Phil. Alonzo, hold, We two will be the Fate of this great Day.

Abd. And I'll forego all I've already won, And claim no Conquest; the whole heaps of Bodies, Which this Right-hand has slain, declare me Victor.

Phil. No matter who's the Victor; I have thee in my view, And will not leave thee, Till thou hast crown'd those Heaps, and made 'em all The glorious Trophies of my Victory—Come on, Sir.

Alon. You shall not fight thus single; If you begin, by Heaven, we'll all fall on.

Phil. Dost thou suspect my Power? Oh, I am arm'd with more than compleat Steel, The Justice of my Quarrel; when I look Upon my Father's Wrongs, my Brother's Wounds, My Mother's Infamy, Spain's Misery, I am all Fire; and yet I am too cold To let out Blood enough for my Revenge: —Therefore stir not a Sword on my side.

Abd. Nor on mine.

They fight; both their Parties engage on either side; the Scene draws off, and discovers both the Armies, which all fall on and make the main Battel: Philip prevails, the Moors give ground: Then the Scene closes to the the Grove. Enter some Moors flying in disorder.

SCENE VI. Changes to a Tent.

Enter Abdelazer, Roderigo, Osmin, Zarrack, and some others of his Party.

Rod. Oh, fly, my Lord, fly, for the Day is lost.

Abd. There are three hundred and odd Days i'th Year, And cannot we lose one? dismiss thy Fears, They'll make a Coward of thee.

Osm. Sir, all the noble Spaniards have forsook you; Your Soldiers faint, are round beset with Enemies, Nor can you shun your Fate, but by your Flight.

Abd. I can—and must—in spite of Fate: The Wheel of War shall turn about again, And dash the Current of his Victories.— This is the Tent I've pitched, at distance from the Armies, To meet the Queen and Cardinal; Charm'd with the Magick of Dissimulation, I know by this h'as furl'd his Ensigns up, And is become a tame and coward Ass. [A Retreat is sounded. —Hark—hark, 'tis done: oh, my inchanting Engine! —Dost thou not hear Retreat sounded?

Rod. Sure 'tis impossible.

Abd. She has prevail'd—a Woman's Tongue and Eyes Are Forces stronger than Artilleries. Enter Queen, Cardinal, Women, and Soldiers. —We are betray'd—

Qu. What means this Jealousy? lay by your Weapons. And embrace—the sight of these beget Suspicion: —Abdelazer, by my Birth he comes in peace; Lord Cardinal, on my Honour so comes he.

Abd. Let him withdraw his Troops then.

Qu. They're Guards for all our Safeties: Give me your Hand, Prince Cardinal—thine, Abdelazer— [She brings them together, they embrace. This blest Accord I do behold with Joy.

Card. Abdelazer, I at the Queen's Command have met you here, To know what 'tis you will propose to us.

Abd. Peace and eternal Friendship 'twixt us two. How much against my Will I took up Arms, Be witness, Heav'n: nor was it in revenge to you, But to let out th' infected Blood of Philip, Whose sole aim Is to be King—which Spain will never suffer; Spain gave me Education, though not Birth, Which has intitled it my native Home, To which such Reverence and Esteem I bear, I will preserve it from the Tyrant's Rage. The People who once lov'd him, now abhor him, And 'tis your Power alone that buoys him up: And when you've lifted him into a Throne, 'Tis time to shake you off.

Card. Whilst I behold him as my native Prince, My Honour and Religion bids me serve him; Yet not when I'm convinc'd that whilst I do so, I injure Spain.

Abd. If he were so, the Powers above forbid We should not serve, adore, and fight for him; But Philip is a Bastard:—nay, 'twill surprize ye, But that 'tis Truth, the Queen will satisfy you.

Qu. With one bold Word he has undone my Honour. [Weeps. Too bluntly, Abdelazer, you repeat That which by slow Degrees you shou'd have utter'd.

Abd. Pardon my Roughness, Madam, I meant well.

Card. Philip a Bastard! If by such Arts you wou'd divide me from him, I shall suspect you wou'd betray us both.

Qu. Sir, he informs you Truth; and I blush less To own him so, than that he is a Traitor.

Card. Philip a Bastard! oh, it cannot be— Madam, take heed you do not for Revenge, Barter your dearer Honour, and lose both.

Qu. I know what's due to Honour, and Revenge, But better what I owe to Spain, and you— You are a Prince o'th' Blood, and may put off The Cardinal when you please, and be a Monarch.

Card. Though my Ambition's equal to my Passion, Neither shall make me act against those Principles My Honour ever taught me to obey. —And, Madam— 'Tis less a Sin, not to believe you her, Than 'tis to doubt your Virtue.

Qu. I wish it were untold, if it must forfeit The least of your Esteem—but that 'tis Truth, Be witness, Heav'n, my Shame, my Sighs, and Tears. [Weeps.

Card. Why, Madam, was't so long conceal'd from me?

Qu. The Circumstances I shall at leisure tell you: And for the present, Let it suffice, he cannot rule in Spain, Nor can you side with him, without being made As much incapable to reign as he.

Card. Though Love and Honour I have always made The Business of my Life; My Soul retains too so much of Ambition, As puts me still in mind of what I am, A Prince, and Heir to Spain: Nor shall my blinded Zeal to Loyalty, Make me that glorious Interest resign, Since Philip's Claims are not so great as mine. —Madam, tho I'm convinc'd I've done amiss In taking Arms for Philip, Yet 'twill be difficult to disengage my self.

Abd. Most easily— Proclaim it in the head of all your Troops, The Justice of your Cause for leaving him; And tell 'em, 'tis a Work of Piety To follow your Example. The giddy Rout are guided by Religion, More than by Justice, Reason, or Allegiance. —The Crown which I as a good Husband keep, I will lay down upon the empty Throne; Marry you the Queen, and fill it—and for me, I'll ever pay you Duty as a Subject. [Bows low.

Card. On these Conditions all I am is yours; Philip we cannot fear, all he can do Is to retire for refuge into Portugal.

Abd. That wou'd be dangerous— Is there no Arts to get him in our Power?

Card. Perhaps by Policy, and seeming Friendship, For we have reason yet to fear his Force; And since I'm satisfy'd he's not my lawful Prince, I cannot think it an Impiety To sacrifice him to the Peace of Spain, And every Spirit that loves Liberty: First we'll our Forces join, and make 'em yours, Then give me your Authority to arrest him; If so we can surprize him, we'll spare the hazard Of a second Battel.

Abd. My Lord, retire into my inner Tent, And all things shall be instantly perform'd.

[Exeunt all.

SCENE VII. The Grove.

Enter some of Philip's Party running over the Stage, pursued by Philip, Alonzo, Sebastian, Antonio, and some few Officers more.

Alon. Do not pursue 'em, Sir, such coward Slaves Deserve not Death from that illustriate Hand.

Phil. Eternal Plagues consume 'em in their flight; Oh, this damn'd coward Cardinal has betray'd us! When all our Swords were nobly dy'd in Blood, When with red Sweat that trickled from our Wounds We'ad dearly earn'd the long disputed Victory, Then to lose all, then to sound base Retreat, It swells my Anger up to perfect Madness.

Alon. Indeed 'twas wondrous strange.

Sebast. I'm glad, Sir—

Phil. Art glad of it? art glad we are abandon'd? That I, and thou have lost the hopeful'st Day—

Sebast. Great Sir, I'm glad that you came off alive.

Phil. Thou hast a lean Face—and a carrion Heart— A plague upon the Moor, and thee—Oh, Alonzo, To run away—follow'd by all the Army! Oh, I cou'd tear my Hair, and curse my Soul to Air! —Cardinal—thou Traitor, Judas, that would'st sell Thy God again, as thou hast done thy Prince. —But come—we're yet a few, And we will fight till there be left but one— If I prove him, I'll die a glorious death. Ant. Yes, but the Cardinal has took pious Care It shall be in our Beds.

Sebast. We are as bad as one already, Sir; for all our Fellows are crawl'd home, some with ne'er a Leg, others with ne'er a Arm, some with their Brains beat out, and glad they escaped so.

Phil. But, my dear Countrymen, you'll stick to me.

1 Sold. Ay, wou'd I were well off— [Aside.

Phil. Speak, stout Sceva, wilt thou not?

1 Sold. Sceva, Sir, who's that?

Phil. A gallant Roman, that fought by Caesar's side, Till all his Body cover'd o'er with Arrows, Shew'd like a monstrous Porcupine.

1 Sold. And did he die, Sir?

Phil. He wou'd not but have dy'd for Caesar's Empire.

1 Sold. Hah—why, Sir, I'm none of Sceva, but honest Diego, yet would as willingly die as he, but that I have a Wife and Children; and if I die they beg.

Phil. For every drop of Blood which thou shalt lose, I'll give thy Wife—a Diadem.

Sold. Stark mad, as I am valiant!

Enter Card. Officers and Soldiers: Philip offers to run on him, is held by Alonzo.

Phil. Oh Heav'n! is not that the Cardinal? Traitor, how dar'st thou tempt my Rage, and Justice?

Card. Your Pardon, Sir, I come in humble Love To offer happy Peace.

Phil. Was that thy aim when base Retreat was sounded? Oh, thou false Cardinal—let me go, Alonzo— Death! offer happy Peace! no, offer War, Bring Fire and Sword—Hell and Damnation-Peace! Oh, damn your musty Peace—No, will you fight and cry, Down with the Moor! and then I'll die in peace. I have a Heart, two Arms, a Soul, a Head, I'll hazard these—I can but hazard all— Come—I will kneel to thee—and be thy Slave— [Kneels. I'll let thee tread on me, do any thing, So this damn'd Moor may fall.

Card. Yes, Sir, he shall—

Phil. Gods! shall he—thy noble Hand upon't, And for this Promise, take my grateful Heart. [Embraces him. —Shall Abdelazer fall?

Card. Yes, upon thee— Like the tall Ruins of a falling Tower, To crush thee into Dust— [As they embrace, the Guards seize him and the rest. Traitor and Bastard, I arrest thee of High-Treason.

Phil. Hah!—Traitor!—and Bastard—and from thee! [They hold Philip's Hands.

Card. Guards, to your Hands the Prisoner is committed. There's your Warrant—Alonzo, you are free. [Ex. Card.

Phil. Prithee lend me one Hand—to wipe my Eyes, And see who 'tis dares authorize this Warrant: —The Devil and his Dam!—the Moor and Queen! Their Warrant!—Gods! Alonzo, must we obey it? Villains, you cannot be my Jailors; there's no Prison, No Dungeon deep enough; no Gate so strong, To keep a Man confin'd—so mad with Wrong. —Oh, dost thou weep, Alonzo?

Alon. I wou'd fain shed a Tear, But from my Tears so many Show'rs are gone, They are too poor to pay your Sorrow's Tribute; There is no Remedy, we must to Prison.

Phil. Yes, and from thence to Death— I thought I should have had a Tomb hung round With tatter'd Ensigns, broken Spears and Javelins; And that my Body, with a thousand Wounds, Shou'd have been borne on some triumphant Chariot, With solemn Mourning, Drums, and Trumpets sounding; Whilst all the wondring World with Grief and Envy, Had wish'd my glorious Destiny their own: But now, Alonzo—like a Beast I fall, And hardly Pity waits my Funeral.

[Exeunt.



ACT V.

SCENE I. _A Presence-Chamber, with a Throne and Canopy.

Enter_ Abdelazer, Cardinal, Alonzo, Ordonio, Roderigo, _and other Lords, one bearing the Crown, which is laid on the Table on a Cushion; the_ Queen, Leonora, _and Ladies. They all seat themselves, leaving the Throne and Chair of State empty_. Abdelazer _rises and bows_, Roderigo _kneeling, presents him with the Crown_.

Abd. Grandees of Spain, if in this royal Presence There breathes a Man, who having laid his hold So fast on such a Jewel, and dares wear it, In the Contempt of Envy, as I dare; Yet uncompell'd (as freely as the Gods Bestow their Blessings) wou'd give such Wealth away; Let such a Man stand forth—are ye all fix'd? No wonder, since a King's a Deity. And who'd not be a God? This glorious Prospect, when I first saw the Light, Met with my Infant Hopes; nor have those Fetters (Which e'er they grew towards Men, Spain taught me how to wear) Made me forget what's due to that illustrious Birth; —Yet thus—I cast aside the Rays of Majesty— [Kneels, and lays the Crown on the Table. And on my Knee do humbly offer up This splendid powerful thing, and ease your Fears Of Usurpation and of Tyranny.

Alon. What new Device is this? [Aside.

Card. This is an Action generous and just— Let us proceed to new Election.

Abd. Stay, Peers of Spain, If young Prince Philip be King Philip's Son, Then is he Heir to Philip, and his Crown; But if a Bastard, then he is a Rebel, And as a Traitor to the Crown shou'd bleed: That dangerous popular Spirit must be laid, Or Spain must languish under civil Swords; And Portugal taking advantage of those Disorders, (Assisted by the Male-contents within, If Philip live) will bring Confusion home. —Our Remedy for this is first to prove, And then proclaim him Bastard.

Alon. That Project wou'd be worth your Politicks [Aside. —How shou'd we prove him Bastard?

Abd. Her Majesty being lately urg'd by Conscience, And much above her Honour prizing Spain, Declar'd this Secret, but has not nam'd the Man; If he be noble and a Spaniard born, He shall repair her Fame by marrying her.

Card. No; Spaniard, or Moor, the daring Slave shall die.

Qu. Would I were cover'd with a Veil of Night, [Weeps. That I might hide the Blushes on my Cheeks! But when your Safety comes into Dispute, My Honour, nor my Life must come in competition. —I'll therefore hide my Eyes, and blushing own, That Philip's Father is i'th' Presence now.

Alon. I'th' Presence! name him.

Qu. The Cardinal— [All rise in Amazement.

Card. How's this, Madam!

Abd. How! the Cardinal!

Card. I Philip's Father, Madam!

Qu. Dull Lover—is not all this done for thee! Dost thou not see a Kingdom and my self, By this Confession, thrown into thy Arms?

Card. On Terms so infamous I must despise it.

Qu. Have I thrown by all Sense of Modesty, To render you the Master of my Bed, To be refus'd—was there any other way?—

Card. I cannot yield; this Cruelty transcends All you have ever done me—Heavens! what a Contest Of Love and Honour swells my rising Heart!

Qu. By all my Love, if you refuse me now, Now when I have remov'd all Difficulties, I'll be reveng'd a thousand killing ways.

Card. Madam, I cannot own so false a thing, My Conscience and Religion will not suffer me.

Qu. Away with all this Canting; Conscience, and Religion! No, take advice from nothing but from Love.

Card. 'Tis certain I'm bewitch'd—she has a Spell Hid in those charming Lips.

Alon. Prince Cardinal, what say you to this?

Card. I cannot bring it forth—

Qu. Do't, or thou'rt lost for ever.

Card. Death! What's a Woman's Power! And yet I can resist it.

Qu. And dare you disobey me?

Card. Is't not enough I've given you up my Power, Nay, and resign'd my Life into your Hands, But you wou'd damn me too—I will not yield— Oh, now I find a very Hell within me; How am I misguided by my Passion!

Alon. Sir, we attend your Answer.

Qu. 'Tis now near twenty Years, when newly married, (And 'tis the Custom here to marry young,) King Philip made a War in Barbary, Won Tunis, conquer'd Fez, and hand to hand Slew great Abdela, King of Fez, and Father To this Barbarian Prince.

Abd. I was but young, and yet I well remember My Father's Wound—poor Barbary—but no more.

Qu. In absence of my King I liv'd retir'd, Shut up in my Apartment with my Women, Suffering no Visits, but the Cardinal's, To whom the King had left me as his Charge; But he, unworthy of that Trust repos'd, Soon turned his Business into Love.

Card. Heavens! how will this Story end? [Aside.

Qu. A Tale, alas! unpleasant to my Ear, And for the which I banish'd him my Presence, But oh, the power of Gold! he bribes my Women, That they should tell me (as a Secret too) The King (whose Wars were finish'd) would return Without acquainting any with the time; He being as jealous, as I was fair and young, Meant to surprize me in the dead of Night: This pass'd upon my Youth, which ne'er knew Art.

Card. Gods! is there any Hell but Woman's Falshood! [Aside.

Qu. The following Night I hasted to my Bed, To wait my expected Bliss—nor was it long Before his gentle Steps approach'd my Ears. Undress'd he came, and with a vigorous haste Flew to my yielding Arms: I call'd him King, My dear lov'd Lord; and in return he breath'd Into my Bosom, in soft gentle Whispers, My Queen! my Angel! my lov'd Isabella! And at that word—I need not tell the rest.

Alon. What's all this, Madam, to the Cardinal?

Qu. Ah, Sir, the Night too short for his Caresses, Made room for Day, Day that betray'd my Shame; For in my guilty Arms I found the Cardinal.

Alon. Madam, why did not you complain of this?

Qu, Alas, I was but young, and full of Fears; Bashful, and doubtful of a just Belief, Knowing King Philip's rash and jealous Temper; But from your Justice I expect Revenge.

Rod. His Crime, my Lords, is Death, by all our Laws.

Card. Have you betray'd me by my too much Faith? Oh shameless Creature, am I disarm'd for this? Had I but so much Ease to be inrag'd, Sure I shou'd kill thee for this Treachery: But I'm all Shame, and Grief—By all that's holy, My Lords, I never did commit this Crime.

Abd. 'Tis but in vain, Prince Cardinal, to deny it.

Qu. Do not believe him, Lords;— Revenge—let Sentence pass upon the Traitor.

Card. I own that Name with Horror, which you drew me to, When I betray'd the best of Men, and Princes; And 'tis but just you fit me for Despairs, That may instruct me how to follow him in Death: Yet as I'm Prince o'th' Blood, and Cardinal too, You cannot be my Judges.

Abd. You shall be try'd, Sir, as becomes your Quality. Osmin, we commit the Cardinal to your Charge.

Card. Heaven! should I live to that! No, I have within me a private Shame, That shall secure me from the publick one.

Alon. A pretty turn of State!—we shall all follow, Sir.

Card. The Powers above are just: Thus I my Prince a Sacrifice first made, And now my self am on the Altar laid. [Ex. Card, guarded.

Abd. Madam, retire, you've acted so divinely, You've fill'd my Soul with new admiring Passion: I'll wait on you in your Apartment instantly, And at your Feet pay all my Thanks, and Love.

Qu. Make haste, my dearest Moor, whilst I retire, And fit my Soul to meet thy kind Desire.

[Ex. Queen and her Train; Leon, advancing to follow, is staid by Abd.

Abd. Stay, beauteous Maid, stay, and receive that Crown, [Leads her back. Which as your due, Heav'n and all Spain present you with.

Alon. But granting Philip is—that thing you call him, If we must grant him so, who then shall reign? Not that we do not know who ought to reign, But ask who 'tis you will permit to do so. [To Abd.

Abd. Who but bright Leonora! the Royal Off-spring Of noble Philip, whose Innocence and Beauty, Without th' advantage of her glorious Birth, Merits all Adoration.

All. With Joy we do salute her Queen.

Abd. Live Leonora! beauteous Queen of Spain! [Shout.

Alon. From Abdelazer this! it cannot be, At least not real. [Aside.

Abd. My Lords, Be it now your Care magnificently to provide Both for the Coronation, and the Marriage Of the fair Queen; Let nothing be omitted that may shew, How we can pay, where we so vastly owe. [Bows.

Alon. I am much bound to Spain, and you, my Lords, For this great Condescenion.

Leo. My Lords, I thank ye all, And most the gallant Moor—I am not well— [Turns to Alon. Something surrounds my Heart so full of Death, I must retire to give my Sorrow Breath.

[Ex. Leo. followed by all but Abd. and Rod. who looks on Abd.

Rod. Sir,—what have you done?

Abd. What every Man that loves like me shou'd do; Undone my self for ever, to beget One Moment's thought in her, that I adore her; That she may know, none ever lov'd like me, I've thrown away the Diadem of Spain— 'Tis gone! and there's no more to set but this— (My Heart) at all, and at this one last Cast, Sweep up my former Losses, or be undone.

Rod. You court at a vast Rate, Sir.

Abd. Oh, she's a Goddess! a Creature made by Heaven To make my prosperous Toils all sweet and charming! She must be Queen, I and the Gods decree it.

Rod. Sir, is she not designed Alonzo's Bride?

Abd. Yes, so her self and he have ill agreed; But Heav'n and I am of another Mind, And must be first obey'd.

Rod. Alonzo will not yield his Interest easily.

Abd. Wou'd that were all my stop to Happiness; But, Roderigo, this fond amorous Queen Sits heavy on my Heart.

Rod. She's but a Woman, nor has more Lives than one.

Abd. True, Roderigo, and thou hast dealt in Murders, And knowest the safest way to—

Rod. How, Sir!—

Abd. Thou dar'st not sure pretend to any Virtue; Had Hell inspir'd thee with less Excellency Than Arts of killing Kings, thou'dst ne'er been rais'd To that exalted Height, t' have known my Secrets.

Rod. But, Sir—

Abd. Slave, look back upon the Wretchedness I took thee from; What Merits had thou to deserve my Bounty, But Vice, brave prosperous Vice? Thou'rt neither wise, nor valiant.

Rod. I own my self that Creature rais'd by you, And live but to repay you, name the way.

Abd. My business is—to have the Queen remov'd; She does expect my coming this very Hour; And when she does so, 'tis her Custom to be retir'd, Dismissing all attendance, but Elvira.

Rod. The rest I need not be instructed in. [Ex. Rod.

Enter Osmin.

Osm. The Cardinal, Sir, is close confin'd with Philip.

Abd. 'Tis well.

Osm. And do you think it fit, Sir, they shou'd live?

Abd. No, this day they both must die, some sort of Death, That may be thought was given them by themselves: I'm sure I give them cause—Osmin, view well this Ring; Whoever brings this Token to your Hands, Without considering Sex, or Quality, Let 'em be kill'd.

Osm. Your Will shall be obey'd in every thing.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II. A fine Chamber. A Table and Chair.

Enter Queen and Elvira.

Qu. Elvira, hast thou drest my Lodgings up, Fit to receive my Moor? Are they all gay, as Altars, when some Monarch Is there to offer up rich Sacrifices? Hast thou strew'd all the Floor his Feet must press, With the soft new-born Beauties of the Spring?

Elv. Madam, I've done as you commanded me.

Qu. Let all the Chambers too be fill'd with Lights; There's a Solemnity methinks in Night, That does insinuate Love into the Soul, And make the bashful Lover more assur'd.

Elv. Madam, You speak as if this were your first Enjoyment.

Qu. My first! Oh Elvira, his Power, like his Charms, His Wit, or Bravery, every hour renews; Love gathers Sweets like Flow'rs, which grow more fragrant, The nearer they approach Maturity. [Knock. —Hark! 'tis my Moor,—give him admittance strait, The Thought comes o'er me like a gentle Gale, Raising my Blood into a thousand Curls.

Elv. Madam, it is a Priest—

Qu. A Priest! Oh, send him quickly hence; I wou'd not have so cold and dull an Object, Meet with my nobler Sense, 'tis mortifying.

Elv. Perhaps 'tis some Petition from the Cardinal.

Qu. Why, what have I to do with Priest or Cardinal? Let him not enter—

[Elv. goes out, and returns with Roderigo drest like a Fryar.

Elv. From Abdelazer, Madam.

Qu. H'as named a Word will make all Places free.

Rod. Madam, be pleas'd to send your Woman hence, I've something to deliver from the Moor, Which you alone must be acquainted with.

Qu. Well, your Formality shall be allowed—retire— [To Elv. Exit Elv. What have you to deliver to me now?

Rod. This—

[Shews a Dagger, and takes her roughly by the Hands.

Qu. Hah!—

Rod. You must not call for help, unless to Heaven.

Qu. What daring thing art thou?

Rod. One that has now no time to answer thee.

[Stabs her, she struggles, her Arm bleeds.

Qu. Oh, hold thy killing Hand! I am thy Queen.

Rod. Thou may'st be Devil too, for ought I know; I'll try thy Substance thus— [Stabs again.

Qu. Oh, Abdelazer!— Thou hast well reveng'd me—on my Sins of Love;— [He seats her in the Chair. But shall I die thus tamely unrcveng'd? —Help—murder—help— [He offers to stab again.

Enter Elvira, and other Women.

Elv. Oh Heavens! the Queen is murder'd—help the Queen!

[Rod. offers to stab Elv.

Enter Abdelazer.

Abd. Hah! the Queen! what sacrilegious Hand, Or Heart so brutal— Durst thus profane the Shrine ador'd by me? Guard well the Passages.—

Qu. Thou art that sacrilegious—brutal thing!— And false as are the Deities thou worship'st.

Abd. Gods! let me not understand that killing Language? —Inform me quickly, how you came thus wounded, Lest looking on that sacred Stream of Blood, I die e'er I've reveng'd you on your Murderer.

Qu. Haste then, and kill thy self; thou art my Murderer. Nor had his Hand, if not by thee instructed, Aim'd at a Sin so dangerous—

Abd. Surely she'll live—[Aside.]—This!— Can Mischief dwell beneath this reverend Shape? Confess who taught thee so much Cruelty. Confess, or I will kill thee.

Rod. The Cardinal.

Qu. The Cardinal!

Abd. Oh impious Traitor! How came I mention'd then?

Rod. To get Admittance.

Abd. But why do I delay thy Punishment? Die,—and be damn'd together. [Aside.] [Stabs him. But oh, my Queen!—Elvira, call for help. Have I remov'd all that oppos'd our Flame, [Kneels. To have it thus blown out, thus in a Minute? When I, all full of youthful Fire, all Love, Had rais'd my Soul with Hopes of near Delights, To meet thee cold, and pale; to find those Eyes, Those charming Eyes thus dying—Oh ye Powers! Take all the Prospect of my future Joys, And turn it to Despair, since thou art gone.

Qu. Cease,—cease—your kind Complaints—my struggling Soul, 'Twixt Death—and Love—holds an uneasy Contest; This will not let it stay—nor that depart;— And whilst I hear thy Voice—thus breathing Love, It hovers still—about—the grateful—Sound. My Eyes—have took—an everlasting Leave— Of all that blest their Sight; and now a gloomy Darkness Benights the wishing Sense,—that vainly strives— To take another View;—but 'tis too late,— And Life—and Love—must yield—to Death—and— Fate. [Dies.

Abd. Farewell, my greatest Plague, [He rises with Joy. Thou wert a most impolitick loving thing; And having done my Bus'ness which thou wert born for, 'Twas time thou shouldst retire, And leave me free to love, and reign alone.

Enter Leonora, Alonzo, Ordonio, and other Men and Women.

Come all the World, and pay your Sorrows here, Since all the World has Interest in this Loss.

Alon. The Moor in Tears! nay, then the Sin was his.

Leon. The Queen my Mother dead! How many Sorrows will my Heart let in, E'er it will break in pieces. [Weeps over her.

Alon. I know the Source of all this Villany, And need not ask you how the Queen came murder'd.

Elv. My Lord, that Fryer, from the Cardinal, did it.

Alon. The Cardinal! 'Tis possible,—for the Injuries she did him Cou'd be repaid with nothing less than Death. [Aside. My Fair, your Griefs have been so just of late, I dare not beg that you would weep no more; Though every Tear those lovely Eyes let fall, Give me a killing Wound—Remove the Body.

[Guards remove the Body. Ex. all but Alon. and Leon.

Such Objects suit not Souls so soft as thine.

Leon. With Horrors I am grown of late familiar; I saw my Father die, and liv'd the while; I saw my beauteous Friend, and thy lov'd Sister, Florella, whilst her Breast was bleeding fresh; Nay, and my Brother's too, all full of Wounds, The best and kindest Brother that ever Maid was blest with; Poor Philip bound, and led like Victims for a Sacrifice; All this I saw and liv'd— And canst thou hope for Pity from that Heart, Whose harden'd Sense is Proof 'gainst all these Miseries? This Moor, Alonzo, is a subtle Villain, Yet of such Power we scarce dare think him such.

Alon. 'Tis true, my charming Fair, he is that Villain, As ill and powerful too; yet he has a Heart That may be reach'd with this—but 'tis not time, [Points to his Sword. We must dissemble yet, which is an Art Too foul for Souls so innocent as thine. Enter Abdelazer. The Moor! Hell! will he not allow us sorrowing time?

Abd. Madam, I come to pay my humblest Duty, And know what Service you command your Slave.

Leon. Alas, I've no Commands; or if I had, I am too wretched now to be obey'd.

Abd. Can one so fair, and great, ask any thing Of Men, or Heaven, they wou'd not grant with Joy?

Leon. Hea'vns Will I'm not permitted to dispute, And may implore in vain; but 'tis in you To grant me what may yet preserve my Life.

Abd. In me! in me! the humblest of your Creatures! By yon bright Sun, or your more splendid Eyes, I wou'd divest my self of every Hope, To gratify one single Wish of yours. —Name but the way.

Leon. I am so unhappy, that the only thing I have to ask, is what you must deny; —The Liberty of Philip—

Abd. How! Philip's Liberty—and must I grant it? I (in whose Hands Fortune had put the Crown) Had I not lov'd the Good and Peace of Spain, Might have dispos'd it to my own Advantage; And shall that Peace, Which I've preferr'd above my proper Glories, Be lost again in him, in him a Bastard?

Alon. That he's a Bastard, is not, Sir, believ'd; And she that cou'd love you, might after that Do any other Sin, and 'twas the least Of all the Number to declare him Bastard.

Abd. How, Sir! that you'd love me! what is there here, Or in my Soul, or Person, may not be belov'd?

Alon. I spoke without Reflection on your Person, But of dishonest Love, which was too plain, From whence came all the Ills we have endur'd; And now being warm in Mischiefs, Thou dost pursue the Game, till all be thine.

Abd. Mine!

Alon. Yes, thine— The little humble Mask which you put on Upon the Face of Falshood, and Ambition, Is easily seen thro; you gave a Crown, But you'll command the Kingly Power still, Arm and disband, destroy or save at Pleasure.

Abd. Vain Boy, (whose highest Fame, Is that thou art the great Alvaro's Son) Where learnt you so much daring, to upbraid My generous Power thus falsly—do you know me?

Alon. Yes, Prince, and 'tis that Knowledge makes me dare; I know thy Fame in Arms; I know in Battels Thou hast perform'd Deeds much above thy Years: My Infant Courage too (By the same Master taught) grew up to thine, When thou in Rage out-didst me, not in Bravery. —I know thou'st greater Power too—thank thy Treachery!

Abd. Dost thou not fear that Power?

Alon. By Heaven, not I, Whilst I can this—command. [Lays his Hand on his Sword.

Abd. I too command a Sword. [Abd. lays his Hand on his, and comes close up to him. But not to draw on thee, Alonzo; Since I can prove thy Accusation false By ways more grateful—take this Ring, Alonzo; The sight of it will break down Prison-Gates, And set all free, as was the first-born Man.

Alon. What means this turn?

Abd. To enlarge Philip; but on such Conditions, As you think fit to make for my Security: And as thou'rt brave, deal with me as I merit.

Alon. Art thou in earnest?

Abd. I am, by all that's sacred.

Leon. Oh, let me fall before you, and ne'er rise, Till I have made you know what Gratitude Is fit for such a Bounty!— Haste, my Alonzo—haste—and treat with Philip; Nor do I wish his Freedom, but on such Terms As may be advantageous to the Moor.

Alon. Nor I, by Heaven! I know the Prince's Soul, Though it be fierce, has Gratitude and Honour; And for a Deed like this, will make returns, Such as are worthy of the brave Obliger. [Exit Alon.

Abd. Yes, if he be not gone to Heaven before you come. [Aside. —What will become of Abdelazer now, Who with his Power has thrown away his Liberty?

Leon. Your Liberty! Oh, Heaven forbid that you, Who can so generously give Liberty, Should be depriv'd of it! It must not be whilst Leonora lives.

Abd. 'Tis she that takes it from me.

Leon. I! Alas, I wou'd not for the World Give you one minute's Pain.

Abd. You cannot help it, 'tis against your Will; Your Eyes insensibly do wound and kill.

Leon. What can you mean? and yet I fear to know.

Abd. Most charming of your Sex! had Nature made This clouded Face, like to my Heart, all Love, It might have spar'd that Language which you dread; Whose rough harsh sound, unfit for tender Ears, Will ill express the Business of my Life.

Leon. Forbear it, if that Business, Sir, be Love.

Abd. Gods! Because I want the art to tell my Story In that soft way, which those can do whose Business Is to be still so idly employ'd, I must be silent and endure my Pain, Which Heaven ne'er gave me so much lameness for. Love in my Soul is not that gentle thing It is in other Breasts; instead of Calms, It ruffles mine into uneasy Storms. —I wou'd not love, if I cou'd help it, Madam; But since 'tis not to be resisted here— You must permit it to approach your Ear.

Leon. Not when I cannot hear it, Sir, with Honour.

Abd. With Honour! Nay, I can talk in the Defence of that: By all that's sacred, 'tis a Flame as virtuous, As every Thought inhabits your fair Soul, And it shall learn to be as gentle too; —For I must merit you—

Leon. I will not hear this Language; merit me!

Abd. Yes—why not? You're but the Daughter of the King of Spain, And I am Heir to great Abdela, Madam; I can command this Kingdom you possess, (Of which my Passion only made you Queen) And re-assume that which your Father took From mine—a Crown as bright as that of Spain.

Leon. You said you wou'd be gentle—

Abd. I will; this sullen Heart shall learn to bow, And keep it self within the Bounds of Love; Its Language I'll deliver out in Sighs, Soft as the Whispers of a yielding Virgin. I cou'd transform my Soul to any Shape; Nay, I could even teach my Eyes the Art To change their natural Fierceness into Smiles; —What is't I wou'd not do to gain that Heart!

Leon. Which never can be yours! that and my Vows, Are to Alonzo given; which he lays claim to By the most sacred Ties, Love and Obedience; All Spain esteems him worthy of that Love.

Abd. More worthy it than I! it was a Woman, A nice, vain, peevish Creature that pronounc'd it; Had it been Man, 't had been his last Transgression. —His Birth! his glorious Actions! are they like mine?

Leon. Perhaps his Birth wants those Advantages, Which Nature has laid out in Beauty on his Person.

Abd. Ay! there's your Cause of Hate! Curst be my Birth, And curst be Nature that has dy'd my Skin With this ungrateful Colour! cou'd not the Gods Have given me equal Beauty with Alonzo! —Yet as I am, I've been in vain ador'd, And Beauties great as thine have languish'd for me. The Lights put out, thou in thy naked Arms Will find me soft and smooth as polish'd Ebony; And all my Kisses on thy balmy Lips as sweet, As are the Breezes, breath'd amidst the Groves Of ripening Spices in the height of Day: As vigorous too, As if each Night were the first happy Moment I laid thy panting Body to my Bosom. Oh, that transporting Thought— See—I can bend as low, and sigh as often, [Kneels. And sue for Blessings only you can grant; As any fair and soft Alonzo can— If you could pity me as well— But you are deaf, and in your Eyes I read [Rises with Anger. A Scorn which animates my Love and Anger; Nor know I which I should dismiss or cherish.

Leon. The last is much more welcome than the first; Your Anger can but kill; but, Sir, your Love— Will make me ever wretched, since 'tis impossible I ever can return it.

Abd. Why, kill me then! you must do one or t'other. [Kneels. For thus—I cannot live—why dost thou weep? Thy every Tear's enough to drown my Soul! How tame Love renders every feeble Sense! [Rises. —Gods! I shall turn Woman, and my Eyes inform me The Transformation's near—Death! I'll not endure it, I'll fly before sh'as quite undone my Soul— [Offers to go. But 'tis not in my Power—she holds it fast— And I can now command no single part— [Returns. Tell me, bright Maid, if I were amiable, And you were uningag'd, could you then love me?

Leon. No! I could die first.

Abd. Hah!—awake, my Soul, from out this drousy Fit, And with thy wonted Bravery scorn thy Fetters. By Heaven, 'tis gone! and I am now my self. Be gone, my dull Submission! my lazy Flame Grows sensible, and knows for what 'twas kindled. Coy Mistress, you must yield, and quickly too: Were you devout as Vestals, pure as their Fire, Yet I wou'd wanton in the rifled Spoils Of all that sacred Innocence and Beauty. —Oh, my Desire's grown high! Raging as midnight Flames let loose in Cities, And, like that too, will ruin where it lights. Come, this Apartment was design'd for Pleasure, And made thus silent, and thus gay for me; There I'll convince that Error, that vainly made thee think I was not meant for Love.

Leon. Am I betray'd? are all my Women gone? And have I nought but Heaven for my Defence?

Abd. None else, and that's too distant to befriend you.

Leon. Oh, take my Life, and spare my dearer Honour! —Help, help, ye Powers that favour Innocence. [Enter Women. Just as the Moor is going to force in Leonora, enters to him Osmin in haste.

Osm. My Lord, Alonzo—

Abd. What of him, you Slave—is he not secur'd? Speak, dull Intruder, that know'st not times and seasons, Or get thee hence.

Osm. Not till I've done the Business which I came for.

Abd. Slave!—that thou cam'st for. [Stabs him in the Arm.

Osm. No, 'twas to tell you, that Alonzo, Finding himself betray'd, made brave resistance; Some of your Slaves h'as killed, and some h'as wounded.

Abd. 'Tis time he were secured; I must assist my Guards, or all is lost. [Exit.

Leon. Sure, Osmin, from the Gods thou cam'st, To hinder my undoing; and if thou dy'st, Heaven will almost forgive thy other Sins For this one pious Deed.— But yet I hope thy Wound's not mortal.

Osm. 'Tis only in my Arm—and, Madam, for this pity, I'll live to do you Service.

Leon. What Service can the Favourite of the Moor, Train'd up in Blood and Mischiefs, render me?

Osm. Why, Madam, I command the Guard of Moors, Who will all die, when e'er I give the Word. Madam, 'twas I caus'd Philip and the Cardinal To fly to th' Camp, And gave 'em warning of approaching Death.

Leon. Heaven bless thee for thy Goodness.

Osm. I am weary now of being a Tyrant's Slave, And bearing Blows too; the rest I could have suffer'd. Madam, I'll free the Prince. But see, the Moor returns.

Leon. That Monster's Presence I must fly, as from a killing Plague.

[Ex. with her Women. Enter Abdelazer with Zarrack, and a Train of Moors.

Abd. It is prodigious, that a single Man Should with such Bravery defend his Life Amongst so many Swords;—but he is safe. Osmin, I am not us'd to sue for Pardon, And when I do, you ought to grant it me.

Osm. I did not merit, Sir, so harsh a Usage.

Abd. No more; I'm asham'd to be upbraided, And will repair the Injury I did thee.

Osm. Acknowledgment from you is pay sufficient.

Abd. Yet, Osmin, I shou'd chide your Negligence, Since by it Philip lives still, and the Cardinal.

Osm. I had design'd it, Sir, this Evening's Sacrifice.

Abd. Zarrack shall now perform it—and instantly: Alonzo too must bear 'em company.

Zar. I'll shew my Duty in my haste, my Lord. [Ex. Zar.

Osm. Death! I'm undone; I'll after him, and kill him. [Offers to go.

Abd. Osmin, I've business with you.—

[Osm. comes back bowing. As they are going off, enter Leonora, Ordonio, other Lords, and Women.

Leon. Oh Prince! for Pity hear and grant my Suit. [Kneels.

Abd. When so much Beauty's prostrate at my Feet, What is't I can deny?—rise, thou brightest Virgin That ever Nature made; Rise, and command my Life, my Soul, my Honour.

Leon. No, let me hang for ever on your Knees, Unless you'll grant Alonzo Liberty.

Abd. Rise, I will grant it; though Alonzo, Madam, Betray'd that Trust I had repos'd in him.

Leon. I know there's some Mistake; let me negotiate Between my Brother and the Gallant Moor. I cannot force your Guards, There is no Danger in a Woman's Arm.

Abd. In your bright Eyes there is, that may corrupt 'em more Than all the Treasures of the Eastern Kings. Yet, Madam, here I do resign my Power; Act as you please, dismiss Alonzo's Chains. And since you are so generous, to despise This Crown, which I have given you, Philip shall owe his Greatness to your Bounty, And whilst he makes me safe, shall rule in Spain. —Osmin— [Whispers.

Ord. And will you trust him, Madam?

Leon. If he deceive me, 'tis more happy far To die with them, than live where he inhabits.

Osm. It shall be done.

Abd. Go, Osmin, wait upon the Queen; And when she is confin'd, I'll visit her, Where if she yield, she reigns; if not, she dies. [Aside.

[Ex. Abd. one way, Leon. Osm. and the rest another.



SCENE III. A Prison.

Discovers Philip chain'd to a Post, and over against him the Cardinal and Alonzo in Chains.

Phil. Oh, all ye cruel Powers! is't not enough I am depriv'd of Empire, and of Honour? Have my bright Name stol'n from me, with my Crown! Divested of all Power! all Liberty! And here am chain'd like the sad Andromede, To wait Destruction from the dreadful Monster! Is not all this enough, without being damn'd, To have thee, Cardinal, in my full view? If I cou'd reach my Eyes, I'd be reveng'd On the officious and accursed Lights, For guiding so much torment to my Soul.

Card. My much wrong'd Prince! you need not wish to kill By ways more certain, than by upbraiding me With my too credulous, shameful past misdeeds.

Phil. If that wou'd kill, I'd weary out my Tongue With an eternal repetition of thy Treachery;— Nay, and it shou'd forget all other Language, But Traitor! Cardinal! which I wou'd repeat, Till I had made my self as raging mad, As the wild Sea, when all the Winds are up; And in that Storm, I might forget my Grief.

Card. Wou'd I cou'd take the killing Object from your Eyes.

Phil. Oh Alonzo, to add to my Distraction, Must I find thee a sharer in my Fate?

Alon. It is my Duty, Sir, to die with you.— But, Sir, my Princess Has here—a more than equal claim to Grief; And Fear for her dear Safety will deprive me Of this poor Life, that shou'd have been your Sacrifice.

Enter Zarrack with a Dagger; gazes on Philip.

Phil. Kind Murderer, welcome! quickly free my Soul, And I will kiss the sooty Hand that wounds me.

Zar. Oh, I see you can be humble.

Phil. Humble! I'll be as gentle as a Love-sick Youth, When his dear Conqu'ress sighs a Hope into him, If thou wilt kill me!—Pity me and kill me.

Zar. I hope to see your own Hand do that Office.

Phil. Oh, thou wert brave indeed, If thou wou'dst lend me but the use of one.

Zar. You'll want a Dagger then.

Phil. By Heaven, no, I'd run it down my Throat, Or strike my pointed Fingers through my Breast.

Zar. Ha, ha, ha, what pity 'tis you want a Hand.

Enter Osmin.

Phil. Osmin, sure thou wilt be so kind to kill me! Thou hadst a Soul was humane.

Osm. Indeed I will not, Sir, you are my King. [Unbinds him.

Phil. What mean'st thou?

Osm. To set you free, my Prince.

Phil. Thou art some Angel sure, in that dark Cloud.

Zar. What mean'st thou, Traitor?

Osm. Wait till your Eyes inform you.

Card. Good Gods! what mean'st thou?

Osm. Sir, arm your Hand with this. [Gives Phil. a Sword, goes to undo Alonzo.

Zar. Thou art half-damn'd for this! I'll to my Prince—

Phil. I'll stop you on your way—lie there—your Tongue [Kills him. Shall tell no Tales to day—Now, Cardinal—but hold, I scorn to strike thee whilst thou art unarm'd, Yet so thou didst to me; For which I have not leisure now to kill thee. —Here, take thy Liberty;—nay, do not thank me; By Heaven, I do not mean it as a Grace.

Osm. My Lord, take this— [To Alon. and the Card. And this—to arm your Highness.

Alon. Thou dost amaze me!

Osm. Keep in your Wonder with your Doubts, my Lord.

Phil. We cannot doubt, whilst we're thus fortify'd— [Looks on his Sword. Come, Osmin, let us fall upon the Guards.

Osm. There are no Guards, great Sir, but what are yours; And see—your Friends I've brought to serve ye too.

[_Opens a back Door. _Enter_ Leonora _and Women_, Ordonio, Sebastian, Antonio, _etc_.

Phil. My dearest Sister safe!

Leon. Whilst in your Presence, Sir, and you thus arm'd.

Osm. The Moor approaches,—now be ready all.

Phil. That Name I never heard with Joy till now; Let him come on, and arm'd with all his Powers, Thus singly I defy him. [Draws.

Enter Abdelazer. [Osmin secures the Doors.

Abd. Hah! betray'd! and by my Slaves! by Osmin too!

Phil. Now, thou damn'd Villain! true-born Soul of Hell! Not one of thy infernal Kin shall save thee.

Abd. Base Coward Prince! Whom the admiring World mistakes for Brave; When all thy boasted Valour, fierce and hot As was thy Mother in her height of Lust, Can with the aid of all these—treacherous Swords, Take but a single Life; but such a Life, As amongst all their Store the envying Gods Have not another such to breathe in Man.

Phil. Vaunt on, thou monstrous Instrument of Hell! For I'm so pleas'd to have thee in my Power, That I can hear thee number up thy Sins, And yet be calm, whilst thou art near Damnation.

Abd. Thou ly'st, thou canst not keep thy Temper in; For hadst thou so much Bravery of Mind, Thou'dst fight me singly; which thou dar'st not do.

Phil. Not dare! By Heaven, if thou wert twenty Villains more, And I had all thy Weight of Sins about me, I durst thus venture on;—forbear, Alonzo.

Alon. I will not, Sir.

Phil. I was indeed too rash; 'tis such a Villain, As shou'd receive his Death from nought but Slaves.

Abd. Thou'st Reason, Prince! nor can they wound my Body More than I've done thy Fame; for my first step To my Revenge, I whor'd the Queen thy Mother.

Phil. Death! though this I knew before, yet the hard Word Runs harshly thro my Heart;— If thou hadst murder'd fifty Royal Ferdinands, And with inglorious Chains as many Years Had loaded all my Limbs, 't had been more pardonable Than this eternal Stain upon my Name: —Oh, thou hast breath'd thy worst of Venom now.

Abd. My next advance was poisoning of thy Father.

Phil. My Father poison'd! and by thee, thou Dog! Oh, that thou hadst a thousand Lives to lose, Or that the World depended on thy single one, That I might make a Victim Worthy to offer up to his wrong'd Ghost.— But stay, there's something of thy Count of Sins untold, That I must know; not that I doubt, by Heaven, That I am Philip's Son—

Abd. Not for thy Ease, but to declare my Malice, Know, Prince, I made thy amorous Mother Proclaim thee Bastard, when I miss'd of killing rhee.

Phil. Gods! let me contain my Rage!

Abd. I made her too betray the credulous Cardinal, And having then no farther use of her, Satiated with her Lust, I set Roderigo on to murder her. Thy Death had next succeeded; and thy Crown I wou'd have laid at Leonora's Feet.

Alon. How! durst you love the Princess?

Abd. Fool, durst! had I been born a Slave, I durst with this same Soul do any thing: Yes, and the last Sense that will remain about me, Will be my Passion for that charming Maid, Whom I'd enjoy'd e'er now, but for thy Treachery. [To Osmin.

Phil. Deflour'd my Sister! Heaven punish me eternally, If thou out-liv'st the Minute thou'st declar'd it.

Abd. I will, in spite of all that thou canst do. —Stand off, fool-hardy Youth, if thou'dst be safe, And do not draw thy certain Ruin on, Or think that e'er this Hand was arm'd in vain.

Phil. Poor angry Slave, how I contemn thee now!

Abd. As humble Huntsmen do the generous Lion; Now thou darst see me lash my Sides, and roar, And bite my Snare in vain; who with one Look (Had I been free) hadst shrunk into the Earth, For shelter from my Rage: And like that noble Beast, though thus betray'd, I've yet an awful Fierceness in my Looks, Which makes thee fear t'approach; and 'tis at distance That thou dar'st kill me; for come but in my reach, And with one Grasp I wou'd confound thy Hopes.

Phil. I'll let thee see how vain thy Boastings are, And unassisted, by one single Rage, Thus—make an easy Passage to thy Heart.

[Runs on him, all the rest do the like in the same Minute. Abd. aims at the Prince, and kills Osmin, and falls dead himself.

—Die with thy Sins unpardon'd, and forgotten—

[Shout within.

Alon. Great Sir, your Throne and Kingdom want you now; Your People rude with Joy, do fill each Street, And long to see their King—whom Heaven preserve.

All. Long live Philip, King of Spain—

Phil. I thank ye all;—and now, my dear Alonzo, Receive the Recompence of all thy Sufferings, Whilst I create thee Duke of Salamancha.

Alon. Thus low I take the Bounty from your Hands. [Kneels.

Leon. Rise, Sir, my Brother now has made us equal.

Card. And shall this joyful Day, that has restor'd you To all the Glories of your Birth and Merits, That has restor'd all Spain the greatest Treasure That ever happy Monarchy possess'd, Leave only me unhappy, when, Sir, my Crime Was only too much Faith?—Thus low I fall, [Kneels. And from that Store of Mercy Heaven has given you, Implore you wou'd dispense a little here.

Phil. Rise, (though with much ado) I will forgive you.

Leon. Come, my dear Brother, to that glorious business, Our Birth and Fortunes call us, let us haste, For here methinks we are in danger still.

Phil. So after Storms, the joyful Mariner Beholds the distant wish'd-for Shore afar, And longs to bring the rich-fraight Vessel in, Fearing to trust the faithless Seas again.



EPILOGUE.

Spoken by little Mrs. Ariell.

With late Success being blest, I'm come agen; You see what Kindness can do, Gentlemen, Which when once shewn, our Sex cannot refrain. Yet spite of such a Censure I'll proceed, And for our Poetess will intercede: Before, a Poet's wheedling Words prevail'd, Whose melting Speech my tender Heart assail'd, And I the flatt'ring Scribler's Cause maintain'd; So by my means the Fop Applauses gain'd. 'Twas wisely done to chuse m' his Advocate, Since I have prov'd to be his better Fate; For what I lik'd, I thought you could not hate. Respect for you, Gallants, made me comply, Though I confess he did my Passion try, And I am too good-natur'd to deny. But now not Pity, but my Sex's Cause, Whose Beauty does, like Monarchs, give you Laws, Should now command, being join'd with Wit, Applause. Yet since our Beauty's Power's not absolute, She'll not the Privilege of your Sex dispute, But does by me submit.—Yet since you've been For my sake kind, repeat it once agen. Your Kindness, Gallants, I shall soon repay, If you'll but favour my Design to Day: Your last Applauses, like refreshing Showers, Made me spring up and bud like early Flow'rs; Since then I'm grown at least an Inch in height, And shall e'er long be full-blown for Delight.

Written by a Friend.



THE YOUNG KING; OR, THE MISTAKE.



ARGUMENT.

Orsames, heir to the Dacian throne, has been kept in a castle from His infancy, never having seen any human being save his old tutor, Geron, owing to an Oracle which foretold great cruelties and mischiefs If he should be allowed to wear the crown. The Queen of Dacia designs Her daughter Cleomena as her successor, and with this intent gives her An Amazonian education. The Dacians and Scythians are at war, but Thersander, The Scythian prince, has joined the Dacians under the name Of Clemanthis, inasmuch as he loves the princess, who in her turn Becomes enamoured of him. He is recognized but not betrayed by Urania, a Scythian lady who, her lover Amintas having been previously captured, allows herself to be taken prisoner and presented to Cleomena. Amintas is confined in the old castle where Urania, visiting him, is accidently seen by Orsames. He is, however, persuaded by Geron that it is an apparition. Amintas is freed by Urania, who has gained Cleomena's friendship. Honorius, the Dacian general, offers Thersander his daughter Olympia, and the young Scythian is obliged to feign acceptance. Cleomena hears Honorius telling the Queen his design and goes off enraged, only to see Thersander seemingly courting Olympia. She raves and threatens to kill him, but eventually parts with disdain, bidding him quit the place. Orsames is now brought from the castle during his sleep, crowned, seated on the throne and treated in every respect as King. His power is acknowledged, the Queen kneels before him, and Olympia entering, he falls violently in love with her. At a supposed contradiction he orders one courtier to instant execution and another to be cast into the sea. Immediately after, during a banquet, a narcotic is mingled with his wine and he is conveyed back to the castle whilst under its influence, leaving the Queen fearful that her experiment is of no avail as he has displayed so tyrannical and cruel a nature.

A battle between the Dacians and Scythians follows, in which the Latter are victorious owing to Thersander having, under his own name, Returned to their camp. The Dacian chiefs then challenge him to single Combat. He crosses over once again as Clemanthis and the lot falls upon himself. He thereupon dresses Amintas in the clothes of Clemanthis and arranges that in a pretended duel with him himself shall gain the upper hand. Meanwhile two rival princes to the hand of Cleomena post assassins in the wood to kill Thersander, and these, deceived by the garb of Clemanthis, mistake Amintas for the prince, and leaving him half dead on the ground and covered with blood and wounds, take their flight, imagining they have fully carried out their masters' wishes. Amintas is just able to gasp the name 'Thersander', and Cleomena promptly concludes that Thersander has slain Clemanthis. She then herself assumes the attire of Clemanthis and goes out to the duel. She is wounded, her sex discovered, and she is borne from the field, whilst Thersander remains plunged in despair.

Meanwhile Orsames in his prison forces Geron to tell him the truth as to his adventure, whilst outside the populace are clamouring for him as king. Cleomena, disguised as a shepherd-boy, carries a letter to Thersander, and stabs him as he reads it. The Scythian king has her thrown into a dungeon, but Thersander obtains her release. Amintas meanwhile has been cured of his wounds by a Druid leech. Thersander is visited by Cleomena and reveals to her his identity with Clemanthis. They are at length united, and this event, with the arrival of Orsames, Who has been placed on the throne by the Dacians, joins the two countries in a lasting peace. It is explained that the Oracle is satisfied by his previous reign of a night.



SOURCE.

The plot of The Young King, which, as the Biograpbia Dramatitca well remarks, 'is very far from being a bad one', is taken from the eighth part of La Calprenede's famous romance, Cleopatre. The adventures of Alcamenes (Thersander) and Menalippa (Cleomena) are therein related for the benefit of Cleopatra and Artemisa, temporarily imprisoned on shipboard. The narrative, which occupies some hundred pages, is n good example of those prolix detached episodes and histories peculiar to this school, which by their perpetual crossing and intertwining render the consecutive reading of a heroic romance so confused and difficult a task. Yet in this particular instance the tale is extraordinarily well told and highly interesting. Mrs. Behn has altered the names for the better. Barzanes in the novel becomes Honorius in the play; Euardes, Ismenes; Phrataphernes, Artabazes; Beliza, Semiris; whilst La Calprenede dubs the Scythian king, Arontes and the queen of Dacia, Amalthea.

Cleopatre, commenced in 1646, was eventually completed in twelve volumes. There is an English translation of the eighth part by James Webb (8vo, 1658), which he terms Hymen's Praeludia, or, Love's Masterpiece, and dedicates with much flowery verbiage to his aunt, Jane, Viscountess Clanebuy. A translation of the whole romance, by Robert Loveday, was published folio, 1668.

The story, however, is not original even in La Calprenede, being taken with changed names from Il Calsandro smascherato di Giovanni Ambrogio Marini (Part 1, Fiorenza, 1646; Part 2, Bologna, 1651), a French version of which, by Georges de Scuderi, appeared in 1668.

Some critics have seen a resemblance between the character of the young prince Orsames and that of Hippolito, 'one that never saw woman,' in Dryden and Davenant's alteration of The Tempest (1667).[1] But the likeness is merely superficial. Mrs. Behn has undoubtedly taken the whole episode of Orsames directly from Calderon's great philosophic and symbolical comedia, La Vida es Sueno (1633).[2] That Mrs. Behn had a good knowledge of Spanish is certain, and she has copied with the closest fidelity minute but telling details of her original. Calderon himself probably derived his plot from Rojas' Viaje Entretenido. Basilio, King of Poland, to thwart the fulfilling of a horoscope, imprisons his son Segismundo from infancy in a lonely tower. The youth is, however, as a test of his character, one night whilst under the influence of a soporofic conveyed from his prison and wakes to find himself in a sumptuous apartment amidst crowds of adulating courtiers. He shows himself, however, a very despot, and throws an officious servant, who warns him to proffer greater respect to the infanta Estella, his cousin, clean out of window; he nearly kills his tutor Clotaldo, who interrupts his violent wooing; and, in fine, is seen to be wholly unfit to reign. A potion is deftly administered, and once more, asleep, he is carried back to the castle. The populace, however, rise and set him on the throne, and eventually the astrological forecast comes true; but at the same time he proves himself a worthy sovereign. All these details are to be found in The Young King, as well as Calderon's scene where Rosaura, in pursuit of her lover, accidently encounters Segismundo in his prison.

The story itself is, of course, world-wide with a thousand variants. Oriental in origin, it is familiar to all readers of the Thousand and One Nights, when Abou Hassan is drugged by Haroun al Raschid, and for one day allowed to play the caliph with power complete and unconfined. The same trick is said to have been tried upon a drunkard at Bruges by Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, during his marriage festivities, 1440. Christopher Sly, well drubbed by Marian Hacket and bawling for a pot of small ale, will at once occur to every mind. Richard Edwardes has the same story in his Collection of Tales (1570); the old Ballad of the Frolicsome Duke sings it; Sir Richard Barckley repeats it in his Discourse of the Felicitie of Man (1598); and Burton found a niche for it in his Anatomy of Melancholy (1621). Simon Goulart included it in the Tresor d'histoires admirables et memorables (circa 1600), whence it was Englished by Grimeston (1607). In fact it is a common property of all times and all nations.

Although Mrs. Behn confessedly does not attain (nor was such her intention) the deep philosophy and exquisite melody of the great Spanish poet, she has produced a first-rate specimen of the romance drama, rococo perhaps, and with quaint ornaments, but none the less full of life, incident and interest.

FOOTNOTES:

1. This version of Shakespeare, and particularly the part of Hippolito, belong to Davenant, for, as Dryden says in the preface, Sir William 'to put the last hand to it, design'd the counterpart to Shakespeare's plot, namely that of a man who had never seen a woman.']

2. Life is a Dream. English translation by John Oxenford, Monthly Magazine, Vol. XCVI; by Archbishop Trench, 1856; by Denis Florence Mac-Carthy, 1873; by FitzGerald (a private edition), 'Such Stuff as Dreams are Made Of'. It has also been excellently edited by Norman Maccoll, Select Plays from Calderon (1888).



THEATRICAL HISTORY.

The earliest sketch of The Young King; or, The Mistake was written by Mrs. Behn whilst she was still a young girl at Surinam. Upon her return to England the rhyming play had made its appearance, and soon heroic tragedy was carrying all before it on the London stage. Influenced no doubt by this tremendous vogue, she turned to her early MS. and proceeded to put her work, founded on one of the most famous of the heroic romances, into the fashionable couplets. Traces of this may be found in the scene between Cleomena and Urania, i, II; in Orsames' speech, iv, III, and elsewhere. Whilst she was busy, however, The Rehearsal was produced at the King's Theatre, 8 December, 1671, and for the moment gave a severe blow to the drama it parodied. Accordingly, Mrs. Behn with no little acumen put her tragi-comedy on one side until the first irresistible influence of Buckingham's burlesque had waned ever so slightly, and then, when her dramatic reputation was firmly established by the triumphant success of The Rover, the applause that had been given to Sir Patient Fancy and half-a-dozen more of her plays, she bethought of her earlier efforts, and after subjecting The Toung King to a thorough revision, in which, however, it retained marked traces of its original characteristics, she had it produced at the Duke's Theatre in the spring of 1679. Mr. Gosse goes so far as to say that she had previously offered it to the theatres and publishers, but could find neither manager nor printer who would accept it. This, which he deduces from her dedication to Philaster, seems to me unwarrantable, and is not borne out by the play itself, which, baroque as it may appear to us, is certainly equal to, and indeed far better, than the rank and file of Restoration tragi-comedy. There is no record of its performance, and it never kept the boards. But although we have no direct evidence of its success, on the other hand it would be rash to suggest it was in any sense a failure. Indeed, since two editions were published we may safely assert its popularity. The actors' names are not preserved, but Mrs. Mary Lee doubtless created Cleomena; Mrs. Barry, Urania; Betterton, Thersander; and Smith, Orsames.



TO PHILASTER.

'Tis the glory of the Great and Good to be the Refuge of the Distress'd; their Virtues create 'em troubles; and he that has the God like Talent to oblige, is never free from Impunity, you, Philaster, have a Thousand ways merited my Esteem and Veneration; and I beg you wou'd now permit the effects of it, which cou'd not forbear, though unpermitted, to dedicate this youthful sally of my Pen, this first Essay of my Infant-Poetry to your Self: 'Tis a Virgin-Muse, harmless and unadorn'd, unpractis'd in the Arts to please; and if by chance you find any thing agreeable, 'tis natural and unskill'd Innocence. Three thousand Leagues of spacious Ocean she has measured, visited many and distant Shores, and found a welcome every where; but in all that vast tract of Sea and Land cou'd never meet with one whose Person and Merits cou'd oblige her to yield her ungarded self into his protection: A thousand Charms of Wit, good Nature, and Beauty at first approach she found in Philaster; and since she knew she cou'd not appear upon the too-critical English Stage without making choice of some Noble Patronage, she waited long, look'd round the judging World, and fix't on you. She fear'd the reproach of being an American, whose Country rarely produces Beauties of this kind: The Muses seldom inhabit there; or if they do, they visit and away; but for variety a Dowdy Lass may please: Her youth too should attone for all her faults besides; and her being a Stranger will beget civility, and you that are by nature kind and generous, tender and soft to all that's new and gay, will not, I hope refuse her the Sanctuary I am so sensible she will have need of in this loose Age of Censure. You have goodness enough to excuse all her weaknesses, and Wit enough to defend 'em; and that's sufficient to render her Estimable to all the World that knows the generous and excellent Philaster; whilst this occasion to celebrate you under this Name, is both a Pleasure and Honour to. ASTERA.



THE YOUNG KING; or, The Mistake.



PROLOGUE.

Beauty like Wit, can only charm when new; Is there no Merit then in being true? Wit rather should an Estimation hold With Wine, which is still best for being old. Judgment in both, with vast Expence and Thought, You from their native Soil, from Paris brought: The Drops that from that sacred Sodom fall, You like industrious Spiders suck up all. Well might the French a Conquest here design, Were but their Swords as dangerous as their Wine. Their Education yet is worse than both; They make our Virgins Nuns, unman our Youth. We that don't know 'em, think 'em Monsters too; And will, because we judge of them by you. You'll say this once was so, but now you're grown So wise t'invent new Follies of your own: Their slavish Imitations you disdain; A Pox of Fops that purchase Fame with Pain: You're no such Fools as first to mount a Wall, Or for your King and Country venture all. With such like grinning Honour 'twas perchance, Your dull Forefathers first did conquer France. Whilst they have sent us, in Revenge for these, Their Women, Wine, Religion, and Disease. Yet for Religion, it's not much will down, In this ungirt, unblest, and mutinous Town. Nay, I dare swear, not one of you in seven, E'er had the Impudence to hope for Heaven. In this you're modest— But as to Wit, most aim before their time, And he that cannot spell, sets up for Rhyme: They're Sparks who are of Noise and Nonsense full, At fifteen witty, and at twenty dull; That in the Pit can huff, and talk hard Words, And briskly draw Bamboo instead of Swords: But never yet Rencounter cou'd compare To our late vigorous Tartarian War: Cudgel the Weapon was, the Pit the Field; Fierce was the Hero, and too brave to yield. But stoutest Hearts must bow; and being well can'd, He crys, Hold, hold, you have the Victory gained. All laughing call— Turn out the Rascal, the eternal Blockhead; —Zounds, crys Tartarian, I am out of Pocket: Half Crown my Play, Sixpence my Orange cast; Equip me that, do you the Conquest boast. For which to lie at ease, a Gathering's made, And out they turn the Brother of the Blade. —This is the Fruit of Idleness and Ease: Heaven bless the King that keeps the Land in Peace, Or he'll be sweetly served by such as these.



DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

DACIANS.

Queen of Dacia. Orsames, her Son, kept from his Infancy in a Castle on a Lake, ignorant of his Quality, and of all the World besides; never having seen any human thing save only his old Tutor. Cleomena, his Sister, bred up in War, and design'd to reign instead of Orsames; the Oracle having foretold the bloody Cruelties should be committed during his short Reign, if ever suffered to wear the Crown. Honorius, General of the Army, and Uncle to Orsames and Cleomena. Olympia, his Daughter, young and beautiful. Ismenes and Two Rival Princes in love with Cleomena. Artabazes, Geron, the old Tutor to Orsames. Pimante, a Fop Courtier. Arates, a Courtier. Semeris, Woman to Cleomena. Vallentio, a Colonel of the Army. Gorel, a Citizen. Keeper of the Castle. A Druid.

SCYTHIANS.

King of Scythia. Thersander, his Son, under the Name of Clemanthis, when on the Dacian side. Amintas, a young Nobleman, belov'd by Thersander, and Lover of Urania. Lysander, Page to Thersander. Urania, in love with Amintas. Lyces, a Shepherdess. Pages and Attendants, Courtiers (men and women), Officers, Guards, Soldiers, Huntsmen, Shepherds, Shepherdesses, Assassins, and all a Rabble of the Mobile.

SCENE, the Court of Dacia, between the two Armies just before the Town.



ACT I.

SCENE I. A Grove near the Camp.

Enter Pimante with Letters.

Gone! Well, I have never the Luck, I thank my Stars, to meet with any of these mighty Men of Valour.—Vallentio! Noble Colonel.

Enter Vallentio.

Val. Pimante! Why, what the Devil brought thee to the Camp?

Pim. Affairs, Affairs—

Val. They must be wondrous pressing that made thee venture; but the Fighting's past, and all the Noise over; every Man of Fame gone to receive what's due to his Merit; and the whole Camp looks now like a City in a great Plague, no stirring—But what's thy Business here?

Pim. Why, I brought Letters from the Queen to that same mighty Man of Prowess—what d'ye call him?

Val. The brave Clemanthis?

Pim. The same—But, Colonel, is he indeed so very terrible a thing as Fame gives out?—But she was ever a notable Wag at History.

Val. How dare thy Coward-thoughts venture upon any thing so terrible as the remembrance of that Gallant Man? Is not his Name like Thunder to thy Ears? Does it not make thee shrink into thy self?

Pim. Lord, Colonel, why so hot? 'Tis the cursed'st thing in the World to be thus continually us'd to fighting; why, how uncivil it renders a Man! I spake by way of Question.

Val. Oh! how soft and wanton I could grow in the Description I could make of him—He merits all in Peace as well as War; Compos'd of Charms would take all Womankind, As those of's Valour overcome the Men.

Pim. Well said, i'faith, Colonel; but if he be so fine a Man, why did you not keep him here amongst you to do Execution on the Scythians? for I think e'er long you'll give 'em Battel.

Val. The General, whose noble Life he sav'd, Us'd all his Interest with him, but in vain: He neither could oblige his stay i'th' Camp, Nor get him to the Court. Oh! were his Quality But like his Actions great, he were a Man To merit Cleomena, Whose Worth and Beauty, as a thing Divine, I reverence. But I abhor the feeble Reign of Women; It foretels the Downfal of the noblest Trade, War. Give me a Man to lead me on to Dangers, Such as Clemanthis is, or as Orsames might have been.

Pim. Colonel, 'tis Treason but to name Orsames, and much more to wish he were as King.

Val. Not wish he were! by all those Gods I will, Who did conspire against him in their Oracles. Not wish him King! yes, and may live to see it.

Pim. What should we do with such a King? The Gods foretel he shall be fierce and bloody, a Ravisher, a Tyrant o'er his People; his Reign but short, and so unfit for Reign.

Val. The Gods! I'll not trust 'em for a Day's Pay—let them but give one a taste of his Reign, tho but an hour, and I'll be converted to them.

Pim. Besides, he is very ill bred for a King; he knows nothing of the World, cannot dress himself, nor sing, nor dance, or play on any Musick; ne'er saw a Woman, nor knows how to make use of one if he had her. There's an old fusty Philosopher that instructs him; but 'tis in nothing ever that shall make a fine Gentleman of him: He teaches him a deal of Awe and Reverence to the Gods; and tells him that his natural Reason's Sin—But, Colonel, between you and I, he'll no more of that Philosophy, but grows as sullen as if you had the breeding of him here i'th' Camp.

Val. Thou tell'st me heavenly News; a King, a King again! Oh, for a mutinous Rabble, that would break the Prison-Walls, and set Orsames free, both from his Fetters and his Ignorance.

Pim. There is a Discourse at Court, that the Queen designs to bring him out, and try how he would behave himself: But I'm none of that Counsel, she's like to make a fine Court on't; we have enough in the Virago he Daughter, who, if it were not for her Beauty, one would swear were no Woman, she's so given to Noise and Fighting.

Val. I never saw her since she was a Child, and then she naturally hated Scythia.

Pim. Nay, she's in that mind still; and the superstitious Queen, who thinks that Crown belongs to Cleomena—

Val. Yes, that was the Promise of the Oracle too.

Pim. Breeds her more like a General than a Woman. Ah, how she loves fine Arms! a Bow, a Quiver! and though she be no natural Amazon, she's capable of all their martial Fopperies—But hark, what Noise is that?

[Song within.

Val. 'Tis what we do not use to hear—Stand by.

SONG.

(1.)

_Damon, I cannot blame your Will, 'Twas Chance, and not Design, did kill; For whilst you did prepare your Arms On purpose Celia to subdue, I met the Arrows as they flew, And sav'd her from their Harms.

(2.) Alas, she could not make returns. Who for a Swain already turns, A Shepherd, who does her caress With all the softest Marks of Love; And 'tis in vain thou seek'st to move The cruel Shepherdess.

(3.) Content thee with this Victory, I'm Young and Beautiful as she; I'll make thee Garlands all the Day, And in the Shades we'll sit and sing; I'll crown thee with the Pride o'th' Spring, When thou art Lord o'th' May_.

Enter Urania dress'd gay, Lyces a Shepherdess.

Ly. Still as I sing you sigh.

Uran. I cannot hear thy Voice, and the returns The Echoes of these shady Groves repeat, But I must find some Softness at my Heart. —Wou'd I had never known another Dwelling, But this too happy one where thou wert born! [Sighs.

Ly. You sigh again: such things become None but unhappy Maids that are forsaken; Your Beauty is too great to suffer that.

Ura. No Beauty's proof against false perjur'd Man.

Ly. Is't possible you can have lost your Love?

Ura. Yes, pretty Maid, canst tell me any tidings of him?

Ly. I cannot tell, by what marks do you know him?

Ura. Why, by these—a tempting Face and Shape, A Tongue bewitching soft, and Breath as sweet, As is the welcome Breeze that does restore Life to a Man half kill'd with heat before; But has a Heart as false as Seas in Calms, Smiles first to tempt, then ruins with its Storms.

Ly. Oh, fair Urania! there are many more So like your Love, if such a one he be: That you wou'd take each Shepherd to be he: 'Tis grown the fashion now to be forsworn; Oaths are like Garlands made of finest Flowers, Wither as soon as finish'd; They change their Loves as often as their Scrips, And lay their Mistresses aside like Ribbons, Which they themselves have sullied.

Pim. Gad, I'll venture in—

Val. Fair Women, and so near the Camp! What are ye, and from whence?

Pim. Ha! 'tis no matter for that; ask no Questions, but fall to. [Goes to Lyces.

Ura. I'm not asham'd to tell the one or t'other; I am a Maid, and one of gentle Birth, A Scythian born, an Enemy to thee, Not as thou art a Man, but Friend to Dacia.

Val. What Sin have I committed, that so fair a Creature should become my Enemy? but since you are so, you must be my Prisoner, unless your Eyes prevent me, and make me yours.

Pim. How, take a Woman Prisoner! I hope you are a finer Gentleman than so.

Val. But, Madam, do not fear, for I will use you As well as such a Man as I can do.

Ura. Though thou be'st rough, thou hast a noble look, And I believe my Treatment will be gentle.

Val. Fair Maid, this Confidence is brave in thee; And though I am not us'd to make returns, Unless in Thunder on my Enemies, Yet name the way, and I will strive to serve you.

Ura. Then, Sir, I beg that you would set me free, Nor yet retain me here a Prisoner; But as thou'rt brave, conduct me to the Castle on the Lake, Where young Amintas lies, the Spoil of War.

Val. Amintas, Madam, is a gallant Youth, And merits more from Fortune than his Chains; But I could wish (since I have vow'd to serve you) You would command me something Worthy your Beauty, and of that Resolution.

Ura. There is no other way to do me service.

Val. Then most willingly I will obey you.

Ura. But, Sir, I beg this Virgin may depart, Being a Dacian, and a neighbouring Villager.

Val. All your Commands shall strictly be obey'd.

Pim. Pox on her, she's coy, and let her go. Well, Colonel, I doubt you'll be for the Queen by and by.

Ura. Here—take this Jewel as a part of payment, For all thy goodness to an unknown Maid. [To Lyces. And if by chance I ever see thee more, Believe me, Lyces, I will quit the score. [Ex. Lyces weeping.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Grove of Trees.

Within the Scene lies Thersander sleeping, his Cap and Feather at a distance from him.

Enter Cleomena drest like an Amazon, with a Bow in her Hand, and a Quiver of Arrows at her Back, with Semiris attired like her.

Cleo. I'm almost tir'd with holding out the Chase.

Sem. That's strange! methought your Highness followed not So fast to Day as I have seen you heretofore.

Cleo. I do not use to leave the Game unvanquish'd, Yet now by what strange inclination led I know not, The Sport growing dull, I wish to meet a place Far from the noise and business of the Day: Hast thou ty'd fast my Horses?

Sem. Madam, I have.

Cleo. What place is this, Semiris?

Sem. I know not, Madam, but 'tis wondrous pleasant.

Cleo. How much more charming are the Works of Nature Than the Productions of laborious Art? Securely here the wearied Shepherd sleeps, Guiltless of any fear, but the disdain His cruel Fair procures him. How many Tales the Echoes of these Woods Cou'd tell of Lovers, if they would betray, That steal delightful hours beneath their Shades!

Sem. You'd rather hear 'em echo back the sound Of Horns and Dogs, or the fierce noise of War.

Cleo. You charge me with the faults of Education, That cozening Form that veils the Face of Nature, But does not see what's hid within, Semiris: I have a Heart all soft as thine, all Woman, Apt to melt down at every tender Object. —Oh, Semiris! there's a strange change within me.

Sem. How, Madam!

Cleo. I would thou knew'st it; Till now I durst do any thing—but fear, Yet now I tremble with the thoughts of telling thee What none but thou must know—I am in love.

Sem. Why do you blush, my Princess? 'tis no sin; But, Madam, who's the happy glorious Object?

Cleo. Why, canst thou not guess then?

Sem. How is it possible I should?

Cleo. Oh Gods! not guess the Man! Or, rather think some God! Dull stupid Maid, Hast thou not heard of something more than mortal! 'Twixt Human and Divine! our Country's Genius, Our young God of War! not heard of him!

Sem. 'Tis not Prince Artabazes, or Ismenes?

Cleo. Away, thou anger'st me.

Sem. Pardon me, Madam, It can be none at Court, if none of these? And all besides are much below that Glory.

Cleo. What call'st thou much below, mistaken thing? Can a gay Name give Virtue, Wit, or Beauty? Can it gain Conquest, or in Fields or Courts? No, nor defend its own fantastick Owner. —Come, guess again.

Sem. I can guess no further than a Man, and that I'm sure he is.

Cleo. I know not— For yet I never saw him, but in's Character, Unless sometimes in Dreams.

Sem. Is't not enough he conquers where he comes, But that his Fame prevents his Sword and Eyes? Perhaps his Person may not be agreeable; The best in Camps are not the best in Courts.

Cleo. So brave a Mind must have as brave an Outside. My Uncle's Letters from the Camp contain Nothing but Wonders of his Worth and Valour, And 'tis impossible but such a Man Must merit Love as well as Admiration.

Sem. Does he not come to Court?

Cleo. The Queen has made him many Invitations; But he for some unknown and cruel Cause, Humbly implores her Pardon for refusing: Nor can the General learn his Quality; But like his Deeds, believes it must be great.

Sem. 'Tis most likely; but I should never fall in love with Fame alone.

Cleo. I hope it is not Love—but strange Curiosity To see this brave Unknown—and yet I fear— I've hid this new Impatience of my Soul, Even from thee, till it grew too importunate; And strove by all my lov'd Divertisements, To chase it from my Bosom, but in vain: 'Tis too great for little Sports to conquer; The Musick of the Dogs displeas'd to day, And I was willing to retire with thee, To let thee know my Story: And this lone Shade, as if design'd for Love, Is fittest to be conscious of my Crime. —Therefore go seek a Bank where we may sit; And I will sigh whilst thou shall pity me.

[Stands with her Arms across. [Sem. looks about, finds the Cap and Feathers.

Sem. See, Madam, what I've found.

Cleo. 'Tis a fine Plume, and well adorn'd, And must belong to no uncommon Man: —And look, Semiris, where its Owner lies —Ha! he sleeps, tread softly lest you wake him: —Oh Gods! who's this with so divine a Shape?

Sem. His Shape is very well.

Cleo. Gently remove the Hair from off his Face, [Sem. puts back his Hair. And see if that will answer to the rest: —All lovely! all surprizing! Oh, my Heart, How thou betray'st the weakness of our Sex! —Look on that Face, where Love and Beauty dwells— And though his Eyes be shut, tell me, Semiris, Has he not wondrous Charms?

Sem. Yes, Madam, and I wou'd excuse you, if you shou'd now fall in Love, here's Substance; but that same Passion for Fame alone, I do not like.

Cleo. Ah, do not call my Blushes to my Face, But pardon all my weakness: May not my Eyes have leave to gaze a while? Since after this there's not another Object Can merit their Attention— But I'll no longer view that pleasing Form— [Turns from him. And yet I've lost all power of removing— [Turns and gazes. Even now I was in love with mere Report, With Words, with empty Noise; And now that Flame, like to the Breath that blew it, Is vanish'd into Air, and in its room An Object quite unknown, unfam'd, unheard of, Informs my Soul; how easily 'tis conquer'd! How angry am I with my Destiny! Till now, with much disdain I have beheld The rest of all his Sex; and shall I here Resign a Heart to one I must not love? Must this be he must kill the King of Scythia? For I must lay no claim to any other: Grant, Oh ye Gods, who play with Mortals thus, That him for whom ye have design'd your Slave, May look like this Unknown, And I'll be ever grateful for the Bounty. —But these are vain imaginary Joys.

[Thersander wakes, rises, and gazes.

Ther. Am I awake, or do my Dreams present me Ideas much more bright and conquering, Than e'er approach'd my waking Sense by far? —Sure 'tis Diana, the Goddess of these Woods, That Beauty and that Dress confirm me 'tis. [Kneels. —Great Goddess, pardon an unlucky Stranger, The Errors he commits 'gainst your Divinity, Who, had he known this Grove had sacred been, He wou'd not have profan'd it by his Presence.

Cleo. Rise, Sir, I am no Deity; Or if I were, I cou'd not be offended [He rises. To meet so brave a Man—Gods, how he looks!

Ther. Can you be mortal! What happy Land contains you? or what Men Are worthy to adore you?

Cleo. I find you are a Stranger to this place, You else had known me to be Cleomena.

Ther. The Princess Cleomena! my mortal Enemy! [Aside.

Cleo. You seem displeas'd at the knowledge of my Name; But give me leave to tell you, yours on me Wou'd have another Sense.

Ther. The knowledge of your Name has not displeas'd me; [Kneels. But, Madam, I had sooner took you for The Sovereign of the World than that of Dacia; Nor ought you to expect less Adoration From all that World, than those who're born your Slaves. —And amongst those devout ones number him, Whom happy Fate conducted to your Feet, And who'll esteem himself more fortunate, If by that little service he had rendred you, Clemanthis' Name have ever reach'd your Ear.

Cleo. Clemanthis! what cou'd the Gods do more, [Aside. To make me ever bless'd!—Rise, noble Youth— [Raises him. Cou'dst thou salute me Mistress of the World, Or bring me news of Conquest over Scythia, It would not reach so kindly to my Soul, As that admir'd illustrious Name of thine. This Crown's in debt to your all-conquering Sword; And I'm the most oblig'd to make Returns, Which if you knew me, sure you wou'd not doubt, If to those Favours you've already done us, You'll add one more, and go with me to Court.

Ther. To th' Court? to th' utmost Bounds of all the Universe. At your Command, through Dangers worse than Death, I'd fly with hasty Joy— Like Gods, do but decree, and be obey'd.

Sem. Madam, the Company we left are coming this way, and with them Prince Honorius.

Ther. The General here so soon! [Aside.

Enter Honorius, Ismenes, Women, and Huntsmen.

Cleo. Welcome, victorious Uncle. [Hon. kisses Cleo's Hand.

Hon. Madam, I heard the Noise of Horns and Dogs, And thought your Highness was abroad to Day; Following the Cry, it brought me to this Company, Who were in search for you, and 'twas my Duty to attend them. —My gallant Friend Clemanthis here! This was above my hopes; let me embrace thee,— And tell thee with what Joy I find thee in the presence Of my fair Niece, who must prevail upon you To wait on her to Court; what I cou'd not intreat, let her command.

Ther. Where Duty and my Inclination leads me, There needs no Invitation.

Cleo. Already, Uncle, he has promis'd it.

Ism. Sir, is this the Man to whom all Dacia is so much oblig'd?

Hon. This is that gallant Man, whose single Valour Has gain'd the Victory over the Nomades, Who kill'd their King, and scatter'd all their Forces; And when my feeble Strength (which Age and Wars Had made unfit for mighty Toils) grew faint, He, like Aeneas, bore my aged Limbs Through all the fiery Dangers of the Battel.

Ther. Too much you've said to my Advantage, Sir, Robbing the Gods and Fortune of their Glory.

Ism. Rank me amongst your Captives; for I find, Whether you fight or not, you must be Victor. [Embraces Ther.

Enter Vallentio, Urania, Pimante; Vallentio kneels and delivers Urania to the Princess.

Cleo. What new Encounter's this?

Val. I need not ask where I shall pay my Duty: My Wonder will direct me to your Feet.

Cleo. Who knows the Man that makes me such a Present?

Hon. Madam, he is an Officer of mine, A worthy gallant Fellow; But one that hardly knows what Cities are, But as he'as view'd 'em through their batter'd Walls, And after join'd 'em to your Territories.

Cleo. Rise high in her Esteem that loves a Soldier. [He rises.

Val. I need say nothing for my Prisoner, Madam, Whose Looks will recommend her: only this, It was against my Will I made her so, Who ne'er refus'd till then to take your Enemies.

Ther. It is Urania, she'll know me, and betray me. [Aside.

Cleo. Say, lovely Maid, whom, and from whence thou art?

Ura. A Scythian, Madam, and till now your Foe.

Pim. Ay, Madam, we took her, we took her.

Cleo. So fair an one must merit my Esteem: I hope there are not many such fine Creatures Brought into the Camp against us; if there be, The Scythians cannot doubt of Victory. —Thy Name and Business here?

Ura. Urania, Madam— My Story were too tedious for your Ear, Nor were it fit I should relate it here. —But 'tis not as an Enemy I come, 'Tis rather, Madam, to receive my Doom; Nor am I by the chance of War betray'd, But 'tis a willing Captive I am made: Your Pity, not your Anger I shall move, When I confess my Fault is only Love, Love to a Youth, who never knew till now How to submit, nor cou'd to ought but you. —His Liberty for Ransom you deny; I dare not say that this is Cruelty, Since yet you may be pleas'd to give me leave To die with him, with whom I must not live.

Ther. Excellent Maid! what Generosity her Love has taught her! [Aside.

Cleo. That you esteem me cruel, is unkind, But Faults of Lovers must Forgiveness find: Amintas' Chains had far more easy been, Had he been less a Favorite to his King. —But you, Urania, may perhaps redeem That Captive which I would not render them.

Ura. Madam, this Bounty wou'd exceed Belief, But you too generous are to mock my Grief: And when you shall m' unhappy Story learn, 'Twill justify my Tears, and your Concern.

Cleo. I need no Arguments for what I do, But that I will, and then it must be so.

Ura. The Prince of Scythia in the Camp of Dacia! If I could be mistaken in that form, I'd hate my Eyes for thus deluding me: But Heaven made nothing but Amintas like him. [Aside.

Cleo. Come, let's to Court, by this the Queen expects us: —You, my fair Prisoner, must along with me: [Takes her Hand. —Thy Hand, Clemanthis, too—Now tell me, Uncle, [Takes him with the other Hand. —What Scythian that beholds me thus attended, Would not repine at my Felicity, Having so brave a Friend, so fair an Enemy?

[Exeunt.



ACT II.

SCENE I. A Castle or Prison on the Sea.

After a little playing on the Lute,—enter Orsames with his Arms across, looking melancholy, follow'd by Geron with a Lute in his Hand.

Ors. I do not like this Musick; It pleases me at first, But every Touch thou giv'st that's soft and low Makes such Impressions here, As puzzles me beyond Philosophy To find the meaning of; Begets strange Notions of I know not what, And leaves a new and unknown thought behind it, That does disturb my Quietness within.

Ger. You were not wont to think so.

Ors. 'Tis true— But since with time grown ripe and vigorous, I will be active, though but ill employ'd. —Geron, thou'st often told me, That this same admirable Frame of Nature, This Order and this Harmony of things, Was worthy admiration. —And yet thou say'st all Men are like to us, Poor, insignificant Philosophers. I to my self could an Idea frame Of Man, in much more excellence. Had I been Nature, I had varied still, And made such different Characters of Men, They should have bow'd and made a God of me, Ador'd, and thank'd me for their great Creation. —Now, tell me, who's indebted to her Bounties, Whose needless Blessings we despise, not praise?