No More Learning

[_Servants seize him. _

_Ant. _ Mercy, dear master, mercy! hear me first, and after, if I have
deserved hanging, spare me not. What have you seen to provoke you to
this cruelty?

_Muf. _ I have heard the outcries of my wife; the bleatings of the poor
innocent lamb. --Seen nothing, sayst thou? If I see the lamb lie
bleeding, and the butcher by her with his knife drawn, and bloody, is
not that evidence sufficient of the murder? I come too late, and the
execution is already done.

_Ant. _ Pray think in reason, sir; is a man to be put to death for a
similitude? No violence has been committed; none intended; the lamb's
alive: and, if I durst tell you so, no more a lamb than I am a
butcher.

_Joh. _ How's that, villain, dar'st thou accuse me?

_Ant. _ Be patient, madam, and speak but truth, and I'll do any thing
to serve you: I say again, and swear it too, I'll do any thing to
serve you. [_Aside. _

_Joh. _ [_Aside. _] I understand him; but I fear it is now too late to
save him:--Pray, hear him speak, husband; perhaps he may say something
for himself; I know not.

_Muf. _ Speak thou, has he not violated my bed, and thy honour?

_Joh. _ I forgive him freely, for he has done nothing. What he will do
hereafter to make me satisfaction, himself best knows.

_Ant. _ Any thing, any thing, sweet madam: I shall refuse no drudgery.

_Muf. _ But did he mean no mischief? was he endeavouring nothing?

_Joh. _ In my conscience, I begin to doubt he did not.

_Muf. _ It's impossible:--then what meant all those outcries?

_Joh. _ I heard music in the garden, and at an unseasonable time of
night; and I stole softly out of my bed, as imagining it might be he.

_Muf. _ How's that, Johayma? imagining it was he, and yet you went?

_Joh. _ Why not, my lord? am not I the mistress of the family? and is
it not my place to see good order kept in it? I thought he might have
allured some of the she-slaves to him, and was resolved to prevent
what might have been betwixt him and them; when, on the sudden, he
rushed out upon me, caught me in his arms with such a fury--

_Muf. _ I have heard enough. --Away with him!

_Joh. _ Mistaking me, no doubt, for one of his fellow-slaves: with
that, affrighted as I was, I discovered myself, and cried aloud; but
as soon as ever he knew me, the villain let me go; and I must needs
say, he started back as if I were some serpent; and was more afraid of
me than I of him.

_Muf. _ O thou corrupter of my family, that's cause enough of
death! --once again, away with him.

_Joh. _ What, for an intended trespass? No harm has been done, whatever
may be. He cost you five hundred crowns, I take it.

_Muf. _ Thou say'st true, a very considerable sum: he shall not die,
though he had committed folly with a slave; it is too much to lose by
him.

_Ant. _ My only fault has ever been to love playing in the dark; and
the more she cried, the more I played, that it might be seen I
intended nothing to her.

_Muf. _ To your kennel, sirrah; mortify your flesh, and consider in
whose family you are.

_Joh. _ And one thing more,--remember from henceforth to obey better.

_Muf. _ [_Aside. _] For all her smoothness, I am not quite cured of my
jealousy; but I have thought of a way that will clear my doubts.
[_Exit_ MUF. _with_ JOH. _and Servants. _

_Ant. _ I am mortified sufficiently already, without the help of his
ghostly counsel. Fear of death has gone farther with me in two
minutes, than my conscience would have gone in two months. I find
myself in a very dejected condition, all over me; poor sin lies
dormant; concupiscence is retired to his winter-quarters; and if
Morayma should now appear,--I say no more; but, alas for her and me!
[MORAYMA _comes out of the Arbour,
she steals behind him, and claps
him on the Back. _

_Mor. _ And if Morayma should appear, as she does appear,--alas! you
say, for her and you.

_Ant. _ Art thou there, my sweet temptation! my eyes, my life, my soul,
my all!

_Mor. _ A mighty compliment! when all these, by your own confession,
are just nothing.

_Ant. _ Nothing, till thou camest to new create me; thou dost not know
the power of thy own charms: Let me embrace thee, and thou shalt see
how quickly I can turn wicked.

_Mor. _ [_Stepping back. _] Nay, if you are so dangerous, it is best
keeping you at a distance, I have no mind to warm a frozen snake in my
bosom; he may chance to recover, and sting me for my pains.

_Ant. _ Consider what I have suffered for thy sake already, and make me
some amends; two disappointments in a night: O cruel creature!

_Mor. _ And you may thank yourself for both. I came eagerly to the
charge before my time, through the back-walk behind the arbour; and
you, like a fresh-water soldier, stood guarding the pass before. If
you missed the enemy, you may thank your own dulness.

_Ant. _ Nay, if you will be using stratagems, you shall give me leave
to make use of my advantages, now I have you in my power: we are
fairly met; I'll try it out, and give no quarter.

_Mor. _ By your favour, sir, we meet upon treaty now, and not upon
defiance.

_Ant. _ If that be all, you shall have _carte blanche_ immediately; for
I long to be ratifying.

_Mor. _ No; now I think on't, you are already entered into articles
with my enemy Johayma:--"Any thing to serve you, madam; I shall refuse
no drudgery:"--Whose words were those, gentleman? was that like a
cavalier of honour?

_Ant. _ Not very heroic; but self-preservation is a point above honour
and religion too. Antonio was a rogue, I must confess; but you must
give me leave to love him.

_Mor. _ To beg your life so basely, and to present your sword to your
enemy; Oh, recreant!

_Ant. _ If I had died honourably, my fame indeed would have sounded
loud, but I should never have heard the blast:--Come, don't make
yourself worse-natured than you are; to save my life, you would be
content I should promise any thing.

_Mor. _ Yes, if I were sure you would perform nothing.

_Ant. _ Can you suspect I would leave you for Johayma?

_Mor. _ No; but I can expect you would have both of us. Love is
covetous; I must have all of you; heart for heart is an equal trick.
In short, I am younger, I think handsomer, and am sure I love you
better. She has been my stepmother these fifteen years: You think that
is her face you see, but it is only a daubed vizard; she wears an
armour of proof upon it; an inch thick of paint, besides the wash. Her
face is so fortified, that you can make no approaches to it without a
shovel; but, for her constancy, I can tell you for your comfort, she
will love till death, I mean till yours; for when she has worn you
out, she will certainly dispatch you to another world, for fear of
telling tales, as she has already served three slaves, your
predecessors, of happy memory, in her favours. She has made my pious
father a three-piled cuckold to my knowledge; and now she would be
robbing me of my single sheep too.

_Ant. _ Pr'ythee, prevent her then; and at least take the shearing of
me first.

_Mor. _ No; I'll have a butcher's pennyworth of you; first secure the
carcase, and then take the fleece into the bargain.

_Ant. _ Why, sure, you did not put yourself and me to all this trouble
for a dry come-off; by this hand-- [_Taking it. _

_Mor. _ Which you shall never touch, but upon better assurances than
you imagine. [_Pulling her hand away. _

_Ant. _ I'll marry thee, and make a Christian of thee, thou pretty
damned infidel.

_Mor. _ I mean you shall; but no earnest till the bargain be made
before witness: there is love enough to be had, and as much as you can
turn you to, never doubt; but all upon honourable terms.

_Ant. _ I vow and swear by Love; and he's a deity in all religions.

_Mor. _ But never to be trusted in any: he has another name too, of a
worse sound. Shall I trust an oath, when I see your eyes languishing,
your cheeks flushing, and can hear your heart throbbing? No, I'll not
come near you: he's a foolish physician, who will feel the pulse of a
patient, that has the plague-spots upon him.

_Ant. _ Did one ever hear a little moppet argue so perversely against
so good a cause! Come, pr'ythee, let me anticipate a little of my
revenue.

_Mor. _ You would fain be fingering your rents before-hand; but that
makes a man an ill husband ever after. Consider, marriage is a painful
vocation, as you shall prove it; manage your incomes as thriftily as
you can, you shall find a hard task on't to make even at the year's
end, and yet to live decently.

_Ant. _ I came with a Christian intention to revenge myself upon thy
father, for being the head of a false religion.

_Mor. _ And so you shall; I offer you his daughter for your second. But
since you are so pressing, meet me under my window to-morrow night,
body for body, about this hour; I'll slip down out of my lodging, and
bring my father in my hand.

_Ant. _ How, thy father!

_Mor. _ I mean, all that's good of him; his pearls and jewels, his
whole contents, his heart and soul; as much as ever I can carry! I'll
leave him his Alcoran, that's revenue enough for him; every page of it
is gold and diamonds. He has the turn of an eye, a demure smile, and a
godly cant, that are worth millions to him. I forgot to tell you, that
I will have a slave prepared at the postern gate, with two horses
ready saddled. --No more, for I fear I may be missed; and think I hear
them calling for me. --If you have constancy and courage--

_Ant. _ Never doubt it; and love in abundance, to wander with thee all
the world over.

_Mor. _ The value of twelve hundred thousand crowns in a casket! --

_Ant. _ A heavy burden, heaven knows! but we must pray for patience to
support it.

_Mor. _ Besides a willing titt, that will venture her corps with you.
Come, I know you long to have a parting blow with me; and therefore,
to shew I am in charity-- [_He kisses her. _

_Ant. _ Once more for pity, that I may keep the flavour upon my lips
till we meet again.

_Mor. _ No, frequent charities make bold beggars; and, besides, I have
learned of a falconer, never to feed up a hawk when I would have him
fly. That's enough; but, if you would be nibbling, here's a hand to
stay your stomach. [_Kissing her hand. _

_Ant. _ Thus conquered infidels, that wars may cease,
Are forced to give their hands, and sign the peace.

_Mor. _ Thus Christians are outwitted by the foe;
You had her in your power, and let her go.
If you release my hand, the fault's not mine;
You should have made me seal, as well as sign.
[_She runs off, he follows her to the door; then
comes back again, and goes out at the other. _


ACT IV.

SCENE I. --BENDUCAR'S _Palace, in the Castle of Alcazar. _

BENDUCAR _solus. _

_Bend. _ My future fate, the colour of my life,
My all, depends on this important hour:
This hour my lot is weighing in the scales,
And heaven, perhaps, is doubting what to do.
Almeyda and a crown have pushed me forward:
'Tis fixed, the tyrant must not ravish her;
He and Sebastian stand betwixt my hopes;
He most, and therefore first to be dispatched.
These, and a thousand things, are to be done
In the short compass of this rolling night;
And nothing yet performed,
None of my emissaries yet returned.

_Enter_ HALY, _first Servant. _

Oh Haly, thou hast held me long in pain.
What hast thou learnt of Dorax? is he dead?

_Haly. _ Two hours I warily have watched his palace;
All doors are shut, no servant peeps abroad;
Some officers, with striding haste, passed in,
While others outward went on quick dispatch.
Sometimes hushed silence seemed to reign within;
Then cries confused, and a joint clamour, followed;
Then lights went gliding by, from room to room,
And shot, like thwarting meteors, cross the house.
Not daring further to inquire, I came
With speed, to bring you this imperfect news.

_Bend. _ Hence I conclude him either dead, or dying.
His mournful friends, summoned to take their leaves,
Are thronged about his couch, and sit in council.
What those caballing captains may design,
I must prevent, by being first in action. --
To Muley-Zeydan fly with speed, desire him
To take my last instructions; tell the importance,
And haste his presence here. -- [_Exit_ HALY.
How has this poison lost its wonted way?
It should have burnt its passage, not have lingered
In the blind labyrinths and crooked turnings
Of human composition; now it moves
Like a slow fire, that works against the wind,
As if his stronger stars had interposed. --

_Enter_ HAMET.

Well, Hamet, are our friends, the rabble, raised?
From Mustapha what message?

_Ham. _ What you wish.
The streets are thicker in this noon of night,
Than at the mid-day sun; a drowsy horror
Sits on their eyes, like fear, not well awake;
All crowd in heaps, as, at a night alarm,
The bees drive out upon each others backs,
To imboss their hives in clusters; all ask news;
Their busy captain runs the weary round,
To whisper orders; and, commanding silence,
Makes not noise cease, but deafens it to murmurs.

_Bend. _ Night wastes apace; when, when will he appear!

_Ham. _ He only waits your summons.

_Bend. _ Haste their coming.
Let secrecy and silence be enjoined
In their close march. What news from the lieutenant?

_Ham. _ I left him at the gate, firm to your interest,
To admit the townsmen at their first appearance.

_Bend. _ Thus far 'tis well: Go, hasten Mustapha. [_Exit_ HAMET.

_Enter_ ORCHAN, _the third Servant. _

O, Orchan, did I think thy diligence
Would lag behind the rest! --What from the Mufti?

_Orc. _ I sought him round his palace; made inquiry
Of all the slaves; in short, I used your name,
And urged the importance home; but had for answer,
That, since the shut of evening, none had seen him.

_Bend. _ O the curst fate of all conspiracies!
They move on many springs; if one but fail,
The restiff machine stops. In an ill hour he's absent;
'Tis the first time, and sure will be the last,
That e'er a Mufti was not in the way,
When tumults and rebellion should be broached.
Stay by me; thou art resolute and faithful;
I have employment worthy of thy arm. [_Walks. _

_Enter_ MULEY-ZEYDAN.

_Mul. Zeyd. _ You see me come, impatient of my hopes,
And eager as the courser for the race:
Is all in readiness?

_Bend. _ All but the Mufti.

_Mul. Zeyd. _ We must go on without him.

_Bend. _ True, we must;
For 'tis ill stopping in the full career,
Howe'er the leap be dangerous and wide.

_Orc. _ [_Looking out. _]
I see the blaze of torches from afar,
And hear the trampling of thick-beating feet;
This way they move.

_Bend. _ No doubt, the emperor.
We must not be surprised in conference.
Trust to my management the tyrant's death,
And haste yourself to join with Mustapha.
The officer, who guards the gate, is yours:
When you have gained that pass, divide your force;
Yourself in person head one chosen half,
And march to oppress the faction in consult
With dying Dorax. Fate has driven them all
Into the net; you must be bold and sudden:
Spare none; and if you find him struggling yet
With pangs of death, trust not his rolling eyes
And heaving gasps; for poison may be false,--
The home thrust of a friendly sword is sure.

_Mul. Zeyd. _ Doubt not my conduct; they shall be surprised.
Mercy may wait without the gate one night,
At morn I'll take her in.

_Bend. _ Here lies your way;
You meet your brother there.

_Mul. Zeyd. _ May we ne'er meet!
For, like the twins of Leda, when I mount,
He gallops down the skies. [_Exit_ MUL. ZEYD.

_Bend. _ He comes:--Now, heart,
Be ribbed with iron for this one attempt;
Set ope thy sluices, send the vigorous blood
Through every active limb for my relief;
Then take thy rest within thy quiet cell,
For thou shalt drum no more.

_Enter Emperor, and Guards attending him. _

_Emp. _ What news of our affairs, and what of Dorax?
Is he no more? say that, and make me happy.

_Bend. _ May all your enemies be like that dog,
Whose parting soul is labouring at the lips.

_Emp. _ The people, are they raised?

_Bend. _ And marshalled too;
Just ready for the march.

_Emp. _ Then I'm at ease.

_Bend. _ The night is yours; the glittering host of heaven
Shines but for you; but most the star of love,
That twinkles you to fair Almeyda's bed.
Oh, there's a joy to melt in her embrace,
Dissolve in pleasure,
And make the gods curse immortality,
That so they could not die.
But haste, and make them yours.

_Emp. _ I will; and yet
A kind of weight hangs heavy at my heart;
My flagging soul flies under her own pitch,
Like fowl in air too damp, and lugs along,
As if she were a body in a body,
And not a mounting substance made of fire.
My senses, too, are dull and stupified,
Their edge rebated:--sure some ill approaches,
And some kind sprite knocks softly at my soul,
To tell me, fate's at hand[6].

_Bend. _ Mere fancies all.
Your soul has been before-hand with your body,
And drunk so deep a draught of promised bliss,
She slumbers o'er the cup; no danger's near,
But of a surfeit at too full a feast.

_Emp. _ It may be so; it looks so like the dream
That overtook me, at my waking hour,
This morn; and dreams, they say, are then divine,
When all the balmy vapours are exhaled,
And some o'erpowering god continues sleep.
'Twas then, methought, Almeyda, smiling, came,
Attended with a train of all her race,
Whom, in the rage of empire, I had murdered:
But now, no longer foes, they gave me joy
Of my new conquest, and, with helping hands,
Heaved me into our holy prophet's arms,
Who bore me in a purple cloud to heaven[7].

_Bend. _ Good omen, sir; I wish you in that heaven
Your dream portends you,--
Which presages death. [_Aside. _

_Emp. _ Thou too wert there;
And thou, methought, didst push me from below,
With thy full force, to Paradise.

_Bend. _ Yet better.

_Emp. _ Ha! what's that grizly fellow, that attends thee?

_Bend. _ Why ask you, sir?

_Emp. _ For he was in my dream,
And helped to heave me up.

_Bend. _ With prayers and wishes;
For I dare swear him honest.

_Emp. _ That may be;
But yet he looks damnation.

_Bend. _ You forget
The face would please you better. Do you love,
And can you thus forbear?

_Emp. _ I'll head my people,
Then think of dalliance when the danger's o'er.
My warlike spirits work now another way,
And my soul's tuned to trumpets.

_Bend. _ You debase yourself,
To think of mixing with the ignoble herd;
Let such perform the servile work of war,
Such who have no Almeyda to enjoy.
What, shall the people know their god-like prince
Skulked in a nightly skirmish? Stole a conquest,
Headed a rabble, and profaned his person,
Shouldered with filth, borne in a tide of ordure,
And stifled with their rank offensive sweat?

_Emp. _ I am off again; I will not prostitute
The regal dignity so far, to head them.

_Bend. _ There spoke a king.
Dismiss your guards, to be employed elsewhere
In ruder combats; you will want no seconds
In those alarms you seek.

_Emp. _ Go, join the crowd;-- [_To the Guards. _
Benducar, thou shalt lead them in my place. [_Exeunt Guards. _
The God of Love once more has shot his fires
Into my soul, and my whole heart receives him.
Almeyda now returns with all her charms;
I feel her as she glides along my veins,
And dances in my blood. So when our prophet
Had long been hammering, in his lonely cell,
Some dull, insipid, tedious Paradise,
A brisk Arabian girl came tripping by;
Passing she cast at him a side-long glance,
And looked behind, in hopes to be pursued:
He took the hint, embraced the flying fair,
And, having found his heaven, he fixed it there. [_Exit Emperor. _

_Bend. _ That Paradise thou never shalt possess.
His death is easy now, his guards are gone,
And I can sin but once to seize the throne;
All after-acts are sanctified by power.

_Orc. _ Command my sword and life.

_Bend. _ I thank thee, Orchan,
And shall reward thy faith. This master-key
Frees every lock, and leads us to his person;
And, should we miss our blow,--as heaven forbid! --
Secures retreat. Leave open all behind us;
And first set wide the Mufti's garden gate,
Which is his private passage to the palace;
For there our mutineers appoint to meet,
And thence we may have aid. --Now sleep, ye stars,
That silently o'erwatch the fate of kings!
Be all propitious influences barred,
And none but murderous planets mount the guard. [_Exit with_ ORCHAN.


SCENE II. --_A Night-Scene of the Mufti's Garden. _

_Enter the Mufti alone, in a Slave's Habit, like that of_ ANTONIO.

_Muf. _ This it is to have a sound head-piece; by this I have got to be
chief of my religion; that is, honestly speaking, to teach others what
I neither know nor believe myself. For what's Mahomet to me, but that
I get by him? Now for my policy of this night: I have mewed up my
suspected spouse in her chamber;--no more embassies to that lusty
young stallion of a gardener. Next, my habit of a slave; I have made
myself as like him as I can, all but his youth and vigour; which when
I had, I passed my time as well as any of my holy predecessors. Now,
walking under the windows of my seraglio, if Johayma look out, she
will certainly take me for Antonio, and call to me; and by that I
shall know what concupiscence is working in her. She cannot come down
to commit iniquity, there's my safety; but if she peep, if she put her
nose abroad, there's demonstration of her pious will; and I'll not
make the first precedent for a churchman to forgive injuries.

_Enter_ MORAYMA, _running to him with a Casket in her hand, and
embracing him. _

_Mor. _ Now I can embrace you with a good conscience; here are the
pearls and jewels, here's my father.

_Muf. _ I am indeed thy father; but how the devil didst thou know me in
this disguise? and what pearls and jewels dost thou mean?

_Mor. _ [_Going back. _] What have I done, and what will now become of
me!

_Muf. _ Art thou mad, Morayma?

_Mor. _ I think you'll make me so.

_Muf. _ Why, what have I done to thee? Recollect thyself, and speak
sense to me.

_Mor. _ Then give me leave to tell you, you are the worst of fathers.

_Muf. _ Did I think I had begotten such a monster! --Proceed, my dutiful
child, proceed, proceed.

_Mor. _ You have been raking together a mass of wealth, by indirect and
wicked means: the spoils of orphans are in these jewels, and the tears
of widows in these pearls.

_Muf. _ Thou amazest me!

_Mor. _ I would do so. This casket is loaded with your sins; 'tis the
cargo of rapines, simony, and extortions; the iniquity of thirty years
muftiship converted into diamonds.

_Muf. _ Would some rich railing rogue would say as much to me, that I
might squeeze his purse for scandal!

_Mor. _ No, sir, you get more by pious fools than railers, when you
insinuate into their families, manage their fortunes while they live,
and beggar their heirs, by getting legacies, when they die. And do you
think I'll be the receiver of your theft? I discharge my conscience of
it: Here, take again your filthy mammon, and restore it, you had best,
to the true owners.

_Muf. _ I am finely documented by my own daughter!

_Mor. _ And a great credit for me to be so: Do but think how decent a
habit you have on, and how becoming your function to be disguised like
a slave, and eaves-dropping under the women's windows, to be saluted,
as you deserve it richly, with a piss-pot. If I had not known you
casually by your shambling gait, and a certain reverend awkwardness
that is natural to all of your function, here you had been exposed to
the laughter of your own servants; who have been in search of you
through the whole seraglio, peeping under every petticoat to find you.

_Muf. _ Pr'ythee, child, reproach me no more of human failings; they
are but a little of the pitch and spots of the world, that are still
sticking on me; but I hope to scour them out in time.