He came to me, and begg'd 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-

Alm. '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 swoln 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,

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.

Leon. I will attend you.

Enter ALONZO.

Alon. The lord Gonsalez comes to tell your highness

The king is just arriv'd.

Alm. Conduct him in.

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

Enter GONSALEZ.

Gon. Be every day of your long life like this. The sun, bright conquest, and your brighter eyes, Have all conspir'd to blaze promiscuous light, And bless this day with most unequall'd lustre. Your royal father, my victorious lord, Loaden with spoils, and ever-living laurel, Is entering now, in martial pomp, the palace. Five hundred mules precede his solemn march, Which groan beneath the weight of Moorish wealth.

Chariots of war, adorn'd with glittering gems, Succeed; and next, a hundred neighing steeds, White as the fleecy rain on Alpine hills,

tears,

When joy appears in every other face.

Alm. And joy he brings to every other heart, But double, double weight of wo to mine: For with him Garcia comes-Garcia, to whom I must be sacrific'd, and all the vows I gave my dear Alphonso basely broken. No, it shall never be; for I will die

First, die ten thousand deaths-Look down, look down,

Alphonso, hear the sacred vow I make; [Kneels.
One moment, cease to gaze on perfect bliss,
And bend thy glorious eyes to earth and me.
And thou, Anselmo, if yet thou art arriv'd,
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) That any I have yet endur'd-And now

[Rising.

My heart has some relief; having so well
Discharg'd this debt, incumbent on my love.
Yet, one thing more I would engage from thee.
Leon. My heart, my life, and will, are only

As they disdain'd the victory they grace.
Prisoners of war, in shining fetters follow:
And captains of the noblest blood of Afric

Sweat by his chariot wheel, and lick and grind,
With gnashing teeth, the dust his triumphs raise.
The swarming populace spread every wall,
And cling, as if with claws they did enforce
Their hold; through clifted stones-stretching and
staring,

As if they were all eyes, and every limb
Would feed its faculty with admiration:
While you alone retire, and shun this sight;
This sight, which is indeed not seen, (though

twice

The multitude should gaze) in absence of your

eyes.

Alm. My lord, my eyes ungratefully behold The gilded trophies of exterior honours. Nor will my ears be charmed with sounding words, Or pompous phrase, the pageantry of souls. But that my father is return'd in safety, I bend to Heaven with thanks.

Gon. Excellent princess!-But 'tis a task unfit for my weak age With dying words to offer at your praise. Garcia, my son, your beauty's lowest slave, Has better done, in proving with his sword The force and influence of your matchless charms. Alm. I doubt not of the worth of Garcia's

deeds,

of Prisoners in chains, and Guards, who are ranged in order round the Stage. ALMERIA meets the KING, and kneels: afterwards GoNSALEZ kneels, and kisses the KING's hand, while GARCIA does the same to the PRINCESS.

Gon. But tears of joy.

Believe me, Sir, to see you thus, has fill'd

Mine eyes with more delight than they can hold. King. By Heaven, thou lov'st me, and I'm pleas'd thou dost ;

Take it for thanks, old man, that I rejoice
To see thee weep on this occasion-Some
Here are, who seem to mourn at our success!
Why is 't, Almeria, that you meet our eyes,
Upon this solemn day, in these sad weeds?
In opposition to my brightness, you
And yours are all like daughters of affliction.
Alm. Forgive me, Sir, if I in this offend.
The year which I have vow'd to pay to Heaven,
In mourning and strict life for my deliverance
From wreck and death, wants yet to be expir'd.
King. Your zeal to Heaven is great, so is your
debt:

Yet something too is due to me, who gave
That life, which Heaven preserv'd. A day be-
stow'd

In filial duty, had aton'd and given
A dispensation to your vow-No more!
'Twas weak and wilful-and a woman's error.
Yet, upon thought, it doubly wounds my sight,
To see that sable worn upon the day,
Succeeding that, in which our deadliest foe,
Hated Anselmo, was interr'd-By Heaven,
It looks as thou didst mourn for him: just so
Thy senseless vow appear'd to bear its date,
Not from that hour wherein thou wert preserv'd,
But that wherein the curs'd Alphonso perish'd.
Ha! What? thou dost not weep to think of
that!

Gon. Have patience, royal Sir; the princess

weeps

To have offended you. If fate decreed,
One pointed hour should be Alphonso's loss,
And her deliverance, is she to blame?

King. I tell thee she's to blame, not to have feasted

When my first foe was laid in earth, such enmity,

Such detestation bears my blood to his;
My daughter should have revel'd 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 shackl'd slave of mine, But should have smil'd 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;

Betray'd by too much piety, to seem

As if she had offended. Sure, no more.
King. To seem is to commit, at this conjunc-

ture.

I wo'not have a seeming sorrow seen

King. Rise, Garcia.-I forgot. Yet stay, Al

meria.

Alm. My boding heart!-What is your pleasure, Sir?

King. Draw near, and give your hand, and
Garcia, yours:

Receive this lord, as one whom I have found
Worthy to be your husband, and my son.

Gar. Thus let me kneel to take-O, not to take

But to devote, and yield myself for ever
The slave and creature of my royal mistress.
Gon. O, let me prostrate pay my worthless
thanks-

King. No more; my promise long since pass'd, thy services,

And Garcia's well-tried valour, all oblige me.
This day we triumph; but to-morrow's sun,
Garcia, shall shine to grace thy nuptials-
Alm. Oh!

Gar. She faints! help to support her.
Gon. She recovers.

[Faints.

King. A fit of bridal fear. How is't, Almeria? Alm. A sudden chillness seizes on my spirits. Your leave, Sir, to retire.

King. Garcia, conduct her.

[GARCIA leads ALMERIA to the door, and

returns.

This idle vow hangs on her woman's fears.
I'll have a priest shall preach her from her faith,
And make it sin not to renounce that vOW
Which I'd have broken. Now, what would
Alonzo ?

Enter ALONZO.

Alon. Your beauteous captive, Zara, is arriv d, And with a train as if she still were wife To Albucacim, and the Moor had conquer'd

King. It is our will she should be so attended. Bear hence these prisoners. Garcia, which is be, Of whose mute valour you relate such wonders? [Prisoners led of.

Gar. Osmyn, who led the Moorish horse; but he,

Great Sir, at her request, attends on Zara. King. He is your prisoner; as you please dispose him.

Gar. I would oblige him, but he shuns my kindness;

And with a haughty mien and stern civility,
Dumbly declines all offers. If he speak,
'Tis scarce above a word; as he were born
Alone to do, and did disdain to talk;
At least to talk where he must not command.

King. Such sullenness, and in a man so brave, Must have some other cause than his captivity. Did Zara, then, request he might attend her? Gar. My lord, she did.

King. That, join'd with his behaviour, Begets a doubt. I'd have 'em watch'd; perhaps Her chains hang heavier on him than his own.

Enter ALONZO, ZARA, and OSMYN bound, cnducted by PEREZ and a guard, attended by

The monarch enter not triumphant, but
In pleasing triumph led; your beauty's slave.
Zar. If I on any terms could condescend
To like captivity, or think those honours,
Which conquerors in courtesy bestow,
Of equal value with unborrow'd rule
And native right to arbitrary sway,

I might be pleased, when I behold this train
With usual homage wait: but when I feel
These bonds, I look with loathing on myself,
And scorn vile slavery, though doubly hid
Beneath mock praises, and dissembled state.

Gon. That friend might be herself; seem not to heed

His arrogant reply: she looks concern'd.
King. I'll have inquiry made; perhaps his
friend

Yet lives, and is a prisoner. His name?
Zar. Heli.

King. 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.
Conquest and triumphs, 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;
Unus'd to wait, I broke through her delay,
Fix'd her by force, and snatch'd 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 settl'd sway in Zara's eyes. [Exit.

ACT II.

should be free.

At once regardless of his chains, or liberty?
Gar. That, Sir, is he of whom I spoke; that's
Osmyn.

King. He answers well the character you gave him.

Whence comes it, valiant Osmyn, that a man
So great in arms as thou art said to be,
So hardly can endure captivity,

The common chance of war?

Osm. Because captivity

Has robb'd me of a dear and just revenge.
King. I understand not that.

Osm. I would not have you.

Zur. That gallant Moor in battle lost a friend, Whom more than life he lov'd; and the regret Of not revenging on his foes that loss, Has caus'd this melancholy and despair. King. She does excuse him; 'tis as I suspected. [To GONS. VOL. I...4 X

60*

GARCIA, HELI, PEREZ.

Gar. This way we're told, Osmyn was seen to
walk;

Choosing this lonely mansion of the dead,
To mourn, brave Heli, thy mistaken fate.

Heli. Let Heaven with thunder to the centre strike me,

If to arise in very deed from death,
And to revisit, with my long-clos'd eyes,
This living light, could to my soul or sense
Afford a thought, or show a glimpse of joy,
In least proportion to the vast delight

I feel, to hear of Osmyn's name; to hear
That Osmyn lives, and I again shall see him.
Gar. I've heard, with admiration of your friend-

ship.

Heli. My lord, let me intreat you to forbear: Leave me alone, to find and cure the cause. I know his melancholy, and such starts Are usual to his temper. It might raise him To act some violence upon himself, So to be caught in an unguarded hour, And when his soul gives all her passion way, Secure and loose in friendly solitude.

I know his noble heart would burst with shame, To be surpriz'd by strangers in its frailty.

Gar. Go, generous Heli, and relieve your friend. Far be it from me officiously to pry Or press upon the privacies of others. [Exit HEL. Perez, the king expects from our return To have his jealousy confirm'd or clear'd, Of that appearing love which Zara bears To Osmyn; but some other opportunity Must make that plain.

Per. To me 'twas long since plain,

And every look from him and her confirms it.
Gar. If so, unhappiness attends their love,
And I could pity 'em. I hear some coming.
The friends, perhaps are met; let us avoid 'em.
[Exeunt.

Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA.

Aim. It was a fancied noise, for all is hush'd. Leon It bore the accent of a human voice. Alm. It was thy fear, or else some transient wind

Whistling through hollows of this vaulted aisle. We'll listen

Leon. Hark!

Alm. No, all is hush'd, and still as death-'tis
dreadful!

How reverend is the face of this tall pile,
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,
To bear aloft its arch'd and ponderous roof,
By its own weight made steadfast and immoveable,
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.
Leon. Let us return; the horror of this place
And silence will increase your melancholy.
Alm. It may my fears, but cannot add to that.
No, I will on; show me Anselmo's tomb,
Lead me o'er bones and skulls and mouldering
earth,

Of human bodies; for I'll mix with them,
Or wind me in the shroud of some pale corse
Yet green in earth, rather than he the bride
Of Garcia's more detested bed: that thought
Exerts my spirits; and my present fears
Are lost in dread of greater ill. Then show me,
Lead me, for I am bolder grown lead on
Where I may kneel, and pay my vows again
To him, to Heaven, and my Alphonso's soul.
Leon. I go, but Heaven can tell with what re-
gret.

Enter HELI.

[Exeunt.

The poor remains of good Anselmo rest,
Yet fresh and unconsum'd by time or worms:
What do I see? Oh, Heaven! either my eyes
Are false, or still the marble door remains
Unclos'd; the iron gates, that lead to death
Beneath, are still wide stretch'd 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 {weary
Shall rest; shows me the grave, where nature,

And long oppress'd 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 leathing.
My soul, enlarg'd from its vile honds, 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. Oh, joy too great!
Oh, ecstasy of thought! Help me, Anselmo;
Help me, Alphonso; take me, reach thy hand;
To thee, to thee I call, to thee, Alphonso:
Oh, Alphonso!

OSMYN ascending from the tomb. Osm. 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 grave,

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

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

me,

Osm. Amazement and illusion!

me,

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

Enter HELI.

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.

Oh, miracle of happiness! Oh, joy
Unhop'd for! does Almeria live!
Osm. Where is she?

Heli. Ha! 'tis he! and with Almeria!

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 deceiv'd 1 taste her breath, I warm'd her, and am warm'd. Look up, Almeria, bless me with thy 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?

Osm. 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 alter'd, or art thou so chang'd,
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 return'd? How hast thou
charm'd

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.

Alm. Stay a while

Let me look on thee yet a little more.

Some recompence of love and matchless truth. Alm. 'Tis more than recompence to see thy face.

If Heaven is greater joy, it is no happiness,
For 'tis not to be borne-What shall I say?
I have a thousand things to know and ask,
And speak-That thou art here beyond all hope,
All thought; and all at once thou art before me,
And with such suddenness hast hit my sight,
Is such surprise, such mystery, such ecstacy,
It hurries all my soul, and stuns my sense.
Sure from thy father's tomb thou didst arise?
Osm. I did; and thou, my love, didst call me;
thou.

Alm. True; but how cam'st thou there? Wert thou alone?

Osm. I was, and lying on my father's lead, When broken echoes of a distant voice Disturb'd the sacred silence of the vault,

from thee.

Alm. Yes.

Osm. And why? What dost thou mean? Why dost thou gaze so?

Alm. I know not; 'tis to see thy face, I thinkIt is too much; too much to bear and live! To see thee thus again is such profusion Of joy, of blissI 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 strain'd heart-let me again behold thee, For I weep to see thee-Art thou not paler? Much, much; how thou art chang'd!

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 hold 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 mourn'd and pray'd!
For I have pray'd to thee, as to a saint;
And thou hast heard my pray'r; for thou art come
To my distress, to my despair, which Heaven
Could only, by restoring thee, have cured.

Osm. Grant me but life, good Heaven, but
length of days,

To pay some part, some little of this debt,
This countless sum of tenderness and love,
For which I stand engag'd to this all excellence:
Then bear me in a whirlwind to my fate,
Snatch me from life, and cut me short unwarn'd:
Then, then, 'twill be enough-I shall be old,
I shall have pass'd all eras then

Of yet unmeasur'd time; when I have made
This exquisite, this most amazing goodness,

And thought I heard thy spirit call Alphonso;
I thought I saw thee too; but, oh, I thought not
That I indeed should be so bless'd to see thee-
Alm. But still, how cam'st thou thither? How
thus Ha?

What's he, who like thyself, is started here
Ere seen?

Osm. Where? Ha! What do I see, Antonio!
I'm fortunate indeed-my friend too safe!
Heli. Most happily, in finding you thus bless'd.
Alm. More miracles! Antonio too, escap'd!
Osm. And twice escap'd; both from the rage

of seas

And war: for in the fight I saw him fall.

Heli. But fell unhurt, a pris'ner as yourself, And as yourself made free; hither I came, Impatiently to seek you, where I knew Your grief would lead you to lament Anselmo. Osm. There are no wonders, or else all is won

der.

Heli. I saw you on the ground, and rais'd you up, When with astonishment I saw Almeria.

Osm. I saw her too, and therefore saw not thee.
Alm. Nor I; nor could I, for my eyes were yours.
Osm. What means the bounty of all-gracious
Heaven,

That persevering still, with open hand,
It scatters good, as in a waste of mercy?
Where will this end? But Heaven is infinite
In all, and can continue to bestow,
When scanty number shall be spent in telling.

Leon. Or I'm deceiv'd, or I beheld the glimpse
Of two in shining habits cross the aisle;
Who by their pointing seem to mark this place.
Alm. Sure I have dreamt, if we must part so