No More Learning

_Almanz. _ As little as you think yourself obliged,
You would be glad to do't, when next besieged.
But I am pleased there should be nothing due;
For what I did was for myself, not you.

_Boab. _ You with contempt on meaner gifts look down;
And, aiming at my queen, disdain my crown.
That crown, restored, deserves no recompence.
Since you would rob the fairest jewel thence.
Dare not henceforth ungrateful me to call;
Whate'er I owed you, this has cancelled all.

_Almanz. _ I'll call thee thankless, king, and perjured both:
Thou swor'st by Alha, and hast broke thy oath.
But thou dost well; thou tak'st the cheapest way;
Not to own services thou canst not pay.

_Boab. _ My patience more than pays thy service past;
But now this insolence shall be thy last.
Hence from my sight! and take it as a grace,
Thou liv'st, and art but banished from the place.

_Almanz. _ Where'er I go, there can no exile be;
But from Almanzor's sight I banish thee:
I will not now, if thou wouldst beg me, stay;
But I will take my Almahide away.
Stay thou with all thy subjects here; but know,
We leave thy city empty when we go. [_Takes_ ALMAHIDE'S _hand. _

_Boab. _ Fall on; take; kill the traitor.
[_The Guards fall on him; he makes at the King
through the midst of them, and falls upon
him; they disarm him, and rescue the King. _

_Almanz. _ --Base and poor,
Blush that thou art Almanzor's conqueror.
[ALMAHIDE _wrings her hands, then turns and
veils her face. _
Farewell, my Almahide!
Life of itself will go, now thou art gone,
Like flies in winter, when they lose the sun.
[ABENAMAR _whispers the King a little, then
speaks aloud. _

_Aben. _ Revenge, and taken so secure a way,
Are blessings which heaven sends not every day.

_Boab. _ I will at leisure now revenge my wrong;
And, traitor, thou shalt feel my vengeance long:
Thou shalt not die just at thy own desire,
But see my nuptials, and with rage expire.

_Almanz. _ Thou darest not marry her while I'm in sight:
With a bent brow thy priest and thee I'll fright;
And in that scene,
Which all thy hopes and wishes should content,
The thought of me shall make thee impotent.
[_He is led off by Guards. _

_Boab. _ As some fair tulip, by a storm oppressed, [_To_ ALMAH.
Shrinks up, and folds its silken arms to rest;
And, bending to the blast, all pale and dead,
Hears, from within, the wind sing round its head,--
So, shrouded up, your beauty disappears:
Unveil, my love, and lay aside your fears.
The storm, that caused your fright, is passed and done.
[ALMAHIDE _unveiling, and looking round for_
ALMANZOR.

_Almah. _ So flowers peep out too soon, and miss the sun.
[_Turning from him. _

_Boab. _ What mystery in this strange behaviour lies?

_Almah. _ Let me for ever hide these guilty eyes,
Which lighted my Almanzor to his tomb;
Or, let them blaze, to show me there a room.

_Boab. _ Heaven lent their lustre for a nobler end;
A thousand torches must their light attend,
To lead you to a temple and a crown.
Why does my fairest Almahide frown?
Am I less pleasing then I was before,
Or, is the insolent Almanzor more?

_Almah. _ I justly own that I some pity have,
Not for the insolent, but for the brave.

_Aben. _ Though to your king your duty you neglect,
Know, Almahide, I look for more respect:
And, if a parent's charge your mind can move,
Receive the blessing of a monarch's love.

_Almah. _ Did he my freedom to his life prefer,
And shall I wed Almanzor's murderer?
No, sir; I cannot to your will submit;
Your way's too rugged for my tender feet.

_Aben. _ You must be driven where you refuse to go;
And taught, by force, your happiness to know.

_Almah. _ To force me, sir, is much unworthy you,
[_Smiling scornfully. _
And, when you would, impossible to do.
If force could bend me, you might think, with shame,
That I debase the blood from whence I came.
My soul is soft, which you may gently lay
In your loose palm; but, when 'tis pressed to stay,
Like water, it deludes your grasp, and slips away.

_Boab. _ I find I must revoke what I decreed:
Almanzor's death my nuptials must precede.
Love is a magic which the lover ties;
But charms still end when the magician dies.
Go; let me hear my hated rival's dead; [_To his Guard. _
And, to convince my eyes, bring back his head.

_Almah. _ Go on: I wish no other way to prove
That I am worthy of Almanzor's love.
We will in death, at least, united be:
I'll shew you I can die as well as he.

_Boab. _ What should I do! when equally I dread
Almanzor living and Almanzor dead! --
Yet, by your promise, you are mine alone.

_Almah. _ How dare you claim my faith, and break your own?

_Aben. _ This for your virtue is a weak defence:
No second vows can with your first dispense.
Yet, since the king did to Almanzor swear,
And in his death ungrateful may appear,
He ought, in justice, first to spare his life,
And then to claim your promise as his wife.

_Almah. _ Whate'er my secret inclinations be,
To this, since honour ties me, I agree:
Yet I declare, and to the world will own,
That, far from seeking, I would shun the throne.
And with Almanzor lead a humble life:
There is a private greatness in his wife.

_Boab. _ That little love I have, I hardly buy;
You give my rival all, while you deny:
Yet, Almahide, to let you see your power,
Your loved Almanzor shall be free this hour.
You are obeyed; but 'tis so great a grace,
That I could wish me in my rival's place.
[_Exeunt_ KING _and_ ABENAMAR.

_Almah. _ How blessed was I before this fatal day,
When all I knew of love, was to obey!
'Twas life becalmed, without a gentle breath;
Though not so cold, yet motionless as death.
A heavy quiet state; but love, all strife,
All rapid, is the hurricane of life.
Had love not shewn me, I had never seen
An excellence beyond Boabdelin.
I had not, aiming higher, lost my rest;
But with a vulgar good been dully blest:
But, in Almanzor, having seen what's rare,
Now I have learnt too sharply to compare;
And, like a favourite quickly in disgrace,
Just knew the value ere I lost the place.

_To her_ ALMANZOR, _bound and guarded. _

_Almanz. _ I see the end for which I'm hither sent,
To double, by your sight, my punishment.
There is a shame in bonds I cannot bear;
Far more than death, to meet your eyes I fear.

_Almah. _ That shame of long continuance shall not be:
[_Unbinding him. _
The king, at my entreaty, sets you free.

_Almanz. _ The king! my wonder's greater than before;
How did he dare my freedom to restore?
He like some captive lion uses me;
He runs away before he sets me free,
And takes a sanctuary in his court:
I'll rather lose my life than thank him for't.

_Almah. _ If any subject for your thanks there be,
The king expects them not, you owe them me.
Our freedoms through each other's hands have past;
You give me my revenge in winning last.

_Almanz. _ Then fate commodiously for me has done;
To lose mine there where I would have it won.

_Almah. _ Almanzor, you too soon will understand,
That what I win is on another's hand.
The king (who doomed you to a cruel fate)
Gave to my prayers both his revenge and hate;
But at no other price would rate your life,
Than my consent and oath to be his wife.

_Almanz. _ Would you, to save my life, my love betray?
Here; take me; bind me; carry me away;
Kill me! I'll kill you if you disobey. [_To the Guards. _

_Almah. _ That absolute command your love does give,
I take, and charge you by that power to live.

_Almanz. _ When death, the last of comforts, you refuse,
Your power, like heaven upon the damned, you use;
You force me in my being to remain,
To make me last, and keep me fresh for pain.
When all my joys are gone,
What cause can I for living longer give,
But a dull, lazy habitude to live?

_Almah. _ Rash men, like you, and impotent of will,
Give chance no time to turn, but urge her still;
She would repent; you push the quarrel on,
And once because she went, she must be gone.

_Almanz. _ She shall not turn; what is it she can do,
To recompense me for the loss of you?

_Almah_, Heaven will reward your worth some better way:
At least, for me, you have but lost one day.
Nor is't a real loss which you deplore;
You sought a heart that was engaged before.
'Twas a swift love which took you in his way;
Flew only through your heart, but made no stay:
'Twas but a dream, where truth had not a place;
A scene of fancy, moved so swift a pace,
And shifted, that you can but think it was;--
Let then, the short vexatious vision pass.

_Almanz. _ My joys, indeed, are dreams; but not my pain:
'Twas a swift ruin, but the marks remain.
When some fierce fire lays goodly buildings waste,
Would you conclude
There had been none, because the burning's past?

_Almah. _ It was your fault that fire seized all your breast;
You should have blown up some to save the rest:
But 'tis, at worst, but so consumed by fire,
As cities are, that by their fall rise higher.
Build love a nobler temple in my place;
You'll find the fire has but enlarged your space.

_Almanz. _ Love has undone me; I am grown so poor,
I sadly view the ground I had before,
But want a stock, and ne'er can build it more.

_Almah. _ Then say what charity I can allow;
I would contribute if I knew but how.
Take friendship; or, if that too small appear,
Take love,--which sisters may to brothers bear.

_Almanz. _ A sister's love! that is so palled a thing,
What pleasure can it to a lover bring?
'Tis like thin food to men in fevers spent;
Just keeps alive, but gives no nourishment.
What hopes, what fears, what transports can it move?
'Tis but the ghost of a departed love.

_Almah. _ You, like some greedy cormorant, devour
All my whole life can give you in an hour.
What more I can do for you is to die,
And that must follow, if you this deny.
Since I gave up my love, that you might live,
You, in refusing life, my sentence give.

_Almanz. _ Far from my breast be such an impious thought!
Your death would lose the quiet mine had sought.
I'll live for you, in spite of misery;
But you shall grant that I had rather die.
I'll be so wretched, filled with such despair,
That you shall see, to live was more to dare.

_Almah. _ Adieu, then, O my soul's far better part!
Your image sticks so close,
That the blood follows from my rending heart.
A last farewell!
For, since a last must come, the rest are vain,
Like gasps in death, which but prolong our pain.
But, since the king is now a part of me,
Cease from henceforth to be his enemy.
Go now, for pity go! for, if you stay,
I fear I shall have something still to say.
Thus--I for ever shut you from my sight. [_Veils. _

_Almanz. _ Like one thrust out in a cold winters night,
Yet shivering underneath your gate I stay;
One look--I cannot go before 'tis day. --
[_She beckons him to be gone. _
Not one--Farewell: Whate'er my sufferings be
Within, I'll speak farewell as loud as she:
I will not be out-done in constancy. -- [_She turns her back. _
Then like a dying conqueror I go;
At least I have looked last upon my foe.
I go--but, if too heavily I move,
I walk encumbered with a weight of love.
Fain I would leave the thought of you behind,
But still, the more I cast you from my mind,
You dash, like water, back, when thrown against the wind. [_Exit. _

_As he goes off, the_ KING _meets him with_ ABENAMAR; _they stare at
each other without saluting. _

_Boab. _ With him go all my fears: A guard there wait,
And see him safe without the city gate.

_To them_ ABDELMELECH.

Now, Abdelmelech, is my brother dead?

_Abdelm. _ Th' usurper to the Christian camp is fled;
Whom as Granada's lawful king they own,
And vow, by force, to seat him on the throne.
Mean time the rebels in the Albayzyn rest;
Which is in Lyndaraxa's name possest.

_Boab. _ Haste and reduce it instantly by force.

_Abdelm. _ First give me leave to prove a milder course.
She will, perhaps, on summons yield the place.

_Boab. _ We cannot to your suit refuse her grace.
[_One enters hastily, and whispers_ ABENAMAR.

_Aben. _ How fortune persecutes this hoary head!
My Ozmyn is with Selin's daughter fled.
But he's no more my son:
My hate shall like a Zegry him pursue,
'Till I take back what blood from me he drew.

_Boab. _ Let war and vengeance be to-morrow's care;
But let us to the temple now repair.
A thousand torches make the mosque more bright:
This must be mine and Almahide's night.
Hence, ye importunate affairs of state,
You should not tyrannize on love, but wait.
Had life no love, none would for business live;
Yet still from love the largest part we give;
And must be forced, in empire's weary toil,
To live long wretched, to be pleased a while. [_Exeunt. _


EPILOGUE.

Success, which can no more than beauty last,
Makes our sad poet mourn your favours past:
For, since without desert he got a name,
He fears to lose it now with greater shame.
Fame, like a little mistress of the town,
Is gained with ease, but then she's lost as soon:
For, as those tawdry misses, soon or late,
Jilt such as keep them at the highest rate;
And oft the lacquey, or the brawny clown,
Gets what is hid in the loose-bodied gown,--
So, fame is false to all that keep her long;
And turns up to the fop that's brisk and young.
Some wiser poet now would leave fame first;
But elder wits are, like old lovers, cursed:
Who, when the vigour of their youth is spent,
Still grow more fond, as they grow impotent.
This, some years hence, our poet's case may prove;
But yet, he hopes, he's young enough to love.
When forty comes, if e'er he live to see
That wretched, fumbling age of poetry,
'Twill be high time to bid his muse adieu:--
Well may he please himself, but never you.
Till then, he'll do as well as he began,
And hopes you will not find him less a man.
Think him not duller for this year's delay;
He was prepared, the women were away;
And men, without their parts, can hardly play.
If they, through sickness, seldom did appear,
Pity the virgins of each theatre:
For, at both houses, 'twas a sickly year!
And pity us, your servants, to whose cost,
In one such sickness, nine whole months are lost.
Their stay, he fears, has ruined what he writ:
Long waiting both disables love and wit.
They thought they gave him leisure to do well;
But, when they forced him to attend, he fell!
Yet, though he much has failed, he begs, to-day,
You will excuse his unperforming play:
Weakness sometimes great passion does express;
He had pleased better, had he loved you less.


* * * * *


ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE:

OR, THE

CONQUEST OF GRANADA

BY THE

_SPANIARDS. _

A TRAGEDY.

THE SECOND PART.


_--Stimulos dedit æmula virtus. _
LUCAN.




PROLOGUE

TO THE SECOND PART.


They, who write ill, and they, who ne'er durst write,
Turn critics, out of mere revenge and spite:
A playhouse gives them fame; and up there starts,
From a mean fifth-rate wit, a man of parts.
(So common faces on the stage appear;
We take them in, and they turn beauties here. )
Our author fears those critics as his fate;
And those he fears, by consequence must hate,
For they the traffic of all wit invade,
As scriveners draw away the bankers' trade.
Howe'er, the poet's safe enough to day,
They cannot censure an unfinished play.
But, as when vizard-mask appears in pit,
Straight every man, who thinks himself a wit,
Perks up, and, managing his comb with grace,
With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face;
That done, bears up to th' prize, and views each limb,
To know her by her rigging and her trim;
Then, the whole noise of fops to wagers go,--
"Pox on her, 'tmust be she;" and--"damme, no! "--
Just, so, I prophesy, these wits to-day
Will blindly guess at our imperfect play;
With what new plots our Second Part is filled,
Who must be kept alive, and who be killed.
And as those vizard-masks maintain that fashion,
To soothe and tickle sweet imagination;
So our dull poet keeps you on with masking,
To make you think there's something worth your asking.
But, when 'tis shown, that, which does now delight you,
Will prove a dowdy, with a face to fright you.




ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE,

OR, THE

CONQUEST OF GRANADA.

THE SECOND PART.


ACT I

SCENE I. --_A Camp. _

_Enter_ KING FERDINAND, QUEEN ISABELLA, ALONZO D'AGUILAR;
_Attendants, Men and Women. _

_K. Ferd. _ At length the time is come, when Spain shall be
From the long yoke of Moorish tyrants free.
All causes seem to second our design,
And heaven and earth in their destruction join.
When empire in its childhood first appears,
A watchful fate o'ersees its tender years;
Till, grown more strong, it thrusts and stretches out,
And elbows all the kingdoms round about:
The place thus made for its first breathing free,
It moves again for ease and luxury;
Till, swelling by degrees, it has possessed
The greater space, and now crowds up the rest;
When, from behind, there starts some petty state,
And pushes on its now unwieldy fate;
Then down the precipice of time it goes,
And sinks in minutes, which in ages rose.

_Q. Isabel. _ Should bold Columbus in his search succeed,
And find those beds in which bright metals breed;
Tracing the sun, who seems to steal away,
That, miser-like, he might alone survey
The wealth which he in western mines did lay,--
Not all that shining ore could give my heart
The joy, this conquered kingdom will impart;
Which; rescued from these misbelievers' hands,
Shall now, at once, shake off its double bands:
At once to freedom and true faith restored,
Its old religion and its ancient lord.

_K. Ferd. _ By that assault which last we made, I find,
Their courage is with their success declined:
Almanzor's absence now they dearly buy,
Whose conduct crowned their arms with victory.

_Alonzo. _ Their king himself did their last sally guide;
I saw him, glistering in his armour, ride
To break a lance in honour of his bride:
But other thoughts now fill his anxious breast;
Care of his crown his love has dispossest.

_To them_ ABDALLA.

_Q. Isabel. _ But see, the brother of the Moorish king:
He seems some news of great import to bring.

_K. Ferd. _ He brings a spacious title to our side:
Those, who would conquer, must their foes divide.

_Abdal. _ Since to my exile you have pity shown,
And given me courage yet to hope a throne;
While you without our common foes subdue,
I am not wanting to myself or you;
But have, within, a faction still alive,
Strong to assist, and secret to contrive,
And watching each occasion to foment
The people's fears into a discontent;
Which, from Almanzor's loss, before were great,
And now are doubled by their late defeat:
These letters from their chiefs the news assures.
[_Gives letters to the_ KING.

_K. Ferd. _ Be mine the honour, but the profit yours.

_To them the_ DUKE OF ARCOS, _with_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA,
_Prisoners. _

_K. Ferd. _ That tertia of Italians did you guide,
To take their post upon the river side?

_D. Arcos. _ All are according to your orders placed:
My chearful soldiers their intrenchments haste;
The Murcian foot hath ta'en the upper ground,
And now the city is beleaguered round.

_K. Ferd. _ Why is not then their leader here again?

_D. Arcos. _ The master of Alcantara is slain;
But he, who slew him, here before you stands:
It is that Moor whom you behold in bands.

_K. Ferd. _ A braver man I had not in my host;
His murderer shall not long his conquest boast:
But, Duke of Arcos, say, how was he slain?

_D. Arcos. _ Our soldiers marched together on the plain;
We two rode on, and left them far behind,
Till, coming where we found the valley wind,
We saw these Moors; who, swiftly as they could,
Ran on to gain the covert of a wood.
This we observed; and, having crossed their way,
The lady, out of breath, was forced to stay:
The man then stood, and straight his faulchion drew;
Then told us, we in vain did those pursue,
Whom their ill fortune to despair did drive,
And yet, whom we should never take alive.
Neglecting this, the master straight spurred on;
But the active Moor his horse's shock did shun,
And, ere his rider from his reach could go,
Finished the combat with one deadly blow.
I, to revenge my friend, prepared to fight;
But now our foremost men were come in sight,
Who soon would have dispatched him on the place,
Had I not saved him from a death so base,
And brought him to attend your royal doom.

_K. Ferd. _ A manly face, and in his age's bloom;
But, to content the soldiers, he must die:
Go, see him executed instantly.

_Q. Isabel. _ Stay; I would learn his name before he go:
You, Prince Abdalla, may the prisoner know.

_Abdal. _ Ozmyn's his name, and he deserves his fate;
His father heads the faction which I hate:
But much I wonder, that with him I see
The daughter of his mortal enemy.

_Benz. _ 'Tis true, by Ozmyn's sword my brother fell;
But 'twas a death he merited too well.
I know a sister should excuse his fault;
But you know too, that Ozmyn's death he sought,

_Abdal. _ Our prophet has declared, by the event,
That Ozmyn is reserved for punishment;
For, when he thought his guilt from danger clear,
He, by new crimes, is brought to suffer here.

_Benz. _ In love, or pity, if a crime you find,
We two have sinned above all human kind.

_Ozm. _ Heaven in my punishment has done a grace;
I could not suffer, in a better place:
That I should die by Christians it thought good,
To save your father's guilt, who sought my blood. [_To her. _

_Benz. _ Fate aims so many blows to make us fall,
That 'tis in vain to think to ward them all:
And, where misfortunes great and many are,
Life grows a burden, and not worth our care.

_Ozm. _ I cast it from me, like a garment torn,
Ragged, and too indecent to be worn:
Besides, there is contagion in my fate, [_To_ BENZ.
It makes your life too much unfortunate. --
But, since her faults are not allied to mine,
In her protection let your favour shine.
To you, great queen, I make this last request,
(Since pity dwells in every royal breast)
Safe, in your care, her life and honour be:
It is a dying lover's legacy.

_Benz. _ Cease, Ozmyn, cease so vain a suit to move;
I did not give you on those terms my love.
Leave me the care of me; for, when you go,
My love will soon instruct me what to do.

_Q. Isabel. _ Permit me, sir, these lovers' doom to give:
My sentence is, they shall together live.
The courts of kings
To all distressed should sanctuaries be,
But most to lovers in adversity.
Castile and Arragon,
Which long against each other war did move,
My plighted lord and I have joined by love;
And, if to add this conquest heaven thinks good,
I would not have it stained with lovers' blood.

_K. Ferd. _ Whatever Isabella shall command
Shall always be a law to Ferdinand.

_Benz. _ The frowns of fate we will no longer fear.
Ill fate, great queen, can never find us here.

_Q. Isabel. _ Your thanks some other time I will receive:
Henceforward safe in my protection live.
Granada is for noble loves renowned:
Her best defence is in her lovers found.
Love's an heroic passion, which can find
No room in any base degenerate mind:
It kindles all the soul with honour's fire,
To make the lover worthy his desire.
Against such heroes I success should fear,
Had we not too an host of lovers here.
An army, of bright beauties come with me;
Each lady shall her servant's actions see:
The fair and brave on each side shall contest;
And they shall overcome, who love the best. [_Exeunt. _


SCENE II. --_The Alhambra. _

_Enter_ ZULEMA.

_Zul. _ True, they have pardoned me; but do they know
What folly 'tis to trust a pardoned foe?
A blush remains in a forgiven face:
It wears the silent tokens of disgrace.
Forgiveness to the injured does belong;
But they ne'er pardon, who have done the wrong.
My hopeful fortunes lost! and, what's above
All I can name or think, my ruined love!
Feigned honesty shall work me into trust,
And seeming penitence conceal my lust.
Let heaven's great eye of Providence now take
One day of rest, and ever after wake.

_Enter_ BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, _and Guards. _

_Boab. _ Losses on losses! as if heaven decreed
Almanzor's valour should alone succeed.

_Aben. _ Each sally we have made, since he is gone,
Serves but to pull our speedy ruin on.

_Boab. _ Of all mankind, the heaviest fate he bears,
Who the last crown of sinking empire wears.
No kindly planet of his birth took care:
Heaven's outcast, and the dross of every star!
[_A tumultuous noise within. _

_Enter_ ABDELMELECH.

What new misfortunes do these cries presage?

_Abdelm. _ They are the effects of the mad people's rage.
All in despair tumultuously they swarm:
The fairest streets already take the alarm;
The needy creep from cellars under ground;
To them new cries from tops of garrets sound;
The aged from the chimneys seek the cold;
And wives from windows helpless infants hold.

_Boab. _ See what the many-headed beast demands. -- [_Exit_ ABDELM.
Cursed is that king, whose's honour's in their hands.
In senates, either they too slowly grant,
Or saucily refuse to aid my want;
And, when their thrift has ruined me in war,
They call their insolence my want of care.

_Aben. _ Cursed be their leaders, who that rage foment,
And veil, with public good, their discontent:
They keep the people's purses in their hands,
And hector kings to grant their wild demands;
But to each lure, a court throws out, descend,
And prey on those they promised to defend.

_Zul. _ Those kings, who to their wild demands consent,
Teach others the same way to discontent.
Freedom in subjects is not, nor can be;
But still, to please them, we must call them free.
Propriety, which they their idol make,
Or law, or law's interpreters, can shake.

_Aben. _ The name of commonwealth is popular;
But there the people their own tyrants are.

_Boab. _ But kings, who rule with limited command,
Have players' sceptres put into their hand.
Power has no balance, one side still weighs down,
And either hoists the commonwealth or crown;
And those, who think to set the scale more right,
By various turnings but disturb the weight.

_Aben. _ While people tug for freedom, kings for power,
Both sink beneath some foreign conqueror:
Then subjects find too late they were unjust,
And want that power of kings, they durst not trust.

_To them_ ABDELMELECH.

_Abdelm. _ The tumult now is high, and dangerous grown:
The people talk of rendering up the town;
And swear that they will force the king's consent.

_Boab. _ What counsel can this rising storm prevent?

_Abdelm. _ Their fright to no persuasions will give ear:
There's a deaf madness in a people's fear.

_Enter a Messenger. _

_Mess. _ Their fury now a middle course does take;
To yield the town, or call Almanzor back.

_Boab. _ I'll rather call my death. --
Go and bring up my guards to my defence:
I'll punish this outrageous insolence.

_Aben. _ Since blind opinion does their reason sway,
You must submit to cure them their own way.
You to their fancies physic must apply;
Give them that chief on whom they most rely.
Under Almanzor prosperously they fought;
Almanzor, therefore, must with prayers be brought.

_Enter a second Messenger. _

_2 Mess. _ Haste all you can their fury to assuage:
You are not safe from their rebellious rage.

_Enter a third Messenger. _

_3 Mess. _ This minute, if you grant not their desire,
They'll seize your person, and your palace fire.

_Abdelm. _ Your danger, sir, admits of no delay.

_Boab. _ In tumults people reign, and kings obey. --
Go and appease them with the vow I make,
That they shall have their loved Almanzor back. [_Exit_ ABDEL.