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character of Lady Elizabeth Hastings, said that love her is a liberal education.” The sort of from which men should be saved by a tion, had so completely becomes comedy, that many women of 1 had intellectual pleasure in the shut out of the theatre whell, and went to the tragedies, # represent the nobler side of indication of this when, in Courtly Nice talks of his says to Leonora, are odious sex—that have ji smell-Madam, you'll ; the house is all linel man may

endure it."

THE 1 in Congreve'st daughter of Muu scene opens the


me comes it, valiant Osmyn, that a man

fans, as thou art said to be,
wa endure captivity,
la chance of war?

Because captivity
ied me of a dear and just revenge.
wish I understand not that.

I would not have you.
ra. That gallant Moor in battle lost a friend,
vum more than life he loved; and the regret

I not revenging on his foes that loss
Has caused this melancholy and despair.
Man. She does excuse him; 'tis as I suspected.

[To GOXSALEZ. Gon. That friend may be herself ; seem not to heed His arrogant reply: she looks concern'd.

Man. I'll have inquiry made; perhaps his friend Yet lives, and is a prisoner. His name?

Zara. Heli.

Man. Garcia, that search shall be your care:
It shall be mine to pay devotion here;
At this fair shrine to lay my laurels down,
And raise Love's altar on the spoils of war.
Conquost and triumph, now, are mine no more:
Nor will I victory in camps adore :
For, lingering there, in long suspense she stands,
Shifting the prize in unresolving hands :
Unused to wait, I broke through her delay,
Fixed her by force, and snatched the doubtful day.
Now late I find that war is but her sport;
In love the goddess keeps her awful court :
Fickle in fields, unsteadily she flies,
But rules with settled sway in Zara's eyes.


the play.

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mensen d.


which is he, many other o wunders ?

(Prisoners led off ... horse; but he,

we w Zara,
a na ww . *. please dispose him.
na teren dat he shuns my kindness,
inte en and stern civility,

If he speak,
ww, she were born
portare a da to talk;

der must not command.
Is anni in a man so brave,
wake aux than his captivity.

*** he might attend her?

The scene of the Second Act is the aisle of a temple. Heli is brought by Garcia and Perez to find there Osmyn, who is said there to be mourning his friend's supposed death. They leave him in the temple, and await another opportunity of watching Osmyn, that the king's jealousy of Zara may be confirmed and cleared. Almeria has come with Leonora to the temple to repeat her vows at the tomb of Alphonso. Sound as of a distant voice has startled her.

No, all is hushed, and still as death.—'Tis dreadful !
How reverend in the face of this tall pile,
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,
To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof,
By its own weight made steadfast and immovable,
Looking tranquillity! It strikes an awe
And terror on my aching sight; the tombs
And monumental caves of death look cold,
And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart.
Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice;
Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear
Thy voice-my own affrights me with its echoes.

That, joined with his behaviour, a woma ruhave 'em watched; perhaps

iar ding heavier on him than his own.

Hindi Aawn enter bound, with a train that pays

Mannel himself removes her

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Thus I release you; And by releasing you, enslave myself.

But Almeria holds by her purpose, and requires Leonora to leave her when she has led her to Anselmo's tomb. The scene opening, then discovers a place of tombs, with one monument, fronting the view, greater than the rest. Heli seeking Osiyn enters, and, at sound of a distant voice of complaint,

Se ngurus proud thanks. When Osmyn also is

'lows it. Almeria is brought to the great tomb by


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I taste her breath, I warmed her and am warmed.
Look up, Almeria, bless me with thine eyes ;
Look on thy love, thy lover, and thy husband.

Alm. I've sworn I'll not wed Garcia ; why d'ye force me :
Is this a father?

Look on thy Alphonso.
Thy father is not here, my love, nor Garcia :
Nor am I what I seem, but thy Alphonso.
Wilt thou not know me? Hast thou then forgot me ?
Hast thou thy eyes, yet canst not see Alphonso ?
Am I so altered, or art thou so changed,
That seeing my disguise thou seest not me?

Alm. It is, it is Alphonso ! 'tis his face,
His voice! I know him now, I know him all.
Oh, take me to thy arms, and bear me hence,
Back to the bottom of the boundless deep,
To seas beneath, where thou so long hast dwelt.
Oh, how hast thou returned ? how hast thou charmed
The wildness of the waves and rocks to this ?
That thus relenting, they have given thee back
To earth, to light and life, to love and me.

Osm. Oh, I'll not ask, nor answer how, or why
We both have backward trod the paths of fate,
To meet again in life ; to know I have thee,
Is knowing more than any circumstance
Or means by which I have thee.
To fold thee thus, to press thy balmy lips,
And gaze upon thy eyes, is so much joy,
I have not leisure to reflect, or know,
Or trifle time in thinking.

Stay a while
Let me look on thee, yet a little more.

Osm. What wouldst thou ? thou dost put me from thee. Alm.

Yes. 08m. And why? what dost thou mean? why dost thou

levitt. Behold the sacred vault, within whose womb
I lot poor remains of good Anselmo rest;
Jit fresh and unconsumed by time or worms!
What do I see? O Heaven! either my eyes
Are false, or still the marble door remains
Unclosed: the iron gates that lead to death
Beneath, are still wide-stretched upon their hinge,
And staring on us with unfolded leaves.

Alm. Sure'tis the friendly yawn of death for me;
And that dumb mouth, significant in show,
Invites me to the bed where I alone
Shall rest; shows me the grave, where nature, weary
And long oppressed with woes and bending cares,
May lay the burden down, and sink in slumbers
Of peace eternal. Death, grim death, will fold
Me in his leaden arms, and press me close
To his cold clayey breast; my father then
Will cease his tyranny; and Garcia too
Will fly my pale deformity with loathing.
My soul, enlarged from its vile bonds, will mount,
And range the starry orbs and milky ways
Of that refulgent world where I shall swim
In liquid light, and float on seas of bliss
To my Alphonso's soul. O joy too great!
O ecstacy of thought! Help me, Anselmo ;
Help me, Alphonso: take reach thy hand;
To thee, to thee I call, to thee, Alphonso :
O Alphonso !

ALMERIA, LEONORA. Osmyn ascending from the tomb.
08m. Who calls that wretched thing that was Alphonso ?
Alm. Angels, and all the host of heaven, support me!
Osm. Whence is that voice, whose shrillness, from the

And growing to his father's shroud, roots up
Alphonso ?

Alm. Mercy! Providence! oh, speak!
Speak it quickly, quickly! speak to me,
Comfort me, help me, hold me, hide me, hide me,
Leonora, in thy bosom, from the light,
And from my eyes!

Amazement and illusion !
Rivet and nail me where I stand, ye powers,

[Coming forward. That motionless I may be still deceived. Let me not stir, nor breathe, lest I dissolve That tender, lovely form of painted air, So like Almeria. Ha! it sinks, it falls ; I 'll catch it ere it goes, and grasp her shade. "Tis life! 'tis warm ! 'tis she! 'tis she herself! Nor dead nor shade, but breathing and alive! It is Almeria, 'tis, it is

Leon. Alas, she stirs not yet, nor lifts her eyes !
He too is fainting. - Help me, help me, stranger,
Whoe'er thou art, and lend thy hand to raise
These bodies.

Heli. Ha! 'tis he! and with Almeria!
O miracle of happiness! O joy
t'nhoped for! Does Almeria live?

Where is she?
Let me behold and touch her, and be sure
"Tis she; show me her face, and let me feel
Her lips with mine.—'Tis she, I'm not deceived;


gaze 80 ?

Alm. I know not; 'tis to see thy face, I think-
It is too much! too much to bear and live!
To see him thus again is such profusion
Of joy, of bliss—I cannot bear-I must
Be mad—I cannot be transported thus.

Osm. Thou excellence, thou joy, thou heaven of love!

Alm. Where hast thou been ? and how art thou alive? How is all this? All-powerful Heaven, what are we! Oh, my strained heart !-let me again behold thee, For I weep to see thee. --Art thou not paler ? Much, much ; how thou art changed ! Osm.

Not in my love.
Alm. No, no; thy griefs, I know, have done this to thee.
Thou hast wept much, Alphonso ; and I fear,
Too much, too tenderly, lamented me.

Osm. Wrong not my love, to say too tenderly.
No more, my life; talk not of tears or grief;
Affliction is no more, now thou art found.
Why dost thou weep, and hold thee from my arms;
My arms which ache to fold thee fast, and grow
To thee with twining? Come, come to my heart.

Alm. I will, for I should never look enough.
They would have married me; but I had sworn
To Heaven and thee, and sooner would have died.

Osm. Perfection of all faithfulness and love!

Alm. Indeed I would.-Nay, I would tell thee all,
If I could speak; how I have mourned and prayed;
For I have prayed to thee as to a saint:
And thou hast heard my prayer, for thou art come
To my distress, to my despair, which Heaven
Could only by restoring thee have cured.

my wife!

character of Lady Elizabeth Hastings, said that “to love her is a liberal education.” The sort of love from which men should be saved by a liberal education, had so completely become the material of comedy, that many women of true refinement who had intellectual pleasure in the drama, felt themselves shut out of the theatre when comedies were acted, and went to the tragedies, which at least sought to represent the nobler side of life. There is a clear indication of this when, in Crowne's comedy, Sir Courtly Nice talks of his play-going. Comedies, he says to Leonora, are always crammed with our odious sex—that have not always the most inviting smell-Madam, you'll pardon me. Now at tragedies the house is all lined with beauty, and then a gentleman may endure it.”

THE MOURNING BRIDE, in Congreve's tragedy, is the Princess Almeria, daughter of Manuel, King of Granada. The first scene opens the story fully, and explains the title of the play.

SCENE I.- A Room of State in the Palace. The curtain rising slowly to soft music, discovers ALMERIA in

mourning, LEONORA waiting in mourning. After the music,
ALMERIA rises from her chair and comes foruard.

Alm. Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast,
To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
I've read that things inanimate have moved,
And, as with living souls, have been informed,
By magic numbers and persuasive sound.
What then am I? Am I more senseless grown
Than trees or flint? O force of constant woe!
• 'Tis not in harmony to calm my griefs.
Anselmo sleeps, and is at peace; last night
The silent tomb received the good old king;
He and his sorrows now are safely lodged
Within its cold but hospitable bosom.
Why am not I at peace?

Dear madam, cease,
Or moderate your griefs; there is no cause-

Alm. No cause! peace, peace; there is eternal cause,
And misery eternal will succeed.
Thou canst not tell—thou hast indeed no cause.

Leon. Believe me, madam, I lament Anselmo,
And always did compassionate his fortune:
Have often wept to see how cruelly
Your father kept in chains his fellow-king:
And oft at night when all have been retired,
Have stolen from bed, and to his prison crept;
Where, while his jailor slept, I through the grate
Have softly whispered, and inquired his health;
Sent in my sighs and prayers for his deliverance;
For sighs and prayers were all that I could offer.

Alm. Indeed thou hast a soft and gentle nature,
That thou couldst melt to see a stranger's wrongs.
O Leonora, hadst thou known Anselmo,
How would thy heart have bled to see his sufferings !
Thou hadst no canse, but general compassion.

Leon. Love of my royal mistress gave me cause,
My love of you begot my grief for him ;
For I had heard that when the chance of war
Had blessed Anselmo's arms with victory,
And the rich spoil of all the field, and you,
The glory of the whole, were made the prey
Of his success; that then, in spite of hate,

Revenge, and that hereditary feud
Between Valentia's and Granada's kings,
He did endear himself to your affection,
By all the worthy and indulgent ways
His most industrious goodness could invent;
Proposing by a match between Alphonso
His son, the brave Valentia prince, and you,
To end the long dissension, and unite
The jarring crowns.

Alphonso! O Alphonso !
Thou too art quiet-long hast been at peace--
Both, both father and son are now no more.
Then why am I? O when shall I have rest?
Why do I live to say you are no more:
Why are all these things thus ?-Is it of force ?
Is there necessity I must be miserable ?
Is it of moment to the peace of heaven
That I should be afflicted thus ?-If not,
Why is it thus contrived? Why are things laid
By some unscen hand so, as of sure consequence,
They must to me bring curses, grief of heart,
The last distress of life, and sure despair!

Leon. Alas, you search too far, and think too deeply!

Alm. Why was I carried to Anselmo's court?
Or there, why was I used so tenderly ?
Why not ill-treated like an enemy?
For so my father would have used his child.
O Alphonso! Alphonso !
Devouring seas have washed thee from my sight,
No time shall rase thee from my memory ;
No, I will live to be thy monument ;
The cruel ocean is no more thy tomb:
But in my heart thou art interred; there, there,
Thy dear resemblance is for ever fixed;
My love, my lord, my husband still, though lost.

Leon. Husband ! O heavens!

Alas! what have I said?
My grief has hurried me beyond all thought :
I would have kept that secret; though I know
Thy love and faith to me deserve all confidence.
But 'tis the wretch's comfort still to have
Some small reserve of near and inward woe,
Some unsuspected hoard of darling grief,
Which they unseen may wail, and weep and mourn,
And, glutton-like, alone devour.

I knew not this.
Alm. O no,

thou know'st not half,
Know'st nothing of my sorrows.- If thou didst-
If I should tell thee, wouldst thou pity me?
Tell me; I know thou wouldst, thou art compassionate.

Leon. Witness these tears!

I thank thee, Leonora,
Indeed I do, for pitying thy sad mistress ;
For 'tis, alas! the poor prerogative
Of greatness, to be wretched and unpitied.
But I did promise I would tell thee-what?
My miseries? thou dost already know 'em ;
And when I told thee thou didst nothing know,
It was because thou didst not know Alphonso :
For to have known my loss, thou must have known
His worth, his truth, and tenderness of love.

Leon. The memory of that brave prince stands fair
In all report -
And I have heard imperfectly his loss!
But fearful to renew your troubles past,
I never did presume to ask the story,


Alm. If for my swelling heart I can, I'll tell thee.
I was a welcome captive in Valentia,
Even on the day when Manuel my father
Led on his conquering troops, high as the gates
Of king Anselmo's palace : which in rage,
And heat of war, and dire revenge, he fired.
The good king flying to avoid the flames,
Started amidst his foes, and made captivity
His fatal refuge.---Would that I had fallen
Amid those flames !--but 'twas not so decreed.
Alphonso, who foresaw my father's cruelty,
Had borne the queen and me on board a ship
Ready to sail; and when this news was brought,
We put to sea; but being betrayed by some
Who knew our flight, we closely were pursued,
And almost taken ; when a sudden storin
Drove us, and those that followed, on the coast
Of Afric; there our vessel struck the shore,
And bulging 'gainst a rock was dashed in pieces!
But Heaven spared me for yet much more affliction !
Conducting them who followed us to shun
The shoal, and save me floating on the waves,
While the good queen and my Alphonso perish'd.

Leon. Alas! were you then wedded to Alphonso ?

.11m. That day, that fatal day, our hands were joined.
For when my lord beheld the ship pursuing,
And saw her rate so far exceeding ours,
He came to me, and begged me by my love,
I would consent the priest should make us one;
That whether death or victory ensued,
I might be his beyond the power of fate:
The queen too did assist his suit-I granted;
And in one day, was wedded and a widow.

Leon. Indeed, 'twas mournful.

'Twas as I have told thee;
For which I mourn, and will for ever mourn:
Nor will I change these black and dismal robes,
Or ever dry these swollen and watery eyes ;
Or ever taste content, or peace of heart,
While I have life, and thought of my Alphonso.

Leon. Look down, good Heaven, with pity on her sorrows, And grant that time may bring her some relief.

Alm. Oh, no, time gives increase to my afflictions. The circling hours, that gather all the woes Which are diffused through the revolving year, (ome, heavy-laden with the oppressing weight, To me: with me, successively, they leave The sighs, the tears, the groans, the restless cares, And all the damps of grief, that did retard their flight; They shake their downy wings, and scatter all The dire collected dews on my poor head; Then fly with joy and swiftness from me. Leon.

Hark! The distant shouts proclaim your father's triumph.

[Shouts at a distance. Oh, cease, for Heaven's sake, assuage a little This torrent of your grief; for much I fear 'Twill urge his wrath to see you drowned in tears When joy appears in every other face.

Alm. And joy he brings to every other heart, But double, double weight of woe to mine; For with him Garcia comes-Garcia, to whom I must be sacrificed, and all the vows I gare my dear Alphonso basely broken. No, it shall never be ; for I will die First, die ten thousand deaths :- Look down, look down,

Kneels 169

Alphonso, hear the sacred vow I make;
One moment cease to gaze on perfect bliss,
And bend thy glorious eyes to earth and me;
And thou, Anselmo, if yet thou art arrived,
Through all impediments of purging fire,
To that bright heaven where my Alphonso reigns,
Behold thou also, and attend my vow.
If ever I do yield, or give consent,
By any action, word, or thought, to wed
Another lord, may then just Heaven shower down
Unheard-of curses on me, greater far
(If such there be in angry Heaven's vengeance)
Than any I have yet endured.And now [Rising.
My heart has some relief; having so well
Discharged this debt, incumbent on my love.
Yet one thing more I would engage from thee.

Leon. My heart, my life, and will, are only yours.

Alm. I thank thee. 'Tis but this; anon, when all
Are wrapped and busied in the general joy,
Thou wilt withdraw, and privately with me
Steal forth, to visit good Anselmo's tomb.

Leon. Alas! I fear some fatal resolution,

Alm. No: on my life, my faith, I mean no ill,
Nor violence. I feel myself more light,
And more at large, since I have made this vow.
Perhaps I would repeat it there more solemnly.
"Tis that, or some such melancholy thought,
Upon my word, no more.

I will attend you.
Alon. The lord Gonsalez comes to tell you: highness
The king is just arrived.

Conduct him in. [Exit Alonzo. That's his pretence; his errand is, I know, To fill my ears with Garcia's valiant deeds, And gild and magnify his son's exploits. But I am armed with ice around my heart, Not to be warmed with words, or idle eloquence.

Gonsalez describes the coming pomp of Manuel's return in triumph, and adds a word on his own son Garcia's courage in the war. Then enters Manuel after a symphony of martial music, witlı guards, and files of prisoners in chains. Among those who attend on him is Garcia. Manuel, when his daughter kneels to him, condemns her mourning on his day of joy. It is, she says, still part of

The year which I have vowed to pay to Heaven In mourning and strict life for my deliverance From wreck and death.

Manuel is angry, accuses her of mourning for the hated Anselmo and the cursed Alphonso.

My daughter should have revelled at his death,
She should have made these palace-walls to shake,
And all this high and ample roof to ring
With her rejoicings. What! to mourn and weep;
Then, then to weep, and pray, and grieve! By Heaven,
There's not a slave, a shackled slave of mine,
But should have siniled that hour, through all his care,
And shook his chains in transport and rude harmony !

Gon. What she has done was in excess of goodness;
Betrayed by too much piety to seem
As if she had offended.–Sure, no more.

'sein. (mnt me but jiže. guod Heaven, but length of

Harbour no thought that may disturb thy pele;
But gently take thyself away, lest she
Should come, and see the straining of my eyes
To follow thee. I'll think how we may meet
To part no more. My friend will tell them all:
How I escaped, how I am here, and thus;
How I'm not called Alphonso now, but Osm:
And he Heli. All, all he will unfold,
Ere next we meet.

Sure, we shall meet again--
Osm. We shall: we part not but to meet agan
Gladness and warmth of ever-kindling love
Dwell with thee, and revive thy heart in abse Lie.

I'; 247 partsome Ettle of this debt,
l'112 sunt.* kuin of tensierness and love,
Ervu I stad enrized to this all-excellence :

numar ne na wsrivind to my fate,
istan me me, and cut me short unwarned ;
TLF. itn va be enough:-I shall be old,
i atas beyond all eras then

Einneared time; when I have made I.DE wit, this most amazing goodness, ma mm:ne of love and matchless truth.

1 m. T. more than recompense to see thy face; T:17. ie grater joy, it is no happiness, berri bat est to be borne.- What shall I say? I Have a thousand things to know, and ask, Autoak.--That thou art here, beyond all hope, *.. '

Izt; that all at once thou art before me,
Aith such saddenness hast hit my sight,
la un surprise, such mystery, such ecstasy ;
Ishfrua all my soul, and stuns my sense.
porn frean thy father's tomb thou didst arise.

Chem, I did, and thou, my love, didst call me ; thou.
Alm. Tre; but how camest thou there? Wert thou

Then upon Osmyn's happiness comes Zari, si the eunuch Selim; Zara, who had saved him in he was cast dying on her shore. The repratesi her love are at first unheard, because his miris still

upon Almeria.

Gem. I war, and lying on my father's lead,
Whate Parkin erhorn of a distant voice
Iv, the mud silence of the vault,
1. funt rownd my head. I rose and listened,
Airbrint. I heard thy spirit call Alphonso ;
IHáromht I saw thee too; but oh, I thought not
Tit. I wtond should be so blest to see thee!

Alm Bat still, how camest thou hither? how thus ?

11. u he, who like thyself is started here

Where? ha: what do I see? Antonio ? f mv fresh #tes inderd!-my friend too, safe!

Itele Miet, bwappily, in finding you thus bless'd. Alm Mint: ttuita vt! Antonio too escaped ! 1 AM twice apad, both from the rage of seas

te in the fight I saw him fall. flat, frele de unhurt, a prisoner as yourself, A nu se potrudi muda free; hither I came frossere sospito tu you, where I knew troop prill win tid bind you, to lament Anselmo.

I n** xro tuto *vers, or else all is wonder. 1111 ** printo the ground, and raised you up; Wty will ***mo, aiutti st I saw Almeria. 11874 * w pudi Bear, and therefore saw not thee. 41 VI, ftvetmund I, for my eyes were yours.

tem Wina web thuer brosnty of all-gracious Heaven, 'T by ve Bite yakupine z11 with brin hand, H4 ayda ve hat, *** * **stas of mercy! WA will ke: brit leven is infinite in ril, an inte (1, inue to bestow Wire to storey ter shall be spent in telling.

Trun. On I'm dk46,5611, or I held the glimpse (18 two in suming babits (te the aisle ; When try their pronting som to mark this place.

Alm. Aure I have dreamt, if we must part so soon.

Oem. I wish, at løst, our parting wite a dream, Or we could sleep till we asesin wire met.

Ileli, Zara with Helim, air ; I saw and know 'em ; You must be quick, for lo d her wings. Alm. What love?

're you alarm'd ? Osm. She's the r

...y unhappiness.

Zara. Thou hast a heart, though 'tis a sarage coe; Give it me as it is; I ask no more For all I've done, and all I have endured; For saving thee, when I beheld thee first, Driven by the tide upon my country's coast, Pale and expiring, drenched in briny waves, Thou and thy friend, till my compassion found thee; Compassion! scarce will 't own that name, so soon, So quickly was it love ; for thou wert godlike Even then. Kneeling on earth, I loosed my hair, And with it dried thy watery checks; then chafed Thy temples, till reviving blood arose, And like the morn vermilioned o'er thy face. O Heaven! how did my heart rejoice and ache, When I beheld the day-break of thy eyes, And felt the balm of thy respiring lips !

Osm. Oh, call not to my mind what you have done; It sets a debt of that account before me, Which shows me poor, and bankrupt even in hopes.

Zara. The faithful Selim and my women know The dangers which I tempted to conceal you. You know how I abused the credulous king , What arts I used to make you pass on him, When he received you as the Prince of Fez ; And as my kinsman, honoured and advanced you. Oh, why do I relate what I have done? What did I not ? Was't not for you this war Commenced ? not knowing who you were, nor why You hated Manuel, I urged my husband To this invasion; where he late was lost, Where all is lost, and I am made a slave. Look on me now, from empire fallen to slavery; Think on my sufferings first, then look on me; Think on the cause of all, then view thyself: Retlect on Osmyn, and then look on Zara, The fallen, the lost, and now the captive Zara, And now abandoned --say, what then is Osmyn:

Zaru still offers love:

We may be free; the conqueror is mine ; In chains unseen I hold him by the heart, And can unwind or strain him as I pleise. Give me thy love, I 'll give thee liberty.

ller offer is in vain. Her passion becomes anges. In the moment of her anger the king enters, and she

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