John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  Abdal. I must submit,

  On what hard terms soe’er my peace be bought.

  Lyndar. Submit! — you speak as you were not in fault. —

  ’Tis evident the injury is mine;

  For why should you my secret thoughts divine?

  Abdal. Yet if we might be judged by reason’s laws —

  Lyndar. Then you would have your reason judge my cause! —

  Either confess your fault, or hold your tongue;

  For I am sure I’m never in the wrong.

  Abdal. Then I acknowledge it.

  Lyndar. Then I forgive.

  Abdal. Under how hard a law poor lovers live!

  Who, like the vanquished, must their right release,

  And with the loss of reason buy their peace. — [Aside.

  Madam, to show that you my power command,

  I put my life and safety in your hand: —

  Dispose of the Albayzyn as you please,

  To your fair hands I here resign the keys.

  Lyndar. I take your gift, because your love it shows,

  And faithful Selin for alcade chuse.

  Abdal. Selin, from her alone your orders take. —

  This one request, yet, madam, let me make,

  That, from those turrets, you the assault will see;

  And crown, once more, my arms with victory. [Exeunt, leading her out.

  [Selin remains with Gazul and Reduan, his servants.

  Selin. Gazul, go tell my daughter that I wait —

  You Reduan, bring the prisoner to his fate. [Exeunt Gaz. and Red.

  Ere of my charge I will possession take,

  A bloody sacrifice I mean to make:

  The manes of my son shall smile this day,

  While I, in blood, my vows of vengeance pay.

  Enter at one door Benzayda, with Gazul; at the other, Ozmyn bound, with Reduan.

  Selin. I sent, Benzayda, to glad your eyes:

  These rites we owe your brother’s obsequies. —

  You two [To Gaz. and Red.] the cursed Abencerrago bind:

  You need no more to instruct you in my mind. [They bind him to a corner of the stage.

  Benz. In what sad object am I called to share?

  Tell me, what is it, sir, you here prepare?

  Selin. ’Tis what your dying brother did bequeath;

  A scene of vengeance, and a pomp of death!

  Benz. The horrid spectacle my soul does fright:

  I want the heart to see the dismal sight.

  Selin. You are my principal invited guest,

  Whose eyes I would not only feed, but feast:

  You are to smile at his last groaning breath,

  And laugh to see his eye-balls roll in death;

  To judge the lingering soul’s convulsive strife,

  When thick short breath catches at parting life.

  Benz. And of what marble do you think me made?

  Selin. What! can you be of just revenge afraid?

  Benz. He killed my brother in his own defence.

  Pity his youth, and spare his innocence.

  Selin. Art thou so soon to pardon murder won?

  Can he be innocent, who killed my son?

  Abenamar shall mourn as well as I;

  His Ozmyn, for my Tarifa, shall die.

  But since thou plead’st so boldly, I will see

  That justice, thou would’st hinder, done by thee.

  Here, [Gives her his sword.] take the sword, and do a sister’s part:

  Pierce his, fond girl, or I will pierce thy heart.

  Ozm. To his commands I join my own request;

  All wounds from you are welcome to my breast:

  Think only, when your hand this act has done,

  It has but finished what your eyes begun.

  I thought, with silence, to have scorned my doom;

  But now your noble pity has o’ercome;

  Which I acknowledge with my latest breath, —

  The first whoe’er began a love in death.

  Benz. to Selin. Alas, what aid can my weak hand afford?

  You see I tremble when I touch a sword:

  The brightness dazzles me, and turns my sight;

  Or, if I look, ’tis but to aim less right.

  Ozm. I’ll guide the hand which must my death convey;

  My leaping heart shall meet it half the way.

  Selin to Benz. Waste not the precious time in idle breath.

  Benz. Let me resign this instrument of death. [Giving the sword to her father, and then pulling it back.

  Ah, no! I was too hasty to resign:

  ’Tis in your hand more mortal than in mine.

  Enter Hamet.

  Hamet. The king is from the Alhambra beaten back,

  And now preparing for a new attack;

  To favour which, he wills, that instantly

  You reinforce him with a new supply.

  Selin to Benz. Think not, although my duty calls me hence,

  That with the breach of yours I will dispense.

  Ere my return, see my commands you do:

  Let me find Ozmyn dead, and killed by you. —

  Gazul and Reduan, attend her still;

  And, if she dares to fail, perform my will. [Exeunt Selin and Hamet.

  [Benzayda looks languishing on him, with her sword down; Gazul and Reduan standing with drawn swords by her.

  Ozm. Defer not, fair Benzayda, my death:

  Looking on you,

  I should but live to sigh away my breath.

  My eyes have done the work they had to do:

  I take your image with me, which they drew;

  And, when they close, I shall die full of you.

  Benz. When parents their commands unjustly lay,

  Children are privileged to disobey;

  Yet from that breach of duty I am clear,

  Since I submit the penalty to bear.

  To die, or kill you, is the alternative;

  Rather than take your life, I will not live.

  Ozm. This shows the excess of generosity;

  But, madam, you have no pretence to die.

  I should defame the Abencerrages race,

  To let a lady suffer in my place.

  But neither could that life, you would bestow,

  Save mine; nor do you so much pity owe

  To me, a stranger, and your house’s foe.

  Benz. From whencesoe’er their hate our houses drew,

  I blush to tell you, I have none for you.

  ’Tis a confession which I should not make,

  Had I more time to give, or you to take:

  But, since death’s near, and runs with so much force,

  We must meet first, and intercept his course.

  Ozm. Oh, how unkind a comfort do you give!

  Now I fear death again, and wish to live.

  Life were worth taking, could I have it now;

  But ’tis more good than heaven can e’er allow

  To one man’s portion, to have life and you.

  Benz. Sure, at our births,

  Death with our meeting planets danced above,

  Or we were wounded by a mourning love! — [Shouts within.

  Red. The noise returns, and doubles from behind;

  It seems as if two adverse armies joined. —

  Time presses us.

  Gaz. If longer you delay,

  We must, though loth, your father’s will obey.

  Ozm. Haste, madam, to fulfil his hard commands.

  And rescue me from their ignoble hands.

  Let me kiss yours, when you my wound begin,

  Then easy death will slide with pleasure in.

  Benz. Ah, gentle soldiers, some short time allow! [To Gaz. and Red.

  My father has repented him ere now;

  Or will repent him, when he finds me dead.

  My clue of life is twined with Ozmyn’s thread.

  Red. ’Tis fatal to refuse her, or obey. —

  But where is our excuse? w
hat can we say?

  Benz. Say any thing.

  Say, that to kill the guiltless you were loth;

  Or if you did, say, I would kill you both.

  Gaz. To disobey our orders is to die. —

  I’ll do’t, — who dares oppose it?

  Red. That dare I. [Reduan stands before Ozmyn, and fights with Gazul. Benzayda unbinds Ozmyn, and gives him her sword.

  Benz. Stay not to see the issue of the fight; [Red. kills Gaz.

  But haste to save yourself by speedy flight. [Ozmyn kneels to kiss her hand.

  Ozm. Did all mankind against my life conspire.

  Without this blessing I would not retire. —

  But madam, can I go and leave you here?

  Your father’s anger now for you I fear:

  Consider you have done too much to stay.

  Benz. Think not of me, but fly yourself away.

  Red. Haste quickly hence; the enemies are nigh!

  From every part I see the soldiers fly.

  The foes not only our assailants beat,

  But fiercely sally out on their retreat,

  And, like a sea broke loose, come on amain.

  Enter Abenamar, and a party with their swords drawn, driving in some of the enemies.

  Aben. Traitors, you hope to save yourselves in vain! —

  Your forfeit lives shall for your treason pay;

  And Ozmyn’s blood shall be revenged this day.

  Ozm. No, sir, your Ozmyn lives; and lives to own [Kneeling to his father.

  A father’s piety to free his son.

  Aben. My Ozmyn! — O, thou blessing of my age! [Embracing him.

  And art thou safe from their deluded rage! —

  Whom must I praise for thy deliverance?

  Was it thy valour, or the work of chance?

  Ozm. Nor chance, nor valour, could deliver me;

  But ’twas a noble pity set me free. —

  My liberty, and life,

  And what your happiness you’re pleased to call,

  We to this charming beauty owe it all.

  Aben. Instruct me, visible divinity! — [To her.

  Instruct me by what name to worship thee!

  For to thy virtue I would altars raise,

  Since thou art much above all human praise.

  But see, —

  Enter Almanzor, his sword bloody, leading in Almahide attended by Esperanza.

  My other blessing, Almahide, is here! —

  I’ll to the king, and tell him she is near:

  You, Ozmyn, on your fair deliverer wait,

  And with your private joys the public celebrate. [Exeunt Aben. Ozm. and Benz.

  Almanz. The work is done; now, madam, you are free;

  At least, if I can give you liberty:

  But you have chains which you yourself have chose;

  And, O, that I could free you too from those!

  But you are free from force, and have full power

  To go, and kill my hopes and me, this hour. —

  I see, then, you will go; but yet my toil

  May he rewarded with a looking while.

  Almah. Almanzor can from every subject raise

  New matter for our wonder and his praise.

  You bound and freed me; but the difference is,

  That showed your valour; but your virtue this.

  Almanz. Madam, you praise a funeral victory,

  At whose sad pomp the conqueror must die.

  Almah. Conquest attends Almanzor every where;

  I am too small a foe for him to fear:

  But heroes still must be opposed by some,

  Or they would want occasion to o’ercome.

  Almanz. Madam, I cannot on bare praises live:

  Those, who abound in praises, seldom give.

  Almah. While I to all the world your worth make known,

  May heaven reward the pity you have shown!

  Almanz. My love is languishing, and starved to death;

  And would you give me charity — in breath?

  Prayers are the alms of churchmen to the poor:

  They send’s to heaven, but drive us from their door.

  Almah. Cease, cease a suit

  So vain to you, and troublesome to me,

  If you will have me think that I am free.

  If I am yet a slave, my bonds I’ll bear;

  But what I cannot grant, I will not hear.

  Almanz. You will not hear! — You must both hear and grant;

  For, madam, there’s an impudence in want.

  Almah. Your way is somewhat strange to ask relief

  You ask with threatening, like a begging thief. —

  Once more, Almanzor, tell me, am I free?

  Almanz. Madam, you are, from all the world, — but me! —

  But as a pirate, when he frees the prize

  He took from friends, sees the rich merchandize,

  And, after he has freed it, justly buys;

  So, when I have restored your liberty —

  But then, alas, I am too poor to buy!

  Almah. Nay, now you use me just as pirates do:

  You free me; but expect a ransom too.

  Almanz. You’ve all the freedom that a prince can have;

  But greatness cannot be without a slave.

  A monarch never can in private move,

  But still is haunted with officious love.

  So small an inconvenience you may bear;

  ’Tis all the fine fate sets upon the fair.

  Almah. Yet princes may retire, whene’er they please,

  And breathe free air from out their palaces:

  They go sometimes unknown, to shun their state;

  And then, ’tis manners not to know or wait.

  Almanz. If not a subject then, a ghost I’ll be;

  And from a ghost, you know, no place is free.

  Asleep, awake, I’ll haunt you every where;

  From my white shroud groan love into your ear:

  When in your lover’s arms you sleep at night,

  I’ll glide in cold betwixt, and seize my right:

  And is’t not better, in your nuptial bed,

  To have a living lover than a dead?

  Almah. I can no longer bear to be accused,

  As if what I could grant you, I refused.

  My father’s choice I never will dispute;

  And he has chosen ere you moved your suit.

  You know my case; if equal you can be,

  Plead for yourself, and answer it for me.

  Almanz. Then, madam, in that hope you bid me live;

  I ask no more than you may justly give:

  But in strict justice there may favour be,

  And may I hope that you have that for me?

  Almah. Why do you thus my secret thoughts pursue,

  Which, known, hurt me, and cannot profit you?

  Your knowledge but new troubles does prepare,

  Like theirs who curious in their fortunes are.

  To say, I could with more content be yours,

  Tempts you to hope; but not that hope assures.

  For since the king has right,

  And favoured by my father in his suit,

  It is a blossom which can bear no fruit.

  Yet, if you dare attempt so hard a task,

  May you succeed; you have my leave to ask.

  Almanz. I can with courage now my hopes pursue,

  Since I no longer have to combat you.

  That did the greatest difficulty bring;

  The rest are small, a father and a king!

  Almah. Great souls discern not when the leap’s too wide,

  Because they only view the farther side.

  Whatever you desire, you think is near;

  But, with more reason, the event I fear.

  Almanz. No; there is a necessity in fate,

  Why still the brave bold man is fortunate:

  He keeps his object ever full in sight,

  And that assurance hold
s him firm and right.

  True, ’tis a narrow path that leads to bliss,

  But right before there is no precipice:

  Fear makes men look aside, and then their footing miss.

  Almah. I do your merit all the right I can;

  Admiring virtue in a private man: I only wish the king may grateful be,

  And that my father with my eyes may see.

  Might I not make it as my last request, —

  Since humble carriage suits a suppliant best, —

  That you would somewhat of your fierceness hide —

  That inborn fire — I do not call it pride?

  Almanz. Born, as I am, still to command, not sue,

  Yet you shall see that I can beg for you;

  And if your father will require a crown,

  Let him but name the kingdom, ’tis his own.

  I am, but while I please, a private man;

  I have that soul which empires first began.

  From the dull crowd, which every king does lead,

  I will pick out whom I will chuse to head:

  The best and bravest souls I can select,

  And on their conquered necks my throne erect. [Exeunt.

  ACT V.

  SCENE I.

  Abdalla alone, under the walls of the Albayzyn.

  Abdal. While she is mine, I have not yet lost all,

  But in her arms shall have a gentle fall:

  Blest in my love, although in war o’ercome,

  I fly, like Antony from Actium,

  To meet a better Cleopatra here. —

  You of the watch! you of the watch! appear.

  Sold. [above.] Who calls below? What’s your demand?

  Abdal. ’Tis I:

  Open the gate with speed; the foe is nigh.

  Sold. What orders for admittance do you bring?

  Abdal. Slave, my own orders; look, and know the king.

  Sold. I know you; but my charge is so severe,

  That none, without exception, enter here.

  Abdal. Traitor, and rebel! thou shalt shortly see

  Thy orders are not to extend to me.

  Lyndar. [above.] What saucy slave so rudely does exclaim,

  And brands my subject with a rebel’s name?

  Abdal. Dear Lyndaraxa, haste; the foes pursue.

  Lyndar. My lord, the Prince Abdalla, is it you?

  I scarcely can believe the words I hear;

  Could you so coarsely treat my officer?

  Abdal. He forced me; but the danger nearer draws:

  When I am entered, you shall know the cause.

  Lyndar. Entered! Why, have you any business here?

  Abdal. I am pursued, the enemy is near.

  Lyndar. Are you pursued, and do you thus delay

  To save yourself? Make haste, my lord, away.

  Abdal. Give me not cause to think you mock my grief: