THE Mourning Bride, A TRAGEDY.   

THE Mourning Bride, A TRAGEDY. As it is ACTED AT THE Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, BY His Majesty's Servants. Written by Mr. CONGREVE.  
— Neque enim lex aequior ulla,  
Quàm necis artifices arte perire sua.  Ovid. de Art Am. 
LONDON, Printed for jacob Tonson at the Iudge's-Head near the Inner-Temple-Gate, in Fleetstreet, 1697.   

TO Her Royal Highness, THE PRINCESS.  
MADAM,  
THAT high Station, which, by Your Birth You hold above the People, exacts from every one, as a Duty, whatever Honours they are capable of paying to Your Royal Highness: But that more exalted Place, to which, Your Virtues have raised You, above the rest of Princes, makes the Tribute of our Admiration and Praise, rather a choice more immediately preventing that Duty.  
The Public Gratitude, is ever founded on a Public Benefit; and what is universally blessed, is always an universal Blessing. Thus from Yourself, we derive the Offerings which we bring; and that Incense which arises to Your Name, only returns to its Original, and but naturally requires the Parent of its Being.  
From hence it is that this Poem constituted on a Moral, whose End is to recommend and to encourage Virtue, of consequence has recourse to Your Royal Highness's Patronage; aspiring to cast itself beneath Your Feet, and declining Approbation, till You shall condescend to own it, and vouchsafe to shine upon it as on a Creature of Your Influence.  
'Tis from the Example of Princes, that Virtue becomes a Fashion in the People, For even they who are averse to Instruction, will yet be fond of Imitation.  
But there are Multitudes, who never can have Means, nor Opportunities of so near an Access, as to partake of the Benefit of such Examples. And to these, Tragedy, which distinguishes itself from the Vulgar Poetry, by the Dignity of its Characters, may be of Use and Information. For they who are at that distance from Original Greatness, as to be deprived of the Happiness of Contemplating the Perfections and real Excellencies of Your Royal Highness's Person, in Your Court; may yet behold some small Sketches and Imaging of the Virtues of Your Mind, abstracted, and represented in the Theatre.  
Thus Poets are instructed, and instruct; not alone by Precepts which persuade, but also by Examples which illustrate. Thus is Delight interwoven with Instruction; when not only Virtue is prescribed, but also represented.  
But if we are delighted with the Livelyness of a feigned Representation of Great and Good Persons and their Actions; how must we be charmed with beholding the Persons themselves? If one or two excelling Qualities, barely touched in the single Action, and small Compass of a Play, can warm an Audience, with a Concern and Regard even for the seeming Success and Prosperity of the Actor: With what Zeal must the Hearts of all be filled, for the continued and increasing Happiness of those, who are the true and living Instances of Elevated and Persisting Virtue? Even the Vicious themselves must have a secret Veneration for those peculiar Graces and Endowments, which are daily so eminently conspicuous in Your Royal Highness; and though repining, feel a Pleasure which in spite of Envy they perforce approve.  
If in this Piece, humbly offered to Your Royal Highness, there shall appear the Resemblance of any one of those many Excellencies which You so promiscuously possess, to be drawn so as to merit Your least Approbation, it has the End and Accomplishment of its Design. And however imperfect it may be in the Whole, through the Inexperience or Incapacity of the Author, yet, if there is so much as to convince. Your Royal Highness, that a Play may be with Industry so disposed (in spite of the licentious Practice of the Modern Theatre) as to become sometimes an innocent, and not unprofitable Entertainment; it will abundantly gratify the Ambition and Recompense the Endeavours of,  
Your Royal Highness's Most Obedient, and most humbly Devoted Servant. William Congreve.   

PROLOGUE.  Spoken by Mr. Betterton. 
THE Time has been when Plays were not so plenty,  
And a less Number New, would well content ye.  
New Plays did then like Almanacs appear;  
And One was thought sufficient for a Year:  
Tho' they are more like Almanacs of late;  
For in One Year, I think they're out of Date.  
Nor were they without Reason joined together;  
For just as One prognosticates the Wether,  
How plentiful the Crop, or scarce the Grain,  
What Peals of Thunder, and what Showers of Rain;  
So t'other can foretell by certain Rules  
What Crops of Coxcombs, or what Floods of Fools.  
In such like Prophecies were Poets skilled,  
Which now they find in their own Tribe fulfilled:  
The Dearth of Wit they did so long presage,  
Is fallen on us, and almost starves, the Stage.  
Were you not grieved, as often as you saw  
Poor Actors thresh such empty Sheafs of Straw?  
Toiling and labouring at their Lungs Expense,  
To start a jest, or force a little Sense.  
Hard Fate for us! still harder in th' Event;  
Our Author's Sin, but we alone repent.  
Still they proceed, and, at our Charge, write worse;  
'Twere some Amends if they could reimburse:  
But there's the Devil, tho' their Cause is lost,  
There's no recovering Damages or Cost.  
Good Wits, forgive this Liberty we take,  
Since Custom gives the Losers leave to speak.  
But if provoked, your dreadful Wrath remains,  
Take your Revenge upon the coming Scenes:  
For that damned Poet's spared who dams a Brother,  
As one Thief 'scapes, that executes another.  
Thus far, alone does to the Wits relate;  
But from the rest, we hope a better Fate.  
To please and move, has been our Poet's Theme,  
Art may direct, but Nature is his aim;  
And Nature missed, in vain he boasts his Art,  
For only Nature can affect the Heart.  
Then freely judge the Scenes that shall ensue,  
But as with Freedom, judge with Candour too.  
He would not lose through Prejudice his Cause;  
Nor would obtain percariously Applause.  
Impartial Censure, he requests from all,  
Prepared, by just Decrees to stand, or fall.   

Personae Dramatis.  

MAnuel, the King of Granada. Mr. Verbruggen.  
Gonsalez, his Favourite. Mr. Sanford.  
Garcia, Son to Gonsalez. Mr. Scudamour.  
Perez, Captain of the Guards. Mr. Freeman.  
Alonzo, an Officer, Creature to Gonsalez. Mr. Arnold.  
Osmyn, a Noble Prisoner: Mr. Betterton.  
Heli, a Prisoner, his Friend. Mr. Boman.  
Selim, an Eunuch. Mr. Baily.   

WOMEN.  
Almeria, the Princess of Granada. Mrs. Bracegirdle.  
Zara, a Captive Queen. Mrs. Barry.  
Leonora, chief Attendant on the Princess. Mrs. Boman.  
Women, Eunuch's, and Mutes attending Zara. Guards, etc.   The Scene GRANADA  
THE Mourning Bride.  

ACT I. SCENE I.  A Room of State. The Curtain rising slowly to soft Music, discovers Almeria in Mourning, Leonora waiting in Mourning. After the Music Almeria rises from her Chair, and comes forward. Alm. 
Music has Charms to soothe a savage Breast,  
To soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak.  
I've read, that things inanimate have moved,  
And as with living Souls, have been informed,  
By Magic Numbers, and persuasive Sound.  
What then am I? Am I more senseless grown  
Than Trees, or Flint? O Force of constant Woe!  
'Tis not in Harmony to calm my Griefs.  
Anselmo sleeps, and is at Peace; last Night,  
The silent Tomb received the good Old King;  
He and his Sorrows now are safely lodged  
Within its cold, but hospitable Bosom.  
Why am not I at Peace?  [Weeps. Leon. 
For Heaven's sake, dear Madam, moderate  
Your Griefs, there is no Cause—  Alm. 
Peace— No Cause! yes, there is Eternal Cause,  
And Misery Eternal will succeed.  
Thou canst not tell— thou hast indeed no Cause.  Leo. 
Believe me, Madam, I lament Anselmo,  
And always did compassionate his Fortune;  
Have often wept, to see how cruelly  
Your Father kept in Chains, his Fellow King:  
And oft at Night, when all have been retired,  
Have stolen from Bed, and to his Prison crept:  
Where, while his Gaoler slept, I through the Grate  
Have softly whispered, and enquired his Health;  
Sent in my Sighs and Pray'rs for his deliverance;  
For Sighs and Prayers were all that I could offer.  Alm. 
Indeed thou hast a soft and gentle Nature,  
That thus couldst melt to see a Stranger's Wrongs.  
O Leonora, hadst thou known Anselmo,  
How would thy Heart have bled to see his Sufferings!  
Thou hadst no Cause, but general Compassion.  Leo. 
My Love of you, my Royal Mistress, gave me Cause,  
My Love of you begot my Grief for him,  
For I had heard, that when the Chance of War  
Had blessed Anselmo's Arms with Victory,  
And the rich Spoil of all the Field, and you  
The Glory of the whole, were made the Prey  
Of his Success; that then, in spite of Hate,  
Revenge, and that Hereditary Feud  
Entailed between Valentia's and Granadas Kings:  
He did endear himself to your Affection,  
By all the worthy and indulgent ways,  
His most industrious Goodness could invent;  
Proposing by a Match between Alphonso  
His Son, the brave Valentia Prince, and you,  
To end the long Dissension, and unite  
The Jarring Crowns.  Alm. 
O Alphonso, Alphonso! thou art too  
At Peace; Father and Son are now no more—  
Then why am I? O when shall I have Rest?  
Why do I live to say you are no more?  
Why are all these things thus?—  
Is there necessity I must be miserable?  
Is it of Moment to the Peace of Heaven  
That I should be afflicted thus?— if not,  
Why is it thus contrived? Why are things laid  
By some unseen Hand, so, as of consequence  
They must to me bring Curses, Grief of Heart,  
The last Distress of Life, and sure Despair.  Leo. 
Alas you search too far, and think too deeply.  Alm. 
Why was I carried to Anselmo's Court?  
Or, when there, why was I used so tenderly?  
Why did he not use me like an Enemy?  
For so my Father would have used his Child.  
O Alphonso, Alphonso!  
Devouring Seas have washed thee from my sight,  
But there's no time shall raze thee from my Memory.  
No, I will live to be thy Monument;  
The cruel Ocean would deprive thee of a Tomb,  
But in my Heart thou art interred, there, there,  
Thy dear Resemblance is for ever fixed;  
My Love, my Lord, my Husband still, though lost.  Leo. 
Husband! O heavens'!  Alm. 
What have I said?  
My Grief has hurried me beyond all Thought.  
I would have kept that Secret; though I know  
Thy Love and Faith to me, deserve all Confidence.  
But 'tis the Wretch's Comfort still to have  
Some small reserve of near and inward Woe,  
Some unsuspected hoard of darling Grief,  
Which they unseen, may wail, and weep, and mourn,  
And Glutton-like alone devour.  Leo. 
Indeed I knew not this.  Alm. 
O no, thou know'st not half— thou know'st nothing—  
— If thou didst!—  
If I should tell thee, wouldst thou pity me?  
Tell me? I know thou wouldst, thou art compassionate.  Leo. 
Witness these Tears—  Alm. 
I thank thee— indeed I do—  
I thank thee, that thou'lt pity thy sad Mistress;  
For 'tis the poor Prerogative of Greatness,  
To be wretched and unpitied—  
But I did promise I would tell thee— What?  
My Griefs? Thou dost already know 'em:  
And when I said thou didst know nothing,  
It was because thou didst not know Alphonso:  
For to have known my Loss, thou must have known  
His Worth, his Truth, and Tenderness of Love.  Leo. 
The Memory of that brave Prince stands fair  
In all Report—  
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.  
Whilst the good King, to shun approaching Flames,  
Started amidst his Foes, and made Captivity his Refuge;  
Would I had perished in those Flames—  
But 'twas not so decreed.  
Alphonso, who foresaw my Father's Cruelty,  
Had born the Queen and me, on board a Ship  
Ready to fail, 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 more Affliction!  
Conducting them who followed us, to shun  
The Shoal, and save me floating on the Waves,  
While the good Queen and my Alphonso perished.  Leo. 
Alas! were you then wedded to Alphonso?  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 might make us one;  
That whether Death, or Victory ensued,  
I might be his, beyond the Power of future Fate:  
The Queen too, did assist his Suit— I granted,  
And in one Day, was wedded, and a Widow.  Leo. 
Indeed 'twas mournful—  Alm. 
'Twas that,  
For which, I mourn, and will for ever mourn;  
Nor will I change these black and dismal Robes,  
Or ever dry these swollen, and watery Eyes;  
Or, ever taste content, or peace of Heart,  
While I have Life, or Memory of my Alphonso.  Leo. 
Look down good Heaven, with Pity on her Sorrows,  
And grant, that Time may bring her some Relief.  Alm. 
O no! Time gives Increase to my Afflictions.  
The circling Hours, that gather all the Woes,  
Which are diffused through the revolving Year,  
Come, heavyladen 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.  Leo. 
Hark!  
The distant Shouts, proclaim your Father's Triumph;  [Shouts at a Distance. 
O cease, for Heaven's Sake, assuage a little,  
This Torrent of your Grief; for, much I fear  
It will incense him, thus 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  
I must be sacrificed, and all the Faith  
And Vows I gave my Dear Alphonso, basely  
Violated—  
No, it shall never be; for I will die first,  
Die ten thousand Deaths— Look down, look down  [Kneels. 
Alphonso, hear the Sacred Vow I make;  
Leave for a Moment to behold Eternal 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 heavens' Vengeance)  
Than any I have yet endured— and now  [Rising. 
Methinks my Heart has some Relief: Having  
Discharged this Debt, incumbent on my Love.  
Yet, one Thing more, I would engage from thee.  Leo. 
My Heart, my Life and Will, are only yours.  Alm. 
I thank thee. 'Tis but this; anon, when all  
Are busied in the General Joy, that thou  
Wilt privately with me,  
Steal forth, and visit good Anselmo's Tomb.  Leon. 
Alas! I fear some fatal Resolution.  Alm. 
No, on my Life, my Faith, I mean no Violence.  
I feel I'm 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. Alon. 
The Lord Gonsalez comes to tell your Highness  
Of the King's approach.  Alm. 
Conduct him in.  [Exit Alon. 
That's his Pretence. I know his Errand is  
To fill my Ears, with Garcia's valiant Deeds;  
And with his Artful Tongue, to gild and magnify  
His Sons Exploits.  
But I am armed, with Ice around my Heart,  
Not to be warmed with Words, nor idle Eloquence.  Enter Gonsalez. [Bowing very Humbly. Gons. 
Be every Day of your long Life like this.  
The Sun, bright Conquest, and your brighter Eyes,  
Have all conspired, to blaze promiscuous Light,  
And bless this Day with most unequal Lustre.  
Your Royal Father, my Victorious Lord,  
Loaden with Spoils, and everliving Laurel,  
Is entering now, in Martial Pomp the Palace.  
Five Hundred Mules, precede his solemn March,  
Which groan beneath the Weight of Moorish Wealth.  
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 Africa,  
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 they were all of Eyes, and every Limb  
Would feed his Faculty of Admiration.  
While you alone retire, and shun this Sight;  
This Sight, which is indeed not seen (tho' 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 Souls.  
But that my Father is returned in Safety,  
I bend to Heaven with Thanks and Humble Praise.  Gons. 
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, upon your Foes  
The Force and Influence of your matchless Charms.  Alm. 
I doubt not of the Worth of Garcia's Deeds,  
Which had been brave, tho' I had ne'er been born.  Leon. 
Madam, the King.  [Florish. Alm. 
My Women. I would meet him.  [Attendants to Almeria enter in Mourning. Symphony of Warlike Music. Enter the King, attended by Garcia and several Officers. Files of Prisoners in Chains, and Guards, who are ranged in Order, round the Stage. Almeria meets the King and kneels: afterwards Gonsalez kneels and kisses the King's Hand, while Garcia does the same to the Princess. King. 
Almeria, rise— My best Gonsalez rise.  
What Tears! my good old Friend.—  Gons. 
But Tears of Joy. To see you thus, has filled  
My 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— But some  
Here are who seem to mourn at our Success!  
How is it Almeria, that you meet our Eyes  
Upon this solemn Day, in these sad Weeds?  
You, and yours, are all, in opposition  
To my Brightness, like Daughters of Affliction.  Alm. 
Forgive me, Sir, if I offend.  
The Year, which I have vowed to pay to Heaven,  
In Mourning, and strict Life, for my Deliverance  
From Death, and Wreck of the tempestuous Sea,  
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 bestowed  
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 as  
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?  Gons. 
Have patience, Royal Sir, the Princess weeps  
To have offended you. If Fate decreed,  
One appointed Hour should be Alphonso's Loss,  
And her Deliverance; Is she to blame?  King. 
I tell thee she's to blame, not to have feasted  
When my first Foe was laid in Earth, such Enmity,  
Such Detestation, bears my Blood to his;  
My Daughter should have revealed at his Death.  
She should have made these Palace Walls to shake,  
And all this high and ample Roof to ring  
With her Rejoices. 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 Harmony.  Gons. 
What she has done, was in excess of Goodness;  
Betrayed by too much Piety, to seem  
As if she had offended.  King. 
To seem is to commit, at this Conjuncture.  
I wonot have the seeming of a Sorrow seen  
To day— Retire, divest yourself with speed  
Of that offensive black; on me be all  
The Violation of your Vow.  
You stand excused that I command it.  Gar. 
kneeling. Your Pardon, Sir, if I presume so far,  
As to remind you of your gracious Ptomise.  King. 
Rise, Garcia— I forgot. Yet stay, Almeria.  Alm. 
O 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.  Gons. 
O let me prostrate, pay my worthless Thanks  
For this high Honour.  King. 
No more; my Promise long since passed, thy Loyalty,  
And Garcia's well-tried Valour, all oblige me.  
This Day we triumph; but to morrow's Sun  
Shall shine on Garcia's Nuptials.  Alm. 
Oh!—  [Faints. Gar. 
Alas, she faints! help to support her.  Gons. 
She recovers.  King. 
A Bridal Qualm; soon off. How is't, Almeria?  Alm. 
A sudden Chillness seizes on my Spirits.  
Your Leave, Sir, to retire.  King. 
Garcia, conduct her.  [Garcia leads Almeria to the Door, and returns. 
This idle Vow hangs on her Woman's Fears.  
I'll have a Priest shall preach her from her Faith,  
And make it Sin, not to renounce that Vow,  
Which I'd have broken.  [Trumpets. Enter Alonzo. Offic. 
The beauteous Captive, Zara, is arrived,  
And with a Train, as if she still were Wife  
To Albucacim; and the Moor had conquered.  King. 
It is our Will she should be so attended.  
Bear hence these Prisoners. Garcia, which is he,  
Of whose mute Valour you relate such Wonders?  [Prisoners led off. Gar. 
Osmyn, who led the Moorish Horse; he does,  
Great Sir, at her Request, attend 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 'em watched: perhaps  
Her Chains hang heavier on him than his own.  Flourish; and Enter 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,  
Th' expecting Crowd had been deceived; and seen  
Their Monarch enter not Triumphant, but  
In Triumph led; your Beauty's Slave.  Zara. 
If I on any Terms could condescend  
To like Captivity, or think those Honours,  
Which Conquerors in Courtesy bestow,  
Of equal Value, with unborrowed Rule,  
And Native Right to Arbitrary Sway;  
I might be pleased when I behold this Train  
With usual Homage wait. But when I feel  
These Bonds, I look with loathing on myself;  
And scorn vile Slavery, tho' doubly hid  
Beneath Mock-Praises, and dissembled State.  King. 
Those Bonds! 'twas my Command you should be free:  
How durst you, Perez, disobey me?  Perez. 
Great Sir.  
Your Order was, she should not wait your Triumph;  
But at some distance follow, thus attended.  King. 
'Tis false; 'twas more; I bade she should be free:  
If not in Words, I bade it by my Eyes.  
Her Eyes, did more than bid— free her and hers,  
With speed— yet stay— my Hands alone can make  
Fit restitution here— Thus, I release you,  
And by releasing you enslave myself.  Zara. 
Favours conferred, tho' when unsought, deserve  
Acknowledgement 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 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 ill can brook Captivity;  
The common Chance of War?  Osm. 
Because Captivity has robbed me of a 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 Gons. Gons. 
That Friend may be herself; show no Resentment  
Of his Arrogance yet; she looks concerned.  King. 
I'll have Enquiry made; his Friend may be  
A Prisoner. His Name?  Zar. 
Heli.  King. 
Garcia, be it your Care to make that search.  
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 suspense 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.  
But 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.  [Ex. Omnes. 
The End of the First Act.   

ACT II. SCENE I.  Representing the I'll of a Temple. Enter Garcia, Heli and Perez. Gar. 
THis Way, we're told, Osmyn was seen to walk;  
Choosing this lonely Mansion of the Dead,  
To mourn, brave Heli, thy mistaken Fate.  Hel. 
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 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. 
Unparalleled Fidelity!  
I've heard with Admiration, of your Friendship;  
And could with equal Joy and Envy, view  
The transports of your meeting.  Perez. 
Yonder, my Lord, behold the Noble Moor.  Hel. 
Where? where?  Gar. 
I see him not.  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.  Hel. 
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 Passions 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.  Hel. 
You're truly Noble.  [Exit. Gar. 
Perez, the King expects from our return,  
To have his Jealousy confirmed or cleared  
Of that appearing Love, which Zara bears  
To Osmyn; but some other Opportunity  
Must make that plain.  Per. 
To me 'twas long since plain,  
And every Look of his and hers confess it.  Gar. 
If so, Unhappiness attends their Love  
And I could pity 'em. I hear some coming,  
The Friends perhaps are met; let us avoid 'em.  [Exeunt. Enter Almeria and Leonora. Alm. 
It was a fancied Noise; for all is hushed.  Leo. 
It bore the Accent of a Humane Voice.  Alm. 
It was thy Fear; or else some transient Wind  
Whistling through Hollows of this vaulted Isle.  
We'll listen—  Leo. 
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 steadfast, and immovable,  
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 speak to me, nay, speak,  
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: show me Anselmo's Tomb,  
Lead me o'er Bones and Skulls, and mouldering Earth  
Of Humane 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 iii. Show me,  
Lead me, for I am bolder grown: Lead me  
Where I may kneel and pay my Vows again  
To him, to Heaven and my Alphonso's Soul.  Leo. 
I go; but Heaven can tell with what Regret.  [Exeunt. The Scene opening discovers a Place of Tombs. One Monument fronting the View, greater than the rest. Enter Heli. Heli 
I wander through this Maze of Monuments,  
Yet cannot find him— Hark! sure 'tis the Voice  
Of one complaining— There it sounds— I'll follow it.  [Exit. Re-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? O Heaven! either my Eyes  
Are false, or still the Marble Door remains  
Unclosed; the Iron Grates that lead to Death  
Beneath, are still wide stretched upon their Hinge,  
And staring on us with unfolded Leaves.  
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; shows me the Grave where Nature wearied,  
And long oppressed with Woes and bending Cares,  
May lay the Burden down, and sink in Slumbers  
Of Eternal Peace. Death, grim Death, will fold  
Me, in his leaden Arms, and press me close  
To his cold clayie 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. O Joy too great!  
O Exstacy of Thought! help me Anselmo:  
Help me Alphonso, take me, reach thy Hand;  
To thee, to thee I call, to thee Alphonso.  
O 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 Shrilness from the Grave,  
And growing to his dead Father's shroud, roots up Alphonso?  Alm. 
Mercy and Providence! O speak to it,  
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 me  
To Earth, and nail me, where I stand ye Powers;  [Coming forward. 
That motionless, I may be still deceived.  
Let me not stir, nor breath, 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! 'tis my Wife!  Enter Heli. Leon. 
O Heaven unfold these Wonders!  
Alas, she stirs not yet, nor lifts her Eyes;  
He too is fainting— help me, help me, Stranger,  
Who 'ere thou art, and lend thy Hand to raise  
These Bodies.  Hel. 
By Heaven 'tis he, and with— ha! Almeria!  
Almeria! O Miracle of Happiness!  
O Joy unhoped for, does Almeria live!  Osm. 
Where is she?  
Let me behold and touch her, and be sure  
'Tis she; show me her Face, and let me feel  
Her Lips with mine— 'Tis she, I'm not deceived;  
I taste her Breath, I warmed her and am warmed.  
Look up Almeria, bless me with thy Eyes;  
Look on thy Love, thy Lover, and thy Husband,  
Look on Alphonso.  Alm. 
I've sworn I'll not wed Garcia; why d'ye force me?  
Is this a Father?  Osm. 
Thy Father is not here, nor Garcia: I am  
Neither, nor 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.  
O 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 dwelled.  
O 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. 
O 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 thee—  
To 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. 
Let me look on thee, yet a little more.  Osm. 
What wouldst thou? thou dost put me from thee.  Alm. 
Yes.  Osm. 
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 him thus again, is such profusion  
Of delight, I cannot bear it— I shall  
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!  
O my strained Heart— let me behold thee,  
For I weep to see thee— Art thou not paler,  
Much, much, alas; how, thou art changed!  Osm. 
Not in my Love.  Alm. 
No, no, thy Griefs have done this to thee.  
Thou hast wept much Alphonso; and I fear,  
Too much lamented me.  Osm. 
Wrong not my Love, to say too much.  
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 fold 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 Truth!  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  
Without thee could not cure.  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 unwarned:  
Then, than 'twill be enough— I shall be Old.  
I shall have lived beyond all Aeras then,  
Of yet unmeasured Time; when I have made  
This exquisite, amazing Goodness,  
Some Recompense of Love and matchless Truth.  Alm. 
'Tis more than Recompense, to see thy Face:  
If Heaven is greater Joy, it is no Happiness,  
For 'tis not to be born— What shall I say?  
I have a thousand Things to know, and ask,  
And speak— That thou art here, beyond all Hope,  
All Thought; that all at once, thou art before me,  
And with such Suddenness, hast hit my Sight;  
Is such Surprise, such Mystery, such Exstacy,  
As hurries all my Soul, and dozes my weak Sense.  
Sure, from thy Father's Tomb, thou didst arise!  Osm. 
I did, and thou didst call me.  Alm. 
How camest 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 listened;  
And thought, I heard thy Spirit call Alphonso.  
I thought I saw thee too; but O, I thought not  
I indeed should see thee—  Alm. 
But still, how camest thee hither? how thus?— Ha!  
What's he, that like thyself, is started here  
Ere seen?  Osm. 
Where? ha! what do I see? Antonio here!  
My Friend too safe!  Hel. 
Most happily, in finding you thus blessed.  Alm. 
More Miracles! Antonio too escaped!  Osm. 
And twice escaped, both from the Wreck of Seas,  
And Rage of War: For in the Fight, I saw  
Him fall.  Hel. 
But fell unhurt, a Prisoner as yourself;  
And as yourself made free, hither I came  
To seek you, where, I knew your Grief would lead you,  
To lament Anselmo—  Osm. 
There are no Wonders, or else all is Wonder.  Hel. 
I saw you on the Ground, and raised you up.  
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 thus 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 Numbers shall be spent in telling.  Leo. 
Or I'm deceived, or I beheld the Glimpse  
Of two in shining Habits, 'cross the I'll,  
And bending this way.  Alm. 
Sure I have dreamt, if we must part so soon.  Osm. 
I wish our Parting were a Dream; or we  
Could sleep till we again were met.  Hel. 
Zara with Selim, Sir, I saw and know 'em:  
You must be quick, for Love will lend her Wings.  Alm. 
What Love? Who is she?  Osm. 
She's the Reverse of thee; she's my Unhappiness.  
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. 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'm not called Alphonso, now, but Osmyn;  
And he Heli. All, all he will unfold.  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.  [Ex. Alm. Leon. and Heli. 
Yet I behold her— Now no more.  
Turn your Lights inward, Eyes, and look  
Upon my Thought; so, shall you still behold her.  
It wonot be; O, impotence of Sight!  
Mechanic Sense, which to exterior Objects,  
Owest thy Faculty—  
Not seeing of Election, but Necessity.  
Thus, do our Eyes, like 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  
Revolves, and to the present adds the past:  
Eslaying further to Futurity;  
But that in vain. I have Almeria here.  
At once, as I have seen her often;  
I'll muse on that, lest I exceed in thinking.  Enter Zara attended by Selin. Zara. 
See, where he stands, folded and fixed to Earth,  
Stiff'ning in Thought; a Statue amongst 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 Recompense of 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, 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 me;  
Lost in myself, and blinded by my Thoughts,  
I saw you not.  Zara. 
Now, than you see me—  
But with such dumb, and thankless Eyes you look;  
Better I was unseen, than seen thus coldly.  Osm. 
What would you from a Wretch, that 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 wrack me thus?  
And with Perverseness, from the Purpose, answer?  
What is't 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 in Exchange, my Love.  Osm. 
O 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 one;  
Give it me as it is; I ask no more  
For all I've done, and all I have endured,  
For saving thee, when I beheld thee first,  
Driven by the Tide upon my Country's Coast,  
Pale and expiring, drenched in briny Waves  
Thou and thy Friend; till my Compassion found thee,  
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 wat'ry Cheeks; chafing  
Thy Temples, till reviving Blood arose,  
And like the Morn vermilioned o'er thy Face.  
O Heaven! how did my Heart rejoice and ache,  
When I beheld the daybreak of thy Eyes,  
And felt the Balm of thy respiring Lips!  Osm. 
O call not to my Mind what you have done,  
It sets a Debt of that Account before me,  
Which shows me Bankrupt even in my Hopes.  Zara. 
The faithful Selim, and my Women know  
The Dangers 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.  
O, 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  
On to this Invasion; where he was lost,  
Where all is lost, and I am made a Slave.  
Look on me now, from Empire fallen to Slavery;  
Think on my Suffering 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, the Captive Zara.  
What then is Osmyn?  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 leveled 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 served 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 groveling Baseness— Thou sayst 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  
Dost fear so much, thou dar'st not wish. The King!  
There, there's the dreadful Sound, the King's thy Rival!  Selim. 
Madam, the King is here.  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 Lord,  
And me; 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 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 carry off Osmyn. Zara. 
Compassion led me to bemoan his State,  
Whose former Faith had merited much more:  
And through my Hopes in you, I promised Freedom  
From his Chains; 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,  
That 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.  [Ex. Omnes. 
The End of the Second Act.   

ACT III. SCENE I.  A Prison. Enter Osmyn alone, with a Paper. Osm. 
BUT now, and I was closed within the Tomb  
That holds my Father's Ashes; and but now,  
Where he was Prisoner, I am too imprisoned.  
Sure 'tis the Hand of Heaven, that leads me thus,  
And for some Purpose points out these Remembrances.  
In a dark Corner of my Cell, I found  
This Paper; what it is, this Light will show.  Reading. 
If my Alphonso— Ha!  
If my Alphonso live, restore him, Heaven,  
Give me more Weight, crush my declining Years  
With Bolts, with Chains, Imprisonment and Want;  
But bless my Son, visit not him for me.  
It is his Hand; this was his Prayer— yet more.  Reading. 
Let every Hair, which Sorrow by the Roots,  
Tears from my hoary and devoted Head;  
Be doubled in thy Mercies to my Son:  
Not for myself, but him, hear me, all-gracious—  
'Tis wanting what should follow— Heaven, Heaven should follow.  
But 'tis torn off— why should that Word alone  
Be torn from his 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  
E'er Reason can be born: Reason, the Power  
To guests at Right and Wrong; the twinkling Lamp  
Of wandering Life, that winks and wakes by turns,  
Fooling the Follower, betwixt Shade and Shining?  
What Noise! Who's there? My Friend, how cam'st thou hither?  Enter Heli. Hel. 
The time's too precious to be spent in telling;  
The Captain influenced by Almeria's Power,  
Gave order to the Guards for my Admittance.  Osm. 
How does Almeria? But I know; she is  
As I am. Tell me, may I hope to see her?  Hel. 
You may; anon, at Midnight, when the King  
Is gone to rest, and Garcia is retired,  
(Who takes the Privilege to visit late,  
Presuming on a Bridegroom's Right she'll come.  Osm. 
She'll come; 'tis what I wish, yet what I fear.  
She'll come, but whither, and to whom? O Heaven!  
To a vile Prison, and a captived Wretch;  
To one, whom had she never known, she had  
Been happy; why, why was that Heavenly Creature  
Abandoned o'er to love what Heaven forsakes?  
Why does she follow with unwearied Steps,  
One, who has tired Misfortune with pursuing?  
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,  
Or Earth, it rests, and rots to silent Dust.  Hel. 
Have Hopes, and hear the Voice of better Fate.  
I've 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 'em, to regain their Liberty  
And Native Rights.  Osm. 
By Heaven thou'st roused me from my Lethargy.  
The Spirit which was deaf to my own Wrongs,  
Deaf to revenge, and the loud Cries of my  
Dead Father's Blood; Nay, which refused to hear  
The Piercing Sighs, and Murmurs of my Love  
Yet unenjoyed; what not Almeria could  
Revive, or raise, my People's Voice has wakened.  
O 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 'em call to lead 'em 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?  
O I could tear and burst the Strings of Life,  
To break these Chains. Off, off, ye Stains of Royalty.  
Off Slavery. O curse! that I alone  
Can beat and flutter in my Cage, when I  
Would soar, and stoop at Victory beneath.  Hel. 
Our Posture of Affairs and scanty Time,  
My Lord, require you should compose yourself,  
And think on what we may reduce to Practise.  
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've thought already  
With Speed and Safety, to convey myself  
Where not far off some Malcontents hold Counsel  
Nightly; hating this Tyrant; some, who love  
Anselmo's Memory, and will, no doubt,  
When they shall know you live, assist your Cause.  Osm. 
My Friend and Counsellor; as thou thinkest fit,  
So do. I will with Patience wait my Fortune.  Heli. 
When Zara comes, abate of your Aversion.  Osm. 
I hate her not, nor can dissemble Love:  
But as I may, I'll do. I have a Paper  
Which I would show 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 Inhumanity.  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 confirn.  Osm. 
Farewell,  
the Good thou dost deserve attend thee.  [Ex. Heli. 
to blame, and questioned with Impiety  
The Care of Heaven. Not so, my Father bore  
More Anxious Grief. This should have better taught me;  
This Lesson, in some Hour of Inspiration,  
By him set down; when his pure Thoughts, were born  
Like Fumes of Sacred Incense, o'er the Clouds,  
And wafted thence, on Angel's Wings, through Ways  
Of Light, to the bright Source of all. There, in  
The Book of Prescience, he beheld this Day;  
And waking to the World and mortal Sense,  
Left this Example of his Resignation,  
This his last Legacy to me, which I  
Will treasure here; more worth than Diadems,  
Or all extended Rule of regal Power.  Enter Zara veiled. 
What Brightness, breaks upon me, thus through Shades,  
And promises a Day to this dark Dwelling!  
Is it my Love?—  Zara. 
O that thy Heart, had taught  [Lifting her Veil. 
Thy Tongue that Saying.  Osm. 
Zara! I'm betrayed  
By my surprise.  Zar. 
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.  
O no, thou canst not, for thou seest me now,  
As she, whose savage Breast has been the Cause  
Of these thy Wrongs; as she, whose barbarous Rage  
Has loaden thee with Chains and galling Irons:  
Well, dost thou scorn me, and upbraid my Falseness;  
Could one that loved, thus torture what she loved?  
No, no, it must be Hatred, dire Revenge,  
And Detestation, that could use thee thus.  
So thou dost think; then, do but tell me so;  
Tell me, and thou shall 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 believe  
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 perforce 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.  Zar. 
Canst thou forgive me then! wilt thou believe  
So kindly of my Fault, to call it Madness;  
O, 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.  Zar. 
O thou dost wound me now, 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—  Zar. 
Haste me to know it, what?  Osm. 
That at this Time, I had not been this Thing.  Zar. 
What Thing?  Osm. 
This Slave.  Zar. 
O 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.  Zar. 
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 passed 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 Camp,  
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.  Zar. 
Thou canst not owe me more, nor have I more  
To give, than I've already lost. But as  
The present Form of our Engagements rests,  
Thou hast the Wrong, till I redeem thee hence;  
That done, I leave thy Justice to return  
My Love. Adieu.  [Exit Zara. 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 Tempest's 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.  Enter Almeria. 
The Cause and Comfort of my boding Heart.  
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 Transport?  
How run into thy Arms withheld by Fetters,  
Or take thee into mine, thus manacled  
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 told'st 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!— O Cruelty!  
That ever I should think, beholding thee,  
A Torture— yet, such is the bleeding Anguish  
Of my Heart, to see thy Sufferings— O Heaven!  
That I could almost turn my Eyes away,  
Or wish thee from my Sight.  Alm. 
O say not so;  
Tho' 'tis because thou lov'st me. Do not say  
On any Terms, that thou dost wish me from thee.  
No, no, 'tis better thus, that we together  
Feed on each other's Heart, devour our Woes  
With mutual Appetite; and mingling in  
One Cup, the common Stream of both our Eyes,  
Drink bitter Draughts, with never-slacking Thirst.  
Thus, better, than for any Cause to part.  
What dost thou think? Look not so tenderly  
Upon me— speak, and take me in thy Arms—  
Thou canst not! thy poor Arms are bound and strive  
In vain with the remorseless Chains, which gnaw  
And eat into thy Flesh, festering thy Limbs  
With rancling Rust.  Osm. 
Oh! O—  Alm. 
Give me that Sigh.  
Why dost thou heave, and stifle in thy Griefs?  
Thy Heart will burst, thy Eyes look red and start;  
Give thy Soul Way, and tell me thy dark Thought.  Osm. 
For this World's Rule, I would not wound thy Breast,  
With such a Dagger, as then stuck my Heart.  Alm. 
Why? why? to know it, cannot wound me more,  
Then knowing thou hast felt it. Tell it me.  
— Thou giv'st me Pam, with too much Tenderness!  Osm. 
And thy excessive Love distracts my Sense!  
O couldst thou be less killing, night or kind,  
Grief would not double thus, his Darts against me.  Alm. 
Thou dost me Wrong, and Grief too robs my Heart,  
If there, he shoot not every other Shaft;  
Thy second self should feel each other Wound,  
And Woe should be in equal Portions dealt.  
I am thy Wife—  Osm. 
O thou hast searched too deep.  
There, there, I bleed; there pull the cruel Cords,  
That strain my cracking Nerves; Engines and Wheels  
That Piecemeal grind, are Beds of Down and Balm  
To that soul-racking Thought.  Alm. 
Then, I am cursed  
Indeed; if that be so, if I'm thy Torment,  
Kill me, kill me then, dash me with thy Chains;  
Tread on me, spurn me, am I the bosom Snake  
That sucks thy warm Life-Blood, and gnaws thy Heart?  
O that thy Words had force to break those Bonds,  
As they have Strength to tear this Heart in sunder;  
So shouldst thou be at large from all Oppression.  
Am I, am I of all thy Woes the worst?  Osm. 
My All of Bliss, my everlasting Life,  
Soul of my Soul, and End of all my Wishes.  
Why dost thou thus unman me with thy Words,  
And melt me down to mingle with thy Weep?  
What dost thou ask? why dost thou talk thus piercingly?  
Thy Sorrows have disturbed thy Peace of Mind,  
And thou dost speak of Miseries impossible.  Alm. 
Didst thou not say, that Racks and Wheels were Balm,  
And Beds of Ease, to thinking me thy Wife?  Osm. 
No no, nor should the subtlest Pains that Hell,  
Or hellborn Malice can invent; extort  
A wish or Thought from me, to have thee other.  
But thou wilt know, what harrows up my Heart.  
Thou art my Wife— nay, thou art yet my Bride!  
The Sacred Union of Connubial Love,  
Yet unnaccomplished; his mysterious Rites  
Delayed: nor has our Hymenial Torch  
Yet lighted up, his last most grateful Sacrifice;  
But dashed with Rain from Eyes, and swailed with Sighs,  
Burns dim, and glimmers with expiring Light.  
Is this dark Cell, a Temple for that God?  
Or this vile Earth, an Altar for such Offerings?  
This Den for Slaves, this Dungeon damped with Woes;  
Is this our Marriage Bed! are these our Joys!  
Is this to call thee mine? O hold my Heart;  
To call thee mine? yes, thus, even thus, to call  
Thee mine, were Comfort, Joy, extremest Exstacy.  
But O thou art not mine, not even in misery;  
And 'tis denied to me, to be so blessed,  
As to be wretched with thee.  Alm. 
No; not that,  
The extremest Malice of our Fate can hinder:  
That still is left us, and on that we'll feed,  
As on the Leavings of Calamity.  
There, we will feast; and smile on past Distress,  
And hug in scorn of it, our mutual Ruin.  Osm. 
O thou dost talk, my Love, as one resolved,  
Because not knowing Danger. But look forward;  
Think on to Morrow, when thou shalt be torn  
From these weak, struggling, unextended Arms;  
Think how my Heart will heave, and Eyes will strain  
To grasp and reach what is denied my Hands;  
Think how the Blood will start, and Tears will gush  
To follow thee my separating Soul.  
Think how I am, when thou shalt wed with Garcia!  
Then; will I smear these Walls with Blood, dash my  
Disfigured Face, and rive my clotted Hair,  
Break on the flinty Ground my throbbing Breast,  
And grovel with gashed Hands to scratch a Grave,  
Stripping my Nails, to tear this Pavement up  
And bury me alive; where I will bite the Ground  
Till gorged with suffocating Earth.  Alm. 
O dismal Cruelty! heart-breaking Horror!  Osm. 
Then Garcia shall lie panting on thy Bosom,  
Luxurious, revelling amidst thy Charms;  
And thou perforce must yield, and aid his Transport,  
Hell, Hell! have I not Cause to rage and rave?  
What are all Racks, and Wheels, and Whips to this?  
Are they not soothing Softness, sinking Ease,  
And wasting Air to this? O my Almeria,  
What do the Damned endure, but to despair,  
But knowing Heaven, to know it lost for ever.  Alm. 
O, I am struck; thy Words are Bolts of Ice,  
Which shot into my Breast, now melt and chill me.  
I chatter, shake, and faint with thrilling Fears.  
No, hold me not— O, let us not support,  
But sink each other, lower yet, down, down,  
Where leveled low, no more we'll lift our Eyes,  
But prone, and dumb, rot the firm Face of Earth  
With Rivers of incessant scalding Rain.  Enter Zara, Perez, and Selim. Zara. 
Somewhat of weight to me, requires his Freedom.  
Dare you dispute the King's Command? Behold  
The Royal Signet.  Perez. 
I obey; yet beg  
Your Majesty one Moment to defer  
Your entering, till the Princess is returned,  
From visiting the Noble Prisoner.  [Exit Perez. Zara. 
Ha!  
What sayst thou?  Osm. 
We are lost! undone! discovered!  
Retire, my Life, with speed— Alas, we're seen!  
Speak of Compassion, let her hear you speak  
Of interceding for me with the King;  
Say somewhat quickly to conceal our Loves,  
If possible—  Alm. 
— I cannot speak.  Osm. 
Let me  
Conduct you forth, as not perceiving her.  
But till she's gone; then bless me thus again.  Zara. 
Trembling and weeping as he leads her forth!  
Confusion in his Face, and Grief in hers!  
'Tis plain, I've been abused— Death and Destruction!  
How shall I search into this Mystery?  
The bluest Blast of Pestilential Air,  
Strike, damp, deaden her Charms, and kill his Eyes;  
Perdition catch 'em both, and Ruin part 'em.  Osm. 
This Charity to one unknown, and in  
Distress, Heaven will repay; all Thanks are poor.  [Exit Almeria. Zara. 
Damned damned Dissembler! Yet I will be calm,  
Choke in my Rage, and know the utmost depth  
Of this Deceiver— you seem much surprised.  Osm. 
At your return so soon and unexpected!  Zara. 
And so unwished, unwanted too it seems.  
Confusion! yet I will contain myself.  
You're grown a Favourite since last we parted;  
Perhaps I'm saucy and Intruding—  Osm. 
— Madam!  Zara. 
I did not know the Princess Favourite;  
Your Pardon, Sir— mistake me not; you think  
I'm angry: you're deceived. I came to set  
You free: But shall return much better pleased,  
To find you have an Interest superior.  Osm. 
You do not come to mock my Miseries?  Zara. 
I do.  Osm. 
I could at this time spare your Mirth.  Zara. 
I know thou couldst; but I'm not often pleased,  
And will indulge it now. What Miseries?  
Who would not be thus happily confined,  
To be the Care of weeping Majesty?  
To have contending Queens, at dead of Night  
Forsake their down, to wake with wat'ry Eyes,  
And watch like Tapers o'er your Hours of Rest.  
O Curse! I cannot hold—  Osm. 
Come, 'tis much.  Zara. 
Villain!  Osm. 
How, Madam!  Zara. 
Thou shalt die.  Osm. 
I thank you.  Zara. 
Thou liest; for now I know for whom thou'dst live.  Osm. 
Then you may know for whom I'd die.  Zara. 
Hell! Hell!  
Yet I'll be calm— Dark and unknown Betrayer!  
But now the Dawn begins, and the slow Hand  
Of Fate, is stretched to draw the Veil, and leave  
Thee bare, the naked Mark of Public View.  Osm. 
You may be still deceived; 'tis in my Power.  Zara. 
Ha!  
Who waits there?  Enter Perez. 
As you'll answer it, take heed  
This Slave commit no Violence upon  
Himself. I've been deceived. The public Safety  
Requires he should be more confined; and none,  
No not the Princess self, permitted to  
Confer with him. I'll quit you to the King.  
Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent  
The base Injustice thou hast done my Love.  
Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past Distress,  
And all those Ills, which thou so long hast mourned;  
Heaven has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turned,  
Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorned.  [Exeunt Omnes. 
The End of the Third Act.   

ACT IV. SCENE I.  A Room of State. Enter Zara, and Selim. Zara. 
THou hadst already racked me with thy stay;  
Therefore require me not to ask thee twice;  
Reply at once to all. What is concluded?  Selim. 
Your Accusation highly has incensed  
The King, and were alone enough to urge  
The Fate of Osmyn: but to that, fresh News  
Is since arrived, of more revolted Troops.  
'Tis certain Heli too is fled, and with him  
(Which breeds Amazement and Distraction) some  
Who bore high Offices of Weight and Trust,  
Both in the State and Army. This confirms  
The King, in full belief of all you told him,  
Concerning Osmyn's corresponding with  
The Heads of those who first began the Mutiny.  
Wherefore a Warrant for his Death is signed;  
And Order given for public Execution.  Zara. 
Ha! haste thee! fly, prevent his Fate and mine;  
Find out the King, tell him I have of Weight  
More than his Crown, t' impart ere Osmyn die.  Selim. 
It needs not, for the King will straight be here,  
And as to your Revenge, not his own Interest,  
Pretend to sacrifice the Life of Osmyn.  Zara. 
What shall I say? Invent, contrive, advise  
Somewhat, to blind the King, and save his Life  
In whom I live. Spite of my Rage, and Pride.  
I am a Woman, and a Lover still.  
O 'tis more Grief but to suppose his Death,  
Than still to meet the Rigour of his Scorn.  
From my Despair, my Anger had its source;  
When he is dead, I must despair for ever.  
For ever! that's Despair— it was Distrust  
Before; Distrust will ever be in Love,  
And Anger in Distrust, both short-lived Pains.  
But in Despair, and ever-during Death,  
No Term, no Bound, but Infinite of Woe.  
O Torment, but to think! what then to bear?  
Not to be born— devise the means to shun it,  
Quick; or, by Heaven, this Dagger drinks thy Blood.  Selim. 
My Life is yours, nor wish I to preserve it,  
But to serve you. I have already thought.  Zara. 
Forgive my Rage; I know thy Love and Truth  
But say, what's to be done? or when, or how  
Shall I prevent, or stop th' approaching Danger?  Selim. 
You must still seem most resolute and fixed  
On Osmyn's Death; too quick a Change of Mercy,  
Might breed Suspicion of the Cause. Advise,  
That Execution may be done in private.  Zara. 
On what Pretence?  Selim. 
Your own Request's enough.  
However, for a Colour, tell him, you  
Have Cause to fear his Guards may be corrupted;  
And some of them bought off to Osmyn's Interest,  
Who at the Place of Execution, will  
Attempt to force his way for an Escape.  
The State of things will countenance all Suspicions.  
Then offer to the King to have him strangled  
In secret, by your Mutes; and get an Order,  
That none but Mutes may have Admittance to him.  
I can no more, the King is here. Obtain  
This Grant— and I'll acquaint you with the rest  Enter King, Gonsalez, Garcia, Perez. King. 
Bear to the Dungeon, those Rebellious Slaves;  
Th' ignoble Curs, that yelp to fill the Cry,  
And spend their Mouths in barking Tyranny.  
But for their Leaders, Sancho, and Ramirez,  
Let 'em be led away to present Death.  
Perez, see it performed.  Gons. 
Might I presume;  
Their Execution better were deferred,  
Till Osmyn die. Mean time we may learn more  
Of this Conspiracy.  King. 
Then be it so.  
Stay, Soldier; they shall suffer with the Moor.  
Are none returned of those who followed Heli?  Gons. 
None, Sir. Some Papers have been since discovered,  
In Roderigo's House, who fled with him.  
Which seem to intimate, as if Alphonso,  
Still alive, were arming in Valentia:  
Which wears indeed this Colour of a Truth;  
They who are fled have that way bent their course.  
Of the same Nature, divers Notes have been  
Dispersed, t'amuse the People; whereupon  
Some ready of Belief, have raised this Rumour:  
That being saved upon the Coast of afric,  
He there disclosed himself to Albucacim,  
And by a secret Compact made with him,  
Opened the Way to this Invasion;  
While he himself, returning to Valentia  
In private, undertook to raise this Tumult.  Zara. 
Ha! hear'st thou that? Is Osmyn then Alphonso!  
O Heaven! a thousand things occur  
To my Remembrance now, that make it plain.  
O certain Death for him, as sure Despair  
For me, if it be known— If not, what Hope  
Have I? Yet 'twere the lowest Baseness, now,  
To yield him up— No, I will still conceal him,  
And try the Force of yet more Obligations.  Gons. 
'Tis not impossible. Yet, it may be,  
That some Impostor has usurped his Name.  
Your beauteous Captive, Zara, can inform,  
If such a one, so 'scaping, was received  
At any time, in Albucacim's Court.  King. 
Pardon, fair Excellence, this long Neglect:  
An unforeseen, unwelcome Hour of Business,  
Has thrust between us and our while of Love;  
But wearing now apace with ebbing Sand,  
Will quickly waste, and give again the Day.  Zara. 
You're too secure: The Danger is more imminent  
Than your high Courage suffers you to see;  
While Osmyn lives, you are not safe.  King. 
His Doom  
Is passed; if you revoke it not, he dies.  Zara. 
'Tis well. By what I heard upon your Entrance,  
I find I can unfold what yet concerns  
You more. One that did call himself Alphonso,  
Was cast upon my Coast, as is reported;  
And oft had private Conference with the King;  
To what Effect I knew not then: But that  
Alphonso, privately departed, just  
About the time our Arms embarked for Spain.  
What I know more, is, That a triple League  
Of strictest Friendship, was professed between  
Alphonso, Heli, and the Traitor Osmyn.  King. 
Public Report, is ratified in this.  Zara. 
And Osmyn's Death required of strong necessity.  King. 
Give Order straight, that all the Prisoners die,  
We will ourselves behold the Execution.  Zara. 
Forbear a Moment; somewhat more I have  
Worthy your private Ear, and this your Minister.  King. 
Let all else void the Room. Garcia, give Order  
For doubling all our Guards; Command that our  
Militia are in Arms: We will anon  
Ride forth, and view the Order of our Troops.  [Exeunt Garcia, Perez, and Attendants. Zara. 
I am your Captive, and you've used me Nobly;  
And in return of that, though otherwise  
Your Enemy; I have discovered Osmyn,  
His private Practice and Conspiracy  
Against your State: and fully to discharge  
Myself of what I've undertaken; now,  
I think it fit to tell you that your Guards  
Are tainted; some among 'em have resolved  
To rescue Osmyn at the Place of Death.  King. 
Is Treason then so near us as our Guards!  Zara. 
Most certain; though my Knowledge is not yet  
So ripe, to point at the particular Men.  King. 
What's to be done?  Zara. 
That too I will advise.  
I have remaining in my Train, some Mutes,  
A Present once, from the Sultana Queen,  
In the Grand Signior's Court. These from their Infancy  
Are practised in the Trade of Death; and shall  
(As there the Custom is) in private strangle  
Osmyn.  Gons. 
My Lord, the Queen advises well.  King. 
What Offering, or what Recompense remains  
In me, that can be worthy so great Services?  
To cast beneath your Feet the Crown you've saved,  
Though on the Head that wears it, were too little.  Zara. 
Of that hereafter; but, mean time, 'tis fit  
You order none may have Admittance to  
The Prisoner, but such Messengers, as I  
Shall send.  King. 
Who waits there?  Enter Perez. 
On your Life take heed,  
That only Zara's Mutes, or such who bring  
Her Warrant, have Admittance to the Moor.  Zara. 
They and no other; not the Princess self.  Perez. 
Your Majesty shall be obeyed.  King. 
Retire.  [Ex. Perez. Gons. 
That Interdiction so particular,  
Pronounced with Vehemence against the Princess,  
Should have more Meaning than appears barefaced.  
The King is blinded by his Love, and heeds  
It not. Your Majesty sure, might have spared  
That last restraint; you hardly can suspect  
The Princess is Confederate with the Moor.  Zara. 
I've heard, her Charity did once extend  
So far to visit him, at his request.  Gonsa. 
Ha!  King. 
How? she visit Osmin! What, my Daughter?  Sel. 
Madam, take heed; or you have ruined all.  Zara. 
And after did solicit you, on his behalf—  King. 
Never. You have been misinformed.  Zara. 
Indeed? Then 'twas a Whisper spread by some  
Who wished it so: a common Art in Courts.  
I will retire, and instantly prepare  
Instruction, for my Ministers of Death.  [Exeunt Zara and Selim. Gons. 
There's somewhat yet of Mystery in this;  
Her Words and Actions are obscure and double,  
Sometimes concur, and sometime disagree;  
I like it not.  King. 
What dost thou think, Gonsalez;  
Are we not much indebted to this fair one.  Gons. 
I am a little slow of Credit, Sir,  
In the Sincerity of womens' Actions.  
Methinks this Lady's Hatred to the Moor,  
Disquiets her too much; which makes it seem  
As if she'd rather that she did not hate him.  
I wish her Mutes are meant to be employed  
As she pretends— I doubt it now— Your Guards  
Corrupted; how? by whom? who told her so?  
I'th' Evening Osmyn was to die; at Midnight  
She begged the Royal Signet to release him;  
I'th' Morning he must die again; e'er Noon  
Her Mutes alone must strangle him or he'll  
Escape. This put together, suits not well  King. 
Yet, that there's Truth in what she has discovered,  
Is manifest from every Circumstance.  
This Tumult, and the Lords who fled with Heli,  
Are Confirmation.— That Alphonso lives,  
Agrees expressly too with her Report.  Gons. 
I grant it, Sir, and doubt not, but in Rage  
Of Jealousy, she has discovered what  
She now repents. It may be I'm deceived.  
But why that needless Caution of the Princess?  
What if she had seen Osmyn? tho' 'twere strange.  
But if she had, what was't to her? unless  
She feared her stronger Charms, might cause the Moor's  
Affection to revolt.  King. 
I thank thee Friend.  
There's Reason in thy Doubt, and I am warned.  
But think'st thou that my Daughter saw this Moor?  Gons. 
If Osmyn be, as Zara has related,  
Alphonso's Friend; 'tis not impossible,  
But she might wish on his Account to see him.  King. 
sayst thou? by Heaven thou hast aroused a Thought,  
That like a sudden Earthquake, shakes my Frame;  
Confusion! than my Daughter's an Accomplice,  
And plots in Private with this hellish Moor.  Gons. 
That were too hard a Thought— but see she comes.  
'Twere not amiss to question her a little,  
And try however, if I've divined aright.  
If what I fear be true, she'll be concerned  
For Osmyn's Death, as he's Alphonso's Friend.  
Urge that, to try if she'll solicit for him.  Enter Almeria and Leonora. King. 
Your coming has prevented me Almeria;  
I had determined to have sent for you.  
Let your Attendant be dismissed; I have  [Exit Leonora. 
To talk with you. Come near, why dost thou shake?  
What mean those swollen and redflecked Eyes, that look  
As they had wept in Blood, and worn the Night  
In waking Anguish? why this, on the Day  
Which was designed to celebrate thy Nuptials?  
But that the Beams of Light, are to be stained  
With reeking Gore, from Traitors on the Rack:  
Wherefore I have deferred the Marriage Rites,  
Nor shall the guilty Horrors of this Day  
Profane that Jubilee.  Alm. 
All Days, to me,  
Henceforth are equal; this the Day of Death,  
To Morrow, and the next, and each that follows,  
Will undistinguished roll, and but prolong  
One hated Line of more extended Woe.  King. 
Whence is thy Grief? give me to know the Cause,  
And look thou answer me with truth; for know,  
I am not unacquainted with thy Falsehood.  
Why art thou mute? base and degenerate Maid!  Gonsa. 
Dear Madam, speak, or you'll incense the King.  Alm. 
What is to speak? or wherefore should I speak?  
What means these Tears, but Grief unutterable?  King. 
Yes, Guilt; they are the dumb Confessions of  
Thy guilty Mind; and say thou wert Confederate  
With damned Conspirators, to take my Life.  
O Impious Parricide! now canst thou speak?  Alm. 
O Earth, behold, I kneel upon the Bosom,  
And bend my flowing Eyes, to stream upon  
Thy Face, imploring thee that thou wilt yield;  
Open thy Bowels of Compassion, take  
Into the Womb the last and most forlorn  
Of all thy Race. Hear me, thou common Parent;  
— I have no Parent else— be thou a Mother,  
And step between me and the Curse of him,  
That was— that was, but is no more a Father.  
But brands my Innocence with horrid Crimes,  
And for the tender Names of Child and Daughter,  
Now calls me Murderer, and Parricide.  King. 
Rise, I command thee rise— and if thou wouldst  
Acquit thyself of those detested Names,  
Swear thou hast never seen that foreign Dog,  
Now doomed to die, that most accursed Osmyn.  Alm. 
Never, but as with Innocence, I might,  
And free of all bad Purposes. So heavens'  
My Witness.  King. 
Vile equivocating Wretch!  
With Innocence? Death and Perdition, she  
Confesses it. By Heaven I'll have him racked,  
Torn, mangled, flayed, impaled— all Pains and Tortures  
That Wit of Man, and dire Revenge can think,  
Shall he accumulated under-bear.  Alm. 
Oh I am lost— there, Fate begins to wound.  King. 
Hear me; then, if thou canst, reply, know Traitress,  
I'm not to learn that cursed Alphonso lives;  
Nor am I Ignorant what Osmyn is—  Alm. 
Then all is ended, and we both must die  
Since thou'rt revealed, alone thou shalt not die.  
And yet alone would I have died, Heaven knows,  
Repeated Deaths, rather than have revealed thee.  
Yes, all my Father's wounding Wrath, tho' each  
Reproach cuts deeper than the keenest Sword,  
And cleaves my Heart; I would have born it all,  
Nay, all the Pains that are prepared for thee:  
To the remorseless Rack I would have given  
This weak and tender Flesh, to have been bruised  
And torn, rather than have revealed thy being.  King. 
Hell, Hell! do I hear this, and yet endure!  
What dar'st thou to my Face avow thy Guilt?  
Hence, e'er I curse— fly, my just Rage with speed;  
Lest I forget us both, and spurn thee from me.  Alm. 
And yet a Father! think I am your Child.  
Turn not your Eyes away— look on me kneeling;  
Now curse me if you can, now spurn me off.  
Did ever Father curse his kneeling Child!  
Never: For always Blessings crown that Posture.  
Nature inclines, and halfway meets that Duty,  
Stooping to raise from Earth the filial Reverence;  
For bended Knees, returning folding Arms,  
With Prayers and Blessings, and paternal Love.  
O hear me then, thus crawling on the Earth—  King. 
Be thou advised, and let me go while yet  
The light Impression thou hast made, remains.  Alm. 
No, never will I rise, nor lose this Hold,  
Till you are moved, and grant that he may live.  King. 
Ha! who may live? take heed, no more of that.  
For on my Soul he dies, tho' thou, and I,  
And all should follow to partake his Doom.  
Away, off, let me go,— Call her Attendants.  Enter Leonora and Attendants. Alm. 
Drag me, harrow the Earth with my bare Bosom.  
I'll not let go, till you have spared my Husband.  King. 
Ha! what sayst thou? Husband! Husband! Damnation!  
What Husband? which? who?  Alm. 
He, he is my Husband.  King. 
Poison and Daggers! who?  Alm. 
O—  [Faints. Gons. 
Help, support her.  Alm. 
Let me go, let me fall, sink deep— I'll dig,  
I'll dig a Grave, and tear up Death; I will;  
I'll scrape till I collect his rotten Bones,  
And clothe their Nakedness with my own Flesh;  
Yes, I will strip of Life, and we will change:  
I will be Death; then tho' you kill my Husband,  
He shall be mine, still and for ever mine.  King. 
What Husband? who? whom dost thou mean?  Gons. 
Alas, she raves!  Alm. 
O that I did, Osmyn, he is my Husband.  King. 
Osmyn!  Alm. 
Not Osmyn, but Asphonso is my Dear,  
And wedded Husband— Heaven, and Air, and Seas;  
Ye Winds and Waves, I call ye all to witness.  King. 
Wilder than Winds or Waves thyself dost rave.  
Should I hear more; I too should catch thy Madness.  
Yet somewhat she must mean of dire Import,  
Which I'll not hear, till I am more at peace.  
Watch her returning Sense, and bring me Word:  
And look that she attempt not on her Life.  [Exit King. Alm. 
O stay, yet stay, hear me, I am not mad.  
I would to Heaven I were— he's gone!  Gons. 
Have Comfort.  Alm. 
Cursed be that Tongue, that bids me be of Comfort;  
Cursed my own Tongue, that could not move his Pity.  
Cursed these weak Hands, that could not hold him here;  
For he is gone to doom Alphonso's Death.  Gonsa. 
Your too excessive Grief, works on your Fancy,  
And deludes your Sense. Alphonso, if living,  
Is far from hence, beyond your Father's Power.  Alm. 
Hence, thou detested, ill-timed Flatterer;  
Source of my Woes: thou and thy Race be cursed;  
But doubly thou, who couldst alone have Policy,  
And Fraud, to find the fatal Secret out,  
And know that Osmyn was Alphonso.  Gons. 
Ha!  Alm. 
Why dost thou start? what dost thou see, or hear?  
Was it the doleful Bell, tolling for Death?  
Or dying Groans from my Alphonso's Breast?  
See, see, look yonder! where a grizzled, pale  
And ghastly Head, glares by, all smeared with Blood,  
Gasping as it would speak: and after it,  
Behold a damp, dead Hand has dropped a Dagger;  
I'll catch it— hark! a Voice cries Murder! 'tis  
My Father's Voice; hollow it found'st, and from  
The Tomb it calls— I'll follow it, for there  
I shall again behold my dear Alphonso.  [Exit with attendants. Gons. 
She's greatly grieved; nor am I less surprised.  
Osmyn Alphonso! no; she over-rates  
My Policy, I ne'er suspected it:  
Nor now had known it, but from her mistake.  
Her husband too! Ha! where is Garcia then?  
And where the Crown that should descend on him,  
To grace the Line of my Posterity?  
Hold, let me think— if I should tell the King—  
Things come to this Extremety? his Daughter  
Wedded already— what if he should yield?  
Knowing no Remedy, for what is past;  
And urged by Nature pleading for his Child,  
With which he seems to be already shaken.  
And tho' I know he hates beyond the Grave  
Anselmo's Race; yet if— That if, concludes me.  
To doubt, when I may be assured, is Folly.  
But how, prevent the Captive Queen, who means  
To set him free? Ay, now 'tis plain; O well  
Invented Tale! he was Alphonso's Friend.  
This subtle Woman will amuse the King,  
If I delay— 'twill do— or better so.  
One to my Wish. Alonzo, thou art welcome.  Enter Alonzo. Alonzo. 
The King expects your Lordship.  Gons. 
'Tis no matter.  
I'm not I'th' Way at Present, good Alonzo.  Alonzo. 
If't please your Lordship, I'll return, and say  
I have not seen you.  Gons. 
Do my best Alonzo.  
Yet stay, I would— but go; anon will serve—  
Yet I have that, requires thy speedy help.  
I think thou wouldst not stop to do me Service.  Alonzo. 
I am your Creature.  Gons. 
Say thou art my Friend.  
I've seen thy Sword do noble Execution.  Alonzo. 
All that it can, your Lordship shall command.  Gons. 
Thanks; and I take thee at thy Word. Thou'st seen  
Among the followers of the Captive Queen,  
Dumb Men, that make their Meaning known by Signs.  Alon. 
I have, my Lord.  Gons. 
Couldst thou procure with speed,  
And privacy, the wearing Garb of one  
Of those, tho' purchased by his Death; I'd give  
Thee such Reward, as should exceed thy Wish.  Alon. 
Conclude it done. Where shall I wait your Lordship?  Gons. 
At my Apartment. Use thy utmost Diligence;  
Away, I've not been seen— haste good Alonzo.  [Exit Alonzo. 
So, this can hardly fail. Alphonso slain,  
The greatest Obstacle is then removed.  
Almeria widowed, yet again may wed;  
And I yet fix the Crown on Garcia's Head.  [Exit. 
The End of the Fourth Act.   

ACT V. SCENE I.  A Room of State. Enter King, Perez, and Alonzo. King. 
NOT to be found? in an ill hour he's absent.  
None, say you, none? what not the Favourite Eunuch?  
Nor she herself, nor any of her Mutes  
Have yet required admittance?  Perez. 
None my Lord.  King. 
Is Osmyn so disposed, as I commanded?  Perez. 
Fast bound in double chains, and at full length  
He lies supine on earth; as easily  
She might remove the fixed foundation, as  
Unlock the rivets of his bonds.  King. 
'Tis well.  [A Mute appears, and seeing the King retires. 
Ha! seize that Mute; Alonzo, follow him.  [Ex. Alonzo. 
Entering he met my Eyes, and started back,  
Frighted, and fumbling one hand in his Bosom,  
As to conceal th' Importance of his Errand.  [Alonzo reenters with a Paper. Alonz. 
O bloody Proof, of obstinate Fidelity!  King. 
What dost thou mean?  Alonz. 
Soon as I seized the Man,  
He snatched from out his Bosom this— and strove  
With rash and greedy haste, at once to cram  
The Morsel down his throat. I catched his Arm,  
And hardly wrenched his Hand to wring it from him;  
Which done, he drew a Poniard from his side,  
And on the instant, plunged it in his Breast.  King. 
Remove the Body thence, ere Zara see it.  Alon. 
I'll be so bold to borrow his Attire;  
'Twill quit me of my Promise to Gonsalez.  [Exit. Per. 
Whate'er it is the King's Complexion turns.  King. 
How's this? my mortal Foe beneath my Roof!  [Having read the Letter. 
O, give me Patience, all ye Powers! no, rather,  
Give me Rage, Rage, implacable Revenge,  
And treble Fury— Ha! who's there?  Perez. 
My Lord.  King. 
Hence, Slave, how dar'st thou bide, to watch and pry  
Into how poor and mean a thing, a King descends;  
How like thyself when Passion treads him down?  
Ha! stir not, on thy Life: For thou wert fixed,  
And planted here to see me gorge this Bait,  
And lash against the Hook— by Heaven you're all  
Rank Traitors; thou art with the rest combined;  
Thou knowest that Osmyn was Alphonso, knew'st  
My Daughter privately conferred with him,  
And wert the Spy and Pander to their Meeting.  Perez. 
By all that's holy, I'm amazed—  King. 
Thou liest.  
Thou art Accomplice too much with Zara; here  
Where she sets down— still will I set thee free—  [Reading. 
That somewhere is repeated— I have power  
O'er them that are thy Guards— Mark that thou Traitor.  Perez. 
It was your Majesty's Command, I should  
Obey her Order—  King, 
reading.— And still will I set  
Thee free, Alphonso— Hell! cursed, cursed Alphonso!  
False perfidious Zara! Strumpet Daughter!  
Away begone thou feeble boy, fond Love,  
All Nature, Softness, Pity and Compassion,  
This hour I throw ye off, and entertain  
Fell hate, within my breast, Revenge and Gall  
By Heaven I'll meet, and counterwork this Treachery.  
Hark thee, Villain, Traitor— answer me Slave.  Perez. 
My Service has not merited those Titles.  King. 
Dar'st thou reply? Take that— thy Service? thine?  [Strikes him. 
What's thy whole Life, thy Soul, thy All, to my  
One moment's Ease? Hear my Command; and look  
That thou obey, or Horror on thy Head.  
Drench me thy Dagger in Alphonso's Heart.  
Why dost thou start? Resolve to do't, or else—  Perez. 
My Lord, I will.  King. 
'Tis well— that when she comes to set him free,  
His Teeth may grin, and mock at her Remorse.  [Perez going. 
— Stay thee— I've farther thought— I'll add to this,  
And give her Eyes yet greater Disappointment.  
When thou hast ended him, bring me his Robe;  
And let the Cell where she'll expect to see him,  
Be darkened, so as to amuse the Sight.  
I'll be conducted thither—  
But see she comes; I'll shun th' Encounter; do  
Thou follow, and give heed to my Direction.  [Exeunt. Enter Zara, and Selim. Zara. 
The Mute not yet returned! 'tis strange. Ha! 'twas  
The King that parted hence; frowning he went;  
His Eyes like Meteors rolled, then darted down  
Their red and angry Beams; as if his Sight  
Would, like the raging Dog-star, scorch the Earth,  
And kindle Ruin in its Course. Think'st thou  
He saw me not?  Sel. 
He did: But then as if  
His Eyes had erred, he hastily recalled  
Th' imperfect Look, and sternly turned away.  Zara. 
Shun me when seen! I fear thou hast undone me.  
Thy shallow Artifice begets Suspicion,  
And, like a Cobweb-Veil, but thinly shades  
The Face of thy Design; alone disguising  
What should have ne'er been seen; imperfect Mischief!  
Thou like the Adder, venomous and deaf,  
Hast stung the Traveller; and, after, hear'st  
Not his pursuing Voice: even where thou think'st  
To hide, the rustling Leaves, and bended Grafs  
Confess, and point the Path which thou hast crept.  
O Fate of Fools! officious in Contriving;  
In executing, puzzled, lame and lost.  Sel. 
Avert it, Heaven, that you should ever suffer  
For my Defect; or that the Means which I  
Devised to serve, should ruin your Design!  
Prescience is heavens' alone, not given to Man.  
If I have failed in what, as being a Man,  
I needs must fail; impute not as a Crime,  
My Nature's want; but punish Nature in me:  
I plead not for a Pardon, and to live,  
But to be punished and forgiven. Here, strike;  
I bore my Breast to meet your just Revenge.  Zara. 
I have not leisure, now, to take so poor  
A Forfeit as thy Life: Somewhat of high  
And more important Fate, requires my Thought.  
When I've concluded on myself, If I  
Think fit, I'll leave thee my Command to die.  
Regard me well; and dare not to reply  
To what I give in Charge: for I'm resolved.  
Instruct the two remaining Mutes, that they  
Attend me instantly, with each a Bowl  
Of those Ingredients mixed, as will with speed  
Benumn the living Faculties, and give  
Most easy and inevitable Death.  
Yes, Osmyn, yes; be Osmyn or Alphonso,  
I'll give thee Freedom, if thou dar'st be free:  
Such Liberty as I embrace myself,  
Thou shalt partake. Since Fates no more afford;  
I can but die with thee to keep my Word.  [Exeunt. Scene changes to the Prison. Enter Gonsalez, disguised like a Mute, with a Dagger. Gons. 
Nor sentinel, nor Guard! the Doors unbarred!  
And all as still, as at the Noon of Night!  
Sure Death already has been busy here.  
There lies my way, that Door is too unlocked.  [Looks in. 
Ha! sure he sleeps— all's dark within, save what  
A Lamp that feebly lifts a sickly Flame,  
By fits reveals— his Face seems turned to favour  
Th' Attempt: I'll steal, and do it unperceived.  
What Noise! some body coming? st, Alonzo?  
No body? sure he'll wait without— I would  
'Twere done— I'll crawl and sting him to the Heart;  
Then cast my Skin, and leave it there to answer it.  [Goes in. Enter Garcia and Alonzo. Gar. 
Where? where? Alonzo, where's my Father? where  
The King? Confusion, all is on the Rout!  
All's lost, all ruined by Surprise and Treachery.  
Where, where is he? Why dost thou thus misled me?  Alonz. 
My Lord, he entered, but a moment since,  
And could not pass me unperceived— What, hoa?  
My Lord, my Lord, what, hoa? My Lord Gonsalez?  Enter Gonsalez, bloody. Gons. 
Perdition choke your Clamours— whence this Rudeness? Garcia!  Gar. 
Perdition, Slavery, and Death,  
Are entering now our Doors. Where is the King?  
What means this Blood? and why this Face of Horror?  Gons. 
No matter— give me first to know the Cause  
Of these your rash and ill-timed Exclamations.  Gar. 
The Eastern Gate is to the Foe betrayed,  
Who but for heaps of Slain, that choke the Passage,  
Had entered long ere now, and born down all  
Before 'em, to the Palace Walls. Unless  
The King in Person animate our Men,  
Granadas lost; and to confirm this Fear,  
The Traitor Perez, and the Captive Moor,  
Are through a Postern fled, and join the Foe.  Gons. 
Would all were false as that; for whom you call  
The Moor, is dead. That Osmyn was Alphonso;  
In whose Hearts Blood this Poniard yet is warm.  Gar. 
Impossible; for Osmyn flying, was  
Proclaimed aloud by Perez, for Alphonso.  Gons. 
Enter that Chamber, and convince your Eyes,  
How much Report has wronged your easy Faith.  [Garcia goes in. Alonz. 
My Lord, for certain truth, Perez is fled;  
And has declared the Cause of his Revolt,  
Was to Revenge a Blow the King had given him.  Gar. 
returning. Ruin and Horror! O heart-wounding sight!  Gons. 
What says, my Son? what Ruin? ha? what Horror?  Gar. 
Blasted my Eyes, and speechless be my Tongue,  
Rather than or to see, or to relate  
This Deed— O dire Mistake! O fatal Blow!  
The King—  Gons. Alonz. 
The King!  Gar. 
Dead, welt'ring, drowned in Blood.  
See, see, attired like Osmyn, where he lies.  [They go in. 
O whence, or how, or wherefore was this done?  
But what imports the Manner, or the Cause?  
Nothing remains to do, or to require,  
But that we all should turn our Swords, against  
Ourselves, and expiate with our own his Blood.  Gons. 
O Wretch! O cursed, and rash, deluded Fool!  
On me, on me, turn your avenging Sword.  
I who have spilled my Royal Master's Blood,  
Should make atonement by a Death as horrid;  
And fall beneath the Hand of my own Son.  Gar. 
Ha! what? atone this Murder with a greater!  
The Horror of that Thought, has damped my Rage.  
The Earth already groans to bear this Deed;  
Oppress her not, nor think to stain her Face  
With more unnatural Blood. Murder my Father!  
Better with this to rip up my own Bowels,  
And bathe it to the Hilt, in far less damnable  
Self-Murder.  Gons. 
O my Son, from the blind Dotage  
Of a Father's Fondness, these Ills arose;  
For thee I've been ambitious, base, and bloody:  
For thee I've plunged into this Sea of Sin;  
Stemming the Tide, with one weak Hand, and bearing  
With the other, the Crown, to wreathe thy Brow,  
Whose weight has sunk me ere I reached the Shore.  Gar. 
Fatal Ambition! Hark! the Foe is entered:  [Shout. 
The shrilness of that Shout speaks 'em at hand.  
We have no time to search into the Cause  
Of this surprising and most fatal Error.  
What's to be done? the King's Death known, will strike  
The few remaining Soldiers with Despair,  
And make 'em yield to Mercy of the Conqueror.  Alonz. 
My Lord, I've thought how to conceal the Body;  
Require me not to tell the Means, till done,  
Lest you forbid; what than you may approve.  [Goes in. [Shout. Gons. 
They shout again! Whate'er he means to do  
'Twere fit the Soldiers were amuzed, mean time,  
With Hopes, and said with Expectation of  
The King's immediate Presence at their Head.  Gar. 
Were it a Truth, I fear 'tis now too late.  
But I'll omit no Care, nor Haste; and try  
Or to repel their Force, or bravely die.  [Exit. Gons. 
What hast thou done, Alonzo?  Alonz. 
Such a Deed,  
As but an hour ago, I'd not have done,  
Tho' for the Crown of Universal Empire.  
But what are Kings reduced to common Clay?  
Or who can wound the Dead?— I've from the Body,  
Severed the Head; and in a Corner of  
The Room, disposed it muffled in the Mute's  
Attire; leaving alone to View, the bloody  
And undistinguishable Trunk:  
Which may be still mistaken by the Guards,  
For Osmyn, if in seeking for the King,  
They chance to find it.  Gons. 
'Twas an Act of Horror;  
And of apiece with this Day's dire Misdeeds.  
But 'tis not yet the time to ponder, or  
Repent. Haste thee, Alonzo, hence, with speed,  
To aid my Son. I'll follow with the last  
Reserve, to reinforce his Arms: at least  
I shall make good, and shelter his Retreat.  [Exeunt. Enter Zara, followed by Selim, and Two Mutes bearing the Bowls. Zara. 
Silence and Solitude are every where!  
Through all the Gloomy Ways, and Iron Doors  
That hither lead, nor Humane Face, nor Voice  
Is seen, or heard. A dreadful Din was wont  
To grate the Sense, when entered here; from Groans,  
And Howls of Slaves condemned; from Clink of Chains,  
And Crash of rusty Bars, and creeking Hinges:  
And ever and anon, the Sight was dashed  
With frightful Faces, and the meager Looks  
Of grim and ghastly Executioners.  
Yet, more, this Stillness terrifies my Soul,  
Than did that Scene of complicated Horrors.  
It may be, that the Cause, and Purpose of  
My Errand, being changed from Life to Death,  
Has also wrought this chilling Change of Temper.  
Or does my Heart bode more? what can it more  
Than Death?—  
Let 'em set down the Bowls, and warn Alphonso  
That I am here— so. You return and find  [Mutes go in. 
The King; tell him, what he required, I've done:  
And wait his coming to approve the Deed.  [Exit Selim 
What have you seen? Ha! wherefore stare you thus,  [The Mutes return and look affrighted. 
With haggared Eyes? why are your Arms across  
Your heavy and desponding Heads hung down?  
Why is't you more than speak in these sad Signs?  
Give me more ample Knowledge of this Mourning.  They go to the Scene which opens and shows the Body. 
Ha! prostrate! bloody! headless! O— start Eyes,  
Split Heart, burst every Vein, at this dire Object:  
At once dissolve and flow; meet Blood with Blood;  
Dash your encountering Streams, with mutual Violence,  
Till Surges roll, and foaming Billows rise,  
And curl their Crimson Heads, to kiss the Clouds!  
— Rain, rain ye Stars, spout from your burning Orbs  
Precipitated Fires, and pour in sheets,  
The blazing Torrent on the Tyrant's Head;  
Scorch and consume the cursed perfidious King.  Enter Selim. Selim. 
I've sought in vain, the King is no where, to  
Be found—  Zara. 
Get thee to Hell, and seek him there.  [Stabs him. 
His hellish Rage had wanted Means to act,  
But for thy fatal and pernicious Counsel.  Sel. 
You thought it better than— but I'm rewarded.  
The Mute you sent, by some Mischance was seen,  
And forced to yield your Letter with his Life:  
I found the dead and bloody Body stripped—  
My Tongue falters, and my Voice fails—  
Drink not the Poison— for Alphonso is—  [Dies. Zara. 
As thou art now— And I shall quickly be.  
'Tis not that he is dead; for 'twas decreed  
We both should die. Nor is't that I survive;  
I have a Remedy for that. But Oh,  
He died unknowing in my Heart.  
He knew I loved, but knew not to what height:  
Nor that I meant to fall before his Eyes,  
A Martyr and a victim to my Vows:  
Insensible of this last Proof he's gone.  
Yet Fate, alone can rob his mortal Part  
Of Sense: His Soul still sees, and knows each Purpose,  
And fixed event of my persisting Faith.  
Then, wherefore do I pause?— give me the Bowl.  [A Mute kneels and gives one of the Bowls. 
Hover a Moment, yet, thou gentle Spirit,  
Soul of my Love, and I will wait thy flight.  
This, to our mutual Bliss when joined above.  [Drinks. 
O friendly Draught, already in my Heart!  
Cold, cold; my Veins are Icicles and Frost.  
I'll creep into his Bosom, lay me there;  
Cover us close— or I shall i'll his Breast,  
And fright him from my Arms— See, see, he slides  
Still further from me; look, he hides his Face,  
I cannot feel it— quite beyond my teach.  
O now he's gone, and all is dark—  [Dies. [The Mutes kneel and mourn over her. Enter Almeria and Leonora. Alm. 
O let me seek him in this horrid Cell;  
For in the Tomb or Prison, I alone  
Must hope to find him.  Leon. 
heavens'! what dismal Scene  
Of Death, is this? The Eunuch Selim slain!  Alm. 
Show me, for I am come in search of Death;  
But want a Guide: for Tears have dimmed my Sight.  Leon. 
Alas, a little farther, and behold  
Zara all pale and dead! two frightful Men,  
Who seem the Murderers, kneel weeping by:  
Feeling Remorse too late, for what they've done.  
But O forbear— lift up your Eyes no more;  
But haste away, fly from this Fatal Place,  
Where Miseries are multipyed; return  
And look not on; for there's a Dagger that  
Will stab the Sight, and make your Eyes rain Blood.  Alm. 
O I foresee that Object in my Mind.  
Is it at last then so? is he then dead?  
What dead at last, quite, quite, for ever dead?  
There, there I see him; there he lies, the Blood  
Yet bubbling from his Wounds— O more than savage!  
Had they or Hearts, or Eyes, that did this Deed?  
Could Eyes endure to guide such cruel Hands?  
Are not my Eyes guilty alike with theirs,  
That thus can gaze, and yet not turn to Stone?  
— I do not weep! The Springs of Tears are dried;  
And of a sudden I am calm, as if  
All things were well: and yet my Husband's murdered!  
Yes, yes, I know to mourn; I'll sluice this Heart,  
The Source of Woe, and let the Torrent lose.  
— Those Men have lest to weep; and look on me!  
I hope they murder all on whom they look.  
Behold me well; your bloody Hands have erred,  
And wrongfully have put to Death those Innocents:  
I am the Sacrifice designed to bleed;  
And come prepared to yield my Throat— they shake  
Their Heads in Sign of Grief and Innocence!  [They point at the Bowl on the Ground. 
And point! what mean they; Ha! a Cup. O well  
I understand what Medicine has been here.  
O noble Thirst! and yet too greedy to  
Drink all— O for another Draught of Death,  [They point at the other Cup. 
Ha! point again? 'tis there, and full I hope.  
O thanks the liberal Hand that filled thee thus;  
I'll drink my glad Acknowledgement—  Leon. 
O hold  
For Mercy's sake; upon my Knees— forbear—  Alm. 
With Thee, the kneeling World should beg in vain  
Seest thou not there, who prostrate lies;  
And pleads against thee? who shall then prevail?  
Yet I will take a cold and parting Leave,  
From his pale Lips; I'll kiss him e'er I drink,  
Lest the rank Juice should blister on my Mouth,  
And stain the Colour of my last Adieu.  
Horror! a headless Trunk! nor Lips nor Face,  [Coming nearer the Body, starts and lets fall the Cup. 
But spouting Veins, and mangled Flesh! O, O.  Enter Alphonso, Heli, Perez, with Garcia Prisoner, Guards and Attendants. Alph. 
Away, stand off, where is she? let me fly,  
Save her from Death, and snatch her to my Heart.  Alm. 
Oh—  Alph. 
Forbear; my Arms alone shall hold her up:  
Warm her to Life, and wake her into Gladness.  
O let me talk to thy reviving Sense,  
The Words of Joy and Peace; warm thy cold Beauties,  
With the new-flushing Ardour of my Cheek;  
Into thy Lips, pour the soft trickling Balm  
Of cordial Sighs; and reinspire thy Bosom  
With the Breath of Love. Shine, awake, Almeria,  
Give a new Birth to thy long-shaded Eyes,  
Then double on the Day reflected Light.  Alm. 
Where am I? Heaven! what does this Dream intend?  Alph. 
O may'st thou never dream of less Delight;  
Nor ever wake to less substantial Joys.  Alm. 
Given me again from Death! O all ye Powers  
Confirm this Miracle! can I believe  
My Sight, against my Sight? and shall I trust  
That Sense, which in one Instant shows him dead  
And living? yes, I will; I've been abused  
With Apparitions and affrighting Phantoms:  
This is my Lord, my Life, my only Husband;  
I have him now, and we no more will part.  
My Father too shall have Compassion—  Alph. 
O my Heart's Comfort; 'tis not given to this  
Frail Life, to be entirely blessed. Even now.  
In this extremest Joy, my Soul can taste,  
Yet am I dashed to think that thou must weep  
Thy Father fell, where he designed my Death.  
Gonsalez and Alonzo, both of Wounds  
Expiring, have with their last Breath, confessed  
The just Decrees of Heaven, in turning on  
Themselves, their own most bloody Purposes.  
Nay, I must grant, 'tis fit you should be thus—  [She weeps. 
Let 'em remove the Body from her Sight.  
Ill-fated Zara! Ha! a Cup? alas!  
Thy Error then is plain: but I were Flint  
Not to overflow in Tribute to thy Memory.  
She shall be Royally interred. O Garcia,  
Whose Virtue has renounced thy Father's Crimes,  
Seest thou, how just the Hand of Heaven has been?  
Let us that through our Innocence survive,  
Still in the Paths of Honour persevere;  
And not from past or present Ills Despair:  
For Blessings ever wait on virtuous Deeds;  
And tho' a late, a sure Reward succeeds.  [Exeunt Omnes.  

EPILOGUE,  Spoken by M rs Bracegirdle. 
THE Tragedy thus done, I am, you know,  
No more a Princess, but in statu quo:  
And now as unconcerned this Mourning wear,  
As if indeed a Widow, or an Heir.  
I've leisure, now, to mark your several Faces,  
And know each Critic by his sour Grimaces.  
To poison Plays, I see some where they sit,  
Scattered, like Ratsbane, up an down the Pit;  
While others watch like Parish-Searchers, hired  
To tell of what Disease the Play expired.  
O with what joy they run, to spread the News  
Of a damned Poet, and departed Muse!  
But if he 'scape, with what Regret they're seized!  
And how they're disappointed if they're pleased!  
Critics to Plays for the same end resort,  
That Surgeons wait on Trials in a Court;  
For Innocence condemned they've no Respect,  
Provided they've a Body to dissect.  
As Sussex Men, that dwell upon the Shoar,  
Look out when Storms arise, and Billows roar,  
Devoutly praying, with up-lifted Hands,  
That some well-laden Ship may strike the Sands;  
To whose Rich Cargo, they may make Pretence,  
And fatten on the Spoils of Providence:  
So Critics throng to see a New Play split,  
And thrive and prosper on the Wrecks of Wit.  
Small Hope our Poet from these Prospects draws;  
And therefore to the Fair commends his Cause.  
Your tender Hearts to Mercy are inclined,  
With whom, he hopes, this Play will Favour find,  
Which was an Offering to the Sex designed.  
FINIS.