No More Learning

_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.
Almanzor has the ascendant o'er my fate;
I'm forced to stoop to one I fear and hate:
Disgraced, distressed, in exile, and alone,
He's greater than a monarch on his throne:
Without a realm, a royalty he gains;
Kings are the subjects over whom he reigns.
[_A shout of acclamations within. _

_Aben. _ These shouts proclaim the people satisfied.

_Boab. _ We for another tempest must provide.
To promise his return as I was loth,
So I want power now to perform my oath.
Ere this, for Afric he is sailed from Spain.

_Aben. _ The adverse winds his passage yet detain;
I heard, last night, his equipage did stay
At a small village, short of Malaga.

_Boab. _ Abenamar, this evening thither haste;
Desire him to forget his usage past:
Use all your rhetoric, promise, flatter, pray.

_To them_ ALMAHIDE, _attended. _

_Aben. _ Good fortune shows you yet a surer way:
Nor prayers nor promises his mind will move;
'Tis inaccessible to all, but love.

_Boab. _ Oh, thou hast roused a thought within my breast,
That will for ever rob me of my rest.
Ah jealousy, how cruel is thy sting!
I, in Almanzor, a loved rival bring!
And now, I think, it is an equal strife,
If I my crown should hazard, or my wife.
Where, marriage, is thy cure, which husbands boast,
That in possession their desire is lost?
Or why have I alone that wretched taste,
Which, gorged and glutted, does with hunger last?
Custom and duty cannot set me free,
Even sin itself has not a charm for me.
Of married lovers I am sure the first,
And nothing but a king could be so curst.

_Almah. _ What sadness sits upon your royal heart?
Have you a grief, and must not I have part?
All creatures else a time of love possess;
Man only clogs with cares his happiness:
And, while he should enjoy his part of bliss,
With thoughts of what may be, destroys what is.

_Boab. _ You guess aright; I am oppressed with grief,
And 'tis from you that I must seek relief. [_To the company. _
Leave us; to sorrow there's a reverence due:
Sad kings, like suns eclipsed, withdraw from view.
[_The Attendants go off, and chairs are set for
the King and Queen. _

_Almah. _ So, two kind turtles, when a storm is nigh,
Look up, and see it gathering in the sky:
Each calls his mate, to shelter in the groves,
Leaving, in murmur, their unfinished loves:
Perched on some drooping branch, they sit alone,
And coo, and hearken to each other's moan.

_Boab. _ Since, Almahide, you seem so kind a wife,
[_Taking her by the hand. _
What would you do to save a husband's life?

_Almah. _ When fate calls on that hard necessity,
I'll suffer death, rather than you shall die.

_Boab. _ Suppose your country should in danger be;
What would you undertake to set it free?

_Almah. _ It were too little to resign my breath:
My own free hand should give me nobler death.

_Boab. _ That hand, which would so much for glory do,
Must yet do more; for it must kill me too.
You must kill me, for that dear country's sake;
Or, what's all one, must call Almanzor back.

_Almah. _ I see to what your speech you now direct;
Either my love or virtue you suspect.
But know, that, when my person I resigned,
I was too noble not to give my mind.
No more the shadow of Almanzor fear;
I have no room, but for your image, here.

_Boab. _ This, Almahide, would make me cease to mourn,
Were that Almanzor never to return:
But now my fearful people mutiny;
Their clamours call Almanzor back, not I.
Their safety, through my ruin, I pursue;
He must return, and must be brought by you.

_Almah. _ That hour, when I my faith to you did plight,
I banished him for ever from my sight.
His banishment was to my virtue due;
Not that I feared him for myself, but you.
My honour had preserved me innocent:
But I would, your suspicion to prevent;
Which, since I see augmented in your mind,
I yet more reason for his exile find.

_Boab. _ To your entreaties he will yield alone.
And on your doom depend my life and throne.
No longer, therefore, my desires withstand;
Or, if desires prevail not, my command.

_Almah. _ In his return, too sadly I foresee
The effects of your returning jealousy.
But your command I prize above my life;
'Tis sacred to a subject and a wife:
If I have power, Almanzor shall return.

_Boab. _ Cursed be that fatal hour when I was born!
[_Letting go her hand, and starting up. _
You love, you love him; and that love reveal,
By your too quick consent to his repeal.
My jealousy had but too just a ground;
And now you stab into my former wound.

_Almah. _ This sudden change I do not understand.
Have you so soon forgot your own command?

_Boab. _ Grant that I did the unjust injunction lay,
You should have loved me more than to obey.
I know you did this mutiny design;
But I'll your love-plot quickly countermine.
Let my crown go; he never shall return;
I, like a phoenix, in my nest will burn.

_Almah. _ You please me well; that in one common fate
You wrap yourself, and me, and all your state.
Let us no more of proud Almanzor hear:
'Tis better once to die, than still to fear;
And better many times to die, than be
Obliged, past payment, to an enemy.

_Boab. _ 'Tis better; but you wives have still one way:
Whene'er your husbands are obliged, you pay.

_Almah. _ Thou, heaven, who know'st it, judge my innocence! --
You, sir, deserve not I should make defence.
Yet, judge my virtue by that proof I gave,
When I submitted to be made your slave.

_Boab. _ If I have been suspicious or unkind,
Forgive me; many cares distract my mind:
Love, and a crown!
Two such excuses no one man e'er had;
And each of them enough to make me mad:
But now my reason reassumes its throne,
And finds no safety when Almanzor's gone.
Send for him then; I'll be obliged, and sue;
'Tis a less evil than to part with you.
I leave you to your thoughts; but love me still!
Forgive my passion, and obey my will. [_Exit_ BOABDELIN.

ALMAHIDE _solus. _

My jealous lord will soon to rage return;
That fire, his fear rakes up, does inward burn.
But heaven, which made me great, has chose for me,
I must the oblation for my people be.
I'll cherish honour, then, and life despise;
What is not pure, is not for sacrifice.
Yet for Almanzor I in secret mourn!
Can virtue, then, admit of his return?
Yes; for my love I will by virtue square;
My heart's not mine, but all my actions are.
I'll like Almanzor act; and dare to be
As haughty, and as wretched too, as he.
What will he think is in my message meant?
I scarcely understand my own intent:
But, silk-worm like, so long within have wrought,
That I am lost in my own web of thought. [_Exit_ ALMAHIDE.


ACT II.

SCENE I. --_A Wood. _

_Enter_ OZMYN _and_ BENZAYDA.

_Ozm. _ 'Tis true, that our protection here has been
The effect of honour in the Spanish queen;
But, while I as a friend continue here,
I to my country must a foe appear.

_Benz.