Don Sebastian, King of Portugal a tragedy, acted at the Theatre Royal / written by Mr. Dryden.

Don Sebastian, King of Portugal.

ACT I. SCENE I.

The Scene at Alcazar, representing a Market-Place under the Castle.

Muley-Zeydan, Benducar.

Muly-Zeyd.

NOW Affrica's long Wars are at an end; And our parch'd earth is drench'd in Chri∣stian Blood, My conquering Brother will have Slaves enow, To pay his cruel Vows for Victory. What hear you of Sebastian, King of Portugal?

Benducar.

He fell among a heap of slaughter'd Moors; Though yet his mangled Carcase is not found. The Rival of our threatned Empire, Mahumet, Was hot pursued; and in the general rout, Mistook a swelling Current for a Foord; And in Mucazer's Flood was seen to rise; Thrice was he seen; at length his Courser plung'd, And threw him off; the Waves whelm'd over him, And helpless in his heavy arms he drownd.

Mul. Zeyd.

Thus, then, a doubtful Title is extinguish'd: Thus, Moluch, still the Favorite of Fate,

Swims in a sanguine torrent to the Throne. As if our Prophet only work'd for him: The Heavens and all the Stars are his hir'd Servants. As Muley-Zeydan were not worth their care, And younger Brothers but the draft of Nature.

Bend.

Be still, and learn the soothing Arts of Court; Adore his fortune, mix with flattering Crowds, And when they praise him most, be you the loudest; Your Brother is luxurious, close, and cruel▪ Generous by fits, but permanent in mischief. The shadow of a discontent wou'd ruin us; We must be safe before we can be great: These things observ'd, leave me to shape the rest.

Mul. Zeyd.

You have the Key, he opens inward to you.

Bend.

So often try'd, and ever found so true, Has given me trust, and trust has given me means Once to be false for all. I trust not him▪ For now his ends are serv'd, and he grown absolute, How am I sure to stand who serv'd those ends? I know your nature open, mild, and grateful; In such a Prince the People may be blest, And I be safe.

Mul. Zeyd.

My Father!

Embracing him.

Bend.

My future King!

(auspicious Maley-Zeydan:)

Shall I adore you? No, the place is publick; I worship you within; the outward act Shall be reserv'd till Nations follow me, And Heaven shall envy you the kneeling World. You know th' Alcald of Alcazar, Dorax?

Mul. Zeyd.

The gallant Renegade you mean?

Bend.

The same: That gloomy outside, like a rusty Chest, Contains the shining Treasure of a Soul, Resolv'd and brave; he has the Souldiers hearts, And time shall make him ours.

Mul.

He's just upon us.

Bend.

I know him from a far, By the long stride and by the sullen port: Retire my Lord. Wait on your Brothers Triumph, yours is next, His growth is but a wild and fruitless Plant,

I'll cut his barren branches to the stock, And graft you on to bear.

Mul. Zeyd.

My Oracle!

Exit Muley-Zeyd.

Bend.

Yes, to delude your hopes, poor credulous Fool, To think that I wou'd give away the Fruit Of so much toil, such guilt, and such damnation; If I am damn'd, it shall be for my self: This easie Fool must be my Stale, set up To catch the Peoples eyes; he's tame and merciful, Him I can manage, till I make him odious By some unpopular act, and then dethrone him.

Enter Dorax.

Now Dorax!

Dorax,

Well Bemboucar!

Bend.

Bare Bemboucar!

Dor.

Thou wouldst have Titles, take 'em then, Chief Minister, First Hangman of the State.

Bend.

Some call me Favourite.

Dorax,

What's that, his Minion? Thou art too old to be a Catamite! Now prithee tell me, and abate thy pride, Is not Benducar Bare, a better Name In a Friend's mouth, than all those gawdy Titles, Which I disdain to give the Man I love?

Bend.

But always out of humor,—

Dorax,

I have cause: Tho all mankind is cause enough for Satyr.

Bend.

Why then thou hast reveng'd thee on mankind, They say in fight, thou hadst a thirsty Sword, And well 'twas glutted there.

Dorax,

I spitted Frogs, I crush'd a heap of Emmets, A hundred of 'em to a single Soul, And that but scanty weight too: the great Devil Scarce thank'd me for my pains, he swallows Vulgar Like whip'd Cream, feels 'em not in going down.

Bend.

Brave Renegade! cou'dst thou not meet Sebastian? Thy Master had been worthy of thy Sword.

Dorax,

My Master? By what title,

Because I happen'd to be born where he Happen'd to be a King? And yet I serv'd him, Nay, I was fool enough to love him too. You know my story, how I was rewarded, For Fifteen hard Campaigns, still hoop'd in Iron, And why I turn'd Mahometan: I'm grateful, But whosoever dares to injure me, Let that man know, I dare to be reveng'd.

Bend.

Still you run off from biass; say what moves Your present spleen?

Dorax,

You mark'd not what I told you: I kill'd not one that was his Makers Image; I met with none but vulgar two-leg'd Brutes. Sebastian was my aim; he was a Man: Nay, though he hated me, and I hate him, Yet I must do him right; he was a Man, Above man's height, ev'n towring to Divinity. Brave, pious, generous, great, and liberal: Just as the Scales of Heaven that weigh the Seasons, He lov'd his People, him they idoliz'd: And thence proceeds my mortal hatred to him, That thus unblameable to all besides He err'd to me alone: His goodness was diffus'd to human kind. And all his cruelty confin'd to me.

Bend.

You cou'd not meet him then?

Dorax,

No, though I sought Where ranks fell thickest; 'twas indeed the place To seek Sebastian: through a track of Death I follow'd him, by Groans of dying Foes, But st••ll I came too late, for he was flown Like Ligtning, swift before me to new Slaughters, I mow'd across, and made irregular Harvest, Defac'd the pomp of Battel, but in vain, For he was still supplying Death elsewhere: This mads me that perhaps ignoble hands Have overlaid him, for they cou'd not conquer: Murder'd by Multitudes, whom I alone

Had right to slay; I too wou'd have been slain, That catching hold upon his flitting Ghost I might have robb'd him of his opening Heav'n; And drag'd him down with me, spight of Predestination.

Bend.

'Tis of as much import as Affric's worth To know what came of him, and of Almeyda The Sister of the Vanquish'd Mahumet, Whose fatal Beauty to her Brother drew The Lands third part, as Lucifer did Heav'ns.

Dor.

I hope she dy'd in her own Female calling, Choak'd up with Man, and gorg'd with Circumcision. As for Sebastian we must search the Field, And where we see a Mountain of the Slain, Send one to climb, and looking down below There he shall find him at his Manly length With his face up to Heav'n, in the red Monument, Which his true Sword has digg'd.

Bend.

Yet we may possibly hear farther news; For while our Affricans pursu'd the Chase, The Captain of the Rabble issued out, With a black shirt-less train to spoil the dead, And seize the living.

Dor.

Each of 'em an Hoast, A Million strong of Vermine ev'ry Villain: No part of Government, but Lords of Anarchy, Chaos of Power, and priviledg'd destruction.

Bend.

Yet I must tell you Friend the Great must use 'em, Sometimes as necessary tools of tumult.

Dor.

I wou'd use 'em Like Dogs in times of Plague, out-laws of Nature, Fit to be shot and brain'd; without a process, To stop infection, that's their proper death.

Bend.

No more, Behold the Emperor coming to survey The Slaves in order to perform his Vow.

Enter Muley-Moluch the Emperor, with Attendants. The Mufty, and Muley Zeydan.

Moluch.

Our Armours now may rust, our idle scymitars Hang by our sides, for Ornament not use: Children shall beat our Atabals and Drums, And all the noisie trades of War, no more Shall wake the peaceful morn: the Xeriff's blood No longer in divided Channels runs, The younger House took end in Mahumet. Nor shall Sebastian's formidable Name, Be longer us'd to lull the crying babe!

Mufty.

For this Victorious day our Mighty Prophet Expects your gratitude, the Sacrifice Of Christian Slaves, devoted, if you won.

Mol.

The purple present shall be richly paid: That Vow perform'd, fasting shall be abolish'd: None ever serv'd Heav'n well with a starv'd face: Preach Abstinence no more; I tell thee Mufty Good feasting is devout: and thou our Head, Hast a Religious, ruddy Countenance: We will have learned Luxury: our lean Faith Gives scandal to the Christians; they feed high; Then look for shoals of Converts, when thou hast Reform'd us into feasting.

Muf.

Fasting is but the Letter of the Law: Yet it shows well to Preach it to the Vulgar. Wine is against our Law, that's literal too, But not deny'd to Kings and to their Guides, Wine is a Holy Liquor, for the Great.

Dorax aside.

This Mufti in my conscience is some English Renegade, he talks so savourly of toping.

Mol.

Bring forth th' unhappy Relicks of the War.

Enter Mustapha Captain of the Rabble with his followers of the Black Guard, &c. and other Moors: with them a Company of Portuguese Slaves without any of the chief Persons.

M. Mol.

These are not fit to pay an Emperors Vow; Our Bulls and Rams had been more noble Victims; These are but garbidge not a Sacrifice.

Muf.

The Prophet must not pick and choose his Offrings; Now he has giv'n the Day, 'tis past recalling: And he must be content with such as these.

M. Mol.

But are these all? Speak you who are their Masters.

Musta.

All upon my Honour: If you'll take 'em as their Fathers got 'em, so. If not, you must stay till they get a bet∣ter generation: These Christians are mere bunglers; they pro∣create nothing but out of their own Wives; And these have all the looks of Eldest Sons.

M. Mol.

Pain of your lives let none conceal a Slave.

Must.

Let every Man look to his own Conscience, I am sure mine shall never hang me.

Bend.

Thou speak'st as thou wert privy to concealments: Then thou art an Accomplice.

Must.

Nay if Accomplices must suffer, it may go hard with me; but here's the Devil on't, there's a Great Man and a Holy Man too, concern'd with me. Now if I confess, he'll be sure to scape between his Greatness and his Holiness, and I shall be murder'd, because of my Poverty and Rascality.

Musti winking at him.

Then if thy silence-save the Great and Holy, 'Tis sure thou shalt go straight to Paradise

Must.

'Tis a fine place they say; but Doctor I am not worthy on't: I am contented with this homely World, 'tis good enough for such a poor rascally Musulman as I am: Besides I have learnt so much good manners, Doctor, as to let my Betters be serv'd before me.

M. Mol.

Thou talk'st as if the Mufty were concern'd:

Must.

Your Majesty may lay your Soul on't: but for my

part, though I am a plain Fellow, yet I scorn to be trick'd in∣to Paradice, I wou'd he shou'd know it. The troth on't is an't like you, His reverence bought of me the flower of all the Market; these — these are but Dogs meat to 'em, and a round price he pay'd me too I'll say that for him; but not enough for me to venture my neck for: If I get Paradice when my time comes I can't help my self; but I'll venture nothing before-hand, upon a blind Bargain.

M. Mol.

Where are those Slaves? produce 'em.

Mus.

They are not what he says.

M. Mol.

No more excuses.

One goes out to fetch them.

Know thou may'st better dally With a dead Prophet, than a living King.

Mus.

I but reserv'd 'em to present thy Greatness An Off'ring worthy thee.

Must.

By the same token there was a dainty Virgin, (Vir∣gin said I! but I won't be too positive of that neither) with a roguish leering eye! he paid me down for her upon the nail a thousand golden Sultanins; or he had never had her I can tell him that: Now is it very likely he would pay so dear for such a delicious Morsel, and give it away out of his own mouth; when it had such a farewel with it too?

Enter Sebastian conducted in mean habit, with Alvarez, An∣tonio, and Almeyda: her face veil'd with a Barnus.

M. Mol.

Ay; These look like the Workmanship of Heav'n: This is the porcelain clay of human kind, And therefore cast into these noble moulds.

Dorax aside while the Emperor whispers Benducar.

By all my wrongs 'Tis he; damnation seize me but 'tis he▪ My heart heaves up and swells; he's poyson to me; My injur'd honour, and my ravish'd love, Bleed at their Murderers sight.

Bend to Dor. aside.

The Emperor wou'd learn these Pris'ners names; You know 'em.

Dor.

Tell him, no. And trouble me no more. — I will not know 'em. Shall I trust Heav'n, that Heav'n which I renounc'd,

Aside.

With my revenge? then, where's my satisfaction? No, it must be my own; I scorn a Proxy.

M. Mol.

'Tis decreed, These of a better aspect, with the rest Shall share one common Doom, and Lots decide it. For ev'ry number'd Captive put a ball Into an Urn; three only black be there, The rest, all white, are safe.

Muf.

Hold Sir, the Woman must not draw.

M. Mol.

O Mufti. We know your reason, let her share the danger.

Muf.

Our Law says plainly Women have no Souls:

M. Mol.

'Tis true; their Souls are mortal, set her by: Yet were Almeyda here, though Fame reports her The fairest of her Sex, so much unseen, I hate the Sister of our Rival House, Ten thousand such dry Notions of our Alcoran Shou'd not protect her life; if not Immortal: Dye as she cou'd, all of a piece, the better, That none of her remain.

Here an Ʋrn is brought in: the Pris'ners approach with great concernment; and among the rest Sebastian, Alvarez and Antonio; who come more chearfully.

Dor.

Poor abject Creatures how they fear to dye!

Aside.

These never knew one happy hour in life, Yet shake to lay it down: is load so pleasant? Or has Heav'n hid the happiness of Death That Men may bear to live? — Now for our Heroes.

The three approach.

O, these come up with Spirits more resolv'd! Old venerable Alvarez, well I know him, The Fav'rite once of this Sebastian's Father; Now Minister; (too honest for his Trade) Religion bears him out, a thing taught young, In Age ill practis'd, yet his prop in Death. O, he has drawn a black; and smiles upon't, As who shou'd say my Faith and Soul are white Tho my Lot swarthy: Now if there be hereafter He's blest; if not, well cheated, and dyes pleas'd.

Anton.

holding his Lot in his clench'd hand.

Here I have thee, Be what thou wilt: I will not look too soon. Thou hast a colour; if thou prov'st not right. I have a minute good ere I behold thee. Now, Let me rowl, and grubble thee, Blind Men say white feels smooth, and black feels rough; Thou hast a rugged skin; I do not like thee.

Dor.

There's th' Amorous airy spark, Antonio; The wittiest Womans toy in Portugal. Lord what a loss of Treats and Serenades! The whole She Nation will b' in mourning for him.

Antonio.

I've a moist sweaty palm; the more's my Sin; If it be black, yet only dy'd, not odious Damn'd Natural Ebony, there's hope in rubbing To wash this Ethiope white.— (Looks) Pox of the Proverb! As black as Hell: another lucky saying! I think the Devils in me: — good again, I cannot speak one syllable, but tends To Death or to Damnation.

Holds up his ball.

Dor.

He looks uneasie at his future Journey:

Aside.

And wishes his Boots off again; for fear Of a bad Road, and a worse Inn at night.

Go to bed fool, and take secure repose For thou shalt wake no more.

(Sebastian comes up to draw.)

M. Mol.

to Ben.

Mark him who now approaches to the Lott'ry, He looks secure of Death, superior greatness, Like Jove when he made Fate, and said thou art The Slave of my Creation; I admire him.

Bend.

He looks as Man was made, with face erect, That scorns his brittle Corps, and seems asham'd He's not all spirit, his eyes with a dumb Pride, Accusing Fortune that he fell not warm: Yet now disdains to live.

(Sebast. draws a black.)

M. Mol.

He has his wish; And I have fail'd of mine!

Dor.

Robb'd of my Vengeance, by a trivial chance!

Aside.

Fine work above, that their anointed care Shou'd dye such little Death: or did his Genius Know mine the stronger Demon, fear'd the grapple, And looking round him, found this nook of fate To skulk behind my Sword; shall I discover him? Still he wou'd dye not mine: no thanks to my Revenge: reserv'd but to more royal shambles. 'Twere base too; and below those Vulgar Souls, That shar'd his danger, yet not one disclos'd him: But struck with Rev'rence kept an awful silence. I'll see no more of this: Dog of a Prophet!

Exit Dorax.

Mul. Mol.

One of these Three is a whole Hecatomb; And therefore only one of 'em shall dye. The Rest are but mute Cattle; and when Death Comes, like a rushing Lion, couch like Spaniels, With lolling tongues, and tremble at the paw, Let Lots again decide it.

(The Three draw again: and the Lot falls on Sebastian.)

Sebast.

Then there's no more to manage! if I fall It shall be like my self; a setting Sun Shou'd leave a track of Glory in the Skies.

Behold Sebastian King of Portugal.

M. Mol.

Sebastian! ha! it must be he; no other Cou'd represent such suff'ring Majesty: I saw him, as he terms himself, a Sun Strugling in dark Eclipse, and shooting day On either side of the black Orb that veil'd him.

Sebast.

Not less ev'n in this despicable now, Than when my Name fill'd Affrick with affrights, And froze your hearts beneath your torrid Zone.

Bend.

to M. Mol.

Extravagantly brave! ev'n to an Impudence Of Greatness.

Sebast.

Here satiate all your fury; Let fortune empty her whole Quiver on me, I have a Soul, that like an ample Shield Can take in all; and verge enough for more. I wou'd have conquer'd you; and ventur'd only A narrow neck of Land for a third World; To give my loosen'd Subjects room to play. Fate was not mine, Nor am I Fate's: Now I have pleas'd my longing, And trod the ground which I beheld from far, I beg no pity for this mouldring Clay: For if you give it burial there it takes Possession of your Earth: If burnt and scatter'd in the air: the Winds That strow my dust, diffuse my royalty, And spread me o'er your Clime: for where one Atome Of mine shall light; know there Sebastian Reigns.

M. Mol.

What shall I do to conquer thee?

Seb.

Impossible! Souls know no Conquerors.

M. Mol.

I'll show thee for a Monster through my Affrick.

Seb.

No thou canst only show me for a Man: Affrick is stor'd with Monsters; Man's a Prodigy, Thy Subjects have not seen.

Mul. M.

Thou talk'st as if

Still at the head of Battel.

Seb.

Thou mistak'st, For then I would not talk.

Bend.

Sure he wou'd sleep.

Sebast.

Till Dooms-day; when the Trumpet sounds to rise; For that's a Soldiers call,

M. Mol.

Thou'rt brave too late: Thou shou'dst have dy'd in battel, like a Soldier,

Seb.

I fought and fell like one, but Death deceiv'd me, I wanted weight of feeble Moors upon me, To crush my Soul out.

M. Mol.

Still untameable! In what a ruine has thy head-strong Pride, And boundless thirst of Empire plung'd thy People.

Sebast.

What say'st thou, ha! No more of that.

M. Mol.

Behold, What Carcases of thine thy Crimes has strew'd, And left our Affric Vultures to devour.

Bend.

Those Souls were those thy God intrusted with thee, To cherish not destroy.

Sebast.

Witness, O Heaven, how much This sight concerns me! Wou'd I had a Soul For each of these: How gladly wou'd I pay The Ransom down: But since I have but one, 'Tis a King's life, and freely 'tis bestow'd. Not your false Prophet, but eternal Justice Has destin'd me the Lot, to dye for these: 'Tis fit a Sovereign so shou'd pay such Subjects; For Subjects such as they are seldom seen, Who not forsook me at my greatest need; Nor for base lucre sold their Loyalty, But shar'd my dangers to the last event, And fenc'd 'em with their own: These thanks I pay you:

Wipes his Eyes.

And know, that when Sebastian weeps, his Tears Come harder than his Blood.

M. Mol.

They plead too strongly To be withstood: My Clouds are gath'ring too,

In kindly mixture with this Royal showr: Be safe, and owe thy Life, not to my gift, But to the greatness of thy mind, Sebastian: Thy Subjects too shall live; a due reward For their untainted Faith, in thy concealment.

Mufti,

Remember, Sir, your Vow.

A general shout.

Mul. M.

Do thou remember Thy Function, Mercy, and provoke not blood.

Mul. Zeyd.

One of his generous Fits, too strong to last.

Aside to Benducar.

Bend.

The Mufti reddons, mark that holy Cheek.

To him.

He frets within, froths Treason at his mouth, And churns it through his teeth; leave me to work him.

Sebast.

A mercy unexpected, undesir'd, Surprizes more: You've learnt the art to vanquish: You cou'd not (give me leave to tell you Sir) Have giv'n me life but in my Subjects safety: Kings, who are Fathers, live but in their People.

M. Mol.

Still great, and grateful, that's thy character. Unveil the Woman; I wou'd view the Face That warm'd our Mufti's Zeal: These pious Parrots peck the fairest Fruit: Such Tasters are for Kings.

Officers go to Almeyda to unveil her.

Almeyda,

Stand off ye Slaves, I will not be unveil'd.

M. Mol.

Slave is thy Title: Force her.

Seb.

On your lives, Approach her not.

M. Mol.

How's this!

Seb.

Sir pardon me, And hear me speak.—

Almeyda,

Hear me; I will be heard: I am no Slave; the noblest blood of Affric Runs in my Veins; a purer stream than thine; For, though deriv'd from the same Source, thy Current Is puddl'd, and defil'd with Tyranny.

M. Mol.

What Female Fury have we here!

Almeyda,

I shou'd be one,

Because of kin to thee: Wou'dst thou be touch'd By the presuming hands of sawcy Grooms? The same respect, nay more, is due to me: More for my Sex; the same for my descent. These hands are only fit to draw the Curtain. Now, if thou dar'st behold Almeydas face.

Ʋnveils her self.

Bend.

Wou'd I had never seen it!

aside.

Almeyda,

She whom thy Mufti tax'd to have no Soul; Let Affric now be judg; Perhaps thou think'st I meanly hope to 'scape. As did Sebastian when he own'd his greatness. But to remove that scruple know, base Man, My murther'd Father, and my Brother's Ghost Still haunt this Brest, and prompt it to revenge. Think not I cou'd forgive nor dare thou pardon.

M. Mol.

Woud'st thou revenge thee, Trait'ress, hadst thou pow'r?

Alm.

Traitor, I wou'd; the Name's more justly thine: Thy Father was not more than mine, the Heir Of this large Empire; but with arms united They fought their way, and seiz'd the Crown by force: And equal as their danger was their share: For where was Eldership, where none had right, But that which Conquest gave? 'Twas thy ambition Pull'd from my peaceful Father what his Sword Help'd thine to gain: Surpriz'd him and his Kingdom, No provocation given, no War declar'd.

M. Mol.

I'll hear no more.

Alm.

This is the living Coal that burning in me Wou'd flame to vengeance, cou'd it find a vent. My Brother too, that lies yet scarcely cold In his deep watry bed: My wandring Mother, Who in exile died. O that I had the fruitful Heads of Hydra, That one might bourgeon where another sell! Still wou'd I give thee work; still, still, thou Tyrant, And hiss thee with the last.

M. Mol.

Something, I know not what, comes over me:

Whether the Toyls of Battel, unrepaird With due repose, or other sudden qualm. Benducar do the rest.

Goes off, the Court follows him.

Bend.

Strange; in full health! This pang is of the Soul; The Body's unconcern'd: I'll think hereafter. Conduct these Royal Captives to the Castle; Bid Dorax use 'em well, till farther order.

Going off, stops.

The inferior Captives their first owners take, To sell, or to dispose.—You, Mustapha, Set ope the Market for the sale of Slaves

Exit Benducar.

The Masters and Slaves come forward, and Buyers of several Qualities come in and chaffer about the several Owners, who make their Slaves do Tricks.

Mustapha,

My Chattels are come into my hands again, and my Conscience will serve me to sell 'em twice over; any price now, before the Musti comes to claim 'em.

First Merchant

to Mustapha.

What do'st hold that old Fellow at?

Pointing to Alvarez.

He's tough, and has no service in his limbs.

Must.

I confess he's somewhat tough; but I suppose you wou'd not boyl him. I ask for him a thousand Crowns.

1st. Mer.

Thou mean'st a thousand Marvedi's.

Must.

Prithee Friend, give me leave to know my own mean∣ing.

1st. Mer.

What virtues has he to deserve that price?

Must.

Marry come up Sir! Virtues quoth ah! I took him in the King's Company; he's of a great Family, and rich, What other Virtues wou'dst thou have in a Noble-man?

1st. Mer.

I buy him with another man's Purse, that's my comfort.

My Lord Dorax, the Governor, will have him at any rate:—

There's Handsel.

Come, old Fellow, to the Castle.

Alvar.

To what is miserable Age reserv'd!

Aside.

But oh the King! And oh the fatal Secret! Which I have kept thus long, to time it better,

And now I wou'd disclose, 'tis past my pow'r.

Exit with his Master.

Must.

Something of a Secret, and of the King I heard him mutter: A Pimp I warrant him, for I am sure he is an old Courtier.

Now to put off t'other remnant of my Merchandize, — Stir up, Sirrah

to Antonio.

Anton.

Dog, what wou'dst thou have!

Must.

Learn better manners, or I shall serve you a Dog∣trick; come, down upon all four immediately;

I'll make you know your Rider.

Ant.

Thou wilt not make a Horse of me?

Must.

Horse or Ass, that's as thy Mother made thee:— But take earnest in the first place for thy Sawcyness.

Lashes him with his Whip.

Be advis'd Friend, and buckle to thy Geers: Behold my Ensign of Royalty display'd over thee.

Ant.

I hope one day to use thee worse in Portugal.

Must.

Ay, and good reason, Friend, if thou catchest me a con∣quering on thy side of the water, lay me on lustily, I'll take it as kindly as thou dost this.—

Holds up his Whip.

Antonio

lying down.

Hold my dear Thrum-eap: I obey thee chearfully,

I see the Doctrine of Non-Resistance is never practis'd thorough∣ly but when a Man can't help himself.

Enter a Second Merchant.

2d. Merchant.

You, Friend, I wou'd see that Fellow do his Postures.

Mustapha

bridling Antonio.

Now Sirrah follow, for you have rope enough:

To your paces Villain, amble, trot, and gallop:—

Quick, about there.— Yeap, the more Money's bidden for you, the more your credit.

Antonio follows at the end of the Bridle on his hands and feet, and does all his Postures.

2d. Merch.

He's well chin'd, and has a tolerable good back; that's half in half.

[To Mustapha.]

I wou'd see him strip, has he no Diseases about him?

Must.

He's the best piece of Man's flesh in the Market, not an Eye-sore in his whole body: Feel his Legs, Master, neither Splint, Spavin, nor Wind gall.

Claps him on the shoulder.

Merchant

feeling about him, and then putting his hand to his side.

Out upon him, how, his flank heaves! The Whorson's broken-winded.

Must.

Thick breath'd a little: Nothing but a sorry cold with lying out a nights in Trenches;— but sound Wind and Limb, I warrant him.

Try him at a loose trot a little.

Puts the Bridle into his hand, he strokes him.

Anton.

For Heaven's sake Owner spare me; you know I am but new broken.

2d. Merch.

'Tis but a washy Jade, I see: What do you ask for this Bauble?

Must.

Bauble do you call him; he's a substantial true-bred Beast; bravely forehanded; mark but the cleanness of his shapes too; his Dam may be a Spanish Gennet, but a true Barb by the Sire, or I have no skill in Horse-flesh. —

Marry I ask Six Hundred Xeriffs for him.

Enter Mufti.

Mufti,

What's that you are asking, Sirrah?

Must.

Marry, I ask your Reverence Six Hundred Pardons; I was doing you a small piece of service here, putting off your Chattel for you.

Mufti,

And putting the Mony into your own Pocket.

Must.

Upon vulgar reputation, no my Lord, it was for your profit and emolument. What, wrong the Head of my Religion? I was sensible you wou'd have damn'd me, or any man that shou'd have injur'd you in a single Farthing; for I knew that was Sa∣crifice.

Mufti,

Sacriledge you mean, Sirrah,—and damning shall be the least part of your punishment; I have taken you in the man∣ner, and will have the Law upon you.

Must.

Good my Lord, take pity upon a poor man in this World, and damn me in the next.

Mufti,

No Sirrah, so you may repent, and scape punishment: Did not you sell this very Slave amongst the rest to me, and take Mony for him.

Must.

Right my Lord.

Mufti,

And selling him again? Take Mony twice for the same Commodity? Oh, Villain!

But did you not know him to be my Slave, Sirrah?

Must.

Why shou'd I lye to your Honor, I did know him; and thereupon, seeing him wander about; I took him up for a stray, and impounded him, with intention to restore him to the right Owner.

Mufti,

And yet at the same time was selling him to another: How rarely the Story hangs together.

Must.

Patience, my Lord.

I took him up, as your Heriot, with intention to have made the best of him, and then have brought the whole product of him in a Purse to you; for I know you wou'd have spent half of it upon your pious Pleasures, have hoarded up the other half, and given the remainder in Charities to the Poor.

Mufti,

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

Must.

I know you have, my Lord; but while I was managing this young robustous Fellow, that old Spark who was nothing but Skin and Bone, and by consequence, very nimble, slipt through my fingers like an Eel, for there was no hold fast of him, and ran away to buy himself a new Master.

Mufti to Antonio.

Follow me home, Sirrah:

[to Must.]

I shall remember you some other time.

Exit Mufti with Antonio.

Must.

I never doubted your Lordships memory, for an ill turn: And I shall remember him too in the next rising of the Mobile, for this act of Resumption; and more especially for the Ghostly Counsel he gave me before the Emperor, to have hang'd my self in silence, to have sav'd his Reverence. The

best on't is, I am beforehand with him, for selling one of his Slaves twice over.—And if he had not come just in the nick, I might have pocketed up t'other: For what should a poor Man do, that gets his living by hard labor, but pray for bad times when he may get it easily. O, for some incomparable Tumult! Then shou'd I naturally wish, that the beaten Party might prevail, because we have plundered t'other side already, and there's nothing more to get of 'em.

Both rich and poor for their own interest pray, 'Tis ours to make our Fortunes while we may; For Kingdoms are not conquer'd every day.

Exit Mustaph.

ACT II.

Scene 1. Suppos'd to be a terrace Walk, on the side of the Castle of Alcazar.

Emperor. Benducar.

Emper.

AND thinkest thou not it was discovered?

Bend.

No: The thoughts of Kings are like religious Groves, The Walks of muffled Gods▪ Sacred retreat, Where none but whom they please t'admit, approach.

Emp.

Did not my conscious Eyes flash out a Flame To lighten those brown horrors, and disclose The secret path I trod?

Bend.

I cou'd not find it, 'till you lent a Clue To that close Labarynth; how then shou'd they?

Emp.

I wou'd be loth they shou'd: it breeds contempt For Herds to listen, or presume to pry, When the hurt Lion groans within his Den: But is 't not strange?

Bend.

To love? not more than 'tis to live; a Tax Impos'd on all by Nature, paid in kind, Familiar as our being.

Emp.

Still 'tis strange To me: I know my Soul as wild as winds, That sweep the Desarts of our moving Plains; Love might as well be sow'd upon our Sands, As in a brest so barren: To love an Enemy, the only One Remaining too, whom yester Sun beheld, Must'ring her charms, and rolling as she past, By every Squadron her alluring eyes: To edge her Champions Swords, and urge my ruin. The shouts of Soldiers, and the burst of Cannon, Maintain ev'n still a deaf and murm'ring noise; Nor is Heav'n yet recover'd of the sound Her Battel rows'd; Yet spight of me I love.

Bend.

What then controuls you? Her Person is as prostrate as her Party.

Emp.

A thousand things controul this Conqueror, My native pride to own th'unworthy passion, Hazard of Int'rest, and my Peoples love: To what a Storm of Fate am I expos'd! What if I had her murder'd? 'tis but what My Subjects all expect, and she deserves. Wou'd not th' impossibility Of ever, ever seeing, or possessing, Calm all this rage, this Hurrican of Soul?

Bend.

That ever, ever, I mark'd the double, shows extream reluctance To part with her for ever.

Emp.

Right thou hast me, I wou'd, but cannot kill: I must enjoy her: I must, and what I must be sure I will. What's Royalty but pow'r to please my self? And if I dare not, then am I the Slave, And my own Slaves the Sovereigns, — 'tis resolv'd, Weak Princes flatter when they want the pow'r To curb their People; tender Plants must bend, But when a Government is grown to strength, Like some old Oak, rough with its armed Bark,

It yields not to the tug, but only nods, And turns to sullen State.

Bend.

Then you resolve T'implore her pity, and to beg relief?

Emp.

Death, must I beg the pity of my Slave? Must a King beg? Yes, Love's a greater King; A Tyrant, nay a Devil that possesses me: He tunes the Organs of my voice, and speaks Unknown to me within me; pushes me, And drives me on by force. — Say I shou'd wed her, wou'd not my wise Subjects Take check, and think it strange? perhaps revolt?

Bend.

I hope they wou'd not.

Emp.

Then thou doubt'st they wou'd?

Bend.

To whom?

Emp.

To her Perhaps, or to my Brother, or to Thee.

Bend. in disorder.

To me! me did you mention? how I tremble! The name of Treason shakes my honest Soul. If I am doubted, Sir, Secure your self this moment, take my life.

Emp.

No more: if I suspected thee — I wou'd.

Bend.

I thank your kindness: Guilt had almost lost me!

Aside.

Emp.

But clear my doubts: think'st thou they may rebel.

Bend. aside.

This goes as I wou'd wish: —

(to th' Emp.)

'Tis possible. A secret Party still remains, that lurks Like Embers rak'd in ashes — wanting but A breath to blow aside th'involving dust, And then they blaze abroad.

Emp.

They must be trampled out.

Bend.

But first be known.

Emp.

Torture shall force it from 'em.

Bend.

You wou'd not put a Nation to the rack?

Emp.

Yes, the whole World; so I be safe, I care not.

Bend.

Our Limbs and Lives Are yours, but mixing Friends with Foes is hard.

Emp.

All may be foes; or how to be distinguish'd, If some be friends?

Bend.

They may with ease be winnow'd: Suppose some one, who has deserv'd your trust, Some one who knows Mankind, shou'd be employ'd To mix among 'em, seem a Malcontent, And dive into their breasts, to try how far They dare oppose your love?

Emp.

I like this well: 'Tis wholesom wickedness.

Bend.

Whomever he suspects, he fastens there, And leaves no cranny of his Soul unsearch'd: Then, like a Bee bag'd with his honey'd venome, He brings it to your Hive: if such a Man So able, and so honest, may be found; If not, my project dyes. —

Emp.

By all my hopes thou hast describ'd thy self: — Thou, thou alone art fit to play that Engine, Thou only coudst contrive.

Bend.

Sure I cou'd serve you: I think I cou'd: — but here's the difficulty, I'm so entirely yours, That I shou'd scurvily dissemble hate; The cheat wou'd be too gross.

Emp.

Art thou a Statesman And canst not be a Hypocrite? Impossible: Do not distrust thy Vertues.

Bend.

If I must personate this seeming Villain, Remember 'tis to serve you.

Emp.

No more words: Love goads me to Almeyda, all affairs Are troublesom but that; and yet that most.

Going.

Bid Dorax treat Sebastian like a King; I had forgot him; — but this Love marrs all, And takes up my whole brest.

Exit Emperor.

Bend.

(to the Emp.)

Be sure I'll tell him. — With all the aggravating Circumstances

Alone.

I can, to make him swell at that Command,

The Tyrant first suspected me: Then, with a sudden gust, he whirld about, And trusted me too far: Madness of Pow'r! Now, by his own consent, I ruin him. For, shou'd some feeble Soul, for fear or gain Bolt out t'accuse me, ev'n the King is cozen'd, And thinks he's in the secret. How sweet is Treason when the Traytor's safe!

(Sees the Mufti and Dorax entring and seeming to confer.)

The Mufti, and with him my sullen Dorax, That first is mine already. 'Twas easie work to gain a cov'tous mind, Whom rage to loose his Pris'ners had prepar'd: Now, caught himself, He wou'd seduce another; I must help him: For Church-men, though they itch to govern all, Are silly, woful, awkard Politicians; They make lame mischief, though they mean it well: Their Int'rest is not finely drawn, and hid, But seams are coarsly bungled up, and seen.

Muf.

He'll tell you more.

Dor.

I've heard enough already To make me loath thy Morals.

Bend.

to Dor.

You seem warm: The good Man's zeal, perhaps has gon too far.

Dor.

Not very far; not farther than zeal goes Of course; a small days journey short of Treason.

Muf.

By all that's Holy, Treason was not nam'd: I spar'd the Emperors broken Vows to save The Slaves from Death; though it was cheating Heav'n, But I forgave him that.

Dor.

And slighted o'er

scornfully.

The wrongs himself sustain'd in property: When his bought Slaves were seiz'd by force, no loss Of his consider'd, and no cost repaid.

Mufti,

Not wholly slighted o'er, not absolutely: Some modest hints of private wrongs I urg'd.

Dorax,

Two thirds of all he said: there he began; To shew the fulness of his heart, there ended: Some short excursions of a broken Vow, He made indeed, but flat insipid stuff: But when he made his loss the Theme, he flourish'd, Reliev'd his fainting Rhetorick with new Figures, And thunder'd at oppressing Tyranny.

Mufti,

Why not, when Sacrilegious Pow'r wou'd seize My Property, 'tis an affront to Heav'n, Whose Person, though unworthy, I sustain.

Dorax.

You've made such strong Alliances above, That 'twere Profaneness in us Laiety To offer earthly Aid. I tell thee, Mufti, if the World were wise, They wou'd not wag one finger in your quarrels. Your Heav'n you promise, but our Earth you covet. The Phaethons of mankind, who fire that World, Which you were sent by Preaching but to warm.

Bend.

This goes beyond the mark.

Mufti,

No, let him rail; His Prophet works within him; He's rare Convert.

Dorax,

Now his Zeal yearns, To see me burnt; he damns me from his Church, Because I wou'd restrain him to his Duty; Is not the care of Souls a load sufficient? Are nor your holy stipends pay'd for this? Were you not bred apart from worldly noise, To study Souls, their Cures and their Diseases? If this be so, we ask you but our own: Give us your whole Employment, all your care: The Province of the Soul is large enough To fill up every Cranny of your time, And leave you much to answer, if one Wretch Be damn'd by your neglect.

Bend.

to the Mufti.

He speaks but reason.

Dorax,

Why then these forein thoughts of State-Employments, Abhorrent to your Function and your Breeding? Poor droaning Truants of unpractis'd Cells, Bred in the Fellowship of bearded Boys, What wonder is it if you know not Men? Yet there, you live demure, with down-cast Eyes, And humble as your Discipline requires: But, when let loose from thence to live at large, Your little tincture of Devotion dies: Then Luxury succeeds, and set agog With a new Scene of yet untasted Joys, You fall with greedy hunger to the Feast. Of all your College Vertues, nothing now But your Original Ignorance remains: Bloated with Pride, Ambition, Avarice, You swell, to counsel Kings and govern Kingdoms.

Mufti,

He prates as if Kings had not Consciences, And none requir'd Directors but the Crowd.

Dorax,

As private men they want you, not as Kings; Nor wou'd you care t' inspect their publick Conscience, But that it draws dependencies of Pow'r, And Earthly Interest which you long to sway. Content you with monopolizing Heav'n, And let this little hanging Ball alone▪ For give you but a foot of Conscience there, And you, like Archimedes, toss the Globe. We know your thoughts of us that Laymen are Lag Souls, and rubbish of remaining Glay, Which Heav'n, grown weary of more perfect work, Set upright with a little puff of breath, And bid us pass for Men.

Mufti.

I will not answer, Base foul mouth'd Renegade; but I'll pray for thee To shew my Charity.

Exit Mufti.

Dorax,

Do; but forget not him who needs it most: Allow thy self some share: He's gone too soon; I had to tell him of his holy jugglings;

Things that wou'd startle Faith, and make us deem Not this or that, but all Religions false.

Bend.

Our Holy Oratour has lost the Cause:

Aside.

But I shall yet redeem it.—

(to Dorax)

let him go; For I have secret Orders from the Emperour, Which none but you must hear: I must confess I cou'd have wish'd some other hand had brought 'em. When did you see your Pris'ner Great Sebastian?

Dorax,

You might as well have ask'd me when I saw A crested Dragon, or a Basilisk; Both are less Poison to my Eyes and Nature. He knows not I am I; nor shall he see me Till time has perfected a lab'ring thought, That rouls within my brest.

Bend.

'Twas my mistake: I guess'd indeed that time, and his misfortunes, And your returning duty had effac'd The mem'ry of past wrongs; they wou'd in me; And I judg'd you as tame and as forgiving.

Dorax,

Forgive him! no, I left my foolish Faith Because it wou'd oblige me to forgiveness.

Bend.

I can but grieve to find you obstinate: For you must see him; 'tis our Emp'rours will, And strict Command.

Dorax,

I laugh at that Command.

Bend.

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

Dorax,

See, serve him, and respect, and after all My yet uncancell'd wrongs, I must do this! But I forget my self.

Bend.

Indeed you do.

Dorax,

The Emp'rour is a stranger to my wrongs; I need but tell my story, to revoke This hard Commission.

Bend.

Can you call me Friend, And think I cou'd neglect to speak, at full Th' Affronts you had from your ungrateful Master?

Dorax,

And yet enjoyn'd my Service, and Attendance?

Bend.

And yet enjoyn'd 'em both: wou'd that were all;

He scru'd his Face into a harden'd smile, And said, Sebastian knew to govern Slaves.

Dorax,

Slaves are the growth of Africk, not of Europe: By Heav'n I will not lay down my Commission; Not at his foot, I will not stoop so low; But if there be a part in all his Face More sacred than the rest, I'll throw it there.

Bend.

You may; but then you lose all future means Of Vengeance on Sebastian, when no more Alcalde of this Fort.

Dorax,

That thought escap'd me.

Bend.

Keep your Command; and be reveng'd on both: Nor sooth your self; you have no pow'r t' affront him; The Emp'rours love protects him from insults. And he, who spoke that proud ill natur'd word, Following the bent of his impetuous temper, May force your reconcilement to Sebastian: Nay bid you kneel, and kiss th' offending foot, That kick'd you from his Presence. But think not to divide their punishment; You cannot touch a hair of loath'd Sebastian, While Muley-Moluch lives.

Dorax,

What means this Riddle?

Bend.

'Tis out: there needs no Oedipus to solve it. Our Emp'rour is a Tyrant, fear'd and hated; I scarce remember in his Reign, one day Pass guiltless o'er his execrable head. He thinks the Sun is lost that sees not bloud: When none is shed we count it Holiday. We, who are most in favour, cannot call This hour our own?— you know the younger Brother Mild Muley Zeydan;—

Dorax,

Hold and let me think.

Bend.

The Soldiers Idolize you, He trusts you with the Castle, The Key of all his Kingdom.

Dorax,

Well; and he trusts you too.

Bend.

Else I were mad, To hazard such a daring Enterprize.

Dorax,

He trusts us both; mark that, shall we betray him? A Master who reposes Life and Empire On our fidelity: I grant he is a Tyrant, That hated name my nature most abhors; More, as you say, has loaded me with scorn: Ev'n with the last contempt, to serve Sebastian. Yet more I know he vacates my revenge; Which, but by this revolt I cannot compass: But, while he trusts me, 'twere so base a part To fawn and yet betray, I shou'd be hiss'd And whoop'd in Hell for that Ingratitude.

Bend.

Consider well what I have done for you.

Dorax,

Consider thou what thou woud'st have me do.

Bend.

You've too much honour for a Renegade.

Dorax,

And thou too little faith to be a Fav'rite. Is not the bread thou eat'st, the Robe thou wear'st, Thy Wealth, and Honours, all the pure indulgence Of him thou wou'dst destroy? And wou'd his Creature, nay his Friend betray him? Why then no Bond is left on human kind: Distrusts, debates, immortal strifes ensue; Children may murder Parents, Wives their Husbands; All must be Rapine, Wars, and Desolation, When trust and gratitude no longer bind.

Bend.

Well have you argued in your own defence: You, who have burst asunder all those bonds, And turn'd a Rebel to your Native Prince.

Dorax,

True, I rebell'd: but when did I betray? Indignities, which Man cou'd not support, Provok'd my vengeance to this noble Crime. But he had strip'd me first of my Command, Dismiss'd my Service, and absolv'd my Faith; And, with disdainful Language, dar'd my worst. I but accepted War, which he denounc'd. Else had you seen, not Dorax, but Alonzo, With his couch'd Lance against your foremost Moors:

Perhaps too turn'd the fortune of the day; Made Affrick mourn, and Portugal triumph.

Bend.

Let me embrace thee.

Dorax,

Stand off Sycophant, And keep Infection distant.

Bend.

Brave and honest.

Dorax,

In spight of thy Temptations.

Bend.

Call 'em Trials: They were no more: thy faith was held in Balance, And nicely weigh'd by jealousie of Pow'r; Vast was the trust of such a Royal Charge; And our wise Emperour, might justly fear Sebastian might be freed and reconcil'd, By new Obligements to thy former love.

Dorax,

I doubt thee still; thy reasons were too strong, And driv'n too near the head, to be but Artifice. And after all, I know thou art a Statesman, Where truth is rarely found.

Bend.

Behold the Emperour;

(Enter Emp. Seb. and Almeyda.)

Ask him, I beg thee to be justify'd, If he employ'd me not to foord thy Soul, And try the footing whether false or firm▪

Dorax,

Death to my Eyes, I see Sebastian▪ with him! Must he be serv'd! avoid him, if we meet, It must be like the crush of Heav'n and Earth, T' involve us both in ruin.

Exit Dorax.

Bend.

'Twas a bare saving game I made with Dorax, But better so than lost; he cannot hurt me, That I precaution'd: I must ruin him. But now this Love; Ay, there's the gath'ring storm! The Tyrant must not wed Almeyda; no, That ruins all the Fabrick I am raising, Yet seeming to approve it, gave me time, And gaining time gains all.

(Benducar goes and waits behind the Emperour.)

(The Emperour; Sebastian and Almeyda advance to the front of the Stage.) Guards and Attendants.

Emp.

to Seb.

I bad 'em serve you, and if they obey not, I keep my Lions keen within their Dens, To stop their maws with disobedient Slaves.

Seb.

If I had Conquer'd, They cou'd not have with more observance waited: Their eyes, hands, feet, Are all so quick they seem t' have but one motion, To catch my flying words. Onely the Alcayde Shuns me, and with a grim Civility, Bows, and declines my Walks.

Emp.

A Renegade: I know not more of him: but that he's brave, And hates your Christian Sect. If you can frame A farther wish, give wing to your desires, And name the thing you want.

Sebast.

My Liberty: For were ev'n Paradise it self my Prison, Still I shou'd long to leap the Chrystal walls.

Emp.

Sure our two Souls have somewhere been acquainted: In former beings; or, struck out together, One spark to Africk flew, and one to Portugal. Expect a quick deliverance:

(turning to Alm:)

here's a third, Of kindred Soul to both: pity our Stars Have made us Foes! I shou'd not wish her death.

Almeyda,

I ask no pity; if I thought my Soul Of kin to thine, soon wou'd I rend my heart-strings, And tear out that Alliance: but thou Viper Hast cancell'd kindred, made a rent in Nature, And through her holy bowels gnaw'd thy way, Through thy own Bloud to Empire.

Emper.

This again: — And yet she lives; and only lives t' upbraid me.

Sebast.

What honour is there in a Womans death! Wrong'd as she says, but helpless to revenge▪ Strong in her Passion, impotent of Reason, Too weak to hurt, too fair to be destroy'd. Mark her Majestick Fabrick; She's a Temple Sacred by birth, and built by Hands Divine▪ Her Soul's the Deity, that lodges there: Nor is the Pile unworthy of the God.

Emp.

She's all that thou canst say or I can think. But the perversness of her clam'rous Tongue Strikes Pity deaf.

Seb.

Then onely hear her Eyes; Though they are mute they plead; nay more, command; For beauteous Eyes have Arbitrary Power. All Females have prerogative of Sex, The Shes ev'n of the salvage herd are safe; And when they snarl or bite, have no return But Courtship from the Male.

Emp.

Were She not She, and I not Muley-Moluch, She's Mistress of unevitable Charms, For all but me; nor am I so exempt, But that — I know not what I was to say — But I am too obnoxious to my Friends; And sway'd by your Advice.

Sebast.

Sir, I advis'd not. By Heav'n, I never counsell'd Love but Pity.

Emp.

By Heav'n thou didst: deny it not, thou didst: For what was all that Prodigality Of praise, but to onflame me? —

Sebast.

Sir, —

Emp.

No more: Thou hast convinc'd me, that she's worth my Love.

Seb.

Was ever Man so ruin'd by himself!

Aside.

Almeyda,

Thy Love; that odious Mouth was never fram'd To speak a word so soft: Name Death again, for that thou canst pronounce With horrid grace, becoming of a Tyrant. Love is for human hearts, and not for thine,

Where the brute Beast extinguishes the Man.

Emper.

Such if I were, yet rugged Lions love, And grapple, and compel their savage Dames.— Mark my Sebastian, how that sullen frown,

She frowns

Like flashing Lightning, opens angry Heaven; And while it kills delights. But yet, insult not Too soon, proud Beauty, I confess no love.

Seb.

No Sir, I said so, and I witness for you, Not love; but noble pity mov'd your mind: Int'rest might urge you too to save her life; For those who wish her party lost, might murmur At shedding Royal Blood.

Emp.

Right, thou instruct'st me; Int'rest of State requires not Death, but Marriage; T'unite the jarring Titles of our Line.

Seb.

Let me be dumb for ever, all I plead,

Aside.

Like Wild-fire thrown against the Wind, returns With double force to burn me.

Emp.

Cou'd I but bend to make my beauteous Foe The Partner of my Throne, and of my Bed.—

Almeyda,

Still thou dissemblest, but I read thy heart, And know the power of my own Charms; thou lov'st, And I am pleas'd for my revenge thou dost.

Emp.

And thou hast cause.

Alm.

I have; for I have pow'r to make thee wretched. Be sure I will, and yet despair of freedom.

Emp.

Well then, I love,— And 'tis below my greatness to disown it: Love thee implacably, yet hate thee too; Wou'd hunt thee bare-foot, in the mid-day Sun, Through the parch'd Desarts, and the scorching Sands, T'enjoy thy Love, and once enjoy'd to kill thee.

Alm.

'Tis a false Courage, when thou threat'nest me; Thou canst not stir a hand to touch my Life: Do not I see thee tremble while thou speak'st? Lay by the Lions Hide, vain Conqueror, And take the Distaff; for thy Soul's my Slave.

Emp.

Confusion! How thou viewest my very Heart!

I cou'd as soon, Stop a Spring-tide, blown in, with my bare hand, As this impetuous Love:—Yes, I will wed thee; In spight of thee, and of my self, I will.

Alm.

For what? To people Affric with new Monsters, Which that unnatural mixture must produce? No, were we joyn'd, e'vn tho it were in death, Our Bodies burning in one Funeral Pile, The Prodigy of Thebes wou'd be renew'd, And my divided flame shou'd break from thine.

Emp.

Serpent, I will engender Poyson with thee; Joyn Hate with Hate, add Venom to the birth; Our Off-spring, like the seed of Dragons Teeth, Shall issue arm'd, and fight themselves to death.

Alm.

I'm calm again; thou canst not marry me.

Emp.

As gleams of Sun-shine soften storms to show'rs, So, if you smile, the loudness of my rage In gentle Whispers shall return, but this,— That nothing can divert my Love, but Death.

Alm.

See how thou art deceiv'd, I am a Christian; 'Tis true, unpractis'd in my new Belief, Wrongs I resent, nor pardon yet with ease: Those Fruits come late, and are of slow increase In haughty Hearts, like mine: Now, tell thy self If this one word destroy not thy designs: Thy Law permits thee not to marry me.

Emp.

'Tis but a specious Tale, to blast my hopes, And baffle my pretensions. Speak, Sebastian, And, as a King, speak true.

Sebast.

Then, thus adjur'd, On a King's word 'tis truth, but truth ill tim'd; For her dear Life is now expos'd anew; Unless you wholly can put on Divinity, And graciously forgive.

Alm.

Now learn by this, The little value I have left for life, And trouble me no more.

Emp.

I▪ thank thee Woman;

Thou hast restor'd me to my native Rage; And I will seize my happiness by force.

Sebast.

Know Muley-Moluch when thou dar'st attempt.—

Emp.

Beware, I wou'd not be provok'd to use A Conqueror's right, and therefore charge thy silence. If thou wou'dst merit to be thought my Friend, I leave thee to perswade her to compliance: If not, there's a new gust in Ravishment, Which I have never try'd.

Bend.

They must be watch'd;

aside.

For something I observ'd creates a doubt.

Exeunt Emperour and Benducar.

Seb.

I've been too tame, have basely born my Wrongs, And not exerted all the King, within me; I heard him, O sweet Heavens, he threat'ned Rape; Nay insolently urg'd me to perswade thee, Ev'n thee, thou Idol of my Soul and Eyes; For whom I suffer Life, and drag this being.

Alm.

You turn my Prison to a Paradise; But I have turn'd your Empire to a Prison: In all your Wars good fortune flew before you; Sublime you sate in Triumph on her Wheel; Till in my fatal Cause your Sword was drawn; The weight of my misfortunes drag'd you down.

Seb.

And is't not strange, that Heav'n shou'd bless my Arms In common Causes, and desert the best? Now in your greatest, last extremity, When I wou'd, ayd you most, and most desire it, I bring but Sighs, the succors of a Slave.

Alm.

Leave then the luggage of your fate behind, To make your flight more easie, leave Almeyda. Nor think me left a base ignoble Prey, Expos'd to this inhuman Tyrant's lust; My Virtue is a guard beyond my strength, And Death, my last defence, within my call.

Seb.

Death may be call'd in vain, and cannot come; Tyrants can tye him up from your relief: Nor has a Christian privilege to dye.

Alas thou art too young in thy new Faith; Brutus and Cato might discharge their Souls, And give 'em Furlo's for another World: But we, like Centry's, are oblig'd to stand In starless Nights, and wait the pointed hour.

Alm.

If shunning ill be good, then Death is good To those who cannot shun it but by Death: Divines but peep on undiscover'd Worlds, And draw the distant Landshape as they please: But who has e'er return'd from those bright Regions, To tell their Manners, and relate their Laws? I'll venture landing on that happy shoar With an unsully'd Body, and white Mind; If I have err'd, some kind Inhabitant Will pity a stray'd Soul, and take me home.

Seb.

Beware of Death, thou canst not dye unperjur'd, And leave an unaccomplish'd Love behind: Thy Vows are mine; nor will I quit my claim: The tye of Minds are but imperfect Bonds, Unless the Bodies joyn to seal the Contract.

Alm.

What Joys can you possess or can I give? Where groans of Death succeed the sighs of Love. Our Hymen has not on his Saffron Robe; But muffled up in Mourning, downward holds His dropping Torch, extinguish'd with his Tears.

Seb.

The God of Love stands ready to revive it With his etherial breath.

Alm.

'Tis late to joyn, when we must part so soon.

Seb.

Nay rather let us haste it, ere we part: Our Souls, for want of that acquaintance here, May wander in the starry Walks above, And, forc'd on worse Companions, miss our selves.

Alm.

The Tyrant will not long be absent hence; And soon I shall be ravish'd from your arms.

Seb.

Wilt thou thy self become the greater Tyrant, And give not Love, while thou hast Love to give? In dang'rous days, when Riches are a Crime, The wise betimes make over their Estates:

Make oer thy Honour, by a deed of trust, And give me seizure of the mighty wealth.

Alm.

What shall I do! O teach me to refuse! I wou'd; and yet I tremble at the grant. For dire presages fright my Soul by day, And boding Visions haunt my Nightly Dreams: Sometimes, methinks, I hear the groans of Ghosts; Thin, hollow sounds, and lamentable screams; Then, like a dying Eccho, from afar, My Mothers Voice, that cries, Wed not Almeyda! Forewarn'd Almeyda, Marriage is thy Crime.

Seb.

Some envious Demon, to delude our joys; Love is not Sin, but where 'tis sinful Love.

Alm.

Mine is a flame so holy, and so clear, That the white taper leaves no soot behind; No smoak of Lust; but chast as Sister's love, When coldly they return a Brothers kiss, Without the zeal that meets at lovers mouths.

Seb.

Laugh then at fond presages; I had some; Fam'd Nostradamus, when he took my Horoscope, Foretold my Father I shou'd wed with Incest: Ere this unhappy War my Mother dy'd; And Sisters I had none; vain Augury! A long Religious Life, a Holy Age, My Stars assign'd me too; impossible. For how can Incest suit with Holiness, Or Priestly Orders with a Princely State?

Alm.

Old venerable Alvarez! — (sighing.)

Seb.

But why that sigh in naming that good Man?

Alm.

Your Fathers Counsellor and Confident —

Seb.

He was; and, if he lives, my second Father:

Alm.

Mark'd our farewel, when going to the sight, You gave Almeyda for the word of Battel; 'Twas in that fatal Moment, he discover'd The Love that long we labour'd to conceal. I know it; though my eyes stood full of tears, Yet, through the mist, I saw him stedfast gaze: Then knock'd his Aged breast, and inward groan'd;

Like some sad Prophet, that foresaw the doom Of those whom best he lov'd, and cou'd not save.

Seb.

It startles me! and brings to my remembrance, That, when the shock of Battel was begun, He wou'd have much complain'd (but had not time) Of our hid passion; then, with lifted hands, He beg'd me by my Fathers Sacred Soul, Not to espouse you, if he dy'd in fight: For if he liv'd, and we were Conquerors, He had such things to urge against our Marriage, As, now declar'd, wou'd blunt my sword in Battel; And dastardize my Courage.

Alm.

My blood cruddles; And cakes about my heart.

Seb.

I'll breath a sigh, so warm into thy bosom, Shall make it flow again. My Love, he knows not Thou art a Christian; that produc'd his fear: Lest thou shoud'st sooth my Soul with charms so strong, That Heav'n might prove too weak.

Alm.

There must be more: This cou'd not blunt your Sword.

Seb.

Yes, if I drew it, with a curst intent, To take a Misbeliever to my Bed; It must be so.

Alm.

Yet —

Seb.

No, thou shalt not plead With that fair mouth, against the Cause of Love. Within this Castle is a Captive Priest, My Holy Confessor, whose free access Not ev'n the barb'rous Victors have refus'd; This happy hour his hands shall make us one.

Alm.

I go; with Love and Fortune, two blind Guides, To lead my way: half loth and half consenting. If, as my Soul fore-bodes, some dire event Pursue this Union, or some Crime unknown, Forgive me Heav'n; and all ye Blest above, Excuse the frailty of unbounded Love.

Exeunt Ambo.

Scene 2. Suppos'd a Garden; with Lodging Rooms behind it; or on the sides.

Enter Mufti; Antonio as a Slave; and Johayma the Mufti's Wife.

Mufti.

ANd how do you like him, look upon him well; he's a personable Fellow of a Christian Dog. Now I think you are fitted, for a Gardiner: Ha what say'st thou Johayma?

Johayma.

He may make a shift to sow lettice, raise Melons, and water a Garden plat.

But otherwise a very filthy Fellow; how odiously he smells of his Country garlike! fugh, how he stinks of Spain.

Mufti.

Why honey-bird I bought him a purpose for thee; didst not thou say thou long'dst for a Christian Slave?

Joh.

Ah, but the sight of that loathsom creature has almost cur'd me; And how can I tell that he's a Christian? and he were well search'd he may prove a Jew for ought I know.

And besides I have always long'd for an Eunuch; for they say that's a Civil Creature, and almost as harmless as your self Husband: speak fellow, are not you such a kind of peace∣able thing?

Ant.

I was never taken for one in my own Country; and not very peaceable neither, when I am well provok'd.

Mufti.

To your Occupation Dog; bind up the Jessamines in yond Arbor, and handle your pruning knife with dexteri∣ty; tightly I say, go tightly to your business; you have cost me much; and must earn it in your work; here's plentiful provision for you, rascal, sallating in the Garden, and water in the tanck, and on Holydays the licking of a platter of Rice, when you deserve it.

Joh.

What have you been bred up to Sirrah, and what can you perform to recommend you to my service?

Antonio

making legs.

Why Madam, I can perform as much as any Man, in a fair Ladies Service.

I can play upon the Flute, and Sing; I can carry your Um∣brella, and fan your Ladyship, and cool you when you are too hot: in fine, no Service either by day or by night shall come amiss to me; and besides am of so quick an apprehension, that you need but wink upon me at any time, to make me under∣stand my duty.

She winks at him.

Anton.

Very fine, she has tipt the wink already. —

Aside.

Joh.

The Whelp may come to something in time, when I have enter'd him into his business.

Muf.

A very malapert Cur, I can tell him that; I do not like his fawning, you must be taught your distance Sirrah.

(Strikes him.)

Joh.

Hold, hold. —

He ha's deserv'd it I confess; but for once let his igno∣rance plead his pardon; we must not discourage a beginner. Your Reverence has taught us Charity ev'n to Birds and Beasts: here you filthy brute you: — take this little Alms, to buy you plaisters.

(gives him a piece of money)

Ant.

Money and a Love pinch in the inside of my palm into the bargain.

Aside.

Enter a Servant.

Sir, my Lord Benducar is coming to wait on you, and is al∣ready at the Palace Gate.

Muf.

Come in Johayma, regulate the rest of my Wives and Concubines, and leave the Fellow to his work.

Joh.

Look how stupidly he stares about him, like a Calf new come into the World: I shall teach you Sirrah to know your business, a little better. — this way you awkard ras∣cal, here lyes the Arbour, must I be showing you eternally?

(turning him about.)

Muf.

Come away Minion; you shall show him nothing.

Joh.

I'll but bring him into the Arbor, where a Rose-tree and a Myrtle are just falling for want of a prop; if they were bound together they wou'd help to keep up one ano∣ther: — He's a raw Gardiner, and 'tis but Charity to teach him.

Muf.

No more deeds of Charity to day; come in, or I shall think you a little better dispos'd than I cou'd wish you.

Joh.

Well, go before, I will follow my Pastor.

Muf.

So you may cast a sheeps eye behind you: In before me. And you, sawciness, mind your pruning knife; or I may chance to use it for you.

Exeunt Mufti and Johayma.

Ant.

alone.

Thank you for that; but I am in no such hast to be made a Musulman. For his Wedlock, with all her haughti∣ness, I find her coming. How far a Christian shou'd resist, I partly know; but how far a lewd young Christian can resist is another question. She's tolerable, and I am a poor Stran∣ger, far from better Friends, and in a bodily necessity: Now have I a strange temptation to try what other Females are be∣longing to this Family: I am not far from the Womens apart∣ment I am sure; and if these Birds are within distance, here's that will chuckle 'em together.

(pulls out his Flute)

If there be variety of Moors flesh in this Holy Market 'twere madness to lay out all my money upon the first bargain.

He plays.

A Grate opens and Morayma the Mufti's Daughter ap∣pears at it.

Anton.

Ay there's an Apparition! This is a Morsel worthy of a Mufti; this is the relishing bit in secret; this is the My∣stery of his Alcoran, that must be reserv'd from the know∣ledg of the profane Vulgar. This is his Holyday Devotion; see, she beckons too. —

(She beckons to him.)

Morayma.

Come a little nearer and speak softly.

Ant.

I come, I come I warrant thee; the least twinckle had brought me to thee; such another kind syllable or two, wou'd turn me to a Meteor and draw me up to thee.

Mor.

I dare not speak, for fear of being over-heard; but if you think my Person worth your hazard, and can deserve my love — the rest this Note shall tell you — (throws down a handkerchief.) No more, my heart goes with you.

Exit from the Grate.

Antonio.

O thou pretty little heart; art thou flown hither, I'll keep it warm I warrant it, and brood upon it in the new¦nest: but now for my Treasure trove, that's wrapt up in the handkerchief: No peeping here, though I long to be spelling her Arabick scrawls and pot-hooks. But I must carry off my prize, as Robbers do; and not think of shar∣ing the booty, before I am free from danger, and out of eye-shot from the other Windows. If her wit be as poy∣nant as her Eyes, I am a double Slave. Our Northern Beau∣ties are meer dough to these: Insipid white Earth, meer To∣baccopipe-clay; With no more Soul and Motion in 'em, than a Fly in Winter.

Here the warm Planet ripens, and sublimes The well bak'd Beauties of the Southern Climes; Our Cupid's but a bungler in his Trade; His keenest Arrows are in Affrick made.

Exit Antonio.

ACT. III.

Scene 1. A Terrace-walk; or some other publick place in the Castle of Alcazar.

Emperor Muley-Moluch; Benducar.

Emper.

MArry'd! I'll not believe it; 'tis imposture; Improbable they shou'd presume t'attempt, Impossible they shou'd effect their wish.

Bend.

Have patience till I clear it.

Emp.

I have none: Go bid our moving Plains of Sand lye still, And stir not, when the stormy South blows high▪ From top to bottom thou hast toss'd my Soul, And now 'tis in the madness of the Whirl, Requir'st a sudden stop? unsay thy lye, That may in time do somewhat.

Bend.

I have done: For, since it pleases you it shou'd be forg'd, 'Tis fit it shou'd: far be it from your Slave, To raise disturbance in your Sacred brest.

Emp.

Sebastian is my Slave as well as thou; Nor durst offend my love by that presumption.

Bend.

Most sure he ought not.

Emp.

Then all means were wanting; No Priest, no Ceremonies of their Sect; Or, grant we these defects cou'd be supply'd, How cou'd our Prophet do an Act so base, So to resume his gifts, and curse my Conquests By making me unhappy! No, the Slave That told thee so absurd a story, ly'd.

Bend.

Yet, till this moment I have found him faithful: He said he saw it too.

Emp.

Dispatch; what saw he?

Bend.

Truth is, considering with what earnestness, Sebastian pleaded for Almeyda's life, Inhanc'd her beauty, dwelt upon her praise, —

Emp.

O stupid, and unthinking as I was! I might have mark'd it too: 'twas gross and palpable!

Bend.

Methought I trac'd a Lover ill disguis'd; And sent my spy, a sharp observing Slave, T'inform me better, if I guess'd aright. He told me, that he saw Sebastians Page Run cross the Marble Square; who soon return'd, And after him there lag'd a puffing Fryar; Close wrap'd he bore some secret Instrument▪ Of Christian Superstition in his hand: My servant follow'd fast, and through a chink, Perceiv'd the Royal Captives hand in hand: And heard the hooded Father mumbling charme, That make those Misbelievers Man and Wife. Which done, the Spouses kiss'd with such a fervour, And gave such furious earnest of their flames, That their eyes sparkled, and their mantling blood Flew flushing o'er their faces.

Emp.

Hell confound 'em!

Bend.

The Reverend Father, with a Holy leer, Saw he might well be spar'd, and soon withdrew: This forc'd my Servant to a quick retreat, For fear to be discover'd; guess the rest.

Emp.

I do. My fancy is too exquisite, And tortures me with their imagin'd bliss Some Earthquake shou'd have ris'n, and rent the ground, Have swallow'd him; and left the longing Bride, In Agony of unaccomplish'd Love.

(Walks disorderly)

Enter the Mufti.

Bend.

In an unlucky hour

Aside.

That Fool intrudes, raw in this great affair, And uninstructed how to stem the tide.

Coming up to the Mufti aside.

The Emp'ror must not marry, nor enjoy; Keep to that point; stand firm, for all's at stake.

Emperor

seeing him.

You, Druggerman of Heaven, must I attend Your droaning Prayers? Why came you not before? Do'st thou not know the Captive King has dar'd To wed Almeyda? Cancel me that Marriage, And make her mine; about the business, quick, Expound thy Mahomet; make him speak my sense, Or he's no Prophet here, and thou no Mufti, Unless thou know'st the trick of thy vocation, To wrest and rend the Law to please thy Prince.

Mufti,

Why, verily the Law is monstrous plain: There's not one doubtful Text in all the Alchoran, Which can be wrench'd in favor to your Project.

Emp.

Forge one, and foist it into some by-place, Of some old rotten Roll; do't, I command thee: Must I teach thee thy Trade?

Mufti,

It cannot be. For Matrimony being the dearest point Of Law, the People have it all by heart: A Cheat on Procreation will not pass. Besides th' offence is so exorbitant,

In a higher tone.

To mingle with a misbelieving Race, That speedy Vengeance wou'd pursue your Crime, And holy Mahomet launch himself from Heav'n, Before th' unready Thunderbolt were form'd.

Emperor taking him by the Throat with one hand, snatches out his Sword with the other, and points it to his Brest.

Emp.

Slave, have I rais'd thee to this pomp and pow'r, To preach against my Will? Know I am Law; And thou, not Mahomet's Messenger, but mine: Make it, I charge thee, make my pleasure lawful: Or first I strip the of thy ghostly greatness, Then send thee post, to tell thy Tale above;

And bring thy vain Memorials to thy Prophet Of Justice done below for Disobedience.

Mufti,

For Heaven's sake hold, the respite of a moment,— To think for you.

Emp.

And for thy self.—

Mufti,

For both.

Bend.

Disgrace, and Death, and Avarice have lost him!

Aside.

Mufti,

'Tis true, our Law forbids to wed a Christian; But it forbids you not to ravish her. You have a Conqueror's right upon your Slave; And then, the more despight you do a Christian, You serve the Prophet more who loaths that Sect.

Emp.

Oh now it mends; and you talk reason, Mufti. But stay! I promis'd freedom to Sebastian: Now shou'd I grant it, his revengeful Soul Wou'd ne'er forgive his violated Bed.

Mufti,

Kill him, for then you give him liberty: His Soul is from his earthly Prison freed.

Emp.

How happy is the Prince who has a Churchman So learn'd and pliant to expound his Laws.

Bend.

Two things I humbly offer to your prudence.

Emp.

Be brief; but let not either thwart my love.

Bend.

First, since our holy Man has made Rape lawful, Fright her with that: proceed not yet to force: Why shou'd you pluck the green distastful Fruit From the unwilling Bough, When it may ripen of it self and fall?

Emp.

Grant her a day; tho that's too much to give Out of a Life which I devote to Love.

Bend.

Then next, to bar All future hopes of her desir'd Sebastian, Let Dorax be enjoyn'd to bring his head.

Emperor to the Mufti.

Go Mufti, call him to receive his Orders.

Exit Mufti.

I taste thy Counsel, her desires new rowz'd, And yet unslak'd, will kindle in her fancy, And make her eager to renew the Feast.

Bend.

aside. Dorax,

I know before, will disobey: There's a Foe's Head well cropt.— But this hot love precipitates my Plot; And brings it to projection ere its time.

Enter Sebastian and Almeyda hand in hand; upon sight of the Emperor, they separate and seem disturb'd.

Almeyda,

He breaks, at unawares, upon our Walks, And like a mid-night Wolf invades the Fold: Make speedy preparation of your Soul, And bid it arm apace: He comes for answer, And brutal mischief sits upon his brow.

Sebast.

Not the last sounding, cou'd surprize me more, That summons drowzy Mortals to their doom, When call'd in haste, they fumble for their Limbs, And tremble unprovided for their charge: My sense has been so deeply plung'd in Joys, The Soul out-slept her hour; and, scarce awake, Wou'd think too late, and cannot! But brave Minds At worst can dare their Fate.—

Emperor coming up to them.

Emp.

Have you perform'd Your Embassy, and treated with success?

Sebast.

I had not time.

Emp.

No, not for my Affairs, But for your own too much.

Sebast.

You talk in Clouds, explain your meaning, Sir.

Emp.

Explain yours first: What meant you hand in hand, And when you saw me, with a guilty start, You loos'd your hold, affrighted at my presence?

Seb.

Affrighted?

Emp.

Yes, astonish'd, and confounded.

Seb.

What mak'st thou of thy self, and what of me? Art thou some Ghost, some Demon, or some God? That I shou'd stand astonish'd at thy sight? If thou cou'dst deem so meanly of my Courage, Why didst thou not engage me man for man,

And try the virtue of that Gorgon Face, To stare me into statue?

Emp.

Oh, thou art now recover'd, but by Heav'n, Thou wert amaz'd at first, as if surpriz'd At unexpected baseness brought to light. For know, ungrateful man, that Kings, like Gods, Are every where; walk in th' abyss of minds, And view the dark recesses of the Soul.

Seb.

Base and ungrateful never was I thought; Nor till this turn of fate, durst thou have call'd me; But, since thou boast'st th' omniscience of a God, Say, in what cranny of Sebastian's Soul, Unknown to me, so loath'd a Crime is lodg'd?

Emp.

Thou hast not broke my trust repos'd in thee?

Seb.

Impos'd, but not receiv'd: Take back that falsehood.

Emp.

Thou art not marry'd to Almeyda?

Seb.

Yes.

Emp.

And own'st the usurpation of my Love?

Seb.

I own it in the face of Heav'n and thee No Usurpation; but a lawful claim, Of which I stand possest.

Emp.

Sh' has chosen well, Betwixt a Captive and a Conqueror.

Almeyda,

Betwixt a Monster and the best of Men. He was the envy of his neighb'ring Kings; For him their sighing Queens despis'd their Lords, And Virgin Daughters blush'd when he was nam'd. To share his noble Chains is more to me, Than all the salvage greatness of thy Throne.

Seb.

Were I to choose again, and knew my fate, For such a night I wou'd be what I am. The Joys I have possest are ever mine; Out of thy reach behind Eternity, Hid in the sacred treasure of the past; But bless'd remembrance bring's 'em hourly back.

Emp.

Hourly indeed, who hast but hours to live: O mighty purchase of a boasted bliss! To dream of what thou hadst one fugitive night, And never shalt have more.

Seb.

Barbarian, thou canst part us but a moment;— We shall be one again in thy despight: Life is but air, That yields a passage to the whistling Sword, And closes when 'tis gone.

Alm.

How can we better dye than close embrac'd, Sucking each others Souls while we expire? Which so transfus'd, and mounting both at once, The Saints deceiv'd, shall by a sweet mistake, Hand up thy Soul for mine, and mine for thine.

Emp.

No, I'll untwist you: I have occasion for your stay on earth: Let him mount first, and beat upon the Wing, And wait an Age for what I here detain. Or sicken at immortal Joys above, And languish for the Heav'n he left below.

Alm.

Thou wilt not dare to break what Heav'n has joyn'd?

Emp.

Not break the Chain, but change a rotten link, And rivet one to last. Think'st thou I come to argue right and wrong? Why lingers Dorax thus? Where are my Guards,

Benducar goes out for the Guards, and returns.

To drag that Slave to death?

Pointing to Sebast.

Now storm and rage, Call vainly on thy Prophet, then defie him For wanting power to save thee.

Seb.

That were to gratifie thy Pride: I'll shew thee How a Man shou'd, and how a King dare dye: So even, that my Soul shall walk with ease Out of its flesh, and shut out Life as calmly As it does words; without a Sigh, to note One struggle in the smooth dissolving frame.

Almeyda to the Emperor.

Expect revenge from Heav'n, inhuman Wretch; Nor hope t' ascend Sebastian's holy Bed. Flames, Daggers, Poysons, guard the sacred steps: Those are the promis'd Pleasures of my love.

Emp.

And these might fright another, but not me. Or me, if I design'd to give you pleasure;

I seek my own, and while that lasts, you live.

Enter two of the Guards.

Go, bear the Captive to a speedy death, And set my Soul at ease.

Alm.

I charge you hold, ye Ministers of death, Speak my Sebastian; Plead for thy life: Oh ask it of the Tyrant; 'Tis no dishonor, trust me, Love, 'tis none: I wou'd die for thee, but I cannot plead; My haughty heart disdains it, ev'n for thee. Still silent! Will the King of Portugal Go to his death, like a dumb Sacrifice? Beg him to save my life in saving thine.

Seb.

Farewel, my life's not worth another word.

Emp.

to the Guards.

Perform your Orders.

Alm.

Stay, take my farewel too: Farewel the greatness of Almeyda's Soul! Look, Tyrant, what excess of love can do, It pulls me down thus low, as to thy feet;

Kneels to him.

Nay to embrace thy Knees with loathing hands, Which blister when they touch thee: Yet ev'n thus, Thus far I can to save Sebastian's life.

Emp.

A secret pleasure trickles through my Veins: It works about the inlets of my Soul, To feel thy touch; and pity tempts the pass; But the tough metal of my heart resists; 'Tis warm'd with the soft fire, not melted down.

Alm.

A flood of scalding Tears will make it run, Spare him, Oh spare; can you pretend to love, And have no pity? Love and that are Twins. Here will I grow; Thus compass you with these supplanting Cords, And pull so long till the proud Fabrick falls.

Emp.

Still kneel, and still embrace; 'tis double pleasure So to be hugg'd, and see Sebastian dye.

Alm.

Look. Tyrant, when thou nam'st Sebastian's death, Thy very Executioners turn pale, Rough as they are, and harden'd in the trade Of Death, they start at an anointed Head,

And tremble to approach:—He hears me not; Nor minds th' impression of a God on Kings; Because no stamp of Heav'n was on his Soul: But the resisting Mass drove back the Seal. Say, though thy heart be rock of Adamant, Yet Rocks are not impregnable to Bribes: Instruct me how to bribe thee: Name thy price; Lo, I resign my Title to the Crown; Send me to exile with the Man I love, And banishment is Empire.

Emp.

Here's my claim;

Clapping his hand to his Sword.

And this extinguish'd thine; thou giv'st me nothing.

Alm.

My Father's, Mothers, Brothers death I pardon: That's somewhat sure; a mighty Sum of Murther, Of innocent and kindred blood strook off. My Prayers and Penance shall discount for these, And beg of Heav'n to charge the Bill on me: Behold what price I offer, and how dear To buy Sebastian's life.

Emp.

Let after reck'nings trouble fearful fools; I'll stand the tryal of those trivial Crimes: But, since thou beg'st me to prescribe my terms, The only I can offer are thy love; And this one day of respite to resolve. Grant or deny, for thy next word is Fate; And Fate is deaf to Pray'r.

Alm.

May Heav'n be so

Rising up.

At thy last breath to thine: I curse thee not, For who can better curse the Plague or Devil, Than to be what they are? That Curse be thine. Now, do not speak Sebastian, for you need not, But dye, for I resign your Life: Look Heav'n, Almeyda dooms her dear Sebastian's death! But is there Heav'n, for I begin to doubt; The Skyes are hush'd; no grumbling Thunders roul: Now take your swing, ye impious; Sin unpunish'd; Eternal providence seems overwatch'd, And with a slumb'ring Nod assents to Murther.

Enter Dorax attended by three Soldiers.

Emp.

Thou mov'st a Tortoise pace to my relief. Take hence that, once a King; that sullen pride That swells to dumbness; lay him in the Dungeon, And sink him deep with Irons; that when he wou'd, He shall not groan to hearing, when I send The next Commands are death.

Alm.

Then Prayers are vain as Curses.

Emp.

Much at one In a Slaves mouth, against a Monarch's Pow'r. This day thou hast to think; At night, if thou wilt curse, thou shalt curse kindly; Then I'll provoke thy lips; lay siege so close, That all thy sallying breath shall turn to Blessings. Make haste, seize, force her, bear her hence.

Alm.

Farewel, my last Sebastian! I do not beg, I challenge Justice now; O Pow'rs, if Kings be your peculiar care, Why plays this Wretch with your Prerogative? Now flash him dead, now crumble him to ashes; Or henceforth live confin'd in your own Palace; And look not idely out upon a World That is no longer yours.

She is carried off strugling, Emperour and Benducar follow.

Sebastian struggles in his Guards Arms, and shakes off one of them, but two others come in, and hold him; he speaks not all the while.

Dor.

I find I'm but a half-strain'd Villain yet;

Aside.

But mungril-mischievous; for my Blood boyl'd, To view this brutal act; and my stern Soul Tug'd at my arm to draw in her defence. Down thou rebelling Christian in my heart; Redeem thy fame on this Sebastian first; Then think on others wrongs, when thine are righted.

Walks a turn.

But how to right 'em? on a Slave disarm'd, Defenceless, and submitted to my rage? A base revenge is vengeance on my self?

walks again.

I have it; and I thank thee, honest head, Thus present to me at my great necessity: —

Comes up to Sebastian.

You know me not?

Sebast.

I hear Men call thee Dorax.

Dor.

'Tis well, you know enough for once: you speak too; You were struck mute before.

Sebast.

Silence became me then.

Dor.

Yet we may talk hereafter.

Seb.

Hereafter is not mine: — Dispatch thy work, good Executioner.

Dor.

None of my blood were hangmen; add that falshood To a long Bill that yet remains unreckon'd.

Seb.

A King and thou can never have a reck'ning.

Dor.

A greater summ perhaps than you can pay. Mean time I shall make bold t'increase your debt,

(gives him his Sword)

Take this, and use it at your greatest need.

Seb.

This hand and this, have been acquainted well;

(Looks on it.)

It shou'd have come before into my grasp, To kill the Ravisher.

Dor.

Thou heardst the Tyrants orders; Guard thy life When 'tis attack'd, and guard it like a Man.

Seb.

I'm still without thy meaning but I thank thee.

Dor.

Thank me when I ask thanks; thank me with that.

Seb.

Such surly kindness did I never see!

(Dorax to the Captain of his Guards.)

Muza,

draw out a file, pick man by man, Such who dare dye, and dear will sell their death. Guard him to th' utmost; now conduct him hence, And treat him as my Person.

Seb.

Something like That voice methinks I shou'd have somewhere heard: But floods of woes have hurry'd it far off; Beyond my kenn of Soul.

Exit Sebastian with the Soldiers.

Dor.

But I shall bring him back ungrateful Man,

Solus.

I shall, and set him full before thy sight, When I shall front thee, like some staring Ghost, With all my wrongs about me. — What so soon Return'd? This hast is boding.

Enter to him Emperor, Benducar, Mufti.

Emp.

She's still inexorable, still Imperious; And loud, as if like Bacchus born in thunder. Be quick, ye false Physicians of my mind, Bring speedy Death or Cure.

Bend.

What can be counsell'd while Sebastian lives? The Vine will cling, while the tall poplar stands: But that cut down creeps to the next support, And twines as closely there.

Emp.

That's done with ease, I speak him dead: proceed.

Muf.

Proclaim your Marriage with Almeyda next, That Civil Wars may cease; this gains the Crowd; Then you may safely force her to your will: For People side with violence and injustice, When done for publick good.

Emp.

Preach thou that doctrine.

Bend.

Th' unreasonable fool has broach'd a truth

Aside.

That blasts my hopes; but since 'tis gone so far, He shall divulge Almeyda is a Christian: If that produce no tumult I despair.

Emp.

Why speaks not Dorax?

Dor.

Because my Soul abhors to mix with him. Sir, let me bluntly say, you went too far To trust the Preaching pow'r on State Affairs,

To him or any Heavenly Demagogue. 'Tis a limb lopt from your Prerogative, And so much of Heav'ns Image blotted from you.

Muf.

Sure thou hast never heard of Holy Men (So Christians call 'em) fam'd in State Affairs; Such as in Spain Ximenes, Albornoz, In England Woolsey; match me these with Laymen.

Dorax.

How you triumph in one or two of these, Born to be Statesmen, hap'ning to be Church-men: Thou callst 'em holy; so their function was; But tell me, Mufti, which of 'em were Saints? Next, Sir, to you; the summ of all is this; Since he claims pow'r from Heav'n, and not from Kings, When 'tis his int'rest, he can int'rest Heav'n To preach you down; and Ages oft depend On hours, uninterrupted, in the Chair.

Emp.

I'll trust his Preaching while I rule his pay. And I dare trust my Affricans, to hear Whatever he dare Preach.

Dor.

You know 'em not. The genius of your Moors is mutiny; They scarcely want a Guide to move their madness: Prompt to rebel on every weak pretence, Blustring when courted, crouching when opprest. Wise to themselves, and fools to all the World. Restless in change, and perjur'd to a Proverb. They love Religion sweetn'd to the sense; A good, luxurious, palatable faith. Thus Vice and Godliness, prepost'rous pair, Ride cheek by joul; but Churchmen hold the Reins. And, when ere Kings wou'd lower Clergy greatness, They learn too late what pow'r the Preachers have, And whose the Subjects are; the Mufti knows it; Nor dares deny what pass'd betwixt us two.

Emp.

No more; what ere he said was by Command.

Dor.

Why then no more, since you will hear no more; Some Kings are resolute to their own ruin.

Emp.

Without your medling where you are not ask'd, Obey your Orders, and dispatch Sebastian.

Dor.

Trust my revenge; be sure I wish him dead.

Emp.

What mean'st thou! what's thy wishing to my will; Dispatch him, rid me of the Man I loath,

Dor.

I hear you Sir, I'll take my time and do't —

Emp.

Thy time? what's all thy time, what's thy whole life To my one hour of ease? no more replies, But see thou do'st it; Or —

Dor.

Choak in that threat: I can say Or, as loud.

Emp.

'Tis well, I see my words have no effect, But I may send a Message to dispose you.

Is going off.

Dor.

Expect an answer worthy of that Message.

Muf.

The Prophet ow'd him this:

Aside.

And thank'd be Heav'n, he has it.

Bend.

By Holy Alha, I conjure you stay, And judge not rashly of so brave a Man.

(Draws the Emperor aside and whispers him.)

I'll give you reasons why he cannot execute Your Orders now, and why he will hereafter.

Muf.

Benducar is a fool to bring him off,

Aside.

I'll work my own revenge, and speedily.

Bend.

The Fort is his, the Soldiers hearts are his; A thousand Christian Slaves are in the Castle, Which he can free to reinforce his pow'r; Your Troops far off, beleaguering Larache, Yet in the Christians hands.

Emp.

I grant all this; But grant me he must dye.

Bend.

He shall; by poyson: 'Tis here, the deadly drug prepar'd in powder, Hot as Hell fire: — then, to prevent his Soldiers From rising to revenge their Gen'rals death,

While he is struggling with his Mortal pangs, The Rabble on the sudden may be rais'd to seize the Castle.

Emp.

Do't; 'tis left to thee.

Bend.

Yet more; but clear your brow; for he observes.

(They whisper again.)

Dor.

What will the Fav'rite prop my falling fortunes, O Prodigie of Court!

Aside.

Emperor and Benducar return to Dorax.

Emp.

Your Friend has fully clear'd your Innocence; I was too hasty to condemn unheard, And you perhaps too prompt in your replies. As far as fits the Majesty of Kings, I ask excuse.

Dor.

I'm sure I meant it well.

Emp.

I know you did: — this to our love renew'd. —

Emperor drinks.

Benducar fill to Dorax.

Benducar turns and mixes a powder in it.

Dor.

Let it go round for all of us have need To quench our heats; 'tis the Kings health Benducar. —

He drinks.

And I wou'd pledge it though I knew 'twere poyson.

Bend.

Another Bowl, for what the King has touch'd,

Drinks out of another Bowl.

And you have pledg'd, is sacred to your loves. —

Muf.

Since Charity becomes my calling, thus Let me provoke your friendship: and heav'n bless it As I intend it well. —

Drinks; and turning aside pours some drops out of a little Vial into the Bowl; then presents it to Dorax.

Dor.

Heav'n make thee honest, On that condition we shall soon be friends. —

Drinks.

Muf.

Yes, at our meeting in another World;

Aside.

For thou hast drunk thy passport out of this. Not the Nonacrian fount, nor Lethe's Lake, Cou'd sooner numb thy nimble faculties Than this, to sleep eternal.

Emp.

Now farewel Dorax; this was our first quarrel, And I dare prophesie will prove our last.

Exit Emperor with Benducar and the Mufti.

Dor.

It may be so: I'm strangely discompos'd; Quick shootings through my limbs, and pricking pains, Qualms at my heart, Convulsions in my nerves, Shiv'rings of cold, and burnings of my entrails Within my little World make medley War, Lose and regain, beat and are beaten back; As momentary Victors quit their ground. Can it be poyson! poyson's of one tenour, Or hot or cold; this neither, and yet both. Some deadly Draught, some enemy of life Boils in my bowels, and works out my Soul. Ingratitude's the growth of ev'ry Clime; Affrick, the Scene remov'd, is Portugal. Of all Court-service learn the common lot; To day 'tis done, to morrow 'tis forgot. Oh were that all! my honest Corps must lye Expos'd to scorn, and publick Infamy: My shameful Death will be divulg'd alone; The worth and honour of my Soul unknown.

Exit.

Scene 2. Is a Night Scene of the Mufti's Garden where an Arbour is discover'd.

Enter Antonio.

Ant.

SHE names her self Morayma; the Mufti's only Daugh∣ter, and a Virgin! This is the time and place that she appointed in her letter, yet she comes not. Why thou sweet delicious Creature, why to torture me with thy delay! dar'st thou be false to thy Assignation? What, in the cool and silence of the night, and to a new Lover? Pox on the Hypocrite thy Father, for instructing thee so little in the sweetest point of his Religion. Hark, I hear the rustling of her Silk Mantle. Now she comes; now she comes; no, hang't, that was but the whistling of the wind through the Orange Trees. Now again, I hear the pit a pat of a pretty foot through the dark Alley: No, 'tis the Son of a Mare that's broken loose and munching upon the Melons: — Oh the misery of an expecting Lover! Well I'll e'en despair, go into my Arbour, and try to sleep; in a dream I shall enjoy her in despight of her.

Goes into the Arbour and lyes down.

Enter Johayma wrapt up in a Moorish Mantle.

Joh.

Thus far my love has carry'd me, almost without my knowledg whither I was going: Shall I go on, shall I discover my self! — What an injury am I doing to my old Husband! — Yet what injury, since he's old, and has three Wives and six Concubines besides me! 'Tis but stealing my own Tythe from him.

She comes a little nearer the Arbour.

Antonio

raising himself a little and looking.

At last 'tis she: this is no illusion I am sure; 'tis a true She∣devil of Flesh and Blood; and she cou'd never have taken a fitter time to tempt me. —

Joh.

He's young and handsome. —

Ant.

Yes, well enough I thank nature.

Aside.

Joh.

And I am yet neither old nor ugly: sure he will not refuse me.

Ant.

No, thou mayst pawn thy Maiden-head upon't he wonnot.

Aside.

Joh.

The Mufti wou'd feast himself upon other Women, and keep me fasting.

Ant.

O, the holy Curmudgeon!

Aside.

Joh.

Wou'd Preach abstinence, and practice luxury! but I thank my Stars, I have edify'd more by his example than his precept.

Anton.

Most divinely argu'd; she's the best Casuist in all Affrick.

Aside.

He rushes out and embraces her.

I can hold no longer from embracing thee my dear Moray∣ma: the old unconscionable Whorson thy Father, cou'd he expect cold chastity from a Child of his begetting?

Joh.

What nonsense do you talk? do you take me for the Mufti's Daughter?

Ant.

Why are you not Madam?

throwing off her Barnus.

Joh.

I find you had an appointment with Morayma.

Ant.

By all that's good, the nauseous Wife.

Aside.

Joh.

What you are confounded and stand mute?

Ant.

Somewhat nonplust I confess; to hear you deny your name so positively; why are not you Morayma the Mufti's Daughter? Did not I see you with him, did not he present me to you? Were you not so charitable as to give me Mo∣ney? Ay and to tread upon my foot, and squeeze my hand too, if I may be so bold to remember you of past favours.

Joh.

And you see I am come to make 'em good, but I am neither Morayma nor the Mufti's Daughter.

Ant.

Nay, I know not that: but I am sure he is old enough to be your Father: and either Father, or Reverend Father, I heard you call him.

Johayma,

Once again, how came you to name Morayma?

Ant.

Another damn'd mistake of mine: For, asking one of my fellow Slaves, who were the chief Ladies about the house; he answer'd me Morayma and Johayma; but she it seems is his Daughter, with a Pox to her, and you are his beloved Wife.

Joh.

Say your beloved Mistris, if you please; for that's the Title I desire. This Moon-shine grows offensive to my Eyes, come, shall we walk into the Arbor? There we may rectifie all mistakes.

Ant.

That's close and dark.

Joh.

And are those faults to Lovers?

Ant.

But there I cannot please my self, with the sight of your beauty.

Joh.

Perhaps you may do better.

Ant.

But there's not a breath of air stirring.

Joh.

The breath of Lovers is the sweetest air; but you are fearful.

Ant.

I am considering, indeed, that if I am taken with you.—

Joh.

The best way to avoid it, is to retire, where we may not be discover'd.

Ant.

Where lodges your Husband?

Joh.

Just against the face of this open Walk.

Ant.

Then he has seen us already, for ought I know.

Joh.

You make so many Difficulties, I fear I am displeasing to you.

Ant.

aside.

If Morayma comes and takes me in the Arbor with her, I have made a fine exchange of that Diamond for this Pebble.

Joh.

You are much fall'n off, let me tell you, from the fury of your first embrace.

Ant.

I confess, I was somewhat too furious at first, but you will forgive the transport of my passion; now I have consider'd it better, I have a qualm of Conscience.

Joh.

Of Conscience! Why, what has Conscience to do with two young Lovers that have opportunity?

Ant.

Why truly Conscience is something to blame for inter∣posing in our matters: But how can I help it, if I have a Scruple to betray my Master?

Joh.

There must be something more in it; for your Consci∣ence was very quiet when you took me for Morayma.

Ant.

I grant you, Madam, when I took you for his Daughter: For then I might have made you an honorable amends by Mar∣riage.

Joh.

You Christians are such peeking Sinners, you tremble at a Shadow in the Moon-shine.

Ant.

And you Affricans are such Termagants, you stop at nothing. I must be plain with you, you are married, and to a Holy Man, the Head of your Religion: Go back to your Chamber, go back, I say, and consider of it for this night; as I will do on my part: I will be true to you, and invent all the Arguments I can to comply with you; and who knows, but at our next meeting, the sweet Devil may have more power over me: I am true flesh and blood, I can tell you that for your comfort.

Joh.

Flesh without blood I think thou art; or if any, 'tis as cold as that of Fishes. But I'll teach thee, to thy cost, what Vengeance is in store for refusing a Lady, who has offer'd thee her Love: —Help, Help, there; will no body come to my assistance?

Ant.

What do you mean, Madam, for Heaven's sake peace; your Husband will hear you; think of your own danger, if you will not think of mine.

Joh.

Ingrateful Wretch, thou deserv'st no pity: Help, Help, Husband, or I shall be ravish'd: The Villain will be too strong for me. Help, help, for pity of a poor distressed Creature.

Ant.

Then I have nothing but impudence to assist me: I must drown her clamor what e'er comes on't.

He takes out his Flute, and plays as loud as he can possibly, and she continues crying out.

Enter the Mufti in his Night-gown, and two Servants.

Mufti,

O thou Villain, what horrible impiety art thou com∣mitting? What ravishing the Wife of my Bosom? Take him

away, ganch him, impale him, rid the World of such a Monster.

Servants seize him.

Ant.

Mercy, dear Master, Mercy: Hear me first, and after, if I have deserved hanging, spare me not: What have you seen to provoke you to this cruelty?

Mufti,

I have heard the out-crys of my Wife; the bleatings of the poor innocent Lamb: Seen nothing, say'st thou? If I see the Lamb lye bleeding, and the Butcher by her with his Knife drawn and bloody, is not that evidence sufficient of the Murther? I come too late, and the Execution is already done.

Ant.

Pray think in reason, Sir, is a Man to be put to death for a similitude? No Violence has been committed; none in∣tended: The Lamb's alive; and if I durst tell you so, no more a Lamb than I am a Butcher.

Joh.

How's that, Villain, dar'st thou accuse me?

Ant.

Be patient Madam, and speak but truth, and I'll do any thing to serve you: I say again, and swear it too, I'll do any thing to serve you.

Joh.

aside.

I understand him; but I fear, 'tis now too late to save him:—Pray hear him speak, Husband; perhaps he may say something for himself; I know not.

Mufti,

Speak thou, has he not violated my Bed and thy Honor?

Joh.

I forgive him freely; for he has done nothing: What he will do hereafter, to make me satisfaction, himself best knows.

Ant.

Any thing, any thing, sweet Madam: I shall refuse no drudgery.

Muf.

But, did he mean no mischief? Was he endeavouring nothing?

Joh.

In my Conscience, I begin to doubt he did not.

Muf.

'Tis impossible: Then what meant all those out-crys?

Joh.

I heard Musick in the Garden, and at an unseasonable time of night; and I stole softly out of my Bed, as imagining it might be he.

Muf.

How's that Johayma? Imagining it was he, and yet you went?

Joh.

Why not, my Lord? Am not I the Mistris of the Family? And is it not my place to see good Orders kept in it? I thought he might have allur'd some of the Shee-slaves to him; and was resolv'd to prevent what might have been betwixt him and them; when on the sudden he rush'd out upon me, caught me in his arms, with such a fury.—

Muf.

I have heard enough, away with him.—

Joh.

Mistaking me, no doubt, for one of his fellow Slaves: With that, affrighted as I was, I discover'd my self, and cry'd aloud: But as soon as ever he knew me, the Villain let me go, and I must needs say, he started back, as if I were some Ser∣pent; and was more afraid of me than I of him.

Muf.

O thou corrupter of my Family, that's cause enough of death; once again, away with him.

Joh.

What, for an intended Trespass? No harm has been done, whatever may be. He cost you five hundred Crowns I take it.—

Muf.

Thou say'st true, a very considerable Sum: He shall not dye, tho he had committed folly with a Slave; 'tis too much to lose by him.

Ant.

My only fault has ever been to love playing in the dark, and the more she cry'd, the more I play'd; that it might be seen I intended nothing to her.

Muf.

To your Kennel, Sirrah, mortifie your flesh, and con∣sider in whose Family you are.

Joh.

And one thing more; remember from henceforth to obey better.

Muf.

aside.

For all her smoothness, I am not quite cur'd of my Jealousie; but I have thought of a way that will clear my doubts.

Exit Mufti with Johayma and Servants.

Ant.

I am mortify'd sufficiently already, without the help of his ghostly Counsel. Fear of Death has gone farther with me in two Minutes, than my Conscience wou'd have gone in two Months. I find my self in a very dejected condition▪ all over me; poor Sin lyes dormant, Concupiscence is retir'd to his win∣ter

quarters; and if Morayma shou'd now appear, I say no more, but alas for her and me!

(Morayma comes out of the Arbour; she steals behind him, and claps him on the back.)

Morayma,

And if Morayma shou'd appear, as she does appear, alas you say for her and you!

Antonio,

Art thou there, my sweet temptation! my Eyes, my Life, my Soul, my all!

Morayma,

A mighty Complement, when all these, by your own Confession, are just nothing.

Ant.

Nothing, till thou cam'st to new create me; thou dost not know the power of thy own Charms: let me embrace thee, and thou shalt see how quickly I can turn wicked.

Morayma

stepping back.

Nay, if you are so dangerous, 'tis best keeping you at a distance; I have no mind to warm a frozen Snake in my bosom; he may chance to recover, and sting me for my pains.

Ant.

Consider what I have suffer'd for thy sake already; and make me some amends: two disappointments in a night, O cruel Creature!

Mor.

And you may thank your self for both: I came eagerly to the Charge, before my time, through the back walk behind the Arbour; and you, like a fresh-water Soldier, stood guarding the Pass before: if you miss'd the Enemy, you may thank your own dulness.

Anton.

Nay, if you will be using stratagems, you shall give me leave to make use of my advantages, now I have you in my power: we are fairly met; I'll try it out, and give no quarter.

Mor.

By your favour, Sir, we meet upon treaty now, and not upon defiance.

Ant.

If that be all, you shall have Carte blanche immediately; for I long to be ratifying.

Mor.

No, now I think on't, you are already enter'd into Articles with my Enemy Johayma: Any thing to serve you Ma¦dam; I shall refuse no drudgery: whose words were those

Gentleman? was that like a Cavalier of honour?

Anton.

Not very heroick; but self preservation is a point a∣bove Honour and Religion too — Antonio was a Rogue I must confess; but you must give me leave to love him.

Mor.

To beg your life so basely; and to present your Sword to your Enemy; Oh Recreant!

Ant.

If I had died honourably, my fame indeed wou'd have sounded loud, but I shou'd never have heard the blast: Come, don't make your self worse natur'd than you are: to save my life, you wou'd be content I shou'd promise any thing.

Mor.

Yes, if I were sure you wou'd perform nothing.

Ant.

Can you suspect I wou'd leave you for Johayma?

Mor.

No; but I can expect you wou'd have both of us: Love is covetous, I must have all of you; heart for heart is an equal truck. In short, I am younger; I think handsomer; and am sure I love you better, she has been my step-mother these fifteen years: you think that's her face you see, but 'tis only a dawb'd Vizard: she wears an Armour of proof upon't: an inch thick of Paint, besides the Wash: her Face is so fortifi'd that you can make no approaches to it, without a Shovel. But for her constancy, I can tell you for your comfort, she will love till death, I mean till yours: for when she has worn you out, she will certainly dispatch you to another world, for fear of telling tales; as she has already serv'd three Slaves, your Predecessors of happy memory in her favours. She has made my pious Father a three pil'd Cuckold to my knowledg: and now she wou'd be robbing me of my single Sheep too.

Ant.

Prithee prevent her then; and at least take the shearing of me first.

Mor.

No; I'll have a Butchers Pen'worth of you; first secure the Carcass, and then take the fleece into the bargain.

Ant.

Why sure, you did not put your self and me to all this trouble, for a dry come off: by this hand — (taking it:)

Mor.

Which you shall never touch; but upon better assurances than you imagine.

(Pulling her hand away.)

Ant.

I'll marry thee, and make a Christian of thee thou pretty damn'd Infidel.

Mor.

I mean you shall: but no earnest, till the bargain be made before witness: there's love enough to be had, and as much as

you can turn you to; never doubt it, but all upon honourable terms.

Ant.

I vow and swear by Love; and he's a Deity in all Religions.

Mor.

But never to be trusted in any: he has another name too, of a worse sound. Shall I trust an Oath, when I see your Eyes lan∣guishing, your Cheeks flushing, and can hear your heart throbbing? no, I'll not come near you: He's a foolish Physitian who will feel the pulse of a Patient, that has the Plague-spots upon him.

Ant.

Did one ever hear a little Moppet, argue so perversly a∣gainst so good a Cause! Come, prithee, let me anticipate a little of my Revenue.

Mor.

You wou'd feign be fingring your Rents before-hand; but that makes a man an ill Husband ever after. Consider, Mar∣riage is a painful Vocation, as you shall prove it, manage your In∣comes as thriftily as you can, you shall find a hard task on't, to make even at the years end, and yet to live decently.

Ant.

I came with a Christian intention, to revenge my self up∣on thy Father; for being the head of a false Religion.

Mor.

And so you shall; I offer you his Daughter for your Se∣cond: but since you are so pressing, meet me under my Window, to morrow night, body for body, about this hour; I'll slip down out of my Lodging, and bring my Father in my hand.

Ant.

How, thy Father!

Mor.

I mean all that's good of him; his Pearls, and Jewels, his whole contents, his heart, and Soul; as much as ever I can carry. I'll leave him his Alchoran; that's revenue enough for him: every page of it is Gold and Diamonds. He has the turn of an Eye, a demure Smile, and a godly Cant, that are worth Millions to him. I forgot to tell you, that I will have a Slave prepar'd at the Postern gate, with two Horses ready sadled: no more, for I fear, I may be miss'd; and think I hear 'em calling me, — if you have constancy and Courage. —

Ant.

Never doubt it: and love, in abundance to wander with thee all the World over.

Mor.

The value of twelve hundred thousand Crowns in a Cas∣ket!—

Ant.

A heavy burden Heaven knows! but we must pray for pa∣tience to support it.

Mor.

Besides a willing Titt that will venture her Corps with you:— Come, I know you long to have a parting blow with me; and therefore to shew I am in Charity —

(He kisses her.)

Ant.

Once more, for pity; that I may keep the flavour upon my lips till we meet again.

Mor.

No; frequent Charities make bold Beggars: and besides I have learnt of a Falconer, never to feed up a Hawk when I wou'd have him fly: that's enough — but if you will be nibling, here's a hand to stay your stomach.

(Kissing her hand.)

Anton.

Thus Conquer'd Infidels, that Wars may cease, Are forc'd to give their hands, and sign the Peace.

Mor.

Thus Christians are outwitted by the Foe; You had her in your Pow'r, and let her go. If you release my hand, the fault's not mine, You shou'd have made me seal, as well as sign.

She runs off, he follows her to the door; then comes back again, and goes out at the other.

ACT IV.

Scene 1. Benducar's Pallace in the Castle of Alcazar.

Bend.

MY future Fate, the colour of my life,

Solus.

My all depends on this important hour: This hour my Lott is weighing in the Scales, And Heav'n, perhaps, is doubting what to do. Almeyda and a Crown, have push'd me forward; 'Tis fix'd, the Tyrant must not ravish her: He and Sebastian stand betwixt my hopes; He most; and therefore first to be dispatch'd. These and a thousand things are to be done In the short compass of this rowling Night, And nothing yet perform'd, None of my Emissaries yet return'd.

Enter Haly— First Servant.

Oh Haly, thou hast held me long in pain. What hast thou learnt of Dorax? is he dead?

Haly,

Two hours I warily have watch'd his Palace; All doors are shut, no Servant peeps abroad; Some Officers with striding hast pass'd in, While others outward went on quick dispatch; Sometimes hush'd silence seem'd to reign within; Then Cries confus'd, and a joint clamour follow'd; Then Lights went gliding by, from room to room, And shot like thwarting Meteors cross the house: Not daring farther to enquire: I came With speed, to bring you this imperfect news.

Bend.

Hence I conclude him either dead or dying: His mournful Friends, summon'd to take their leaves, Are throng'd about his Couch, and sit in Council, What those Caballing Captains may design, I must prevent, By being first in Action. To Muley Zeydan fly with speed, desire him To take my last instructions; tell th' importance And hast his presence here.

Exit Haly.

How has this Poison lost its wonted way? It shou'd have burnt its passage, not have linger'd In the blind Labyrinths and crooked turnings Of human Composition; now it moves Like a slow Fire that works against the Wind, As if his stronger Stars had interpos'd.

Enter Hamet.

Well Hamet, are our Friends the Rabble rais'd? From Mustafa, what Message?

Hamet,

What you wish: The streets are thicker in this noon of Night: Than at the Mid-day Sun: a drowzy horrour Sits on their Eyes, like fear not well awake, All crowd in heaps, as at a Night Alarm The Bees drive out upon each others backs, T' imboss their Hives in clusters; all ask news: Their busie Captain runs the weary round To whisper Orders; and commanding silence Makes not noise cease; but deafens it to murmurs.

Bend.

Night wasts apace: when, when will he appear?

Hamet,

He only waits your Summons.

Bend.

Hast their coming. Let secrecy and silence be enjoin'd In their close march: what news from the Lieutenant?

Hamet,

I left him at the Gate, firm to your Interest, T' admit the Townsmen at their first appearance.

Bend.

Thus far 'tis well: go hasten Mustafa.

Exit Ham.

Enter Orchan the Third Servant.

O, Orchan, did I think thy diligence Wou'd lag behind the rest? what from the Mufti?

Orchan,

I sought him round his Palace; made enquiry Of all the Slaves: in short, I us'd your name And urg'd th' importance home; but had for answer That since the shut of Evening none had seen him.

Bend.

O the curst fate of all Conspiracies! They move on many Springs, if one but fail The restiff Machine stops. — In an ill hour he's absent; 'Tis the first time, and sure will be the last That e'er a Mufti was not in the way, When Tumult and Rebellion shou'd be broach'd. Stay by me; thou art resolute and faithful; I have Employment worthy of thy Arm.

Walks.

Enter Muley Zeydan.

Muley Zeyd.

You see me come impatient of my hopes, And eager as the Courser for the Race: Is all in readiness?

Bend.

All but the Mufti.

Mul. Zeyd.

We must go on without him.

Bend.

True we must; For 'tis ill stopping in the full Career, How e'er the leap be dangerous and wide.

Orchan

looking out.

I see the blaze of Torches from afar; And hear the trampling of thick beating feet; This way they move.

Bend.

No doubt the Emperour. We must not be surpriz'd in Conference. Trust to my management the Tyrants death;

And hast your self to join with Mustafa. The Officer who guards the Gate is yours; When you have gain'd that Pass, divide your Force; Your self in Person head one chosen half, And march t' oppress the Faction in Consult With dying Dorax: Fate has driv'n 'em all Into the Net: you must be bold and sudden: Spare none, and if you find him strugling yet With pangs of Death, trust not his rowling Eyes And heaving gasps; for Poison may be false, The home-thrust of a friendly Sword is sure.

Mul. Zeyd.

Doubt not my Conduct: they shall be surpriz'd; Mercy may wait without the Gate one Night, At Morn I'll take her in.—

Bend.

Here lies your way, You meet your Brother there.

Mul. Zeyd.

May we ne'er meet: For, like the Twins of Leda, when I mount He gallops down the Skies.—

Exit Muley Zeyd.

Bend.

He comes: now Heart Be rib'd with Iron for this one attempt: Set ope thy Sluces, send the vigorous bloud Through every active Limb for my relief: Then, take thy rest within thy quiet Cell, For thou shalt drum no more.

Enter Muley Moluch and Guards attending him.

Mul. Mol.

What news of our Affairs, and what of Dorax? Is he no more? say that, and make me happy.

Bend.

May all your Enemies be like that Dog, Whose parting Soul is lab'ring at the Lips.

Mul. Mol.

The People, are they rais'd?

Bend.

And Marshall'd too; Just ready for the March.

Mul. Mol.

Then I'm at ease.

Bend.

The Night is yours, the glitt'ring Hoast of Heav'n Shines but for you; but most the Star of Love, That twinckles you to fair Almeyda's Bed. Oh there's a joy, to melt in her embrace, Dissolve in pleasures; And make the gods curse Immortality, That so they cou'd not dye. But haste, and make 'em yours.

Mul. Mol.

I will; and yet A kind of weight hangs heavy at my Heart; My flagging Soul flyes under her own pitch; Like Fowl in air too damp, and lugs along, As if she were a body in a body, And not a mounting substance made of Fire. My Senses too are dull and stupifi'd, Their edge rebated; sure some ill approaches, And some kind Spirit knocks softly at my Soul, To tell me Fate's at hand.

Bend.

Mere Fancies all. Your Soul has been beforehand with your Body, And drunk so deep a Draught of promis'd bliss, She slumbers o'er the Cup; no danger's near, But of a Surfeit at too full a Feast.

Mul. Mol.

It may be so; it looks so like the Dream That overtook me at my waking hour This Morn; and Dreams they say are then divine, When all the balmy Vapors are exhal'd, And some o'er-pow'ring God continues sleep. 'Twas then methought Almeyda, smiling, came Attended with a Train of all her Race, Whom in the rage of Empire I had murther'd. But now, no longer Foes, they gave me Joy Of my new Conquest, and with helping hands Heav'd me into our Holy Prophet's arms, Who bore me in a purple Cloud to Heav'n.

Bend.

Good Omen, Sir, I wish you in that Heaven▪ Your Dream portends you. Which presages death.—

Aside.

Mul. Mol.

Thou too wert there; And thou methought didst push me from below, With thy full force to Paradise.

Bend.

Yet better.

Mul. Mol.

Ha! What's that grizly Fellow that attends thee?

Bend.

Why ask you Sir?

Mul. Mol.

For he was in my Dream; And help'd to heave me up.

Bend.

With Pray'rs and Wishes; For I dare swear him honest.

Mul. Mol.

That may be; But yet he looks Damnation.

Bend.

You forget, The Face wou'd please you better: Do you love, And can you thus forbear?

Mul. Mol.

I'll head my People; Then think of dalliance, when the danger's o'er. My warlike Spirits work now another way; And my Soul's tun'd to Trumpets.

Bend.

You debase your self, To think of mixing with th' ignoble Herd. Let such perform the fervile Work of War, Such who have no Almeyda to enjoy. What shall the People know their God-like Prince Skulk'd in a nightly Skirmish? Stole a Conquest, Headed a Rabble, and profan'd his Person, Shoulder'd with Filth, born in a tide of Ordure, And stifled with their rank offensive Sweat?

Mul. Mol.

I am off again: I will not prostitute The Regal Dignity so far, to head 'em.

Bend.

There spoke a King. Dismiss your Guards to be employ'd elsewhere In ruder Combats: You will want no Seconds In those Alarms you seek.

Mul. Mol.

Go joyn the Crowd;

to the Guards.

Benducar; thou shalt lead 'em, in my place.

Exeunt Guards.

The God of Love once more has shot his Fires

Into my Soul; and my whole Heart receives him. Almeyda now returns with all her Charms; I feel her as she glides along my Veins, And dances in my Blood: So when our Prophet Had long been ham'ring in his lonely Cell, Some dull, insipid, tedious Paradise, A brisk Arabian Girl came tripping by; Passing she cast at him a side-long glance, And look'd behind in hopes to be pursu'd: He took the hint, embrac'd the flying Fair; And having found his Heav'n, he fix'd it there.

Exit Mul. Mol.

Bend.

That Paradise thou never shalt possess. His death is easie now, his Guards are gone; And I can sin but once to seize the Throne. All after Acts are sanctify'd by pow'r.

Orchan.

Command my Sword and Life.

Bend.

I thank thee Orchan, And shall reward thy Faith: This Master Key Frees every Lock, and leads us to his Person: And shou'd we miss our blow, as Heav'n forbid, Secures retreat: Leave open all behind us; And first set wide the Mufti's Garden Gate, Which is his private passage to the Palace. For there our Mutineers appoint to meet, And thence we may have aid. Now sleep ye Stars That silently o'erwatch the fate of Kings; Be all propitious Influences barr'd, And none but murd'rous Planets mount the Guard.

Exit with Orcha·

A Night Scene of the Mufti's Garden.

Enter the Mufti alone, in a Slave's habit, like that of Antonio.

Mufti,

This 'tis to have a sound Head-piece; by this I h•••••• got to be chief of my Religion; that is, honestly speaking 〈◊〉〈◊〉 teach others what I neither know nor believe my self. F••••

what's Mahomet to me, but that I get by him? Now for my Policy of this night: I have mew'd up my suspected Spouse in her Chamber. No more Embassies to that lusty young Stallion of a Gardiner. Next my habit of a Slave; I have made my self as like him as I can, all but his youth and vigor; which when I had, I pass'd my time as well as any of my Holy Predecessors. Now walking under the Windows of my Serag∣lio, if Johayma look out, she will certainly take me for Anto∣nio, and call to me; and by that I shall know what Concupis∣cence is working in her; she cannot come down to commit Iniquity, there's my safety; but if she peep, if she put her Nose abroad, there's demonstration of her pious Will: And I'll not make the first precedent for a Church-man to forgive Injuries.

Enter Morayma running to him with a Casket in her hand, and embracing him.

Mor.

Now I can embrace you with a good Conscience; here are the Pearls and Jewels, here's my Father.

Muf.

I am indeed thy Father; but how the Devil didst thou know me in this disguise? And what Pearls and Jewels dost thou mean?

Mor.

going back,—

What have I done, and what will now become of me!

Muf.

Art thou mad, Morayma?

Mor.

I think you'll make me so.

Muf.

Why, what have I done to thee? Recollect thy self, and speak sense to me.

Mor.

Then give me leave to tell you, you are the worst of Fathers.

Muf.

Did I think I had begotten such a Monster? Proceed my dutiful Child, proceed, proceed.

Mor.

You have been raking together a mass of Wealth, by indirect and wicked means; the Spoils of Orphans are in these Jewels, and the Tears of Widows in these Pearls.

Muf.

Thou amazest me!

Mor.

I wou'd do so. This Casket is loaded with your Sins; 'tis the Cargo of Rapines, Simony, and Extortions; the Ini∣quity of thirty Years Muftiship, converted into Diamonds.

Muf.

Wou'd some rich rayling Rogue would say as much to me, that I might squeeze his Purse for scandal.

Mor.

No Sir, you get more by pious Fools than Raylers, when you insinuate into their Families, manage their Fortunes while they live, and beggar their Heirs by getting Legacies when they dye. And do you think I'll be the receiver of your Theft? I discharge my Conscience of it: Here take again your filthy Mammon, and restore it you had best to the true Owners.

Muf.

I am finely documented by my own Daughter.

Mor.

And a great credit for me to be so: Do but think how decent a Habit you have on, and how becoming your Function to be disguis'd like a Slave, and eyes-dropping un∣der the Womens Windows, to be saluted, as you deserve it richly, with a Piss-pot: If I had not known you casually by your shambling gate, and a certain reverend awkardness that is natural to all of your Function, here you had been expos'd to the laughter of your own Servants; who have been in search of you through your whole Seraglio, peep∣ing under every Petticoat to find you.

Muf.

Prithee Child reproach me no more of human Failings; they are but a little of the pitch and spots of the World that are still sticking on me; but I hope to scour 'em out in time: I am better at bottom than thou think'st; I am not the Man thou tak'st me for.

Mor.

No, to my sorrow Sir you are not.

Muf.

It was a very odd beginning, tho methought, to see thee come running in upon me with such a warm embrace; prithee what was the meaning of that violent hot Hug?

Mor.

I am sure I meant nothing by it, but the zeal and affection which I bear to the Man of the World, whom I may love lawfully.

Muf.

But thou wilt not teach me at this age the nature of a close Embrace?

Mor.

No indeed; for my Mother in Law complains, that you are past teaching: But if you mistook my innocent Embrace for Sin, I wish heartily it had been given where it wou'd have been more acceptable.

Muf.

Why, this is as it shou'd be now: Take the Trea∣sure again, it can never be put into better hands.

Mor.

Yes, to my knowledg but it might. I have confess'd my Soul to you, if you can understand me rightly; I never disobey'd you till this night, and now since through the vio∣lence of my Passion, I have been so unfortunate, I humbly beg your pardon, your blessing, and your leave, that upon the first opportunity, I may go for ever from your sight; for Heaven knows, I never desire to see you more.

Muf.

Wiping his Eyes.

Thou mak'st me weep at thy un∣kindness; indeed dear Daughter we will not part.

Mor.

Indeed dear Daddy but we will.

Muf.

Why if I have been a little pilfering, or so, I take it bitterly of thee to tell me of it; since it was to make thee rich; and I hope a Man may make bold with his own Soul, without offence to his own Child: Here take the jewels again, take'em I charge thee upon thy Obedience.

Mor.

Well then, in vertue of Obedience I will take 'em; but on my Soul, I had rather they were in a better hand.

Muf.

Meaning mine, I know it.

Mor.

Meaning his whom I love better than my life.

Muf.

That's me again.

Mor.

I wou'd have you think so.

Muf.

How thy good nature works upon me; well I can do no less than venture damning for thee, and I may put fair for it, if the Rabble be order'd to rise to Night.

Enter Antonio in an Affrican rich habit.

Ant.

What do you mean my Dear, to stand talking in this suspicious place, just underneath Johayma's Window? (to the Mufti) You are well met Comerade, I know you are the friend of our flight? are the horses ready at the postern gate?

Muf.

Antonio, and in disguise! now I begin to smell a rat.

Ant.

And I another, that out-stinks it; false Morayma, hast thou thus betray'd me to thy Father!

Mor.

Alas, I was betray'd my self: He came disguis'd like you, and I poor Innocent ran into his hands.

Muf.

In good time you did so; I laid a trap for a Bitch Fox, and a worse Vermine has caught himself in it: you wou'd fain break loose now, though you left a limb behind you; but I am yet in my own Territories and in call of Company, that's my comfort.

Antonio,

taking him by the throat.

No; I have a trick left to put thee past thy squeeking: I have giv'n thee the quinzey; that ungracious tongue shall Preach no more false Doctrin.

Mor.

What do you mean? you will not throttle him? con∣sider he's my Father.

Ant.

Prithee let us provide first for our own safety; if I do not consider him, he will consider us with a vengeance afterwards.

Mor.

You may threaten him for crying out, but for my sake give him back a little cranny of his Wind-pipe, and some part of Speech.

Ant.

Not so much as one single Interjection: Come away Father-in-Law, this is no place for Dialogues, when you are in the Mosque you talk by hours, and there no Man must in∣terrupt you; this is but like for like, good Father-in-Law; now I am in the Pulpit 'tis your turn to hold your tongue.

He struggles.

Nay if you will be hanging back, I shall take care you shall hang forward.

(Pulls him along the Stage; with his Sword at his reins.)

Mor.

T'other way to the Arbour with him; and make hast before we are discover'd.

Ant.

If I only bind and gag him there, he may commend me hereafter for civil usage; he deserves not so much favour by any action of his life.

Mor.

Yes, pray bate him one, for begetting your Mistress.

Ant.

I wou'd, if he had not thought more of thy Mother than of thee; once more come along in silence, my Pythago∣rean Father-in-Law.

Joh.

At the Balcony. — A Bird in a Cage may peep at least; though she must not fly; what bustle's there beneath my Win∣dow? Antonio by all my hopes, I know him by his habit; but what makes that Woman with him, and a Friend, a Sword drawn, and hasting hence? this is no time for silence: Who's within, call there, where are the Servants, why Omar, Abedin, Hassan and the rest, make hast and run into the Garden; there are Thieves and Villains; arm all the Family, and stop 'em.

Antonio

turning back.

O that Schriech Owl at the Window! we shall be pursu'd immediatly; which way shall we take?

Morayma

(giving him the Casket.)

'Tis impossible to escape them; for the way to our Horses lyes back again by the House; and then we shall meet 'em full in the teeth; here take these Jewels; thou may'st leap the Walls and get away.

Ant.

And what will become of thee then poor kind Soul?

Mor.

I must take my fortune; when you are got safe into your own Country, I hope you will bestow a sigh on the me∣mory of her who lov'd you!

Ant.

It makes me mad, to think how many a good night will be lost betwixt us! take back thy Jewels; 'tis an empty Casket without thee; besides I shou'd never leap well with the weight of all thy Fathers sins about me, thou and they had been a bargain.

Mor.

Prithee take 'em, 'twill help me to be reveng'd on him.

Ant.

No; they'll serve to make thy peace with him.

Mor.

I hear 'em coming; shift for your self at least; re∣member I am yours for ever.

(Servants crying this way, this way, behind the Scenes.)

Ant.

And I but the empty shadow of my self without thee! farewel Father-in-Law, that shou'd have been, if I had not been curst in my Mothers belly — Now which way fortune. —

(Runs amazedly backwards and forwards.)

Servants within. Follow, follow, yonder are the Villains.

Ant.

O here's a gate open; but it leads into the Castle; yet I must venture it.

Going out.

(A shout behind the Scenes where Antonio is going out)

Ant.

There's the Rabble in a Mutiny; what is the Devil up at Midnight! — however 'tis good herding in a Crowd.

Runs out.

(Mufti runs to Morayma and lays hold on her, then snatches away the Casket.)

Muf.

Now, to do things in order, first I seize upon the Bag, and then upon the Baggage: for thou art but my flesh and blood, but these are my Life and Soul.

Mor.

Then let me follow my flesh and blood, and keep to your self your Life and Soul.

Muf.

Both or none; come away to durance.

Mor.

Well, if it must be so, agreed; for I have another trick to play you; and thank your self for what shall follow.

Enter Servants.

Joh.

From above. One of them took through the private way into the Castle; follow him be sure, for these are yours already.

Mor.

Help here quickly Omar Abedin; I have hold on the Villain that stole my jewels; but 'tis a lusty Rogue, and he will prove too strong for me; what, help I say, do you not know your Masters Daughter?

Muf.

Now if I cry out they will know my voice; and then I am disgrac'd for ever: O thou art a venomous Cock∣atrice!

Mor.

Of your own begetting.

The Servants seize him.

First Servant.

What a glorious deliverance have you had Madam from this bloody-minded Christian!

Mor.

Give me back my Jewels, and carry this notorious Malefactor to be punish'd by my Father.

I'll hunt the other dry-foot.

(Takes the Jewels and runs out after Antonio at the same Passage.)

First Servant.

I long to be handselling his hide, before we bring him to my Master.

Second Servant.

Hang him, for an old Covetous Hypocrite: he deserves a worse punishment himself for keeping us so hardly.

First Servant.

Ay, wou'd he were in this Villains place; thus I wou'd lay him on, and thus.

Beats him.

Second Servant.

And thus wou'd I revenge my self of my last beating,

(He beats him too, and then the rest.)

Muf.

Oh, oh, oh!

First Servant.

Now supposing you were the Mufti, Sir, —

Beats him again.

Muf.

The Devil's in that supposing Rascal; I can bear no more; and I am the Mufti: Now suppose your selves my Servants, and hold your hands; an anointed halter take you all.

First Servant.

My Master! you will pardon the excess of our zeal for you, Sir, indeed we all took you for a Villain, and so we us'd you.

Mufti.

Ay so I feel you did; my back and sides are abun∣dant testimonies of your zeal. Run Rogues, and bring me back my Jewels, and my Fugitive Daughter: run I say.

(They run to the Gate and the first Servant runs back again.)

First Servant.

Sir, the Castle is in a most terrible combu∣stion; you may hear 'em hither.

Muf.

'Tis a laudable commotion: The voice of the Mobile is the voice of Heaven. I must retire a little, to strip me of the Slave, and to assume the Mufti; and then I will return: for the piety of the People must be encouraged; that they may help me to recover my Jewels, and my Daughter.

Exit Mufti and Servants.

Scene changes to the Castle-yard, and discovers Antonio Musta∣fa, and the Rabble shouting, they come forward.

Ant.

And so at length, as I inform'd you, I escap'd out of his covetous clutches; and now fly to your illustrious feet for my protection.

Must.

Thou shalt have it, and now defie the Mufti. 'Tis the first Petition that has been made to me since my exaltation to Tumult; in this second Night of the Month Abib, and in the year of the Hegyra; the Lord knows what year; but 'tis no matter; for when I am settled, the Learned are bound to find it out for me: for I am resolv'd to date my Authority over the Rabble, like other Monarchs.

Ant.

I have always had a longing to be yours again; though I cou'd not compass it before, and had design'd you a Casket of my Masters jewels too; for I knew the Custom, and wou'd not have appear'd before a Great Person, as you are, without a present: But he has defrauded my good intentions, and base∣ly robb'd you of 'em, 'tis a prize worth a Million of Crowns, and you carry your Letters of mark about you.

Must.

I shall make bold with his Treasure, for the support of my New Government.

The People gather about him.

What do these vile Ragga-muffins so near our Person? your sa∣vour is offensive to us; bear back there, and make room for ho∣nest Men to approach us; these fools and knaves are always im∣pudently

crowding next to Princes, and keeping off the more deserving, bear back I say.

They make a wider Circle.

That's dutifully done; now shout to show your Loyalty.

(A great shout.)

Hear'st thou that, Slave Antonio? these obstre∣perous Villains shout, and know not for what they make a noise. You shall see me manage 'em, that you may judge what ignorant Beasts they are. For whom do you shout now? who's to Live and Reign? tell me that the wisest of you.

First Rabble.

Even who you please Captain.

Must.

La you there; I told you so.

Second Rabble.

We are not bound to know who is to Live and Reign; our business is only to rise upon command, and plunder.

Third Rabble.

Ay, the Richest of both Parties; for they are our Enemies.

Must.

This last Fellow is a little more sensible than the rest; he has enter'd somewhat into the merits of the Cause.

First Rabble.

If a poor Man may speak his mind, I think, Captain, that your self are the fittest to Live and Reign, I mean not over, but next and immediatly under the People; and thereupon I say, A Mustafa, A Mustafa.

(All Cry)

A Mustafa, A Mustafa.

Must.

I must confess the sound is pleasing, and tickles the ears of my Ambition; but alas good People, it must not be: I am contented to be a poor simple Vice-Roy; but Prince Mu∣ley-Zeydan is to be the Man: I shall take care to instruct him in the arts of Government; and in his duty to us all: and therefore mark my Cry: A Muley-Zeydan, A Muley-Zeydan.

(All Cry)

A Muley-Zeydan, A Muley-Zeydan.

Must.

You see Slave Antonio, what I might have been.

Antonio.

I observe your Modesty.

Must.

But for a foolish promise I made once to my Lord Benducar, to set up any one he pleas'd.

(Re-enter the Mufti with his Servants.)

Ant.

Here's the Old Hypocrite again; now stand your ground, and bate him not an inch. Remember the Jewels, the Rich and Glorious Jewels; they are destin'd to be yours, by virtue of Prerogative.

Must.

Let me alone to pick a quarrel, I have an old grudge to him upon thy account.

Mufti,

(making up to the Mobile.)

Good People, here you are met together.

First Rabble.

Ay, we know that without your telling, but why are we met together, Doctor? for that's it which no body here can tell.

Second Rabble.

Why to see one another in the Dark; and to make Holy-day at Midnight.

Muf.

You are met, as becomes good Musulmen; to settle the Nation; for I must tell you, that though your Tyrant is a lawful Emperor, yet your lawful Emperor is but a Tyrant.

Ant.

What stuff he talks!

Must.

'Tis excellent fine matter indeed, Slave Antonio; he has a rare tongue; Oh, he wou'd move a Rock of Elephant!

Ant.

Aside.

What a Block have I to work upon,

To him.

But still remember the Jewels, Sir, the Jewels.

Must.

Nay that's true on t'other side: the Jewels must be mine; but he has a pure fine way of talking; my Conscience goes along with him, but the Jewels have set my heart against him.

Muf.

That your Emperor is a Tyrant is most manifest; for you were born to be Turks, but he has play'd the Turk with you; and is taking your Religion away.

Second Rabble.

We find that in our decay of Trade; I have seen for these hunder'd years, that Religion and Trade always go together.

Mufti.

He is now upon the point of Marrying himself, without your Sovereign consent; and what are the effects of Marriage?

Third Rabble.

A scoulding, domineering Wife, if she prove honest; and if a Whore, a fine gawdy Minx, that robs our Counters every Night, and then goes out, and spends it upon our Cuckold-makers.

Mufti.

No, the natural effects of Marriage are Children: Now on whom wou'd he beget these Children? Even upon a Christian! Oh horrible; how can you believe me, though I am ready to swear it upon the Alcoran! Yes, true Believ∣ers, you may believe me, that he is going to beget a Race of Misbelievers.

Must.

That's fine, in earnest; I cannot forbear hearkening to his enchanting Tongue.

Ant.

But yet remember.—

Must.

Ay, Ay, the Jewels! Now again I hate him; but yet my Conscience makes me listen to him.

Mufti,

Therefore to conclude all, Believers, pluck up your Hearts, and pluck down the Tyrant: Remember the Courage of your Ancestors; remember the Majesty of the People; re∣member your selves, your Wives and Children; and lastly, above all, remember your Religion, and our holy Mahomet; all these require your timous assistance; shall I say they beg it? No, they claim it of you, by all the nearest and dearest Tyes of these three P's Self-Preservation, our Property, and our Pro∣phet. Now answer me with an unanimous chearful Cry, and follow me, who am your Leader to a glorious Deliverance.

(All cry, A Mufti, A Mufti, and are following him off the Stage.)

Ant.

Now you see what comes of your foolish Qualms of Conscience: The Jewels are lost, and they are all leaving you.

Must.

What am I forsaken of my Subjects? Wou'd the Rogue purloin my liege People from me! I charge you in my own Name come back ye Deserters; and hear me speak.

1st. Rabble,

What will he come with his Balderdash, after the Mufti's eloquent Oration?

2d. Rabble,

He's our Captain, lawfully pick'd up, and elected upon a Stall; we will hear him.

Omnes,

Speak Captain, for we will hear you.

Must.

Do you remember the glorious Rapines and Robbe∣ries you have committed? Your breaking open and gutting of Houses, your rummaging of Cellars, your demolishing of Christian Temples, and bearing off in triumph the superstitious Plate and Pictures, the Ornaments of their wicked Altars, when all rich Moveables were sentenc'd for idolatrous, and all that was idolatrous was seiz'd? Answer first for your remem∣brance, of all these sweetnesses of Mutiny; for upon those Grounds I shall proceed.

Omnes,

Yes we do remember, we do remember.

Must.

Then make much of your retentive Faculties. And who led you to those Hony-Combs? Your Mufti? No, Be∣lievers, he only preach'd you up to it; but durst not lead you; he was but your Counsellor, but I was your Captain; he only lood you, but 'twas I that led you.

Omnes,

That's true, that's true.

Ant.

There you were with him for his Figures.

Must.

I think I was, Slave Antonio. Alas I was ignorant of my own Talent.—Say then, Believers, will you have a Captain for your Mufti? Or a Mufti for your Captain? And further to instruct you how to Cry, Will you have a Mufti, or no Mufti?

Omnes,

No Mufti, no Mufti.

Must.

That I laid in for'em, Slave Antonio.—

Do I then spet upon your Faces? Do I discourage Rebellion, Mutiny, Rapine, and Plundering? You may think I do, Believers, but Heaven forbid: No, I encourage you to all these laudable Undertakings; you shall plunder, you shall pull down the Go∣vernment; but you shall do this upon my Authority, and not by his wicked Instigation.

3d. Rabble,

Nay, when his turn is serv'd, he may preach up Loyalty again, and Restitution, that he might have another Snack among us.

1st. Rabble,

He may indeed; for 'tis but his saying 'tis Sin, and then we must restore; and therefore I wou'd have a new Re∣ligion,

where half the Commandments shou'd be taken away, the rest mollifi'd and there shou'd be little or no Sin remain∣ing.

Omnes,

Another Religion, a new Religion, another Reli∣gion.

Must.

And that may easily be done, with the help of a little Inspiration: For I must tell you, I have a Pigeon at home, of Mahomet's own breed; and when I have learnt her to pick Pease out of my Ear, rest satisfi'd 'till then, and you shall have another. But now I think on't, I am inspir'd already, that 'tis no Sin to depose the Mufti.

Ant.

And good reason; for when Kings and Queens are to be discarded, what shou'd Knaves do any longer in the pack?

Omnes,

He is depos'd, he is depos'd, he is depos'd.

Must.

Nay, if he and his Clergy will needs be preaching up Rebellion, and giving us their Blessing, 'tis but justice they shou'd have the first fruits of it.—Slave Antonio, take him into custody; and dost thou hear, Boy, be sure to secure the little transitory Box of Jewels: If he be obstinate, put a civil Question to him upon the Rack, and he squeaks I warrant him.

Ant.

seizing the Mufti.

Come my quondam Master, you and I must change Qualities.

Mufti.

I hope you will not be so barbarous to torture me, we may preach Suffering to others, but alas, holy Flesh is too well pamper'd to endure Martyrdom.

Must.

Now, late Mufti, not forgetting my first Quarrel to you, we will enter our selves with the Plunder of your Palace: 'tis good to sanctifie a Work and begin a God's name.

1st. Rabble,

Our Prophet let the Devil alone with the last Mob.

Mob.

But he takes care of this himself.

As they are going out enter Benducar leading Almeyda: He with a Sword in one hand; Benducar's Slave follows with Muly-Moluch's Head upon a Spear.

Must.

Not so much hast Masters; come back again: you are so bent upon mischief, that you take a man upon the first word of Plunder. Here's a sight for you: the Emperour is come upon his head to visit you.

[Bowing]

Most Noble Emperour, now I hope you will not hit us in the teeth, that we have pull'd you down, for we can tell you to your face, that we have exalt∣ed you.

[They all shout.]

Benducar

to Almeyda apart.

Think what I am, and what your self may be, In being mine: refuse not proffer'd Love that brings a Crown.

Almeyda

to him

I have resolv'd, And these shall know my thoughts.

Bend.

to her.

On that I build.—

(He comes up to the Rabble.)

Joy to the People for the Tyrants Death! Oppression, Rapine, Banishment and Bloud Are now no more; but speechless as that tongue That lyes for ever still. How is my grief divided with my joy, When I must own I kill'd him! bid me speak, For not to bid me, is to disallow What for your sakes is done.

Mustafa.

In the name of the People we command you speak: But that pretty Lady shall speak first; for we have taken some∣what of a likeing to her Person, be not afraid Lady to speak to these rude Ragga-muffians: there's nothing shall offend you, unless it be their stink, and please you.

Making a Legg.

Almeyda.

Why shou'd I fear to speak who am your Queen? My peacefull Father sway'd the Scepter long; And you enjoy'd the Blessings of his Reign, While you deserv'd the name of Affricans. Then not commanded, but commanding you, Fearless I speak: know me for what I am.

Bend.

How she assumes! I like not this beginning.

aside

Almeyda.

I was not born so base, to flatter Crowds, And move your pitty by a whining tale: Your Tyrant would have forc'd me to his Bed; But in th' attempt of that foul brutal Act, These Loyall Slaves secur'd me by his Death.

Pointing to Ben.

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Bend.

Makes she no more of me then of a Slave?

aside.

Madam, I thought I had instructed you

to Alm.

To frame a Speech more suiting to the times: The Circumstances of that dire design, Your own despair, my unexpected ayd, my Life endanger'd by his bold defence, And after all, his Death, and your Deliv'rance, Were themes that ought not to be slighted o're.

Mustafa.

She might have pass'd over all your petty busi∣nesses and no great matter: But the Raising of my Rabble is an Exploit of consequence; and not to be mumbled up in silence for all her pertness.

Almeyda.

When force invades the gift of Nature, Life, The eldest Law of nature bids defend: And if in that defence, a Tyrant fall, his Death's his Crime not ours: Suffice it that he's Dead: all wrongs dye with him; When he can wrong no more I pardon him: Thus I absolve my self; and him excuse, Who sav'd my life, and honour; but praise neither.

Benducar.

'Tis cheap to pardon, whom you would not pay; But what speak I of payment and reward? Ungratefull Woman, you are yet no Queen; Nor more than a proud haughty Christian slave: As such I seize my right.

going to lay hold on her.

Almyda

drawing a Dagger

Dare not to approach me; Now Affricans, He shows himself to you; to me he stood Confest before, and own'd his Insolence T'espouse my person, and assume the Crown, Claym'd in my Right: for this he slew your Tyrant; Oh no, he only chang'd him for a worse; Imbas'd your Slavery by his own vileness, And loaded you with more ignoble bonds: Then think me not ungratefull, not to share, Th' Imperial Crown with a presuming Traytor. He says I am a Christian; true I am, But yet no Slave: If Christians can be thought, Unfit to govern those of other Faith,

'Tis left for you to judge.

Benducar.

I have not patience; she consumes the time In Idle talk, and owns her false Belief: Seize her by force, and bear her hence unheard.

Almeyda to the People.

No, let me rather dye your sacrifice Than live his Tryumph; I throw my self into my Peoples armes; As you are Men compassionate my wrongs, And as good men Protect me.

Antonio aside

Something must be done to save her.

To Mustafa.

This is all address'd to you Sir: She singled you out with her eye, as Commander in chief of the Mobility.

Mustafa.

Think'st thou so Slave Antonio?

Antonio.

Most certainly Sir; and you cannot in honour but protect her, Now look to your hits, and make your fortune.

Mustafa.

Methought indeed she cast a kind leer towards me: Our Prophet was but just such another Scoundrell as I am, till he rais'd himself to power, and consequently to Holyness, by marrying his masters Widow: I am resolved I'le put forward for my self: for why should I be my Lord Benducars Fool and Slave, when I may be my own fool and his Master?

Benducar.

Take her into possession, Mustafa.

Mustafa.

That's better Counsell than you meant it: Yes I do take her into possession, and into protection too: what say you, Masters, will you stand by me?

Omnes.

One and all; One and all.

Benducar.

Hast thou betray'd me Traytor? Mufti speak & mind 'em of Religion.

Mufti shakes his head.

Mustafa.

Alas the poor Gentleman has gotten a cold, with a Sermon of two hours long, and a prayer of four: and be∣sides, if he durst speak, mankind is grown wiser at this time of day, than to cut one anothers throats about Religion. Our Mufti is a Green coat, and the Christians is a black coat; and we must wisely go together by the ears, whether green or black shall sweep our spoils.

Drums within and shouts.

Benducar.

Now we shall see whose numbers will prevail: The Conquering Troups of Muley Zeydan, come To crush Rebellion, and espouse my Cause.

Mustafa.

We will have a fair Tryall of Skill for't, I can tell him that. When we have dispatch'd with Muley Zeydan, your Lordship shall march in equall proportions of your body, to the four gates of the City: and every Tower shall have a Quarter of you,

Antonio draws them up and takes Almeyda by the hand

Shouts again and Drums.

Enter Dorax and Sebastian attended by Affrican Soldiers and Por∣tugueses. (Almeyda and Sebastian run into each others armes and both speak together.

Seb. and Alm.

My Sebastian! My Almeyda!

Alm.

Do you then live?

Seb.

And live to love thee ever.

Bend.

How! Dorax and Sebastian still alive! The Moors and Christians joyn'd! I thank thee Prophet.

Dorax.

The Citadell is ours; and Muley Zeydan Safe under Guard, but as becomes a Prince. Lay down your armes: such base Plebeian bloud Would only stain the brightness of my Sword, And blunt it for some nobler work behind.

Must.

I suppose you may put it up without offence to any man here present? For my part, I have been Loyall to my Soveraign Lady: though that Villain Benducar, and that Hy∣pocrite the Mufti, would have corrupted me; but if those two scape publick Justice, then I and all my late honest Sub∣jects here, deserve hanging.

Benducar

[to Dorax.]

I'm sure I did my part to poyson thee, What Saint soe're has Sodder'd thee again. A Dose less hot had burst through ribs of Iron.

Muf.

Not knowing that, I poyson'd him once more, And drench'd him with a draught so deadly cold That, had'st not thou prevented, had congeal'd The channell of his bloud, and froze him dry.

Bend.

Thou interposing Fool, to mangle mischief, And think to mend the perfect work of Hell.

Dorax.

Thus, when Heaven pleases, double poysons cure. I will not tax thee of Ingratitude

To me thy Friend, who hast betray'd thy Prince: Death he deserv'd indeed, but not from thee. But fate it seems reserv'd the worst of men To end the worst of Tyrants. Go bear him to his fate. And send him to attend his Masters Ghost. Let some secure my other poys'ning Friend, Whose double dilligence preserv'd my life.

Ant.

You are fall'n into good hands, Father in law; your sparkling Jewells, and Morayma's eyes may prove a better bail than you deserve.

Muf.

The best that can come of me, in this condition; is to have my life begg'd first, and then to be begg'd for a Fool afterwards.

Exit Antonio with the Mufti, and at the same time Benducar is carry'd off.

Dorax

to Mustafa.

You and your hungry herd depart untouch'd; For Justice can not stoop so low, to reach The groveling sin of Crowds: but curst be they Who trust revenge with such mad Instruments, Whose blindfold bus'ness is but to destroy: And like the fire Commission'd by the Winds, Begins on sheds, but rouling in a round, On Pallaces returns. Away ye skum, That still rise upmost when the Nation boyls: Ye mungrill work of Heaven, with humane shapes, Not to be damn'd, or sav'd, but breath, and perish, That have but just enough of sence, to know The masters voice, when rated, to depart.

Exeunt Mustafa and Rabble.

Almeyda

kneeling to him

With gratitude as low, as knees can pay To those blest holy Fires, our Guardian Angells, Receive these thanks; till Altars can be rais'd.

Dorax

raising her up

Arise fair Excellence, and pay no thanks, Till time discover what I have deserv'd.

Seb.

More then reward can answer. If Portugall and Spain were joyn'd to Affrique,

And the main Ocean crusted into Land, If Universall Monarchy were mine, Here should the gift be plac'd.

Dorax.

And from some hands I shou'd refuse that gift: Be not too prodigall of Promises; But stint your bounty to one only grant, Which I can ask with honour.

Seb.

What I am Is but thy gift, make what thou canst of me. Secure of no Repulse.

Dorax

to Sebastian:

Dismiss your Train.

To Almeyda.

You, Madam, please one moment to retire.

Sebastian signes to the Portugneses to go off. Almeyda bowing to him, goes off also: The Affricans follow her.

Dorax To the Captain of his Guard.

With you one word in private.

Goes out with the Captain.

Sebastian

Solus.

Reserv'd behaviour, open Nobleness, A long misterious Track of a storn bounty. But now the hand of Fate is on the Curtain, And draws the Scene to sight.

Re-enter Dorax, having taken off his Turbant and put on a Peruque Hat and Crevat.

Dorax.

Now do you know me?

Seb.

Thou shouldst be Alonzo.

Dorax.

So you shou'd be Sebastian: But when Sebastian ceas'd to be himself, I ceas'd to be Alonzo.

Seb.

As in a Dream. I see thee here, and scarce believe mine eyes.

Dorax.

Is it so strange to find me, where my wrongs, And your Inhumane Tyranny have sent me? Think not you dream: or, if you did, my Injuries Shall call so loud, that Lethargy should wake; And Death should give you back to answer me. A Thousand Nights have brush'd their balmy wings Over these eyes, but ever when they clos'd, Your Tyrant Image forc'd 'em ope again, And dry'd the dewes they brought.

The long expected hour is come at length, By manly Vengence to redeem my fame; And that once clear'd, eternall sleep is welcome.

Sebast.

I have not yet forgot I am a King▪ Whose Royall Office is redress of Wrongs: If I have wrong'd thee, charge me face to face; I have not yet forgot I am a Soldier.

Dorax.

'Tis the first Justice thou hast ever done me. Then, though I loath this Womans War of tongues, Yet shall my Cause of Vengeance first be clear And, Honour, be thou Judge.

Sebast.

Honour be friend us both. Beware, I warn thee yet, to tell thy griefs In terms becoming Majesty to hear: I warn thee thus, because I know thy temper Is Insolent and haughty to Superiours: How often hast thou brav'd my peacefull Court, Fill'd it with noisy brawls, and windy boasts; And, with past service, nauseously repeated, Reproach'd ev'n me thy Prince?

Dorax.

And well I might, when you forgot reward, The part of Heav'n in Kings: for punishment▪ Is Hangmans work, and drudgery for Devils. I must and will reproach thee with my service, Tyrant, (it irks me so to call my Prince. But just resentment and hard usage coyn'd Th' unwilling word; and grating as it is Take it, for 'tis thy due.

Sebast.

How Tyrant?

Dorax

Tyrant.

Sebast.

Traytour? that name thou canst not Eccho back That Robe of Infamy, that Circumcision Ill hid beneath that Robe, proclaim thee Traytor: And, if a Name More foul than Traytor be, 'tis Renegade.

Dorax.

If I'm a Traytor, think and blush, thou Tyrant, Whose Injuries betray'd me into treason. Effac'd my Loyalty, unhing'd my Faith,

And hurryed me from hopes of Heaven to Hell. All these, and all my yet unfinish'd Crimes, When I shall rise to plead before the Saints, I charge on thee, to make thy damning sure.

Sebast.

Thy old presumptuous Arrogance again, That bred my first dislike, and then my loathing. Once more be warn'd, and know me for thy King.

Dorax.

Too well I know thee; but for King no more: This is not Lisbonne, nor the Circle this, Where, like a Statue, thou hast stood besieg'd, By Sycophants and Fools, the growth of Courts: Where thy gull'd eyes, in all the gawdy round, Met nothing but a lye in every face; And the gross flattery of a gaping Crowd, Envious who first should catch, and first applaud. The Stuff of Royall Nonsence: when I spoke, My honest homely words were carp'd, and censur'd, For want of Courtly Stile: related Actions, Though modestly reported, pass'd for boasts: Secure of Merit if I ask'd reward, Thy hungry Minions thought their rights invaded, And the bread snatch'd from Pimps and Parasits. Enriquez answer'd, with a ready lye, To save his King's, the boon was begg'd before.

Sebast.

What sayst thou of Enriquez? now by Heaven Thou mov'st me more by barely naming him, Than all thy foul unmanner'd scurril taunts.

Dorax.

And therefore 'twas to gaul thee, that I nam'd him: That thing, that nothing, but a cringe and smile; That Woman, but more dawb'd; or if a man, Corrupted to a Woman: thy Man Mistress.

Sebast.

All false as Hell or thou.

Dorax.

Yes; full as false As that I serv'd thee fifteen hard Campaignes, And pitch'd thy Standard in these Forreign Fields: By me thy greatness grew; thy years grew with it, But thy Ingratitude outgrew 'em both.

Sebast.

I see to what thou tend'st, but tell me first

If those great Acts were done alone for me; If love produc'd not some, and pride the rest?

Dorax.

Why Love does all that's noble here below; But all th' advantage of that love was thine. For, coming fraughted back, in either hand With Palm and Olive, Victory and Peace, I was indeed prepar'd to ask my own: (For Violante's vows were mine before:) Thy malice had prevention, ere I spoke: And ask'd me Violante for Enriquez.

Seb.

I meant thee a reward of greater worth:

Dor.

Where justice wanted, could reward be hop'd? Could the robb'd Passenger expect a bounty, From those rapacious hands who stript him first?

Seb.

He had my promise, e're I knew thy love,

Dor.

My Services deserv'd thou should'st revoke it.

Seb.

Thy Insolence had cancell'd all thy Service: To violate my Laws, even in my Court, Sacred to peace, and safe from all affronts; E'ven to my face, as done in my despight, Under the wing of awfull Majesty To strike the man I lov'd!

Dor.

Even in the face of Heaven, a place more Sacred, Would I have struck the man, who propt by power, Would Seize my right, and rob me of my Love: But, for a blow provok'd by thy Injustice, The hasty product of a just despair, When he refus'd to meet me in the field, That thou shoud'st make a Cowards Cause thy own!

Seb.

He durst; nay more desir'd and begg'd with tears, To meet thy Challenge fairly: 'twas thy fault ••o make it publique; but my duty, then, To interpose; on pain of my displeasure, Betwixt your Swords,

Dor.

On pain of Infamy He should have disobey'd.

Seb.

Th' Indignity thou didst, was ment to me; Thy gloomy eyes were cast on me, with scorn,

As who should say the blow was there intended; But that thou didst not dare to lift thy hands Against Annointed power: so was I forc'd To do a Soveraign justice to my self; And spurn thee from my presence.

Dor.

Thou hast dar'd To tell me, what I durst not tell my self: I durst not think that I was spurn'd, and live; And live to hear it boasted to my face. All my long Avarice of honour lost, Heap'd up in Youth, and hoarded up for Age; Has honours Fountain then suck'd back the stream? He has; and hooting Boys, may dry shod pass, And gather pebbles from the naked Foord. Give me my Love, my Honour; give 'em back:— Give me revenge; while I have breath to ask it.—

Seb.

Now, by this honour'd Order which I wear, More gladly would I give, than thou dar'st ask it: Nor shall the Sacred Character of King Be urg'd, to shield me from thy bold appeal. If I have injur'd thee, that makes us equall: The wrong, if done, debas'd me down to thee. But thou hast charg'd me with Ingratitude: Hast thou not charg'd me; speak?

Dor.

Thou know'st I have: If thou disown'st that Imputation, draw, And prove my Charge a lye.

Seb.

No; to disprove that lye, I must not draw: Be conscious to thy worth, and tell thy Soul What thou hast done this day in my defence: To fight thee, after this, what were it else, Than owning that Ingratitude thou urgest? That Isthmus stands betwixt two rushing Seas; Which, mounting, view each other from afar; And strive in vain to meet.

Dor.

I'le cut that Isthmus. Thou know'st I meant not to preserve thy Life, But to reprieve it, for my own revenge.

I sav'd thee out of honourable malice: Now draw; I should be loath to think thou dar'st not: Beware of such another vile excuse.

Seb.

O patience Heaven!

Dor.

Beware of Patience too; That's a Suspicious word: it had been proper Before thy foot had spurn'd me; now 'tis base: Yet, to disarm thee of thy last defence, I have thy Oath for my security: The only boon I begg'd was this fair Combat: Fight or be Perjur'd now; that's all thy choice.

Sebas.

[drawing:]

Now I can thank thee as thou wouldst be thank'd: Never was vow of honour better pay'd, If my true Sword but hold, than this shall be. The sprightly Bridegroom, on his Wedding Night, More gladly enters not the lists of Love. Why 'tis enjoyment to be summon'd thus. Go: bear my Message to Henriquez Ghost; And say his Master and his Friend reveng'd him.

Dor.

His Ghost! then is my hated Rivall dead?

Seb.

The question is beside our present purpose; Thou seest me ready; we delay too long.

Dor.

A minute is not much in eithers Life, When their's but one betwixt us; throw it in, And give it him of us, who is to fall.

Sebast.

He's dead: make hast, and thou mayst yet o're take him.

Dor.

When I was hasty, thou delay'st me longer. I prethee let me hedge one moment more Into thy promise; for thy life preserv'd: Be kind: and tell me how that Rivall dy'd, Whose Death next thine I wish'd.

Seb.

If it would please thee thou should'st never know: But thou, like Jealousy, enquir'st a truth, Which, found, will torture thee: He dy'd in Fight: Fought next my person; as in Consort fought: Kept pace for pace, and blow for every blow; Save when he heav'd his Shield in my defence; And on his naked side receiv'd my wound. Then, when he could no more, he fell at once:

But rowl'd his falling body cross their way; And made a Bulwark of it for his Prince▪

Dor.

I never can forgive him such a death!

Seb.

I prophecy'd thy proud Soul could not bear it. Now, judge thy self, who best deserv'd my Love. I knew you both; (and durst I say) as Heaven Foreknew among the shining Angell host Who would stand firm, who fall.

Dor.

Had he been tempted so, so had he fall'n; And so, had I been favour'd, had I stood.

Seb.

What had been is unknown; what is appears: Confess he justly was preferr'd to thee.

Dor.

Had I been born with his indulgent Stars, My fortune had been his, and his been mine. O, worse than Hell! what Glory have I lost, And what has he acquir'd, by such a death! I should have fallen by Sebastians side; My Corps had been the Bulwark of my King. His glorious end was a patch'd work of fate, Ill sorted with a soft effeminate life: It suited better with my life than his So to have dy'd: mine had been of a peice, Spent in your service, dying at your feet.

Seb.

The more effeminate and soft his life, The more his fame, to struggle to the field, And meet his glorious fate: Confess, proud Spirit, (For I will have it from thy very mouth) That better he deserv'd my love than thou.

Dor.

O, whether would you drive me! I must grant, Yes I must grant, but with a swelling Soul, Henriquez had your Love with more desert: For you he fought, and dy'd; I fought against you; Through all the mazes of the bloudy field, Hunted your Sacred life; which that I miss'd Was the propitious errour of my fate, Not of my Soul; my Soul's a Regicide.

Seb.

Thou might'st have given it a more gentle name:

[more calmly.]

Thou mean'st to kill a Tyrant, not a King:

Speak didst thou not, Alonzo?

Dor.

Can I speak! Alas, I cannot answer to Alonzo: No, Dorax cannot answer to Alonzo: Alonzo was too kind a name for me. Then, when I fought and conquer'd with your Armes, In that blest Age I was the man you nam'd: Till rage and pride debas'd me into Dorax; And lost like Lucifer, my name above.

Seb.

Yet, twice this day I ow'd my life to Dorax.

Dor.

I sav'd you but to kill you; there's my grief.

Seb.

Nay, if thou can'st be griev'd, thou can'st repent: Thou coud'st not be a Villain, though thou woud'st: Thou own'st too much, in owning thou hast err'd; And I too little, who provok'd thy Crime.

Dor.

O stop this headlong Torrent of your goodness: It comes too fast upon a feeble Soul, Half drown'd in tears, before; spare my confusion: For pitty spare, and say not, first, you err'd. For yet I have not dar'd, through guilt and shame,

[Falls at his feet]

To throw my self beneath your Royall feet. Now spurn this Rebell, this proud Renegade: 'Tis just you should, nor will I more complain.

Seb.

Indeed thou shoud'st not ask forgiveness first,

taking him up.

But thou preventst me still, in all that's noble. Yet I will raise thee up with better news: Thy Violante's heart was ever thine; Compell'd to wed, because she was my Ward, Her Soul was absent when she gave her hand: Nor could my threats, or his pursuing Courtship, Effect the Consummation of his Love: So, still indulging tears, she pines for thee, A Widdow and a Maid.

Dor.

Have I been cursing Heav'n while Heav'n blest me! I shall run mad with extasy of joy: What, in one moment, to be reconcil'd To Heaven, and to my King, and to my Love! But pitty is my Friend, and stops me short,

For my unhappy Rivall: poor Henriquez!

Seb.

Art thou so generous too, to Pitty him? Nay, then I was unjust to love him better.

Embrac∣ing him.

Here let me ever hold thee in my arms: And all our quarrells be but such as these, Who shall love best, and closest shall embrace: Be what Enriquez was; be my Alonzo.

Dor.

What, my Alonzo sayd you? my Alonzo! Let my tears thank you; for I cannot speak: And if I cou'd, Words were not made to vent such thoughts as mine.

Seb.

Thou canst not speak, and I can ne're be silent. Some Strange reverse of Fate must, sure attend This vast profusion, this extravagance Of Heaven, to bless me thus. 'Tis Gold so pure It cannot bear the Stamp, without allay. Be kind, ye Powers, and take but half away: With ease the gifts of Fortune I resign; But, let my Love, and Friend, be ever mine.

Exeunt

ACT V. The Scene is a Room of State.

Enter Dorax and Antonio.

Dor.

JOy is on every face, without a Cloud: As, in the Scene of opening Paradice, The whole Creation danc'd at their new being: Pleas'd to be what they were; pleas'd with each other. Such Joy have I, both in my self, and Friends: And double Joy, that I have made 'em happy.

Antonio,

Pleasure has been the bus'ness of my life; And every change of Fortune easy to me, Because I still was easy to my self. The loss of her I lov'd would touch me nearest; Yet, if I found her, I might love too much;

And that's uneasy Pleasure.

Dor.

If she be fated To be your Wife, your fate will find her for you: Predestinated ills are never lost.

Anton.

I had forgot T'Enquire before, but long to be inform'd, How, poison'd and betray'd, and round beset, You could unwind your self from all these dangers; And move so speedily to our relief!

Dor.

The double poisons, after a short Combat, Expell'd each other in their Civill War, By natures benefit: and rows'd my thoughts To Guard that life which now I found Attack'd. I summon'd all my Officers in hast, On whose experienc'd Faith I might rely: All came; resolv'd to dye in my defence, Save that one Villain who betray'd the Gate. Our diligence prevented the surprize We justly fear'd: so, Muley-Zeydan found us Drawn-up in Battle, to receive the charge

Ant.

But how the Moors and Christian slaves were joyn'd, You have not yet unfolded.

Dor.

That remains. We knew their Int'rest was the same with ours: And though I hated more than Death, Sebastian; I could not see him dye by Vulgar hands: But prompted by my Angell, or by his, Freed all the Slaves, and plac'd him next my self, Because I would not have his Person known, I need not tell the rest, th' event declares it.

Ant.

Your Conquest came of course; their men were raw, And yours were disciplin'd: one doubt remains, Why you industriously conceal'd the King, Who, known, had added Courage to his Men?

Dor.

I would not hazard civill broils, betwixt His Friends and mine: which might prevent our Combat: Yet had he fall'n, I had dismiss'd his Troops; Or, if Victorious, order'd his escape.

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But I forgot a new increase of Joy, To feast him with surprize; I must about it: Expect my swift return.

Exit Dorax.

Enter a Servant to Antonio.

Serv.

Here's a Lady at the door, that bids me tell you, she is come to make an end of the game, that was broken off be∣twixt you.

Ant.

What manner of Woman is she? Does she not want two of the four Elements? has she any thing about her but ayr and fire?

Servant.

Truly, she flys about the room, as if she had wings instead of legs; I believe she's just turning into a bird: a house-bird I warrant her: and so hasty to fly to you, that, rather than fail of entrance, she wou'd come tumbling down the Chim∣ney, like a Swallow.

Enter Morayma.

Antonio

running to her and Embracing her.

Look if she be not here already: what, no deniall it seems will serve your turn? why! thou little dun, is thy debt so pressing?

Mor.

Little Devill if you please: your lease is out, good Mr. Conjurer; and I am come to fetch you Soul and Body; not an hour of lewdness longer in this world for you.

Ant.

Where the Devill hast thou been? and how the Devill didst thou find me here?

Mor.

I follow'd you into the Castle yard: but there was no∣thing but Tumult, and Confusion: and I was bodily afraid of being pick'd up by some of the Rabble▪ considering I had a double charge about me,—my Jewells & my Mayden-head.

Ant.

Both of 'em intended for my Worships sole use and Property.

Mor.

And what was poor little I among 'em all?

Ant.

Not a mouthfull a piece: 'twas too much odds in Con∣science.

Mor.

So seeking for shelter, I naturally ran to the old place

of Assignation, the Garden-house: where for want of instinct, you did not follow me.

Ant.

Well for thy Comfort, I have secur'd thy Father; and I hope thou hast secur'd his effects for us.

Mor.

Yes truly I had the prudent foresight to consider that when we grow old, and weary of Solacing one another, we might have, at least, wherewithall to make merry with the World; and take up with a worse pleasure of eating and drinking, when we were disabled for a better.

Ant.

Thy fortune will be e'en too good for thee: for thou art going into the Country of Serenades, and Gallantries; where thy street will be haunted every Night, with thy fool∣ish Lovers, and my Rivals; who will be sighing, and singing under thy inexorable windows, lamentable ditties, and call thee Cruell, & Goddess, & Moon, and Stars, and all the Poeticall names of wicked rhyme: while thou and I, are minding our bus'ness, and jogging on, and laughing at 'em; at leisure-minuts, which will be very few, take that by way of threatning.

Mor.

I am afraid you are not very valiant, that you huff so much before hand: but, they say, your Churches are fine places for Love-devotion: many a she-Saint is there worship'd.

Ant.

Temples are there, as they are in all other Countries, good conveniences for dumb enterviews: I hear the Protestants an't much reform'd in that point neither; for their Sectaries call ••heir Churches by the naturall name of Meeting-houses. therefore I warn thee in good time, not more of devotion than needs must, good future Spowse; and allways in a veile; for those eyes of thine are damn'd enemies to mortification.

Mor.

The best thing I have heard of Christendom, is that we women are allow'd the priviledge of having Souls; and I assure you, I shall make bold to bestow mine, upon some Lo∣ver, when ever you begin to go astray, and, if I find no Con∣venience in a Church, a private Chamber will serve the turn.

Ant.

When that day comes, I must take my revenge and turn Gardener again: for I find I am much given to Planting.

Mor.

But take heed, in the mean time, that some young Antonio does not spring-up in your own Family; as false as his Father, though of another mans planting.

Reenter Dorax with Sebastian and Almeyda. Sebastian enters speaking to Dorax, while in the mean time Antonio presents Morayma to Almeyda.

Seb.

How fares our Royall Pris'ner, Muley Zeydan?

Dor.

Dispos'd to grant whatever I desire, To gain a Crown, and Freedom: well I know him, Of easy temper, naturally good, And faithfull to his word.

Seb.

Yet one thing wants, To fill the measure of my happiness I'm still in pain for poor Alvarez's life.

Dor.

Release that fear; the good old man is safe: I pay'd his ransome: And have already order'd his Attendance.

Seb.

O bid him enter for I long to see him.

Enter Alvarez with a Servant, who departs when Alvarez is enter'd.

Alvarez

[falling down and embracing the Kings knees.]

Now by my Soul, and by these▪ hoary hairs, I'm so ore-whelm'd with pleasure, that I feel A latter spring within my with'ring limbs, That Shoots me out again.

Sebastian,

raising him

Thou good old Man! Thou hast deceiv'd me into more, more joys; Who stood brim-full before.

Alv.

O my dear Child! I love thee so, I cannot call thee King, Whom I so oft have dandled in these arms! What, when I gave thee lost to find thee living! 'Tis like a Father, who himself had scap'd A falling house, and after anxious search, Hears from afar, his only Son within: And digs through rubbish, till he drags him out

To see the friendly light. Such is my hast so trembling is my joy To draw thee forth from underneath thy Fate.

Seb.

The Tempest is ore-blown; the Skys are clear, And the Sea, charm'd into a Calm so still, That not a wrinkle ruffles her smooth face.

Alv.

Just such she shows before a rising storm: And therefore am I come, with timely speed, To warn you into Port.

Almeyda.

My Soul fore-bodes

aside.

Some dire event involv'd in those dark words; And just disclosing, in a birth of fate.

Alv.

Is there not yet an Heir of this vast Empire, Who still Survives, of Muley-Moluchs branch?

Dor.

Yes such an one there is, a Captive here, And Brother to the Dead.

Alv.

The Power's above Be prais'd for that: My prayers for my good Master I hope are heard.

Seb.

Thou hast a right in Heav'n, But why these prayers for me?

Alv.

A door is open yet for your deliv'rance, Now you my Country-men, and you Almeyda, Now all of us, and you (my all in one) May yet be happy in that Captives life.

Seb.

We have him here an honourable Hostage For terms of peace: what more he can Contribute To make me blest, I know not.

Alv.

Vastly more: Almeyda may be settled in the Throne; And you review your Native Clime with fame: A firm Alliance, and eternall Peace, (The glorious Crown of honourable War,) Are all included in that Princes life: Let this fair Queen be giv'n to Muley-Zeydan; And make her love the Sanction of your League.

Seb.

No more of that: his life's in my dispose; And Pris'ners are not to insist on terms.

Or if they were, yet he demands not these.

Alv.

You shou'd exact 'em.

Alm.

Better may be made; These cannot: I abhor the Tyrants race; My Parents Murtherers, my Throne's Usurpers. But, at one blow to cut off all dispute, Know this, thou busy, old, officious Man, I am a Christian; now be wise no more; Or if thou woud'st be still thought wise, be silent.

Alv.

O! I perceive you think your Int'rest touch'd: 'Tis what before the Battail I observ'd: But I must speak, and will.

Seb.

I prethee peace; Perhaps she thinks they are too near of bloud·

Alv.

I wish she may not wod to bloud more near.

Seb.

What if I make her mine?

Alv.

Now Hea'vn forbid!

Seb.

Wish rather Hea'vn may grant. For, if I cou'd deserve, I have deserv'd her: My toyls, my hazards, and my Subjects lives, (Provided she consent) may claim her love: And, that once granted, I appeal to these, If better, I cou'd chuse a beauteous Bride.

Ant.

The fairest of her Sex.

Mor.

The pride of Nature.

Dor.

He only merits her; she only him. So payr'd, so suited in their minds and Persons, That they were fram'd the Tallyes for each other. If any Alien love had interpos'd It must have been an eyesore to beholders, And to themselves a Curse.

Alv.

And to themselves. The greatest Curse that can be, were to joyn.

Seb.

Did I not love thee, past a change to hate, That word had been thy ruine; but no more, I charge thee on thy life, perverse old man.

Alv.

Know, Sir, I wou'd be silent if I durst: But, if on Shipbord,, I shou'd see my Friend,

Grown frantique in a raging Calenture, And he, imagining vain flowry fields, Wou'd headlong plunge himself into the deep, Shou'd I not hold him from that mad attempt, Till his sick fancy were by reason cur'd?

Seb.

I pardon thee th' effects of doting Age; Vain doubts, and idle cares, and over-caution; The second Non-age of a Soul, more wise; But now decay'd; and sunk into the Socket, Peeping by fits and giving feeble light.

Alv.

Have you forgot?

Seb.

Thou mean'st my Fathers Will, In bar of Marriage to Almeyda's bed: Thou seest my faculties are still entire, Though thine are much impair'd, I weigh'd that Will, And found 'twas grounded on our diff'rent Faiths; But, had he liv'd to see her happy change, He wou'd have cancell'd that harsh Interdict, And joyn'd our hands himself.

Alv.

Still had he liv'd and seen this change, He still had been the Same.

Seb.

I have a dark remembrance of my Father; His reas'nings and his Actions both were just; And, granting that, he must have chang'd his measures.

Alv.

Yes, he was just, and therefore cou'd not change.

Seb.

'Tis a base wrong thou offer'st to the Dead.

Alv.

Now Hea'vn forbid, That I shou'd blast his pious Memory: No, I am tender of his holy Fame: For, dying he bequeath'd it to my charge. Believe I am; and seek to know no more, But pay a blind obedience to his will. For to preserve his Fame I wou'd be silent.

Seb.

Craz'd fool, who woud'st be thought an Oracle. Come down from off thy Tripos, and speak plain; My Father shall be justify'd, he shall: 'Tis a Son's part to rise in his defence; And to confound thy malice, or thy dotage.

Alv.

It does not grieve me that you hold me craz'd;

But, to be clear'd at my dead Masters cost, O there's the wound! but let me first adjure you, By all you owe that dear departed Soul, No more to think of Marriage with Almeyda.

Seb.

Not Hea'vn and Earth combin'd, can hinder it.

Alv.

Then, witness Hea'vn and Earth, how loath I am To say, you must not, nay you cannot wed. And since not only a dead Fathers fame, But more a Ladies honour must be touch'd, Which nice as Ermines will not bear a Soil; Let all retire; that you alone may hear What ev'n in whispers I wou'd tell your ear.

All are going out.

Alm.

Not one of you depart; I charge you stay. And, were my voice a Trumpet loud as Fame, To reach the round of Hea'vn, and Earth, and Sea, All Nations shou'd be Summon'd to this place. So little do I fear that Fellows charge: So shou'd my honour like a rising Swan, Brush with her wings, the falling drops away, And proudly plough the waves.

Seb.

This noble Pride becomes thy Innocence: And I dare trust my Fathers memory, To stand the charge of that foul forging tongue:

Alv.

It will be soon discover'd if I forge: Have you not heard your Father in his youth, When newly marry'd, travel'd into Spain, And made a long abode in Phillips Court?

Seb.

Why so remote a question? which thy self Can answer to thy self, for thou wert with him, His Fav'rite, as I oft have heard thee boast: And nearest to his Soul.

Alv.

Too near indeed, forgive me Gracious Heaven That ever I should boast I was so near. The Confident of all his young Amours.

[To Almeyda]

And have not you, unhappy beauty, heard, Have you not often heard, your Exil'd Parents Were refug'd in that Court, and at that time?

Alm.

'Tis true: and often since, my Mother own'd How kind that Prince was, to espouse her cause; She Counsell'd, nay, Enjoyn'd me on her blessing To seek the Sanctuary of your Court: Which gave me first encouragement to come, And, with my Brother, beg Sebastians aid.

Sebast.

Thou help'st me well, to justify my War:

to Alme.

My dying Father swore me, then a Boy; And made me kiss the Cross upon his Sword, Never to sheath it, till that exil'd Queen Were by my Arms restor'd.

Alv.

And can you finde No mistery, couch'd in this excess of kindness? Were Kings e're known, in this degenerate Age, So passionately fond of noble Acts, Where Interest shar'd not more than half with honour?

Seb.

Base groveling Soul, who know'st not honours worth; But weigh'st it out in mercenary Scales; The Secret pleasure of a generous Act, Is the great minds great bribe.

Alv.

Show me that King, and I'le believe the Phoenix. But knock at your own breast, and ask your Soul If those fair fatall eyes, edg'd not your Sword, More than your Fashers charge, and all your vows? If so; and so your silence grants it is, Know King, your Father had, like you, a Soul; And Love is your Inheritance from him. Almeyda's Mother too had eyes, like her, And not less charming, and were charm'd no less Than your's are now with her, and her's with you.

Alm.

Thou ly'st Impostor, Perjur'd Fiend thou ly'st.

Seb.

Wa'st not enough to brand my Father's fame, But thou must load a Ladies memory? O Infamous base, beyond repair. And, to what end this ill concerted lye, Which, palpable and gross, yet granted true, It barrs not my Inviolable vows.

Alv.

Take heed and double not your Fathers crimes;

To his Adult'ry, do not add your Incest. Know, she is the product of unlawfull Love: And 'tis your Carnall Sister you wou'd wed.

Seb.

Thou shallt not say thou wert Condemn'd unheard. Else, by my Soul, this moment were thy last.

Alm.

But think not Oaths shall justify thy charge; Nor Imprecations on thy cursed head, For who dares lye to Heaven, thinks Heaven a Jest. Thou hast confess'd thy self the Conscious Pandar Of that pretended passion: A Single Witness, infamously known, Against two Persons of unquestion'd fame;

Alv.

What Int'rest can I have, or what delight To blaze their shame, or to divulge my own? If prov'd you hate me▪ if unprov'd Condemn? Not Racks or Tortures could have forc'd this secret, But too much care, to save you from a Crime, Which would have sunk you both. For let me say, Almeyda's beauty well deserves your love:

Alm.

Out, base Impostor, I abhor thy praise.

Dorax.

It looks not like Imposture: but a truth, On utmost need reveal'd.

Sebast.

Did I expect from Dorax, this return? Is this the love renew'd?

Dorax.

Sir, I am silent; Pray Heav'n my fears prove false.

Sebast.

Away; you all combine to make me wretched.

Alv.

But hear the story of that fatall Love; Where every Circumstance shall prove another; And truth so shine, by her own native light, That if a Lye were mixt, it must be seen.

Sebast.

No; all may still be forg'd, and of a piece. No; I can credit nothing thou can'st say:

Alv.

One proof remains; and that's your Fathers hand: Firm'd with his Signet; both so fully known, That plainer Evidence can hardly be, Unless his Soul wou'd want her Hea'vn a while, And come on Earth to swear.

Seb.

Produce that Writing.

Alv••r. to Dorax

Alonzo has it in his Custody. The same, which when his nobleness redeem'd me, And in a friendly visit own'd himself, For what he is, I then deposited: And had his Faith to give it to the King.

Dorax

giving a seal'd Paper to the King.

Untouch'd, and Seal'd as when intrusted with me, Such I restore it, with a trembling hand, Lest ought within disturb your peace of Soul.

Sebast.

tearing open the Seals.

Draw near Almeyda: thou art most concern'd. For I am most in Thee. Alonzo, mark the Characters: Thou know'st my Fathers hand observe it well: And if th'Impostors Pen, have made one slip, That shows it Counterfeit, mark that and save me.

Dorax.

It looks, indeed, too like my Masters hand: So does the Signet; more I cannot say; But wish 'twere not so like.

Sebast.

Methinks it owns The black Adult'ry, and Almeyda's birth; But such a mist of grief comes o're my eyes, I cannot, or I wou'd not read it plain.

Alm.

Hea'vn cannot be more true, than this is false.

Sebast.

O Coud'st thou prove it, with the same assurance! Speak, hast thou ever seen my Fathers hand?

Alm.

No; but my Mothers honour has been read By me, and by the world, in all her Acts; In Characters more plain, and legible Then this dumb Evidence, this blotted lye. Oh that I were a man, as my Soul's one, To prove thee, Traytor, an Assassinate

Of her fair same: thus wou'd I tear thee, thus—:

(Tearing the Paper)

And scatter, o're the field, thy Coward limbs, Like this foul offspring of thy forging brain.

(Scatt'ring the Paper)

Alv.

Just so, shalt thou be torn from all thy hopes. For know proud Woman, know in thy despight, The most Authentique proof is still behind. Thou wear'st it on thy finger: 'tis that Ring, Which match'd with that on his, shall clear the doubt. 'Tis no dumb forgery: for that shall speak; And sound a rattling peal to eithers Conscience:

Seb.

This Ring indeed, my Father, with a cold And shaking hand, just in the pangs of Death, Put on my finger; with a parting sigh, And wou'd have spoke; but falter'd in his speech, With undistinguish'd sounds.

Alv.

I know it well: For I was present: Now, Almeyda, speak: And, truly tell us, how you come by yours?

Alm.

My Mother, when I parted from her sight, To go to Portugall bequeath'd it to me, Presaging she shou'd never see me more: She pull'd it from her finger, shed some tears, Kiss'd it, and told me 'twas a pledge of Love; And hid a Mistery of great Importance Relating to my Fortunes.

Alv.

Mark me now, While I disclose that fatall Mistery. Yhose rings, when you were born, and thought anothers, Tour Parents, glowing yet in sinfull love, Bid me bespeak: a Curious Artist wrought 'em: With joynts so close, as not to be perceiv'd; Yet are they both each others Counterpart. Her part had Juan inscrib'd, and his had Zayda. )You know those names are theirs:) and in the midst, A heart divided in two halves was plac'd. Now if the rivets of those Rings, inclos'd,

Fit not each other, I have forg'd this lye: But if they joyn, you must for ever part,

Seb,

[Seb. pulling off his Ring. Alm. does the same, and gives it to Alv. who unscrues both the Rings & fits one half to the other.]

Now life, or death.

Alm.

And either thine, or ours.

Alm.

I'm lost for ever.—

(swoons)

(The Women and Morayma, take her up and carry her off.)

[Seb. here stands amaz'd without motion, his eyes fixt upward.]

Seb.

Look to the Queen my Wife; For I am past All Pow'r of Aid, to her or to my self.

Alv.

His Wife, said he, his Wife! O fatall sound! For, had I known it, this unwelcome news Had never reach'd their ears. So they had still been blest in Ignorance, And I alone unhappy.

Dor.

I knew it, but too late: and durst not speak.

Seb.

starting out of his amaze∣ment.

I will not live: no not a moment more; I will not add one moment more to Incest. I'le cut it off, and end a wretched being.

For, should I live, my Soul's so little mine, And so much hers, that I should still enjoy. Ye Cruell Powers Take me as you have made me, miserable; You cannot make me guilty; 'twas my fate And you made that, not I.

Draws his Sword.

Antonio and Alv. lay hold on him, and Dorax wrests the Sword out of his hand.

An.

For Heav'ns sake hold, and recollect your mind.

Alvarez.

Consider whom you punish, and for what; Your self? unjustly: You have charg'd the fault,

On Heav'n that best may bear it. Though Incest is indeed a deadly Crime, You are not guilty, since, unknown 'twas done, And known, had been abhorr'd.

Seb.

By Heaven y're Traytours, all, that hold my hands. If death be but cessation of our thought, Then let me dye for I would think no more. I'le boast my Innocence above; And let 'em see a Soul they cou'd not sully: I shall be there before my Fathers Ghost; That yet must languish long, in frosts and fires▪ For making me unhappy by his Crime:

[struggling again.]

Stand off and let me take my fill of death; For I can hold my breath in your despight, And swell my heaving Soul out, when I please:

Alv.

Heav'n comfort you!

Seb.

What art thou given comfort! Wou'dst thou give comfort, who hast giv'n despair? Thou seest Alonzo silent; he's a man. He knows, that men abandon'd of their hopes Shou'd ask no leave, nor stay for sueing out A tedious Writ of ease, from lingring Heaven, But help themselves, as timely as they cou'd, And teach the fates their duty.

[Dorax to Alv. and Anto.]

Let him go: He is our King; and he shall be obey'd:

Alv.

What to destroy himself, O Parricide!

Dor.

Be not Injurious in your foolish zeal, But leave him free; or by my sword I swear, To hew that Arm away, that stops the passage. To his Eternal rest.

Anto.

[letting go his hold.]

Let him be Guilty of his own death if he pleases: for I'le not be guilty of mine; by holding him.

The King shakes off Alvarez

Alvarez.

to Dorax▪

Infernal Fiend, Is this a Subjects part?

Dor.

'Tis a Friends Office, He has convinc'd me that he ought to dye. And, rather than he should not, here's my sword To help him on his Journey.

Seb.

My last, my only Friend, how kind art thou And how Inhuman these!

Dor.

To make the trifle death, a thing of moment!

Seb.

And not to weigh th' Important cause I had, To rid my self of life?

Dor.

True; for a Crime. So horrid in the face of Men and Angells, As wilfull Incest is!

Seb.

Not wilfull neither.

Dor.

Yes, if you liv'd and with repeated Acts, Refresh'd your Sin, and loaded crimes with crimes, To swell your scores of Guilt.

Seb.

True; if I liv'd.

Dor.

I said so, if you liv'd.

Seb.

For hitherto 'was fatall ignorance: And no intended crime.

Dor,

That you best know. But the Malicious World will judge the worst.

Alv.

O what a Sophister has Hell procur'd, To argue for Damnation!

Dor.

Peace, old Dotard. Mankind that always judge of Kings with malice, Will think he knew this Incest, and pursu'd it. His only way to rectify mistakes, And to redeem her honour, is to dye.

Seb.

Thou hast it right, my dear, my best Alonzo! And that, but petty reparation too; But all I have to give.

Dor.

Your pardon, Sir; You may do more, and ought.

Seb.

What, more than death?

Dor.

Death? Why that's Childrens sport: a Stage-Play, Death. We Act it every Night we go to bed.

Death to a Man in misery is sleep. Wou'd you, who perpetrated such a Crime, As frighten'd nature, made the Saints above Shake Heav'ns Eternal pavement with their trembling, To view that act, wou'd you but barely dye? But stretch your limbs, and turn on t'other side, To lengthen out a black voluptuous slumber, And dream you had your Sister in your arms.

Seb.

To expiate this, can I do more then dye?

Dor:

O yes: you must do more; you must be damn'd: You must be damn'd to all Eternity. And, sure, self-Murder is the readiest way.

Seb.

How, damn'd?

Dor.

Why is that News?

Alvar,

O, horrour! horrour!

Dor.

What, thou a Statesman, And make a bus'ness of Damnation? In such a World as this, why 'tis a trade. The Scriv'ner, Usurer, Lawyer, Shop-keeper, And Soldier, cannot live, but by damnation. The Polititian does it by advance: And gives all gone before-hand.

Seb.

O thou hast giv'n me such a glimse of Hell, So push'd me forward, even to the brink, Of that irremeable burning Gulph, That looking in th' Abyss; I dare not leap. And now I see what good thou meanst my Soul, And thank thy pious fraud: Thou hast indeed, Appear'd a Devill, but didst an Angells work.

Dor.

'Twas the last Remedy, to give you leisure. For, if you cou'd but think, I knew you safe.

Seb.

I thank thee, my Alonzo: I will live: But never more to Portugall return: For, to go back and reign, that were to show Triumphant Incest, and pollute the Throne.

Alv.

Since Ignorance—

Seb.

O, palliate not my wound:

When you have argu'd all you can, 'tis Incest: No, 'tis resolv'd, I charge you plead no more; I cannot live without Almeyda's sight, Nor can I see Almeyda but I sin. Hea'vn has inspir'd me with a Sacred thought, To live alone to Hea'vn: and dye to her.

Dorax.

Mean you to turn an Anchoret?

Seb.

What else? The world was once too narrow for my mind, But one poor little nook will serve me now; To hide me from the rest of humane kinde. Affrique has desarts wide enough to hold Millions of Monsters, and I am, sure, the greatest.

Alv.

You may repent, and wish your Crown too late.

Seb.

O never, never: I am past a Boy, A Scepter's but a play thing, and a Globe A bigger bounding Stone. He who can leave Almeyda, may renounce the rest with ease.

Dorax.

O Truly great! A Soul fix'd high, and capable of Hea'vn. Old as he is your Uncle Cardinall, Is not so far enamour'd of a Cloyster, But he will thank you, for the Crown you leave him.

Seb,

To please him more, let him believe me dead: That he may never dream I may return. Alonzo, I am now no more thy King, But still thy Friend, and by that holy Name, Adjure thee, to perform my last request. Make our Conditions with you Captive King, Secure me but my Solitary Cell; 'Tis all I ask him for a Crown restor'd.

Dor.

I will do more: But fear not Muley-Zeydan; his soft mettall Melts down with easy warmth; runs in the mould, And needs no farther forge.

Exit Dorax.

Re-enter Almeyda, led by Morayma, and follow••d by her Attendants.

Seb.

See where she comes again By Hea'vn when I behold those beauteous eyes, Repentance laggs and Sin comes hurrying on.

Alm.

This is too cruell!

Seb.

Speak'st thou of Love, of Fortune, or of Death, Or double Death, for we must part Almeyda.

Alm.

I speak of all. For all things that belong to us are cruell. But what's most cruell, we must love no more. O'tis too much that I must never see you, But not to love you is impossible: No, I must love you: Hea'vn may bare me that, And charge that Sinfull Sympathy of Souls▪ Upon our Parents, when they lov'd too well▪

Seb.

Good Hea'vn, thou speakst my thoughts, and I speak thine. Nay then there's Incest in our very Souls, For we were form'd too like.

Alm.

Too like indeed, And yet not for each other. Sure when we part (for I resolv'd it too Tho' you propos'd it first,) however distant, We shall be ever thinking of each other▪ And, the same moment, for each other pray

Seb.

But if a wish shou'd come a thwart our prayers!

Alm.

It wou'd do well to curb it: if we cou'd

Seb.

We cannot look upon each others face, But, when we read our love, we read our guilt, And yet methinks I cannot chuse but love;

Alm,

I wou'd have ask'd you, if I durst for shame, If still you lov'd? you gave it Air before me Ah why were we not born both of a Sex: For then we might have lov'd, without Crime▪ Why was not I your Brother? though that wish Involv'd our Parents guilt, we had not parted;

We had been Friends, and Friendship is not Incest.

Seb.

Alas, I know not by what name to call thee! Sister and Wife are the two dearest Names; And I wou'd call thee both; and both are Sin. Unhappy we! that still we must confound The dearest Names, into a common Curse.

Alm.

To love, and be belov'd, and yet be wretched!

Seb.

To have but one poor night of all our lives; It was indeed a glorious; guilty night: So happy, that, forgive me Hea'vn, I wish With all its guilt, it were to come again. Why did we know so soon, or why at all, That Sin cou'd be conceal'd in such a blisse?

Alm.

Men have a larger priviledge of words, Else I shou'd speak: but we must part, Sebastian, That's all the name that I have left to call thee. I must not call thee by the name I wou'd; But when I say Sebastian, dear Sebastian, I kiss the name I speak.

Seb.

We must make hast, or we shall never part. I wou'd say something that's as dear as this; Nay, wou'd do more than say: one moment longer, And I shou'd break through Laws Divine, and Humane; And think 'em Cobwebs, spred for little man, Which all the bulky herd of nature breaks. The vigorous young world, was ignorant Of these restrictions, 'tis decrepit now; Not more devout, but more decay'd, and cold. All this is impious; therefore we must part: For, gazing thus, I kindle at thy sight, And, once burnt down to tinder, light again Much sooner then before.

Reenter Dorax.

Alm.

Here comes the sad denouncer of my fate, To toul the mournfull knell of Seperation:

While I, as on my Death-bed, hear the sound, That warns me hence for ever.

Sebastian to Dorax.

Now be brief, And I will try to listen. And share the minute that remains, betwixt The care I owe my Subjects and my Love.

Dorax.

Your fate has gratify'd you all she can; Gives easy misery, and makes Exile pleasing. I trusted Muley Zeydan, as a friend, But swore him first to Secresy: he wept Your fortune, and with tears, not squeez'd by Art, But shed from nature, like a kindly shower: In short, he proffer'd more than I demanded; A safe retreat, a gentle Solitude, Unvex'd with noise, and undisturb'd with fears: I chose you one.—

Alm.

O do not tell me where: For if I knew the place of his abode, I shou'd be tempted to pursue his steps, And then we both were lost.

Seb.

E'vn past redemption. For, if I knew thou wert on that design, (As I must know, because our Souls are one,) I shou'd not wander but by sure Instinct, Shou'd meet thee just half-way, in pilgrimage And close for ever: for I know my love More strong than thine, and I more frail than thou.

Alm.

Tell me not that: for I must boast my Crime, And cannot bear that thou shoud'st better love.

Dorax.

I may inform you both: for you must go, Where Seas, and winds, and Desarts will divide you. Under the ledge of Atlas, lyes a Cave, Cut in the living Rock, by Natures hands: The Venerable Seat of holy Hermites. Who there, secure in separated Cells, Sacred ev'n to the Moors, enjoy Devotion: And from the purling Streams and savage fruits,

Have wholesome bev'rage, and unbloudy feasts.

Seb.

'Tis pennance too Voluptuous, for my Crime.

Dor.

Your Subjects, conscious of your life are few: But all desirous to partake your Exile: And to do office to your Sacred Person. The rest who think you dead, shall be dismiss'd, Under safe Convoy till they reach your Fleet.

Alm.

But how am wretched I to be dispos'd? A vain Enquiry, since I leave my Lord: For all the world beside is Banishment!

Dor.

I have a Sister, Abbesse in Tercera's, Who lost her Lover on her Bridall day.—

Alm.

There, fate provided me a fellow-Turtle; To mingle sighs with sighs, and tears with tears.

Dor.

Last, for my self, if I have well fullfill'd My sad Commission, let me beg the boon, To share the sorrows of your last recess: And mourn the Common losses of our loves.

Alv.

And what becomes of me? must I be lest, (As Age and time had worn me out of use?) These Sinews are not yet so much unstrung, To fail me when my Master shou'd be serv'd: And when they are, then will I steal to death: Silent, and unobserv'd, to save his tears.

Seb.

I've heard you both: Alvarez have thy wish. But thine Alonzo, thine, is too unjust. I charge thee with my last Commands, return, And bless thy Violante with thy vows. Antonio, be thou happy too, in thine. Last, let me swear you all to Secresy; And to conceal my shame conceal my life.

Dor. Ant, Mor.

We swear to keep it secret.

Alm.

Now I wou'd speak the last farewell, I cannot. It wou'd be still farewell, a thousand times: And, multiply'd in Eccho's, still farewell. I will not speak; but think a thousand thousand; And be thou silent too, my last Sebastian;

So let us part in the dumb pomp of grief. My heart's too great; or I wou'd dye this moment: But Death I thank him, in an hour, has made A mighty journey, and I hast to meet him.

(She staggers and her Women hold her up)

Seb.

Help to support this feeble, drooping flower: 'This tender Sweet, so shaken by the storm. For these fond arms must, thus be stretch'd in vain, And never, never must embrace her more. Tis past:—my Souls goes in that word;—farewell.

Alvarez goes with Sebastian to one end of the Stage. Women with Almeyda to the other.

Dorax, coming up to Antonio and Morayma, who stand on the Middle of the Stage.

Dor

Hast to attend Almeyda: for your sake Your Father is forgiven: but to Antonio He forfeits half his Wealth: be happy both: And let Sebastian and Almeyda's Fate, This dreadfull Sentence to the World relate, That unrepented Crimes of Parents dead, Are justly punish'd on their Childrens head.

FINIS.