Thee not; for what thou art yet wants a name;
But something so unworthy and so vile,
That to have loved thee makes me yet more lost
Than all the malice of my other fate.
Traitor, monster, cold, and perfidious slave!
A slave not daring to be free; nor dares
To love above him; for 'tis dangerous.
'Tis that, I know; for thou dost look, with eyes
Sparkling desire, and trembling to possess.
I know my charms have reached thy very soul,
And thrilled thee through with darted fires; but
thou

Dost fear so much, thou darest not wish. The king!

There, there's the dreadful sound! the king's thy rival!

Sel. Madam, the king is here, and entering now. Zara. As I could wish; by Heaven I'll be revenged.

Enter the KING, PEREZ, and Attendants. King. Why does the fairest of her kind withdraw

Her shining from the day, to gild this scene
Of death and night? Ha! what disorder's this?
Somewhat I heard of king and rival mentioned.
What's he that dares be rival to the king,
Or lift his eyes to like where I adore ?

Zara. There, he, your prisoner, and that was
my slave.

King. How? better than my hopes? Does she accuse him? [Aside. Zara. Am I become so low by my captivity, And do your arms so lessen what they conquer,

That Zara must be made the sport of slaves?
And shall the wretch, whom yester sun beheld
Waiting my nod, the creature of my power,
Presume to-day to plead audacious love,
And build bold hopes on my dejected fate?
King. Better for him to tempt the rage of
Heaven,

And wrench the bolt red-hissing from the hand Of him that thunders, than but to think that insolence.

'Tis daring for a god. Hence to the wheel With that Ixion, who aspires to hold Divinity embraced; to whips and prisons Drag him with speed, and rid me of his face. [Guards seize Osmyn, and exeunt. Zura. Compassion led me to bemoan his state, Whose former faith had merited much more: And, through my hopes in you, I undertook He should be set at large! thence sprung his insolence,

And what was charity, he construed love.

King. Enough; his punishment be what you
please.

But let me lead you from this place of sorrow,
To one where young delights attend, and joys,
Yet new, unborn, and blooming in the bud,
Which wait to be full-blown at your approach,
And spread, like roses to the morning sun:
Where every hour shall roll in circling joys,
And love shall wing the tedious wasting day.
Life, without love, is load; and time stands still:
What we refuse to him, to death we give;
And then, then only, when we love, we live.
[Exeunt.

But 'tis torn off-Why should that word alone

But Heaven was deaf, Heaven heard him not;

but thus,

Thus as the name of Heaven from this is torn, So did it tear the ears of mercy from

His voice, shutting the gates of prayer against him.

If piety be thus debarred access

On high, and of good men the very best
Is singled out to bleed, and bear the scourge,
What is reward? Or what is punishment?
But who shall dare to tax eternal justice!
Yet I may think—I may, I must; for thought
Precedes the will to think, and error lives
Ere reason can be born. Reason, the power
To guess at right and wrong, the twinkling lamp
Of wandering life, that winks and wakes by
turns,

Fooling the follower, betwixt shade and shining.
What noise! Who's there? My friend? How

camest thou hither?

Enter HELI.

Heli. The time's too precious to be spent in telling.

The captain, influenced by Almeria's power,
Gave order to the guards for my admittance.

Osm. How does Almeria? But I know she is
As I am. Tell me, may I hope to see her?
Heli. You may. Anon, at midnight, when the
king

Is gone to rest, and Garcia is retired,
Who takes the privilege to visit late,
Presuming on a bridegroom's right, she'll come.
Osm. She'll come; 'tis what I wish, yet what
I fear.

She'll come; but whither, and to whom? Oh,
Heaven!

To a vile prison, and a captived wretch;

To one, whom, had she never known, she had Been happy. Why, why was that heavenly crea

ture

Abandoned o'er to love what Heaven forsakes?
Why does she follow, with unwearied steps,
One, who has tired misfortune with pursuing?
One driven about the world, like blasted leaves
And chaff, the sport of adverse winds; 'till late,
At length imprisoned in some cleft of rock,
On earth it rests, and rots to silent dust?

Heli. Have hopes, and hear the voice of better fate.

I have learned there are disorders ripe for mutiny Among the troops, who thought to share the plunder,

Which Manuel to his own use and avarice Converts. This news has reached Valentia's frontiers,

Where many of your subjects, long oppressed
With tyranny, and grievous impositions,
Are risen in arms, and call for chiefs to head
And lead them, to regain their rights and liberty.
Osm. By Heaven thou hast roused me from
my lethargy !

The spirit which was deaf to my own wrongs,
And the loud cries of my dead father's blood,
Deaf to revenge-nay, which refused to hear
The piercing sighs and murmurs of my love
Yet unenjoyed; what not Almeria could
Revive or raise, my people's voice has wakened.
Heli. Our posture of affairs, and scanty time,
My lord, require you should compose yourself.
Osm. Oh, my Antonio! I am all on fire;
My soul is up in arms, ready to charge
And bear amidst the foe with conquering troops.
I hear them call to lead them on to liberty,
To victory; their shouts and clamours rend
My ears, and reach the heavens. Where is the
king?

Where is Alphonso? Ha! where? where indeed?
Oh, I could tear and burst the strings of life,
To break these chains. Off, off, ye stains of

alty;

Off, slavery. Oh, curse! that I alone VOL. I.

roy

Can beat and flutter in my cage, when I Would soar and stoop at victory beneath.

Heli. Abate this ardour, sir, or we are lost; And think on what we may reduce to practice. Zara, the cause of your restraint, may be The means of liberty restored. That gained, Occasion will not fail to point out ways For your escape. Mean time, I have thought already

With speed and safety to convey myself,
Where, not far off, some malcontents hold coun-
cil

Nightly, who hate this tyrant; some, who love
Anselmo's memory, and will, for certain,
When they shall know you live, assist your cause.
Osm. My friend and counsellor, as thou think'st
fit,

So do. I will, with patience, wait my fortune.
Heli. When Zara comes, abate of your aver-

sion.

Osm. I hate her not, nor can dissemble love: But as I may I'll do. I have a paper

Which I would shew thee, friend, but that the sight

Would hold thee here, and clog thy expedition. Within I found it, by my father's hand 'Twas writ; a prayer for me, wherein appears Paternal love, prevailing o'er his sorrows; Such sanctity, such tenderness, so mixed With grief, as would draw tears from inhumanity.

Heli. The care of Providence sure left it there, To arm your mind with hope. Such piety Was never heard in vain. Heaven has in store For you those blessings it withheld from him. In that assurance live; which time, I hope, And our next meeting, will confirm.

Osm. Farewell,

My friend; the good thou dost deserve, attend thee. [Exit Heli.

I have been to blame, and questioned, with im-
piety,
The care of Heaven.
More anxious grief.
taught me ;

Not so my father bore
This should have better

This lesson, in some hour of inspiration By him set down, when his pure thoughts were borne,

Like fumes of sacred incense, o'er the clouds, And wafted thence, on angels' wings, through

And promises a day to this dark dwelling?. Is it my love?

Zaru. Oh, that thy heart had taught

Thy tongue that saying!

Osm. Zara! I am betrayed

By my surprise.

Zara. What does my face displease thee?
That, having seen it, thou dost turn thy eyes
Away, as from deformity and horror?
If so, this sable curtain shall again

Be drawn, and I will stand before thee, seeing,
And unseen. Is it my love? Ask again
That question; speak again in that soft voice;
And look again with wishes in thy eyes.
Oh, no! thou canst not, for thou seest me now,
As she, whose savage breast hath been the cause
Of these thy wrongs; as she, whose barbarous

rage

Has loaded thee with chains and galling irons. Well dost thou scorn me, and upbraid my false

ness;

Could one who loved, thus torture whom she loved?

No, no, it must be hatred, dire revenge,
And detestation, that could use thee thus.
So dost thou think; then do but tell me so;
Tell me, and thou shalt see how I'll revenge
Thee on this false one, how I'll stab and tear
This heart of flint, 'till it shall bleed; and thou
Shall weep for mine, forgetting thy own miseries.
Osm. You wrong me, beauteous Zara, to be-
lieve

I bear my fortunes with so low a mind,
As still to meditate revenge on all,
Whom chance, or fate, working by secret causes,
Has made, per-force, subservient to that end
The heavenly powers allot me; no, not you,
But destiny, and inauspicious stars,
Have cast me down to this low being. Or,
Granting you had, from you I have deserved it.
Zara. Canst thou forgive me, then? wilt thou
believe

So kindly of my fault, to call it madness?
Oh, give that madness yet a milder name,
And call it passion! then, be still more kind,
And call that passion love.

Osm. Give it a name,

Or being, as you please, such I will think it. Zara. Oh, thou dost wound me more with this thy goodness,

Than e'er thou couldst with bitterest reproaches; Thy anger could not pierce thus to my heart. Osm. Yet I could wish

Zara. Haste me to know it; what?

Osm. That at this time I had not been this thing.

Zara. What thing?

Osm. This slave.

Zara. Oh, Heaven! my fears interpret This thy silence; somewhat of high concern, Long fashioning within thy labouring mind, And now just ripe for birth, my rage has ruined.

Zara. Swift as occasion, I

Myself will fly; and earlier than the morn, Wake thee to freedom. Now 'tis late; and

yet

Some news few minutes past arrived, which seemed

To shake the temper of the king-Who knows
What racking cares disease a monarch's bed?
Or love, that late at night still lights his lamp,
And strikes his rays through dusk and folded lids,
Forbidding rest, may stretch his eyes awake,
And force their balls abroad at this dead hour.
I'll try.

Osm. I have not merited this grace;
Nor, should my secret purpose take effect,
Can I repay, as you require, such benefits.

Zara. Thou canst not owe me more, nor have

I more

To give, than I have already lost. But now,
So does the form of our engagements rest,
Thou hast the wrong till I redeem thee hence;
That done, I leave thy justice to return
My love. Adicu.

Osm. This woman has a soul,

[Erit.

Of godlike mould, intrepid and commanding,
And challenges, in spite of mc, my best
Esteem; to this, she's fair, few more can boast
Of personal charms, or with less vanity
Might hope to captivate the hearts of kings;
But she has passions which outstrip the wind,
And tear her virtues up, as tempests root
The sea. I fear, when she shall know the truth,
Some swift and dire event of her blind rage
Will make all fatal. But, behold, she comes
For whom I fear, to shield me from my fears,
The cause and comfort of my boding heart.
Enter ALMERIA.

My life, my health, my liberty, my all!
How shall I welcome thee to this sad place?
How speak to thee the words of joy and trans-
port?

How run into thy arms, withheld by fetters?
Or take thee into mine, while I am thus mana-
cled,

And pinioned, like a thief or murderer?`
Shall I not hurt and bruise thy tender body,
And stain thy bosom with the rust of these
Rude irons? Must I meet thee thus, Almeria ?
Alm. Thus, thus; we parted, thus to meet a-
gain.

Thou toldst me thou wouldst think how we might meet,

To part no more-)
-Now, we will part no more;
For these thy chains, or death, shall join us ever.
Osm. Hard means to ratify that word! Oh
cruelty!

That ever I should think beholding thee

Though 'tis because thou lovest me. Do not say,
On any terms, that thou dost wish me from thee.
No, no, 'tis better thus, that we together
Feed on each other's heart, devour our woes
With mutual appetite; and, mingling in

One cup the common stream of both our eyes,
Drink bitter draughts, with never-slaking thirst;
Thus better, than for any cause to part.
What dost thou think? Look not so tenderly
Upon me-speak, and take me in thy arms-
Thou canst not; thy poor arms are bound, and
strive,

In vain, with the remorseless chains, which gnaw
And eat into thy flesh, festering thy limbs
With rankling rust.

Osm. Oh! O

Alm. Give me that sigh.

Why dost thou heave, and stifle in thy griefs? Thy heart will burst, thy eyes look red, and start; Give thy soul way, and tell me thy dark thought. Osm. For this world's rule, I would not wound thy breast

With such a dagger as then stuck my heart. Alm. Why? why? To know it, cannot wound

me more

Than knowing thou hast felt it. Tell it me,
Thou givest me pain with too much tenderness.
Osm. And thy excessive love distracts my sense.
Oh, wouldst thou be less killing, soft, or kind,
Grief could not double thus his darts against me.
Alm. Thou dost me wrong, and grief, too, robs
my heart,

If there he shoot not every other shaft;
Thy second self should feel each other wound,
And woe should be in equal portions dealt.
I am thy wife-

Osm. Oh, thou hast searched too deep:
There, there I bleed; there pull the cruel cords,
That strain my cracking nerves; engines and
wheels,

That piece-meal grind, are beds of down and balm

To that soul-racking thought,

Alm, Then I am cursed

Indeed, if that be so! if I am thy torment,
Kill me, then, kill me, dash me with thy chains,
Tread on me: What, am I the bosom-snake
That sucks thy warm life-blood, and gnaws thy
heart?

Oh, that thy words had force to break those bonds,

As they have strength to tear this heart in sunder;

So shouldst thou be at large from all oppression. Am I, am I of all thy woes the worst?

Osm. My all of bliss, my everlasting life, Soul of my soul, and end of all my wishes,

Why dost thou thus unman me with thy words, And melt me down to mingle with thy weepings? Why dost thou ask? Why dost thou talk thus piercingly?

Thy sorrows have disturbed thy peace of mind, And thou dost speak of miseries impossible.

Alm. Didst not thou say, that racks and wheels were balm,

And beds of ease, to thinking me thy wife? Osm. No, no; nor should the subtlest pains that hell,

Or hell-born malice, can invent, extort

A wish, or thought, from me to have thee other.
But thou wilt know what harrows up my heart:
Thou art my wife-nay, thou art yet my bride-
The sacred union of connubial love

Yet unaccomplished: his mysterious rites
Delayed; nor has our Hymeneal torch
Yet lighted up his last most grateful sacrifice;
But dashed with rain from eyes, and swailed with
sighs,

Burns dim, and glimmers with expiring light,
Is this dark cell a temple for that god?
Or this vile earth an altar for such offerings?
This den for slaves, this dungeon damped with

Because not knowing danger. But look forward; Think of to-morrow, when thou shalt be torn From these weak, struggling, unextended arms: Think how my heart will heave, and eyes will strain,

To grasp and reach what is denied my hands: Think how the blood will start, and tears will gush,

To follow thee, my separating soul.

Think how I am, when thou shalt wed with Garcia !

Then will I smear these walls with blood, disfigure

And dash my face, and rive my clotted hair,
Break on the flinty floor my throbbing breast,
And grovel, with gashed hands, to scratch a grave,
Stripping my nails to tear this pavement up,
And bury me alive.

Alm. Heart-breaking horror!

Osm. Then Garcia shall lie panting on thy bo

som,

Luxurious, revelling amidst thy charms;
And thou, per-force, must yield, and aid his trans-
port.

Hell! hell! have I not cause to rage and rave?
What are all racks, and wheels, and whips, to this?
Are they not soothing softness, sinking ease,
And wafting air, to this? Oh, my Almeria!
What do the damned endure, but to despair,
But knowing heaven, to know it lost for ever?
Alm. Oh, I am struck; thy words are bolts of
ice,

Which, shot into my breast, now melt and chill

Zara. I did not know the princess' favourite. Your pardon, sir-mistake me not; you think I am angry; you are deceived. I came to set You free; but shall return much better pleased, To find you have an interest superior.

Osm. You do not come to mock my miseries? Zara. I do.

Osm. I could at this time spare your mirth. Zara. I know thou couldst; but I am not often pleased,

And will indulge it now. What miseries?
Who would not be thus happily confined,
To be the care of weeping majesty;

To have contending queens, at dead of night,
Forsake their down, to wake with watery eyes,
And watch, like tapers, o'er your hours of rest?
Oh, curse! I cannot hold-

Osm. Come, it is too much.
Zara. Villain!

Osm. How, madam!
Zara. Thou shalt die.
Osm. I thank you.

Zara. Thou liest, for now I know for whom thou wouldst live.

Osm. Then you may know for whom I would

die.

Zara. Hell! hell!

Yet I will be calm-Dark and unknown be

trayer!

But now the dawn begins, and the slow hand Of fate is stretched to draw the veil, and leave Thee bare, the naked mark of public view.

Osm. You may be still deceived, 'tis in my power

Zara. Ha! sayest thou-but I will prevent itWho waits there? As you will answer it, look this slave [To the guard. Attempt no means to make himself away. I have been deceived. The public safety now Requires he should be more confined, and none, No, not the princess, suffered or to see Or speak with him. I will quit you to the king. Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent The base injustice thou hast done my love: Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past distress, And all those ills which thou so long hast mourned;

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned [Exeunt.