It shall be mine to pay devotion here;
At this fair shrine to lay my laurels down,
And raise love's altar on the spoils of war.
Conquest and triumph now, are mine no more;
Nor will I victory in camps adore:
Fickle in fields, unsteadily she flies,
But rules with settled sway in Zara's eyes.
ACT II.
SCENE I. The Aisle of a Temple.
And that dumb mouth, significant in show
Invites me to the bed, where I alone
Shall rest; shows me the grave,
where na-
ture, weary
And long oppress'd with woes and bending
May lay the burden down aud sink in slumbers
Of peace eternal. My father then
Will cease his tyranny; and Garcia too
Will fly my pale deformity with loathing.
My soul, enlarg'd from its vile bonds, will
Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA. Alm. It was a fancy'd noise, for all is hush'd. And range the starry orbs and milky ways Leon. It bore the accent of a human voice. To my Alphonso's soul. O joy too great! Alm. It was thy fear, or else some tran-O ectasy of thought! Help me, Anselmo!
Whistling through hollows of this vaulted aisle.
We'll listen-
Alm. No, all is hush'd, and still as death-
'tis dreadful!
How rev'rend is the face of this tall pile,
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,
To bear aloft its arch and pond'rous roof,
By its own weight made stedfast and im-
moveable,
Looking tranquillity. It strikes an awe
And terror on my aching sight: the tombs
And monumental caves of death look cold,
And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart.
Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice;
Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear
Thy voice-my own affrights me with its
echoes.
Help me, Alphonso! take me, reach thy hand;
To thee, to thee I call, to thee, Alphonso!
O Alphonso!
Enter OSMYN from the Tomb.
Osm. Who calls that wretched thing that
was Alphonso?
and all the host of heaven, support me!
Osm. Whence is that voice, whose shrillness
from the grave,
And growing to his father's shroud roots up
Alphonso
Alm. Mercy! Providence! O speak,
Speak to it quickly, quickly; speak to me,
Comfort me, help me, hold me, bide
hide me,
Leonora, in thy bosom from the light,
And from my eyes.
Osm. Amazement and illusion!
Rivet and nail me where I stand, ye pow'rs,
[Coming forward,
That motionless I may be still deceiv'd.
Let me not stir or breathe, lest I dissolve
Leon. Let us return: the horror of this place,
And silence, will increase your melancholy.
Alm. It may my fears, but cannot add to that.
No, I will on; show me Anselmo's tomb;
Lead me o'er bones and skulls, and moulder-That tender, lovely form of painted air,
Of human bodies, for I'll mix with them;
Or wind me in the shroud of some pale corse
green in earth, rather than be the bride
Of Garcia's more detested bed: that thought
Exerts my spirit; and my present fears
Are lost in dread of greater ill. Then show me,
Lead me, for I'm bolder grown: Lead on
Where I may kneel, and pay my vows again
To him, to heav'n, and my Alphonso's soul.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Opens and discovers a Place of
Tombs; one Monument fronting the View.
Enter HELI.
Heli. I wander through this maze of mo
So like Almeria. Ha! it sinks, it falls;
I'll catch it ere it goes, and grasp her shade.
'Tis life! 'tis warm! 'tis she! 'tis she herself!
Nor dead, nor shade, but breathing and alive!
It is Almeria, 'tis, it is my wife!
Heli. Ha! 'tis he! and with Almeria!
O miracle of happiness! O joy
Unhoped for! Does Almeria live?
Osm. Where is she?
Let me behold and touch her, and be sure
Tis she.
Look up, Almeria, bless me with thy eyes;
[Exit. Look on thy love, thy lover, and thy husband.
Alm. I've sworn I'll not wed Garcia: why
d'ye force me?
Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA. Leon. Behold the sacred vault, within whose tomb
Osm, Look on thy Alphonso.
Thy father is not here, my love, nor Garcia:
Nor am I what I seem, but thy Alphonso.
Am I so alter'd, or art thou so chang'd,.
That seeing my disguise, thou seest not me?
Alm. It is, it is Alphonso! 'tis his face,
His voice; I know him now, I know him_all.
Oh! how hast thou return'd? how hast thou
charm'd
The wildness of the waves and rocks to this?
That thus relenting they have giv'n thee back You must be quick, for love will lend her wings. To earth, to light and life, to love and me. Alm. What love? who is she? why are you Osm. O l'll not ask, nor answer how, or
We both have backward trod the paths of fate
To meet again in life; to know I have thee,
Is knowing more than any circumstance
Or means by which I have thee-
To fold thee thus, to press thy balmy lips,
And gaze upon thy eyes, is so much joy,
I have no leisure to reflect, or know,
Or trifle time in thinking.
Let me look on thee yet a little more.
Osm. And why? what dost thou mean? why
dost thou gaze so?
Osm. She's the reverse of thee; she's my
unhappiness.
Harbour no thought that may disturb thy peace;
I'll think how we may meet
To part no more: my friend will tell thee all;
How I escap'd, how I am here, and thus;
How I'm not call'd Alphonso now, but Osmyn,
And he Heli. All, all he will unfold,
Ere next we meet-
Alin. Sure we shall meet again-
Osm. We shall; we part not but to meet
again.
Gladness and warmth of ever-kindling love
Alm. I know not, 'tis to see thy face, I think-[Dwell with thee, and revive thy heart in absence. It is too much! too much to bear, and live! To see him thus again is such profusion Of joy, of bliss-I cannot bear-I must Be mad-I cannot be transported thus!
[Exeunt Almeria, Leonora, and Heli. Yet I behold her-yet-and now no more. Turn your lights inward, eyes, and view my thought,
So shall you still hehold her.
Enter ZARA and SELIM.
Zara. See where he stands, folded and fix'd
to earth,
Stiff'ning in thought, a statue among statues!
Why, cruel Osmyn, dost thou fly me thus?
Am I more loathsome to thee than the grave,
That thou dost seek to shield thee there, and
My love? But to the grave I'll follow thee-
He looks not, minds not, hears not: barb'rous
Osm. I was, and lying on my father's lead,
When broken echoes of a distant voice
Disturb'd the sacred silence of the vault,
In murmurs round my head. I rose and listen'd,
And thought I heard thy spirit call Alphonso: Am I neglected thus? am I despis'd?
I thought I saw thee too; but O, I thought not Not heard! ungrateful Osmyn!
That I indeed should be so blest to see thee- Osm. Ha! 'tis Zara!
Alm. But still how cam'st thou hither? how
thus?-Ha!
What's he who, like thyself, is started here
Ere seen?
Osm. Where? Ha! what do I see? Antonio!
I'm fortunate indeed-my friend too, safe!
Heli. Most happily, in finding you thus
Alm. More miracles! Antonio too escap'd! Osm. And twice escap'd, both from the rage of seas
And war; for in the fight I saw him fall.
Heli. But fell unhurt, a pris'ner as yourself, And as yourself made free: hither I came Impatiently to seek you, where I knew
Zara. Yes, traitor! Zara, lost, abandon'd Zara,
Is a regardless suppliant now to Osmyn.
The slave, the wretch that she redeem'd from
death,
Disdains to listen now, or look on Zara.
Osm. Far be the guilt of such reproaches
from me;
Lost in myself, and blinded by my thoughts,
I saw you not till now.
Zara. Now then you see me-
But with such dumb and thankless eyes you
look,
Better I was unseen than seen thus coldly. Osm. What would you from a wretch who came to mourn,
Your grief would lead you to lament Anselmo. And only for his sorrows chose this solitude? Osin. What means the bounty of all-gra-Look round, joy is not here, nor cheerfulness.
Or we could sleep till we again were mei.
You have pursu'd misfortune to its dwelling,
Yet look for gaiety and gladness there.
Zara. Inhuman! Why, why dost thou rack
me thus,
And with perverseness, from the purpose,
answer?
What is't to me, this house of misery?
What joy do I require? If thou dost mourn,
I come to mourn with thee; to share thy griefs,
And give thee for 'em, in exchange, my love.
Osm. O that's the greatest grief-I am so
I have not wherewithal to give again.
Zara. Thou hast a heart, though 'tis a sa-
vage one;
Give it me as it is; I ask no more
Heli. Zara with Selim, sir; I saw and For all I've done, and all I have endur'd:
For saving thee, when I beheld thee first,
Compassion! scarce will own that name, so soon,
So quickly was it love, for thou wert godlike
Ev'n then. Kneeling on earth, I loos'd my hair,
And with it dried those wat'ry cheeks, then chaf'd
Thy temples, till reviving blood arose,
And like the morn vermilion'd o'er thy face.
O heav'n! how did my heart rejoice and ache,
When I beheld the day-break of thy eyes,
And felt the balm of thy respiring lips!
O, why do I relate what I have done?
What did I not? was't not for you this war
Commenc'd? Not knowing who you were, nor
why
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 mention'd.
What's he that dares be rival to the king,
Or lift his eyes to like where I adore?
Zara. There, he, your pris'ner, 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 pow'r,
Presume to-day to plead audacious love,
And build bold hopes on my dejected fate?
King. Better for him to tempt the
rage of
And wrench the bolt, red-hissing from the hand
Of him that thunders, than but think that in-
You hated Manuel, I urg'd my husband
To this invasion, where he late was lost,
Where all is lost, and I am made a slave.
Look on me now, from empire fall'n to slavery;
Think on my suff'rings first, then look on me;
Think on the cause of all, then view thyself:
Reflect on Osmyn, and then look on Zara,
The fall'n, the lost, and now the captive Zara; Tis daring for a god. Hence to the wheel
And now abandon'd – say, what then is Osmyn! With that Ixion, who aspires to hold
Usm. A fatal wretch a huge stupendous Divinity embrac'd; to whips and prisons
ruin,
Drag him with speed, and rid me of his face.
[Guards seize Osmyn.
Zara. Compassion led me to bemoan his
state,
That, tumbling on its prop, crush'd all beneath,
And bore contiguous palaces to earth.
Zara. Yet thus, thus fall'n, thus levell'd with
the vilest,
If I have gain'd thy love, 'tis glorious ruin;
Ruin! 'tis still to reign, and to be more
A queen; for what are riches, empire, pow'r,
But larger means to gratify the will?
The steps on which we tread, to rise and reach
Our wish; and that obtain'd, down with the
scaffolding
Of sceptres, crowns, and thrones; they have
serv'd their end,
And like luniber, to be left and scorn'd. Osm. Why was I made the instrument, to throw
In bonds the frame of this exalted mind?
Zara. We may be free, the conqueror
mine!
In chains, unseen, I hold him by the heart,
And can unwind and strain him as I please.
Give me thy love, I'll give thee liberty.
Osm. In vain you offer, and in vain require What neither can bestow. Set free yourself, And leave a slave the wretch that would be so. Zara. Thou canst not mean so poorly as
Thee not, for what thou art yet wants a name:
But something so unworthy and so vile,
That to have lov'd 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:
There, there's the dreadful sound, the king's
thy rival!
Sel. Madam, the king is here, and ent'ring now.
Zara. As I could wish; by heav'n I'll be
reveng'd.
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 constru'd 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;
Where ev'ry 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.
OSMYN discovered alone, with a Paper.
Osm. But now, and I was clos'd within the
tomb
That holds my father's ashes; and but now,
Where he was pris'ner, I am too imprison'd.
Sure 'tis the hand of heav'n that leads me thus,
And for some purpose points out these re-
membrances.
In a dark corner of my cell I found
This paper; what it is this light will show.
[Reads] If my Alphonso-la!
If my Alphonso live, restore him, heav'n!
Give me more weight, crush my declining
years
With bolts, with chains, imprisonment, and
"Tis wanting what should follow! - Heav'n Off, slavery! O curse! that I alone
Can beat and flutter in my cage, when I'
But 'tis torn off! Why should that word alone Would soar, and stoop at victory beneath!
Be torn from this petition? "Twas to heav'n,
But heav'n was deaf; heav'n heard him not:
but thus,
Thus as the name of heav'n from this is torn,
So did it tear the ears of mercy from
His voice, shutting the gates of pray'r against
him!
If piety be thus debarr'd access
On high, and of good men the very best
Is singled out to bleed, and hear 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.
What noise! Who's there? My friend! how
cam'st thou hither?
Heli. The time's too precious to be spent
in telling.
The captain, influenc'd by Almeria's pow'r,
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 retir'd
(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?
heav'n!
To a vile prison, and a captive wretch;
To one, whom had she never known, she had
Been happy. Why, why was that heav'nly
Heli. Zara, the cause of your restraint, may
The means of liberty restor'd. That gain'd,
Occasion will not fail to point out ways
For your escape: mean time, I've thought already
With speed and safety to convey myself,
Where not far off some malcontents hold council
Nightly, who hate this tyrant; some, who love
Anselmo's memory, and will, for certain,
When they shall know you live, assist your
Osm. My friend and counsellor,
think'st fit,
as thou So do. I will with patience wait my fortune. Heli. When Zara comes, abate of your
Osm. I hate her not, nor can dissemble love:
But as I may, I'll do. Farewell,
My friend, the good thou dost deserve attend
thee!
[Exit Heli.
I've been to blame, and question'd with impiety
The care of heav'n. Not so my father bore
More anxious grief. This should have better
taught me;
This his last legacy to me; which here
I'll treasure as more worth than diadems,
Or all extended rule of regal pow'r.
What brightness breaks upon me thus through
shades,
And promises a day to this dark dwelling?
Is it my love?-
Zara. O that thy heart had taught
[Lifting her Veil.
Thy tongue that saying!
Ösm. Zara! I am betray'd by my surprise!
[Aside. Abandon'd o'er to love what heav'n forsakes? Zara. What, does my face displease thee? Why does she follow, with unwearied steps. That having seen it thou dost turn thy eyes One who has tir'd misfortune with pursuing? Away, as from deformity and horror! Heli. Have hopes, and hear the voice of If so, this sable curtain shall again Be drawn, and I will stand before thee, seeing I've learn'd there are disorders ripe for mutiny And unseen. Is it my love? Ask again Among the troops, who thought to share the That question; speak again in that soft voice; And look again with wishes in thy eyes. O, 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 barb'rous rage
Which Manuel to his own use and avarice
Converts. The news has reach'd Valencia's
frontiers ;
Where many of your subjects, long oppress'd
With tyranny and grievous impositions,
Are ris'n in arms, and call for chiefs to head
And lead them to regain their rights and liberty.
Osm. By heav'n, thou'st rous'd me from my
lethargy.
The spirit, which was deaf to my own wrongs,
And the loud cries of my dead father's blood;
O, my Antonio, I am all on fire;
My soul is up in arms, ready to charge
And bear amidst the foe with conqu'ring troops.
I hear 'em call to lead 'em on to liberty,
To victory; their shouts and clamours rend
My ears, and reach the heav'ns! Where is
the king?
Where is Alphonso? Ha! where, where in-
deed?
Has loaded thee with chains and galling irons : Osm. You wrong me, beauteous Zara, to believe
Or being as you please, such I will think it.
Zara. O, thou dost wound me more with
this thy goodness,
O! I could tear and burst the strings of life,
To break these chains! Off! off! ye stains of Than e'er thou couldst with bitterest
Thy anger could not pierce thus to my heart. Osm, Yet I could wish
Zara. Haste me to know it: what?
Osm. And thy excessive love distracts my
O, wouldst thou be less killing, soft, or kind,
Osm. That at this time I had not been this Grief could not double thus his darts against me
Zara. What thing?
Osm. This slave.
Zara. O, heav'n; my fears interpret This thy silence; somewhat of high concern, Long fashioning within thy lab'ring mind, And now just ripe for birth, my rage has ruin'd. Have I done this? Tell me, am I so curs'd? Osm. Time may have still one fated hour
Which, wing'd with liberty, might overtake Occasion past.
Zora. Swift as occasion, I
Myself will fly; and earlier than the morn
Wake thee to freedom.
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've 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. Adieu!
Osm. This woman has a soul
Of godlike mould, intrepid and commanding,
And challenges, in spite of me, my best
Esteem.
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!
flow shall I welcome thee to this sad place?
How speak to thee the words of joy and
transport?
Alm. Thou dost me wrong, and grief too
robs my heart,
If there he shoot not ev'ry other shaft:
Thy second self should feel each other wound,
And woe should be in equal portions dealt.
I am thy wife-
Osm. O, thou hast search'd too deep! There, there I bleed! there pull the cruel cords, That strain my cracking nerves; engines and wheels,
That piecemeal grind, are beds of down and balm
To that soul-racking thought.
Alm. Then I am curs'd
Indeed, if that be so; if I'm thy torment,
Kill me, then kill me, dash me with thy chains,
Tread on me :
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 disturb'd 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 wilt thou know what harrows up my heart?
Thou art my wife-nay, thou art yet my bride!
The sacred union of connubial love
Yet unaccomplish'd.
Is this dark cell a temple for that god?
Or this vile earth an altar for such off'rings?
This den for slaves, this dungeon damp'd with
How run into thy arms withheld by fetters? Is this to call thee mine? O hold, my heart! Or take thee into mine, while I'm thus man-To call thee mine! Yes; thus, e'en thus to call
And pinion'd like a thief or murderer?
Shall I not hurt or 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
again.
Thou told'st 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. Oh! 0
Alm. Give me that sigh.
Why dost thou heave, and stifle in thy griefs? Thy heart will burst, thy eyes look red and
Thee mine, were comfort, joy, extremest ecstasy.
But, O, thou art not mine, not e'en in misery;
And 'tis deny'd to me to be so bless'd,
As to be wretched with thee.
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,
Give thy soul way, and tell me thy dark thought.
Osm. For this world's rule, I would not To grasp and reach what is deny'd my hands:
wound thy breast
Think how I am, when thou shalt wed with
Garcia!
With such a dagger as then struck my heart.
Alm. Why? why? To know it, cannot Then will I smear these walls with blood,
Than knowing thou hast felt it. Tell it me- And dash my face, and rive my clotted hair. Thou giv'st me pain with too much tenderness. Break on this flinty floor my throbbing breast.
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