause be known:
My knowledge of the ill may bring relief.

_Boab._ Thank ye; you never fail to cure my grief!
Trouble me not, my grief concerns not you.

_Almah._ While I have life, I will your steps pursue.

_Boab._ I'm out of humour now; you must not stay.

_Almah._ I fear it is that scarf I gave away.

_Boab._ No, 'tis not that; but speak of it no more:
Go hence! I am not what I was before.

_Almah._ Then I will make you so; give me your hand!
Can you this pressing and these tears withstand?

_Boab._ Oh heaven, were she but mine, or mine alone!
[_Sighing, and going off from her._
Ah, why are not the hearts of women known!
False women to new joys unseen can move;
There are no prints left in the paths of love,
All goods besides by public marks are known;
But what we most desire to keep, has none.

_Almah._ Why will you in your breast your passion crowd,
[_Approaching him._
Like unborn thunder rolling in a cloud?
Torment not your poor heart, but set it free,
And rather let its fury break on me.
I am not married to a god; I know,
Men must have passions, and can bear from you.
I fear the unlucky present I have made!

_Boab._ O power of guilt! how conscience can upbraid!
It forces her not only to reveal,
But to repeat what she would most conceal!

_Almah._ Can such a toy, and given in public too--

_Boab._ False woman, you contrived it should be so.
That public gift in private was designed
The emblem of the love you meant to bind.
Hence from my sight, ungrateful as thou art!
And, when I can, I'll banish thee my heart. [_She weeps._

_To them_ ALMANZOR _wearing the Scarf. He sees her weep._

_Almanz._ What precious drops are those,
Which silently each other's track pursue,
Bright as young diamonds in their infant dew?
Your lustre you should free from tears maintain,
Like Egypt, rich without the help of rain.
Now cursed be he who gave this cause of grief;
And double cursed, who does not give relief!

_Almah._ Our common fears, and public miseries,
Have drawn these tears from my afflicted eyes.

_Almanz._ Madam, I cannot easily believe
It is for any public cause you grieve.
On your fair face the marks of sorrow lie;
But I read fury in your husband's eye:
And, in that passion, I too plainly find
That you're unhappy, and that he's unkind.

_Almah._ Not new-made mothers greater love express
Than he, when with first looks their babes they bless;
Not Heaven is more to dying martyrs kind,
Nor guardian angels to their charge assigned.

_Boab._ O goodness counterfeited to the life!
O the well-acted virtue of a wife!
Would you with this my just suspicions blind?
You've given me great occasion to be kind!
The marks, too, of your spotless love appear;
Witness the badge of my dishonour there.
[_Pointing to_ ALMANZOR'S _scarf._

_Almanz._ Unworthy owner of a gem so rare!
Heavens! why must he possess, and I despair?
Why is this miser doomed to all this store;
He, who has all, and yet believes he's poor?

_Almah._ [_to_ ALMANZ.]
You're much too bold, to blame a jealousy
So kind in him, and so desired by me.
The faith of wives would unrewarded prove,
Without those just observers of our love.
The greater care the higher passion shows;
We hold that clearest we most fear to lose.
Distrust in lovers is too warm a sun,
But yet 'tis night in love when that is gone;
And in those climes which most his scorching know,
He makes the noblest fruits and metals grow.

_Almanz._ Yes; there are mines of treasure in your breast,
Seen by that jealous sun, but not possest.
He, like a devil, among the blest above,
Can take no pleasure in your heaven of love.
Go, take her; and thy causeless fears remove; [_To the King._
Love her so well, that I with rage may die:
Dull husbands have no right to jealousy:
If that's allowed, it must in lovers be.

_Boab._ The succour, which thou bring'st me, makes thee bold:
But know, without thy aid, my crown I'll hold;
Or, if I cannot, I will fire the place,
Of a full city make a naked space.
Hence, then, and from a rival set me free!
I'll do, I'll suffer any thing but thee.

_Almanz._ I wonnot go; I'll not be forced away:
I came not for thy sake; nor do I stay.
It was the queen who for my aid did send;
And 'tis I only can the queen defend:
I, for her sake, thy sceptre will maintain;
And thou, by me, in spite of thee, shalt reign.

_Boab._ Had I but hope I could defend this place
Three days, thou should'st not live to my disgrace
So small a time;
Might I possess my Almahide alone,
I would live ages out ere they were gone.
I should not be of love or life bereft;
All should be spent before, and nothing left.

_Almah._ [_to_ BOAB.] As for your sake I for Almanzor sent,
So, when you please, he goes to banishment.
You shall, at last, my loyalty approve:
I will refuse no trial of my love.

_Boab._ How can I think you love me, while I see
That trophy of a rival's victory?
I'll tear it from his side.

_Almanz._ I'll hold it fast
As life, and when life's gone, I'll hold this last;
And if thou tak'st it after I am slain,
I'll send my ghost to fetch it back again.

_Almah._ When I bestowed that scarf, I had not thought,
Or not considered it might be a fault;
But, since my lord's displeased that I should make
So small a present, I command it back.
Without delay the unlucky gift restore;
Or, from this minute, never see me more.

_Almanz._ The shock of such a curse I dare not stand:
[_Pulling it off hastily, and presenting it to her._
Thus I obey your absolute command. [_She gives it to the King._
Must he the spoils of scorn'd Almanzor wear?--
May Turnus' fate be thine, who dared to bear
The belt of murdered Pallas! from afar
Mayest thou be known, and be the mark of war!
Live, just to see it from thy shoulders torn
By common hands, and by some coward worn. [_An alarm within._

_Enter_ ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, HAMET, ABENAMAR; _their swords drawn._

_Abdelm._ Is this a time for discord or for grief?
We perish, sir, without your quick relief.
I have been fooled, and am unfortunate;
The foes pursue their fortune and our fate.

_Zul._ The rebels with the Spaniards are agreed.

_Boab._ Take breath; my guards shall to the fight succeed.

_Aben._ [_to_ ALMANZOR.]
Why stay you, sir? the conquering foe is near:
Give us their courage, and give them our fear.

_Hamet._ Take arms, or we must perish in your sight.

_Almanz._ I care not: perish: for I will not fight,
I wonnot lift an arm in his defence:
And yet I wonnot stir one foot from hence.
I to your king's defence his town resign;
This only spot, whereon I stand, is mine.--
Madam, be safe, and lay aside your fear, [_To the Queen_
You are as in a magic circle here.

_Boab._ To our own valour our success we'll owe.
Haste, Hamet, with Abenamar to go;
You two draw up, with all the speed you may,
Our last reserves, and yet redeem the day.
[_Exeunt_ HAMET _and_ ABENAMAR _one way, the
King the other, with_ ABDELMELECH, _&c.
Alarm within._

_Enter_ ABDELMELECH, _his sword drawn._

_Abdelm._ Granada is no more! the unhappy king
Venturing too far, ere we could succour bring,
Was by the duke of Arcos prisoner made,
And, past relief, is to the fort conveyed.

_Almanz._ Heaven, thou art just! go, now despise my aid.

_Almah._ Unkind Almanzor, how am I betrayed!
Betrayed by him in whom I trusted most!
But I will ne'er outlive what I have lost.
Is this your succour, this your boasted love!
I will accuse you to the saints above!
Almanzor vowed he would for honour fight,
And lets my husband perish in my sight.
[_Exeunt_ ALMAHIDE _and_ ESPERANZA.

_Almanz._ Oh, I have erred; but fury made me blind;
And, in her just reproach, my fault I find!
I promised even for him to fight, whom I--
But since he's loved by her, he must not die.
Thus, happy fortune comes to me in vain,
When I myself must ruin it again.

_To him_ ABENAMAR, HAMET, ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, _Soldiers._

_Aben._ The foe has entered the Vermillion towers;
And nothing but the Alhambra now is ours.

_Almanz._ Even that's too much, except we may have more;
You lost it all to that last stake before.
Fate, now come back; thou canst not farther get;
The bounds of thy libration here are set.
Thou know'st this place,
And, like a clock wound up, strik'st here for me;
Now, Chance, assert thy own inconstancy,
And, Fortune, fight, that thou may'st Fortune be!--
They come: here, favoured by the narrow place, [_A noise within._
I can, with few, their gross battalion face.
By the dead wall, you, Abdelmelech, wind;
Then charge, and their retreat cut off behind. [_Exeunt._
[_An alarm within._

_Enter_ ALMANZOR _and his Party, with_ ABDALLA _prisoner._

_Almanz._ You were my friend: and to that name I owe [_To_ ABDAL.
The just regard, which you refused to show.
Your liberty I frankly would restore,
But honour now forbids me to do more.
Yet, sir, your freedom in your choice shall be,
When you command to set your brother free.

_Abdal._ The exchange, which you propose, with joy I take;
An offer easier than my hopes could make.
Your benefits revenge my crimes to you,
For I my shame in that bright mirror view.

_Almanz._ No more; you give me thanks you do not owe:
I have been faulty, and repent me now.
But, though our penitence a virtue be,
Mean souls alone repent in misery;
The brave own faults when good success is given,
For then they come on equal terms to heaven. [_Exeunt._


SCENE II.--_The Albayzyn._

_Enter_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA.

_Benz._ I see there's somewhat which you fear to tell;
Speak quickly, Ozmyn, is my father well?
Why cross you thus your arms, and shake your head?
Kill me at once, and tell me he is dead.

_Ozm._ I know not more than you; but fear not less;
Twice sinking, twice I drew him from the press:
But the victorious foe pursued so fast,
That flying throngs divided us at last.
As seamen parting in a general wreck,
When first the loosening planks begin to crack;
Each catches one, and straight are far disjoined,
Some borne by tides, and others by the wind;
So, in this ruin, from each other rent,
With heaved-up hands we mutual farewells sent:
Methought his eyes, when just I lost his view,
Were looking blessings to be sent to you.

_Benz._ Blind queen of Chance, to lovers too severe,
Thou rulest mankind, but art a tyrant there!
Thy widest empire's in a lover's breast:
Like open seas, we seldom are at rest.
Upon thy coasts our wealth is daily cast;
And thou, like pirates, mak'st no peace to last.

_To them_ LYNDARAXA, _Duke of Arcos, and Guards._

_D. Arcos._ We were surprised when least we did suspect,
And justly suffered by our own neglect.

_Lyndar._ No; none but I have reason to complain!
So near a kingdom, yet 'tis lost again!
O, how unequally in me were joined
A creeping fortune, with a soaring mind!
O lottery of fate! where still the wise
Draw blanks of fortune, and the fools the prize!
These cross, ill-shuffled lots from heaven are sent,
Yet dull Religion teaches us content;
But when we ask it where the blessing dwells,
It points to pedant colleges, and cells;
There shows it rude, and in a homely dress,
And that proud Want mistakes for happiness. [_A trumpet within._

_Enter_ ZULEMA.

Brother! what strange adventure brought you here?

_Zul._ The news I bring will yet more strange appear.
The little care you of my life did show,
Has of a brother justly made a foe;
And Abdelmelech who that life did save,
As justly has deserved that life he gave.

_Lyndar._ Your business cools, while tediously it stays
On the low theme of Abdelmelech's praise.

_Zul._ This I present from Prince Abdalla's hands.
[_Delivers a letter, which she reads._

_Lyndar._ He has proposed, (to free him from his bands)
That, with his brother, an exchange be made.

_D. Arcos._ It proves the same design which we had laid.
Before the castle let a bar be set;
And when the captives on each side are met,
With equal numbers chosen for their guard,
Just at the time the passage is unbarred,
Let both at once advance, at once be free.

_Lyndar._ The exchange I will myself in person see.

_Benz._ I fear to ask, yet would from doubt be freed,--
Is Selin captive, sir, or is he dead?

_Zul._ I grieve to tell you what you needs must know,--
He is a prisoner to his greatest foe;
Kept with strong guards in the Alhambra tower;
Without the reach even of Almanzor's power.

_Ozm._ With grief and shame I am at once opprest.

_Zul._ You will be more, when I relate the rest.
To you I from Abenamar am sent, [_To_ OZMYN.
And you alone can Selin's death prevent.
Give up yourself a prisoner in his stead;
Or, ere to-morrow's dawn, believe him dead.

_Benz._ Ere that appear, I shall expire with grief.

_Zul._ Your action swift, your counsel must be brief.

_Lyndar._ While for Abdalla's freedom we prepare,
You in each other's breast unload your care.
[_Exeunt all but_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA.

_Benz._ My wishes contradictions must imply;
You must not go; and yet he must not die.
Your reason may, perhaps, the extremes unite;
But there's a mist of fate before my sight.

_Ozm._ The two extremes too distant are, to close;
And human wit can no mid way propose.
My duty therefore shows the nearest way
To free your father, and my own obey.

_Benz._ Your father, whom, since yours, I grieve to blame,
Has lost, or quite forgot, a parent's name;
And, when at once possessed of him and you,
Instead of freeing one, will murder two.

_Ozm._ Fear not my life; but suffer me to go:
What cannot only sons with parents do!
'Tis not my death my father does pursue;
He only would withdraw my love from you.

_Benz._ Now, Ozmyn, now your want of love I see;
For would you go, and hazard losing me?

_Ozm._ I rather would ten thousand lives forsake;
Nor can you e'er believe the doubt you make.
This night I with a chosen band will go,
And, by surprise, will free him from the foe.

_Benz._ What foe! ah whither would your virtue fall!
It is your father whom the foe you call.
Darkness and rage will no distinction make,
And yours may perish for my father's sake.

_Ozm._ Thus, when my weaker virtue goes astray.
Yours pulls it back, and guides me in the way:
I'll send him word, my being shall depend
On Selin's life, and with his death shall end.

_Benz._ 'Tis that, indeed, would glut your father's rage:
Revenge on Ozmyn's youth, and Selin's age.

_Ozm._ Whate'er I plot, like Sysiphus, in vain
I heave a stone, that tumbles down again.

_Benz._ This glorious work is then reserved for me:
He is my father, and I'll set him free.
These chains my father for my sake does wear:
I made the fault; and I the pains will bear.

_Ozm._ Yes; you no doubt have merited these pains;
Those hands, those tender limbs, were made for chains!
Did I not love you, yet it were too base
To let a lady suffer in my place.
Those proofs of virtue you before did show,
I did admire; but I must envy now.
Your vast ambition leaves no fame for me,
But grasps at universal monarchy.

_Benz._ Yes, Ozmyn, I shall still this palm pursue;
I will not yield my glory even to you.
I'll break those bonds in which my father's tied,
Or, if I cannot break them, I'll divide.
What, though my limbs a woman's weakness show,
I have a soul as masculine as you;
And when these limbs want strength my chains to wear,
My mind shall teach my body how to bear. [_Exit_ BENZ.

_Ozm._ What I resolve, I must not let her know;
But honour has decreed she must not go.
What she resolves, I must prevent with care;
She shall not in my fame or danger share.
I'll give strict order to the guards which wait,
That, when she comes, she shall not pass the gate.
Fortune, at last, has run me out of breath;
I have no refuge but the arms of death:
To that dark sanctuary I will go;
She cannot reach me when I lie so low. [_Exit._


SCENE III.--_The Albayzyn._

_Enter, on one side_, ALMANZOR, ABDALLA, ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, HAMET.
_On the other side, the Duke of_ ARCOS, BOABDELIN, LYNDARAXA, _and
their Party. After which the bars are opened; and at the same time_
BOABDELIN _and_ ABDALLA _pass by each other, each to his Party;
when_ ABDALLA _is passed on the other side, the Duke of_ ARCOS
_approaches the bars, and calls to_ ALMANZOR.

_D. Arcos._ The hatred of the brave with battles ends,
And foes, who fought for honour, then are friends.
I love thee, brave Almanzor, and am proud
To have one hour when love may be allowed.
This hand, in sign of that esteem, I plight;
We shall have angry hours enough to fight. [_Giving his hand._

_Almanz._ The man who dares, like you, in fields appear,
And meet my sword, shall be my mistress here.
If I am proud, 'tis only to my foes;
Rough but to such who virtue would oppose.
If I some fierceness from a father drew,
A mother's milk gives me some softness too.

_D. Arcos._ Since first you took, and after set me free,
(Whether a sense of gratitude it be,
Or some more secret motion of my mind,
For which I want a name that's more than kind)
I shall be glad, by whate'er means I can,
To get the friendship of so brave a man;
And would your unavailing valour call,
From aiding those whom heaven has doomed to fall.
We owe you that respect,
Which to the gods of foes besieged was shown,
To call you out before we take your town.

_Almanz._ Those whom we love, we should esteem them too,
And not debauch that virtue which we woo.
Yet, though you give my honour just offence,
I'll take your kindness in the better sense;
And, since you for my safety seem to fear,
I, to return your bribe, should wish you here.
But, since I love you more than you do me,
In all events preserve your honour free;
For that's your own, though not your destiny.

_D. Arcos._ Were you obliged in honour by a trust,
I should not think my own proposals just;
But since you fight for an unthankful king,
What loss of fame can change of parties bring?

_Almanz._ It will, and may with justice too be thought,
That some advantage in that change I sought.
And though I twice have changed for wrongs received,
That it was done for profit none believed.
The king's ingratitude I knew before;
So that can be no cause of changing more.
If now I stand, when no reward can be,
'Twill show the fault before was not in me.

_D. Arcos._ Yet there is a reward to valour due,
And such it is as may be sought by you;
That beauteous queen, whom you can never gain,
While you secure her husband's life and reign.

_Almanz._ Then be it so; let me have no return
[_Here_ LYNDARAXA _comes near, and hears them._
From him but hatred, and from her but scorn.
There is this comfort in a noble fate,
That I deserve to be more fortunate.
You have my last resolve; and now, farewell:
My boding heart some mischief does foretell;
But what it is, heaven will not let me know.
I'm sad to death, that I must be your foe.

_D. Arcos._ Heaven, when we meet, if fatal it must be
To one, spare him, and cast the lot on me. [_They retire._

_Lyndar._ Ah, what a noble conquest were this heart!
I am resolved I'll try my utmost art:
In gaining him, I gain that fortune too,
Which he has wedded, and which I but woo.
I'll try each secret passage to his mind,
And love's soft bands about his heart-strings wind.
Not his vowed constancy shall 'scape my snare;
While he without resistance does prepare,
I'll melt into him ere his love's aware.
[_She makes a gesture of invitation to_ ALMANZOR,
_who returns again_.

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