John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  — Honoratum si fortè reponis Achillem,

  Inpiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer,

  Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis.

  Tasso’s chief character, Rinaldo, was a man of the same temper; for, when he had slain Gernando in his heat of passion, he not only refused to be judged by Godfrey, his general, but threatened that if he came to seize him, he would right himself by arms upon him; witness these following lines of Tasso:

  Venga egli, o mundi, io terrò fermo il piede:

  Giudici fian tra noi la sorte, e l’arme;

  Fera tragedia vuol che s’appresenti,

  Per lor diporto, alle nemiche genti.

  You see how little these great authors did esteem the point of honour, so much magnified by the French, and so ridiculously aped by us. They made their heroes men of honour; but so, as not to divest them quite of human passions and frailties: they content themselves to shew you, what men of great spirits would certainly do when they were provoked, not what they were obliged to do by the strict rules of moral virtue. For my own part, I declare myself for Homer and Tasso, and am more in love with Achilles and Rinaldo, than with Cyrus and Oroondates. I shall never subject my characters to the French standard, where love and honour are to be weighed by drams and scruples: Yet, where I have designed the patterns of exact virtues, such as in this play are the parts of Almahide, of Ozmyn, and Benzayda, I may safely challenge the best of theirs.

  But Almanzor is taxed with changing sides: and what tie has he on him to the contrary? He is not born their subject whom he serves, and he is injured by them to a very high degree. He threatens them, and speaks insolently of sovereign power; but so do Achilles and Rinaldo, who were subjects and soldiers to Agamemnon and Godfrey of Bulloigne. He talks extravagantly in his passion; but, if I would take the pains to quote an hundred passages of Ben Jonson’s Cethegus, I could easily shew you, that the rhodomontades of Almanzor are neither so irrational as his, nor so impossible to be put in execution; for Cethegus threatens to destroy nature, and to raise a new one out of it; to kill all the senate for his part of the action; to look Cato dead; and a thousand other things as extravagant he says, but performs not one action in the play.

  But none of the former calumnies will stick; and, therefore, it is at last charged upon me, that Almanzor does all things; or if you will have an absurd accusation, in their nonsense who make it, that he performs impossibilities: they say, that being a stranger, he appeases two fighting factions, when the authority of their lawful sovereign could not. This is indeed the most improbable of all his actions, but it is far from being impossible. Their king had made himself contemptible to his people, as the history of Granada tells us; and Almanzor, though a stranger, yet was already known to them by his gallantry in the Juego de torros, his engagement on the weaker side, and more especially by the character of his person and brave actions, given by Abdalla just before; and, after all, the greatness of the enterprise consisted only in the daring, for he had the king’s guards to second him: But we have read both of Cæsar, and many other generals, who have not only calmed a mutiny with a word, but have presented themselves single before an army of their enemies; which upon sight of them has revolted from their own leaders, and come over to their trenches. In the rest of Almanzor’s actions you see him for the most part victorious; but the same fortune has constantly attended many heroes, who were not imaginary. Yet, you see it no inheritance to him; for, in the first place, he is made a prisoner; and, in the last, defeated, and not able to preserve the city from being taken. If the history of the late Duke of Guise be true, he hazarded more, and performed not less in Naples, than Almanzor is feigned to have done in Granada.

  I have been too tedious in this apology; but to make some satisfaction, I will leave the rest of my play exposed to the criticks, without defence. The concernment of it is wholly passed from me, and ought to be in them who have been favourable to it, and are somewhat obliged to defend their opinions That there are errors in it, I deny not;

  Ast opere in tanto fas est obrepere somnum.

  But I have already swept the stakes: and, with the common good fortune of prosperous gamesters, can be content to sit quietly; to hear my fortune cursed by some, and my faults arraigned by others; and to suffer both without reply.

  ON MR DRYDEN’S PLAY, THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA.

  The applause I gave among the foolish crowd

  Was not distinguished, though I clapped aloud:

  Or, if it had, my judgment had been hid:

  I clapped for company, as others did.

  Thence may be told the fortune of your play;

  Its goodness must be tried another way.

  Let’s judge it then, and, if we’ve any skill,

  Commend what’s good, though we commend it ill.

  There will be praise enough; yet not so much,

  As if the world had never any such:

  Ben Johnson, Beaumont, Fletcher, Shakespeare, are,

  As well as you, to have a poet’s share.

  You, who write after, have, besides, this curse,

  You must write better, or you else write worse.

  To equal only what was writ before,

  Seems stolen, or borrowed from the former store.

  Though blind as Homer all the ancients be,

  ’Tis on their shoulders, like the lame, we see.

  Then not to flatter th’ age, nor flatter you,

  (Praises, though less, are greater when they’re true,)

  You’re equal to the best, out-done by you;

  Who had out-done themselves, had they lived now.

  Vaughan.

  PROLOGUE TO THE FIRST PART, SPOKEN BY MRS ELLEN GWYN, IN A BROAD-BRIMMED HAT, AND WAIST-BELT.

  This jest was first of the other house’s making,

  And, five times tried, has never failed of taking;

  For ‘twere a shame a poet should be killed

  Under the shelter of so broad a shield.

  This is that hat, whose very sight did win ye

  To laugh and clap as though the devil were in ye.

  As then, for Nokes, so now I hope you’ll be

  So dull, to laugh once more for love of me.

  I’ll write a play, says one, for I have got

  A broad-brimmed hat, and waist-belt, towards a plot.

  Says the other, I have one more large than that.

  Thus they out-write each other — with a hat!

  The brims still grew with every play they writ;

  And grew so large, they covered all the wit.

  Hat was the play; ’twas language, wit, and tale:

  Like them that find meat, drink, and cloth in ale.

  What dulness do these mongrel wits confess,

  When all their hope is acting of a dress!

  Thus, two the best comedians of the age

  Must be worn out, with being blocks o’ the stage;

  Like a young girl, who better things has known,

  Beneath their poet’s impotence they groan.

  See now what charity it was to save!

  They thought you liked, what only you forgave;

  And brought you more dull sense, dull sense much worse

  Than brisk gay nonsense, and the heavier curse.

  They bring old iron, and glass upon the stage,

  To barter with the Indians of our age.

  Still they write on, and like great authors show;

  But ’tis as rollers in wet gardens grow

  Heavy with dirt, and gathering as they go.

  May none, who have so little understood,

  To like such trash, presume to praise what’s good!

  And may those drudges of the stage, whose fate

  Is damned dull farce more dully to translate,

  Fall under that excise the state thinks fit

  To set on all French wares, whose worst is wit.

  French farce, worn out at home, is sent abroad;

  And, patched up here, is made
our English mode.

  Henceforth, let poets, ere allowed to write,

  Be searched, like duelists before they fight,

  For wheel-broad hats, dull honour, all that chaff,

  Which makes you mourn, and makes the vulgar laugh:

  For these, in plays, are as unlawful arms,

  As, in a combat, coats of mail, and charms.

  DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

  Mahomet Boabdelin, the last king of Granada.

  Prince Abdalla, his brother.

  Abdelmelech, chief of the Abencerrages.

  Zulema, chief of the Zegrys.

  Abenamar, an old Abencerrago.

  Selin, an old Zegry.

  Ozmyn, a brave young Abencerrago, son to Abenamar.

  Hamet, brother to Zulema, a Zegry.

  Gomel, a Zegry.

  Almanzor.

  Ferdinand, king of Spain.

  Duke of Arcos, his General.

  Don Alonzo d’Aguilar, a Spanish Captain.

  Almahide, Queen of Granada.

  Lyndaraxa, Sister of Zulema, a Zegry Lady.

  Benzayda, Daughter to Selin.

  Esperanza, Slave to the Queen.

  Halyma, Slave to Lyndaraxa.

  Isabella, Queen of Spain.

  Messengers, Guards, Attendants, Men, and Women.

  SCENE. — Granada, and the Christian Camp besieging it.

  THE FIRST PART.

  ACT I.

  SCENE I.

  Enter Boabdelin, Abenamar, Abdelmelech, and Guards.

  Boab. Thus, in the triumphs of soft peace, I reign;

  And, from my walls, defy the powers of Spain;

  With pomp and sports my love I celebrate,

  While they keep distance, and attend my state. —

  Parent to her, whose eyes my soul enthral, [To Aben.

  Whom I, in hope, already father call,

  Abenamar, thy youth these sports has known,

  Of which thy age is now spectator grown;

  Judge-like thou sit’st, to praise, or to arraign

  The flying skirmish of the darted cane:

  But, when fierce bulls run loose upon the place,

  And our bold Moors their loves with danger grace,

  Then heat new-bends thy slacken’d nerves again,

  And a short youth runs warm through every vein.

  Aben. I must confess the encounters of this day

  Warmed me indeed, but quite another way, —

  Not with the fire of youth; but generous rage,

  To see the glories of my youthful age

  So far out-done.

  Abdelm. Castile could never boast, in all its pride;

  A pomp so splendid, when the lists, set wide,

  Gave room to the fierce bulls, which wildly ran

  In Sierra Ronda, ere the war began;

  Who, with high nostrils snuffing up the wind,

  Now stood the champion of the savage kind.

  Just opposite, within the circled place,

  Ten of our bold Abencerrages race

  (Each brandishing his bull-spear in his hand,)

  Did their proud jennets gracefully command.

  On their steel’d heads their demi-lances wore

  Small pennons, which their ladies’ colours bore.

  Before this troop did warlike Ozmyn go;

  Each lady, as he rode, saluting low;

  At the chief stands, with reverence more profound,

  His well-taught courser, kneeling, touched the ground;

  Thence raised, he sidelong bore his rider on,

  Still facing, till he out of sight was gone.

  Boab. You praise him like a friend; and I confess,

  His brave deportment merited no less.

  Abdelm. Nine bulls were launched by his victorious arm,

  Whose wary jennet, shunning still the harm,

  Seemed to attend the shock, and then leaped wide:

  Mean while, his dext’rous rider, when he spied

  The beast just stooping, ‘twixt the neck and head

  His lance, with never-erring fury, sped.

  Aben. My son did well, and so did Hamet too;

  Yet did no more than we were wont to do;

  But what the stranger did was more than man.

  Abdelm. He finished all those triumphs we began.

  One bull, with curled black head, beyond the rest,

  And dew-laps hanging from his brawny chest,

  With nodding front a while did daring stand,

  And with his jetty hoof spurned back the sand;

  Then, leaping forth, he bellowed out aloud:

  The amazed assistants back each other crowd,

  While monarch-like he ranged the listed field;

  Some tossed, some gored, some trampling down he killed.

  The ignobler Moors from far his rage provoke

  With woods of darts, which from his sides he shook.

  Mean time your valiant son, who had before

  Gained fame, rode round to every Mirador;

  Beneath each lady’s stand a stop he made,

  And, bowing, took the applauses which they paid.

  Just in that point of time, the brave unknown

  Approached the lists.

  Boab. I marked him, when alone

  (Observed by all, himself observing none)

  He entered first, and with a graceful pride

  His fiery Arab dextrously did guide,

  Who, while his rider every stand surveyed,

  Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade;

  Not moving forward, yet, with every bound,

  Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground.

  What after passed

  Was far from the Ventanna where I sate,

  But you were near, and can the truth relate. [To Abdelm.

  Abdelm. Thus while he stood, the bull, who saw his foe,

  His easier conquests proudly did forego;

  And, making at him with a furious bound,

  From his bent forehead aimed a double wound.

  A rising murmur ran through all the field,

  And every lady’s blood with fear was chilled:

  Some shrieked, while others, with more helpful care,

  Cried out aloud, — Beware, brave youth, beware!

  At this he turned, and, as the bull drew near,

  Shunned, and received him on his pointed spear:

  The lance broke short, the beast then bellowed loud,

  And his strong neck to a new onset bowed.

  The undaunted youth

  Then drew; and, from his saddle bending low,

  Just where the neck did to the shoulders grow,

  With his full force discharged a deadly blow.

  Not heads of poppies (when they reap the grain)

  Fall with more ease before the labouring swain,

  Than fell this head:

  It fell so quick, it did even death prevent,

  And made imperfect bellowings as it went.

  Then all the trumpets victory did sound,

  And yet their clangors in our shouts were drown’d. [A confused noise within.

  Boab. The alarm-bell rings from our Alhambra walls,

  And from the streets sound drums and ataballes. [Within, a bell, drums, and trumpets.

  Enter a Messenger.

  How now? from whence proceed these new alarms?

  Mess. The two fierce factions are again in arms;

  And, changing into blood the day’s delight,

  The Zegrys with the Abencerrages fight;

  On each side their allies and friends appear;

  The Macas here, the Alabezes there:

  The Gazuls with the Bencerrages join,

  And, with the Zegrys, all great Gomel’s line.

  Boab. Draw up behind the Vivarambla place;

  Double my guards, — these factions I will face;

  And try if all the fury they can bring,

  Be proof against the presence of their king. [Exit Boab.


  The Factions appear: At the head of the Abencerrages, Ozmyn; at the head of the Zegrys, Zulema, Hamet, Gomel, and Selin: Abenamar and Abdelmelech, joined with the Abencerrages.

  Zul. The faint Abencerrages quit their ground:

  Press them; put home your thrusts to every wound.

  Abdelm. Zegry, on manly force our line relies;

  Thine poorly takes the advantage of surprise:

  Unarmed and much out-numbered we retreat;

  You gain no fame, when basely you defeat.

  If thou art brave, seek nobler victory;

  Save Moorish blood; and, while our bands stand by,

  Let two and two an equal combat try.

  Ham. ’Tis not for fear the combat we refuse,

  But we our gained advantage will not lose.

  Zul. In combating, but two of you will fall;

  And we resolve we will dispatch you all.

  Ozm. We’ll double yet the exchange before we die,

  And each of ours two lives of yours shall buy.

  Almanzor enters betwixt them, as they stand ready to engage.

  Alm. I cannot stay to ask which cause is best;

  But this is so to me, because opprest. [Goes to the Aben.

  To them Boabdelin and his guards, going betwixt them.

  Boab. On your allegiance, I command you stay;

  Who passes here, through me must make his way;

  My life’s the Isthmus; through this narrow line

  You first must cut, before those seas can join.

  What fury, Zegrys, has possessed your minds?

  What rage the brave Abencerrages blinds?

  If of your courage you new proofs would show,

  Without much travel you may find a foe.

  Those foes are neither so remote nor few,

  That you should need each other to pursue.

  Lean times and foreign wars should minds unite;

  When poor, men mutter, but they seldom fight.

  O holy Alha! that I live to see

  Thy Granadines assist their enemy!

  You fight the christians’ battles; every life

  You lavish thus, in this intestine strife,

  Does from our weak foundations take one prop,

  Which helped to hold our sinking country up.

  Ozm. ’Tis fit our private enmity should cease;

  Though injured first, yet I will first seek peace.

  Zul. No, murderer, no; I never will be won

  To peace with him, whose hand has slain my son.

  Ozm. Our prophet’s curse