No More Learning

I will not be unveiled.

_M. Mol_ Slave is thy title:--force her.

_Sebast. _ On your lives, approach her not.

_M. Mol. _ How's this!

_Sebast. _ Sir, pardon me,
And hear me speak. --

_Aim. _ Hear me; I will be heard.
I am no slave; the noblest blood of Afric
Runs in my veins; a purer stream than thine:
For, though derived from the same source, thy current
Is puddled and defiled with tyranny.

_M. Mol. _ What female fury have we here!

_Aim. _ I should be one,
Because of kin to thee. Wouldst thou be touched
By the presuming hands of saucy grooms?
The same respect, nay more, is due to me:
More for my sex; the same for my descent.
These hands are only fit to draw the curtain.
Now, if thou dar'st, behold Almeyda's face. [_Unveils herself. _

_Bend. _ Would I had never seen it! [_Aside. _

_Alm. _ She whom thy Mufti taxed to have no soul;
Let Afric now be judge.
Perhaps thou think'st I meanly hope to 'scape,
As did Sebastian, when he owned his greatness.
But to remove that scruple, know, base man,
My murdered father, and my brother's ghost,
Still haunt this breast, and prompt it to revenge.
Think not I could forgive, nor dar'st thou pardon.

_M. Mol. _ Wouldst thou revenge thee, trait'ress, hadst thou power?

_Alm. _ Traitor, I would; the name's more justly thine;
Thy father was not, more than mine, the heir
Of this large empire: but with arms united
They fought their way, and seized the crown by force;
And equal as their danger was their share:
For where was eldership, where none had right
But that which conquest gave? 'Twas thy ambition
Pulled from my peaceful father what his sword
Helped thine to gain; surprised him and his kingdom,
No provocation given, no war declared.

_M. Mol. _ I'll hear no more.

_Alm. _ This is the living coal, that, burning in me,
Would flame to vengeance, could it find a vent;
My brother too, that lies yet scarcely cold
In his deep watery bed;--my wandering mother,
Who in exile died--
O that I had the fruitful heads of Hydra,
That one might bourgeon where another fell!
Still would I give thee work; still, still, thou tyrant,
And hiss thee with the last.

_M. Mol. _ Something, I know not what, comes over me:
Whether the toils of battle, unrepaired
With due repose, or other sudden qualm. --
Benducar, do the rest. [_Goes off, the court follows him. _

_Bend. _ Strange! in full health! this pang is of the soul;
The body's unconcerned: I'll think hereafter. --
Conduct these royal captives to the castle;
Bid Dorax use them well, till further order. [_Going off, stops. _
The inferior captives their first owners take,
To sell, or to dispose. --You Mustapha,
Set ope the market for the sale of slaves. [_Exit_ BEND.
[_The Masters and Slaves come forward, and
Buyers of several Qualities come in, and
chaffer about the several Owners, who
make their slaves do Tricks[1]. _

_Must. _ My chattels are come into my hands again, and my conscience
will serve me to sell them twice over; any price now, before the Mufti
come to claim them.

_1st Mer. _ [_To_ MUST. ] What dost hold that old fellow at? --[_Pointing
to_ ALVAR. ] He's tough, and has no service in his limbs.

_Must. _ I confess he's somewhat tough; but I suppose you would not
boil him, I ask for him a thousand crowns.

_1st Mer. _ Thou mean'st a thousand marvedis.

_Must. _ Pr'ythee, friend, give me leave to know my own meaning.

_1st Mer. _ What virtues has he to deserve that price?

_Must. _ Marry come up, sir! virtues, quotha! I took him in the king's
company; he's of a great family, and rich; what other virtues wouldst
thou have in a nobleman?

_1st Mer. _ I buy him with another man's purse, that's my comfort. My
lord Dorax, the governor, will have him at any rate:--There's hansel.
Come, old fellow, to the castle.

_Alvar. _ To what is miserable age reserved! [_Aside. _
But oh the king! and oh the fatal secret!
Which I have kept thus long to time it better,
And now I would disclose, 'tis past my power. [_Exit with his Master. _

_Must. _ Something of a secret, and of the king, I heard him mutter: a
pimp, I warrant him, for I am sure he is an old courtier. Now, to put
off t'other remnant of my merchandize. --Stir up, sirrah! [_To_ ANT.

_Ant. _ Dog, what wouldst thou have?

_Must. _ Learn better manners, or I shall serve you a dog-trick; come
down upon all-four immediately; I'll make you know your rider.

_Ant. _ Thou wilt not make a horse of me?

_Must. _ Horse or ass, that's as thy mother made thee: but take
earnest, in the first place, for thy sauciness. --[_Lashes him with his
Whip. _]--Be advised, friend, and buckle to thy geers: Behold my ensign
of royalty displayed over thee.

_Ant. _ I hope one day to use thee worse in Portugal.

_Must. _ Ay, and good reason, friend; if thou catchest me a-conquering
on thy side of the water, lay on me lustily; I will take it as kindly
as thou dost this. -- [_Holds up his Whip. _

_Ant. _ [_Lying down. _] Hold, my dear Thrum-cap: I obey thee
cheerfully. --I see the doctrine of non-resistance is never practised
thoroughly, but when a man can't help himself.

_Enter a second Merchant. _

_2d Mer. _ You, friend, I would see that fellow do his postures.

_Must. _ [_Bridling_ ANT. ] Now, sirrah, follow, for you have rope
enough: To your paces, villain, amble trot, and gallop:--Quick about,
there. --Yeap! the more money's bidden for you, the more your credit.
[ANTONIO _follows, at the end of the
Bridle, on his Hands and Feet, and
does all his Postures. _

_2d Mer. _ He is well chined, and has a tolerable good back; that is
half in half. --[_To_ MUST. ]--I would see him strip; has he no diseases
about him?

_Must. _ He is the best piece of man's flesh in the market, not an
eye-sore in his whole body. Feel his legs, master; neither splint,
spavin, nor wind-gall. [_Claps him on the Shoulder. _

_Mer. _ [_Feeling about him, and then putting his Hand on his Side. _]
Out upon him, how his flank heaves! The whore-son is broken-winded.

_Must. _ Thick-breathed a little; nothing but a sorry cold with lying
out a-nights in trenches; but sound, wind and limb, I warrant
him. --Try him at a loose trot a little. [_Puts the Bridle into his
Hand, he strokes him. _

_Ant. _ For heaven's sake, owner, spare me: you know I am but new
broken.

_2d Mer. _ 'Tis but a washy jade, I see: what do you ask for this
bauble?

_Must. _ Bauble, do you call him? he is a substantial true-bred beast;
bravely forehanded. Mark but the cleanness of his shapes too: his dam
may be a Spanish gennet, but a true barb by the sire, or I have no
skill in horseflesh:--Marry, I ask six hundred xeriffs for him.

_Enter_ MUFTI.

_Mufti. _ What is that you are asking, sirrah?

_Must. _ Marry, I ask your reverence six hundred pardons; I was doing
you a small piece of service here, putting off your cattle for you.

_Mufti. _ And putting the money into your own pocket.

_Must. _ Upon vulgar reputation, no, my lord; it was for your profit
and emolument. What! wrong the head of my religion? I was sensible you
would have damned me, or any man, that should have injured you in a
single farthing; for I knew that was sacrifice.

_Mufti. _ Sacrilege, you mean, sirrah,--and damning shall be the least
part of your punishment: I have taken you in the manner, and will have
the law upon you.

_Must. _ Good my lord, take pity upon a poor man in this world, and
damn me in the next.

_Mufti. _ No, sirrah, so you may repent and escape punishment: Did not
you sell this very slave amongst the rest to me, and take money for
him?

_Must. _ Right, my lord.

_Mufti. _ And selling him again? take money twice for the same
commodity? Oh, villain! but did you not know him to be my slave,
sirrah?

_Must. _ Why should I lie to your honour? I did know him; and
thereupon, seeing him wander about, took him up for a stray, and
impounded him, with intention to restore him to the right owner.

_Mufti. _ And yet at the same time was selling him to another: How
rarely the story hangs together!

_Must. _ Patience, my lord. I took him up, as your herriot, with
intention to have made the best of him, and then have brought the
whole product of him in a purse to you; for I know you would have
spent half of it upon your pious pleasures, have hoarded up the other
half, and given the remainder in charities to the poor.

_Mufti. _ And what's become of my other slave? Thou hast sold him too,
I have a villainous suspicion.

_Must. _ I know you have, my lord; but while I was managing this young
robustious fellow, that old spark, who was nothing but skin and bone,
and by consequence very nimble, slipt through my fingers like an eel,
for there was no hold-fast of him, and ran away to buy himself a new
master.

_Muft. _ [_To_ ANT. ] Follow me home, sirrah:--[_To_ MUST. ] I shall
remember you some other time. [_Exit_ MUFTI _with_ ANT.

_Must. _ I never doubted your lordship's memory for an ill turn: And I
shall remember him too in the next rising of the mobile for this act
of resumption; and more especially for the ghostly counsel he gave me
before the emperor, to have hanged myself in silence to have saved his
reverence. The best on't is, I am beforehand with him for selling one
of his slaves twice over; and if he had not come just in the nick, I
might have pocketed up the other; for what should a poor man do that
gets his living by hard labour, but pray for bad times when he may get
it easily? O for some incomparable tumult! Then should I naturally
wish that the beaten party might prevail; because we have plundered
the other side already, and there is nothing more to get of them.
Both rich and poor for their own interest pray,
'Tis ours to make our fortune while we may;
For kingdoms are not conquered every day. [_Exit. _


ACT II.

SCENE I. --_Supposed to be a Terrace Walk, on the side of the Castle of
Alcazar. _

_Enter_ EMPEROR _and_ BENDUCAR.

_Emp.
_ And thinkst thou not, it was discovered?

_Bend. _ No:
The thoughts of kings are like religious groves,
The walks of muffled gods: Sacred retreat,
Where none, but whom they please to admit, approach.

_Emp. _ Did not my conscious eye flash out a flame,
To lighten those brown horrors, and disclose
The secret path I trod?

_Bend. _ I could not find it, till you lent a clue
To that close labyrinth; how then should they?

_Emp. _ I would be loth they should: it breeds contempt
For herds to listen, or presume to pry,
When the hurt lion groans within his den:
But is't not strange?

_Bend. _ To love? not more than 'tis to live; a tax
Imposed on all by nature, paid in kind,
Familiar as our being.

_Emp. _ Still 'tis strange
To me: I know my soul as wild as winds,
That sweep the desarts of our moving plains;
Love might as well be sowed upon our sands,
As in a breast so barren.
To love an enemy, the only one
Remaining too, whom yester sun beheld
Mustering her charms, and rolling, as she past
By every squadron, her alluring eyes,
To edge her champions' swords, and urge my ruin.
The shouts of soldiers, and the burst of cannon,
Maintain even still a deaf and murmuring noise;
Nor is heaven yet recovered of the sound,
Her battle roused: Yet, spite of me, I love.

_Bend. _ What then controuls you?
Her person is as prostrate as her party.

_Emp. _ A thousand things controul this conqueror:
My native pride to own the unworthy passion,
Hazard of interest, and my people's love.
To what a storm of fate am I exposed! --
What if I had her murdered! --'tis but what
My subjects all expect, and she deserves,--
Would not the impossibility
Of ever, ever seeing, or possessing,
Calm all this rage, this hurricane of soul?

_Bend. _ That _ever, ever,_--
I marked the double,--shows extreme reluctance
To part with her for ever.

_Emp. _ Right, thou hast me.
I would, but cannot kill: I must enjoy her:
I must, and what I must, be sure I will.
What's royalty, but power to please myself?
And if I dare not, then am I the slave,
And my own slaves the sovereigns:--'tis resolved.
Weak princes flatter, when they want the power
To curb their people; tender plants must bend:
But when a government is grown to strength,
Like some old oak, rough with its armed bark,
It yields not to the tug, but only nods,
And turns to sullen state.

_Bend. _ Then you resolve
To implore her pity, and to beg relief?

_Emp. _ Death! must I beg the pity of my slave?
Must a king beg? --Yes; love's a greater king;
A tyrant, nay, a devil, that possesses me:
He tunes the organs of my voice, and speaks,
Unknown to me, within me; pushes me,
And drives me on by force. --
Say I should wed her, would not my wise subjects
Take check, and think it strange? perhaps revolt?

_Bend. _ I hope they would not.

_Emp. _ Then thou doubtst they would?

_Bend. _ To whom?

_Emp. _ To her
Perhaps,--or to my brother,--or to thee.

_Bend. _ [_in disorder. _]
To me! me, did you mention? how I tremble!
The name of treason shakes my honest soul.
If I am doubted, sir,
Secure yourself this moment, take my life.

_Emp. _ No more: If I suspected thee--I would.

_Bend. _ I thank your kindness. --Guilt had almost lost me. [_Aside. _

_Emp. _ But clear my doubts:--thinkst thou they may rebel?

_Bend. _ This goes as I would wish. -- [_Aside. _
'Tis possible:
A secret party still remains, that lurks
Like embers raked in ashes,--wanting but
A breath to blow aside the involving dust,
And then they blaze abroad.

_Emp. _ They must be trampled out.

_Bend. _ But first be known.

_Emp. _ Torture shall force it from them.

_Bend. _ You would not put a nation to the rack?

_Emp. _ Yes, the whole world; so I be safe, I care not.

_Bend. _ Our limbs and lives
Are yours; but mixing friends with foes is hard.

_Emp. _ All may be foes; or how to be distinguished,
If some be friends?

_Bend. _ They may with ease be winnowed.
Suppose some one, who has deserved your trust,
Some one, who knows mankind, should be employed
To mix among them, seem a malcontent,
And dive into their breasts, to try how far
They dare oppose your love?

_Emp. _ I like this well; 'tis wholesome wickedness.

_Bend. _ Whomever he suspects, he fastens there,
And leaves no cranny of his soul unsearched;
Then like a bee bag'd with his honeyed venom,
He brings it to your hive;--if such a man,
So able and so honest, may be found;
If not, my project dies.

_Emp. _ By all my hopes, thou hast described thyself:
Thou, thou alone, art fit to play that engine,
Thou only couldst contrive.

_Bend. _ Sure I could serve you:
I think I could:--but here's the difficulty;
I am so entirely yours,
That I should scurvily dissemble hate;
The cheat would be too gross.

_Emp. _ Art thou a statesman,
And canst not be a hypocrite? Impossible!
Do not distrust thy virtues.

_Bend. _ If I must personate this seeming villain,
Remember 'tis to serve you.

_Emp. _ No more words:
Love goads me to Almeyda, all affairs
Are troublesome but that; and yet that most. [_Going. _
Bid Dorax treat Sebastian like a king;
I had forgot him;--but this love mars all,
And takes up my whole breast. [_Exit_ EMPEROR.

_Bend. _ [_To the_ EMP. ] Be sure I'll tell him--
With all the aggravating circumstances [_Alone. _
I can, to make him swell at that command.
The tyrant first suspected me;
Then with a sudden gust he whirled about,
And trusted me too far:--Madness of power!
Now, by his own consent, I ruin him.
For, should some feeble soul, for fear or gain.
Bolt out to accuse me, even the king is cozened,
And thinks he's in the secret.
How sweet is treason, when the traitor's safe!

_Sees the_ MUFTI _and_ DORAX _entering, and seeming to confer. _

The Mufti, and with him my sullen Dorax.
That first is mine already:
'Twas easy work to gain a covetous mind,
Whom rage to lose his prisoners had prepared:
Now caught himself,
He would seduce another. I must help him:
For churchmen, though they itch to govern all,
Are silly, woeful, aukward politicians:
They make lame mischief, though they mean it well:
Their interest is not finely drawn, and hid,
But seams are coarsely bungled up, and seen.

_Muf. _ He'll tell you more.

_Dor. _ I have heard enough already,
To make me loath thy morals.

_Bend. _ [_To_ DOR. ] You seem warm;
The good man's zeal perhaps has gone too far.

_Dor. _ Not very far; not farther than zeal goes;
Of course a small day's journey short of treason.

_Muf. _ By all that's holy, treason was not named:
I spared the emperor's broken vows, to save
The slaves from death, though it was cheating heaven;
But I forgave him that.

_Dor. _ And slighted o'er
The wrongs himself sustained in property;
When his bought slaves were seized by force, no loss
Of his considered, and no cost repaid. [_Scornfully. _

_Muf. _ Not wholly slighted o'er, not absolutely. --
Some modest hints of private wrongs I urged.

_Dor. _ Two-thirds of all he said: there he began
To shew the fulness of his heart; there ended.
Some short excursions of a broken vow
He made indeed, but flat insipid stuff;
But, when he made his loss the theme, he flourished,
Relieved his fainting rhetoric with new figures,
And thundered at oppressing tyranny.

_Muf. _ Why not, when sacrilegious power would seize
My property? 'tis an affront to heaven,
Whose person, though unworthy, I sustain.

_Dor. _ You've made such strong alliances above,
That 'twere profaneness in us laity
To offer earthly aid.
I tell thee, Mufti, if the world were wise,
They would not wag one finger in your quarrels.
Your heaven you promise, but our earth you covet;
The Phætons of mankind, who fire that world,
Which you were sent by preaching but to warm.

_Bend. _ This goes beyond the mark.

_Muf. _ No, let him rail;
His prophet works within him;
He's a rare convert.

_Dor. _ Now his zeal yearns
To see me burned; he damns me from his church,
Because I would restrain him to his duty. --
Is not the care of souls a load sufficient?
Are not your holy stipends paid for this?
Were you not bred apart from worldly noise,
To study souls, their cures and their diseases?
If this be so, we ask you but our own:
Give us your whole employment, all your care.
The province of the soul is large enough
To fill up every cranny of your time,
And leave you much to answer, if one wretch
Be damned by your neglect.

_Bend. _ [_To the_ MUFTI. ] He speaks but reason.

_Dor. _ Why, then, these foreign thoughts of state-employments,
Abhorrent to your function and your breedings?
Poor droning truants of unpractised cells,
Bred in the fellowship of bearded boys,
What wonder is it if you know not men?
Yet there you live demure, with down-cast eyes,
And humble as your discipline requires;
But, when let loose from thence to live at large,
Your little tincture of devotion dies:
Then luxury succeeds, and, set agog
With a new scene of yet untasted joys,
You fall with greedy hunger to the feast.
Of all your college virtues, nothing now
But your original ignorance remains;
Bloated with pride, ambition, avarice,
You swell to counsel kings, and govern kingdoms.

_Muf. _ He prates as if kings had not consciences,
And none required directors but the crowd.

_Dor. _ As private men they want you, not as kings;
Nor would you care to inspect their public conscience,
But that it draws dependencies of power
And earthly interest, which you long to sway;
Content you with monopolizing heaven,
And let this little hanging ball alone:
For, give you but a foot of conscience there,
And you, like Archimedes, toss the globe.
We know your thoughts of us that laymen are,
Lag souls, and rubbish of remaining clay,
Which heaven, grown weary of more perfect work,
Set upright with a little puff of breath,
And bid us pass for men.

_Muf. _ I will not answer,
Base foul-mouthed renegade; but I'll pray for thee,
To shew my charity. [_Exit_ MUFTI.

_Dor. _ Do; but forget not him who needs it most:
Allow thyself some share. --He's gone too soon;
I had to tell him of his holy jugglings;
Things that would startle faith, and make us deem
Not this, or that, but all religions false.

_Bend. _ Our holy orator has lost the cause. [_Aside. _
But I shall yet redeem it. --[_To_ DORAX. ] Let him go;
For I have secret orders from the emperor,
Which none but you must hear: I must confess,
I could have wished some other hand had brought them.
When did you see your prisoner, great Sebastian?

_Dor. _ You might as well have asked me, when I saw
A crested dragon, or a basilisk;
Both are less poison to my eyes and nature,
He knows not I am I; nor shall he see me,
Till time has perfected a labouring thought,
That rolls within my breast.

_Bend. _ 'Twas my mistake.
I guessed indeed that time, and his misfortunes,
And your returning duty, had effaced
The memory of past wrongs; they would in me,
And I judged you as tame, and as forgiving.

_Dor. _ Forgive him! no: I left my foolish faith,
Because it would oblige me to forgiveness.

_Bend. _ I can't but grieve to find you obstinate,
For you must see him; 'tis our emperor's will,
And strict command.

_Dor. _ I laugh at that command.

_Bend. _ You must do more than see; serve, and respect him.

_Dor. _ See, serve him, and respect! and after all
My yet uncancelled wrongs, I must do this! --
But I forget myself.

_Bend. _ Indeed you do.