The Mourning Bride

Front matter

THE

Mourning Bride,

A

Preface

TO

Her Royal Highness

THE

PRINCESS.

MADAM,

That high Station, which, by Your Birth You hold above the People, exacts from every one, as a Duty, whatever Honours they are capable of paying to Your Royal Highness: But that more exalted Place, to which, Your Vertues have rais'd You, a- bove the rest of Princes, makes the Tribute of our Admiration and Praise, rather a Choice more immediately preventing that Duty.

The Publick Gratitude, is ever founded on a Publick Benefit; and what is universally bless'd, is always an universal Blessing. Thus from Your self, we derive the Offerings which we bring; and that Incense which arises to Your Name, only returns to its Original, and but naturally requires the Parent of its Being.

From hence it is that this Poem, constituted on a Moral, whose End is to recommend and to encourage Vertue, of consequence has recourse to Your Royal Highness's Patronage; aspiring to cast it self beneath Your Feet, and declining Approbation, till You shall condescend to own it, and vouchsafe to shine upon it as on a Creature of Your Influence.

'Tis from the Example of Princes, that Vertue becomes a Fashion in the People, for even they who are averse to Instruction, will yet be fond of Imitation.

But there are Multitudes, who never can have Means, nor Opportunities of so near an Access, as to partake of the Benefit of such Examples. And to these, Tragedy, which distinguishes it self from the Vulgar Poetry, by the Dignity of its Characters, may be of Use and Information. For they who are at that distance from Original Greatness, as to be depriv'd of the Happiness of Contemplating the Perfections and real Excellencies of Your Royal Highness's Person in Your Court; may yet behold some small Sketches and Imagings of the Vertues of Your Mind, abstracted, and represented in the Theatre.

Thus Poets are instructed, and instruct; not alone by Precepts which persuade, but also by Examples which illustrate. Thus is Delight interwoven with Instruction; when not only Vertue is prescrib'd, but also represented.

But if we are delighted with the Livelyness of a feign'd Representation of Great and Good Persons and their Actions; how must we be charm'd with beholding the Persons themselves? If one or two excelling Qualities, barely touch'd in the single Action, and small Compass of a Play, can warm an Audience, with a Concern and Regard even for the seeming Success and Prosperity of the Actor: With what Zeal must the Hearts of all be fill'd, for the continued and encreasing Happiness of those, who are the true and living Instances of Elevated and Persisting Vertue? Even the Vicious themselves must have a secret Veneration for those peculiar Graces and Endowments, which are daily so eminently conspicuous in Your Royal Highness; and though repining, feel a Pleasure which in spite of Envy they per-force approve.

If in this Piece, humbly offer'd to Your Royal Highness, there shall appear the Resemblance of any one of those many Excellencies which You so promiscuously possess, to be drawn so as to merit Your least Approbation, it has the End and Accomplishment of its Design. And however imperfect it may be in the Whole, through the Inexperience or Incapacity of the Author, yet, if there is so much as to convince Your Royal Highness, that a Play may be with Industry so dispos'd (in spight of the licentious Practice of the Modern Theatre) as to become sometimes an innocent, and not unprofitable Entertainment; it will abundantly gratifie the Ambition and Recompence the Endeavours of,

Your Royal Highness's

Most Obedient, and

most humbly Devoted Servant,

William Congreve.

Prologue

PROLOGUE.

Spoken by Mr. Betterton.

The Time has been when Plays were not so plenty, And a less Number New, would well content ye. New Plays did then like Almanacks appear; And One was thought sufficient for a Year: Tho' they are more like Almanacks of late; For in One Year, I think they're out of Date. Nor were they without Reason join'd together; For just as One prognosticates the Weather, How plentiful the Crop, or scarce the Grain, What Peals of Thunder, and what Show'rs of Rain; So t'other can foretel by certain Rules What Crops of Coxcombs, or what Flouds of Fools. In such like Prophecies were Poets skill'd, Which now they find in their own Tribe fulfill'd: The Dearth of Wit they did so long presage, Is fall'n on us, and almost starves, the Stage. Were you not griev'd, as often as you saw Poor Actors thresh such empty Sheafs of Straw? Toiling and lab'ring at their Lungs Expence, To start a Jest, or force a little Sence.

Hard Fate for us! still harder in th' Event; Our Authors Sin, but we alone Repent. Still they proceed, and, at our Charge, write worse; 'Twere some Amends if they could reimburse: But there's the Devil, tho' their Cause is lost, There's no recov'ring Damages or Cost. Good Wits, forgive this Liberty we take, Since Custome gives the Losers leave to speak. But if provok'd, your dreadful Wrath remains, Take your Revenge upon the coming Scenes: For that damn'd Poet's spar'd who Damns a Brother, As one Thief scapes, that executes another. Thus far, alone does to the Wits relate; But from the rest, we hope a better Fate. To please and move, has been our Poets Theme, Art may direct, but Nature is his aim; And Nature miss'd, in vain he boasts his Art, For only Nature can affect the Heart. Then freely judge the Scenes that shall ensue, But as with Freedom, judge with Candour too. He wou'd not loose thro' Prejudice his Cause; Nor wou'd obtain precariously Applause. Impartial Censure, he requests from all, Prepar'd, by just Decrees to stand, or fall.

Personæ Dramatis

Personæ Dramatis.

| Manuel, the King of Granada. | Mr. Verbruggen.

| Gonsalez, his Favourite. | Mr. Sanford.

| Garcia, Son to Gonsalez. | Mr. Scudamour.

| Perez, Captain of the Guards. | Mr. Freeman.

| Alonzo, an Officer, Creature to Gonsalez. | Mr. Arnold.

| Ofmyn, a Noble Prisoner: | Mr. Betterton.

| Heli, a Prisoner, his Friend. | Mr. Boman.

| Selim, an Eunuch. | Mr. Baily.

WOMEN.

| Almeria, the Princess of Granada. | Mrs. Bracegirdle.

| Zara, a Captive Queen. | Mrs. Barry.

| Leonora, chief Attendant on the Princess. | Mrs. Boman.

Women, Eunuchs, and Mutes attending Zara. Guards, &c.

The Scene GRANADA

Act I

THE

Mourning Bride.

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Room of State.

The Curtain rising slowly to soft Musick, discovers Almeria in Mourning, Leonora waiting in Mourning.

After the Musick Almeria rises from her Chair, and comes forward.

Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast, To soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak. I've read, that things inanimate have mov'd, And as with living Souls, have been inform'd, By Magick Numbers, and persuasive Sound. What then am I? Am I more senseless grown Than Trees, or Flint? O Force of constant Woe! 'Tis not in Harmony to calm my Griefs. Anselmo sleeps, and is at Peace; last Night, The silent Tomb receiv'd the good Old King; He and his Sorrows now are safely lodg'd Within its cold, but hospitable Bosom. Why am not I at Peace?

Leon. For Heaven's sake, dear Madam, moderate Your Griefs, there is no Cause——

Alm. Peace—— No Cause! yes, there is Eternal Cause, And Misery Eternal will succeed. Thou canst not tell——thou hast indeed no Cause.

Leo. Believe me, Madam, I lament Anselmo, And always did compassionate his Fortune; Have often wept, to see how cruelly Your Father kept in Chains, his Fellow-King: And oft at Night, when all have been retir'd, Have stoll'n from Bed, and to his Prison crept: Where, while his Gaoler slept, I thro' the Grate Have softly whisper'd, and enquir'd his Health; Sent in my Sighs and Pray'rs for his Deliv'rance; For Sighs and Pray'rs were all that I could offer.

Alm. Indeed thou hast a soft and gentle Nature, That thus couldst melt to see a Stranger's Wrongs. O Leonora, hadst thou known Anselmo, How would thy Heart have bled to see his Suff'rings! Thou hadst no Cause, but general Compassion.

Leo. My Love of you, my Royal Mistress, gave me Cause, My Love of you begot my Grief for him, For I had heard, that when the Chance of War Had bless'd Anselmos Arms with Victory, And the rich Spoil of all the Field, and you The Glory of the whole, were made the Prey Of his Success; that then, in spite of Hate, Revenge, and that Hereditary Feud Entail'd between Valentias and Granadas Kings; He did endear himself to your Affection, By all the worthy and indulgent ways, His most industrious Goodness could invent; Proposing by a Match between Alphonso His Son, the brave Valentia Prince, and you, To end the long Dissention, and unite The Jarring Crowns.

Alm. O Alphonso, Alphonso! thou art too At Peace; Father and Son are now no more——

Then why am I? O when shall I have Rest? Why do I live to say you are no more? Why are all these things thus?—— Is there necessity I must be miserable? Is it of Moment to the Peace of Heav'n That I should be afflicted thus?——if not, Why is it thus contriv'd? Why are things laid By some unseen Hand, so, as of consequence They must to me bring Curses, Grief of Heart, The last Distress of Life, and sure Despair.

Leo. Alas you search too far, and think too deeply.

Alm. Why was I carried to Anselmos Court? Or, when there, why was I us'd so tenderly? Why did he not use me like an Enemy? For so my Father would have us'd his Child. O Alphonso, Alphonso! Devouring Seas have wash'd thee from my sight, But there's no time shall rase thee from my Memory. No, I will live to be thy Monument; The cruel Ocean would deprive thee of a Tomb, But in my Heart thou art interr'd; there, there, Thy dear Resemblance is for ever fixt; My Love, my Lord, my Husband still, though lost.

Leo. Husband! O Heav'ns!

Alm. What have I said? My Grief has hurry'd me beyond all Thought. I would have kept that secret; though I know Thy Love and Faith to me, deserve all Confidence. Clermontv2ch9But 'tis the Wretches Comfort still to have Some small Reserve of near and inward Woe, Some unsuspected hoard of darling Grief, Which they unseen, may wail, and weep, and mourn, And Glutton-like alone devour.

Leo. Indeed I knew not this.

Alm. O no, thou know'st not half—thou know'st nothing— ——If thou didst!—— If I should tell thee, wouldst thou pity me? Tell me? I know thou wouldst, thou art compassionate.

Leo. Witness these Tears——

Alm. I thank thee—— indeed I do—— I thank thee, that thou'lt pity thy sad Mistress; For 'tis the poor Prerogative of Greatness, To be wretched and unpitied—— But I did promise I would tell thee—— What? My Griefs? Thou do'st already know 'em: And when I said thou didst know nothing, It was because thou didst not know Alphonso: For to have known my Loss, thou must have known His Worth, his Truth, and Tenderness of Love.

Leo. The Memory of that brave Prince stands fair In all Report—— And I have heard imperfectly his Loss; But fearful to renew your Troubles past, I never did presume to ask the Story.

Alm. If for my swelling Heart I can, I'll tell thee. I was a welcome Captive in Valentia, Ev'n on the Day when Manuel, my Father, Led on his conqu'ring Troops, high as the Gates Of King Anselmos Pallace; which in Rage And Heat of War, and dire Revenge, he fir'd. Whilst the good King, to shun approaching Flames, Started amidst his Foes, and made Captivity his Refuge; Would I had perish'd in those Flames—— But 'twas not so decreed. Alphonso, who foresaw my Father's Cruelty, Had born the Queen and me, on board a Ship Ready to sail, and when this News was brought, We put to Sea; but being betray'd by some Who knew our Flight, we closely were pursu'd, And almost taken; when a sudden Storm, Drove us and those that follow'd, on the Coast of Africk: There our Vessel struck the Shore, And bulging 'gainst a Rock, was dash'd in pieces. But Heav'n spared me for yet more Affliction! Conducting them who follow'd us, to shun The Shoal, and save me floating on the Waves,

While the good Queen and my Alphonso perish'd.

Leo. Alas! were you then wedded to Alphonso?

Alm. That Day, that fatal Day, our Hands were joyn'd; For when my Lord beheld the Ship pursuing, And saw her Rate so far exceeding ours; He came to me, and beg'd me by my Love, I would consent the Priest might make us one; That whether Death, or Victory ensu'd, I might be his, beyond the Power of future Fate: The Queen too, did assist his Suit——I granted, And in one Day, was wedded, and a Widow.

Leo. Indeed 'twas mournful——

Alm. 'Twas that, For which, I mourn, and will for ever mourn; Nor will I change these black and dismal Robes, Or ever dry these swoll'n and watry Eyes; Or ever taste content, or peace of Heart, While I have Life, or Memory of my Alphonso.

Leo. Look down good Heav'n, with Pity on her Sorrows, And grant, that Time my bring her some Relief.

Alm. O no! Time gives Encrease to my Afflictions. The circling Hours, that gather all the Woes, Which are diffus'd thro' the revolving Year, Come, heavy-laden with the oppressing Weight To me; with me, successively, they leave The Sighs, the Tears, the Groans, the restless Cares, And all the Damps of Grief, that did retard their Flight; They shake their downy Wings, and scatter all The dire collected Dews, on my poor Head; Then fly with Joy and Swiftness from me.

Leo. Heark! The distant Shouts, proclaim your Fathers Triumph; -

O cease, for Heaven's Sake, asswage a little, This Torrent of your Grief; for, much I fear It will incense him, thus to see you drown'd In Tears, when Joy appears in every other Face.

Alm. And Joy he brings to every other Heart, But double, double Weight of Woe to mine; For with him Garcia comes— Garcia, to whom I must be sacrific'd, and all my Faith And Vows I gave my Dear Alphonso, basely Violated—— No, it shall never be; for I will die first, Die ten thousand Deaths—Look down, look down,

Alphonso, hear the Sacred Vow I make; Leave for a Moment to behold Eternal Bliss, And bend thy glorious Eyes to Earth and me; And thou Anselmo, if yet thou art arriv'd Thro' all Impediments, of purging Fire, To that bright Heav'n, where my Alphonso reigns, Behold thou also, and attend my Vow. If ever I do yield, or give consent, By any Action, Word or Thought, to wed Another Lord; may then just Heav'n show'r down Unheard of Curses on me, greater far (If such there be in angry Heav'ns Vengeance) Than any I have yet endur'd— and now Methinks my Heart has some Relief: Having Discharg'd this Debt, incumbent on my Love. Yet, one Thing more, I would engage from thee.

Leo. My Heart, my Life and Will, are only yours.

Alm. I thank thee. 'Tis but this; anon, when all Are busied in the General Joy, that thou Wilt privately with me Steal forth, and visit good Anselmos Tomb.

Leo. Alas! I fear some fatal Resolution.

Alm. No, on my Life, my Faith, I mean no Violence. I feell I'm more at large, Since I have made this Vow: Perhaps I would repeat it there more solemnly. 'Tis that, or some such Melancholy Thought, Upon my Word no more.

Leo. I will attend you.

<>Enter Alonzo.

Alon. The Lord Gonsalez comes to tell your Highness Of the King's approach.

Alm. Conduct him in. That's his Pretence, I know his Errand is To fill my Ears, with Garcias valiant Deeds; And with his Artful Tongue, to gild and magnifie His Sons Exploits. But I am arm'd, with Ice around my Heart, Not to be warm'd with Words, nor idle Eloquence. -

<>Enter Gonsalez.

Gons. Be every Day of your long Life like this. The Sun, bright Conquest, and your brighter Eyes, Have all conspir'd, to blaze promiscuous Light, And bless this Day with most unequal Lustre. Your Royal Father, my Victorious Lord, Loaden with Spoils, and ever-living Lawrel, Is entring now, in Martial Pomp the Pallace. Five hundred Mules, precede his solemn March, Which groan beneath the Weight of Moorish Wealth. Chariots of War, adorn'd with glittering Gems, Succeed; and next, a Hundred neighing Steeds, White as the fleecy Rain on Alpine Hills; That bound, and foam, and champ the Golden Bit, As they disdain'd the Victory they grace. Prisoners of War in shining Fetters, follow; And Captains of the Noblest Blood of Africk, Sweat by his Chariot Wheel, and lick, and grind With gnashing Teeth, the Dust his Tryumphs raise. The swarming Populace, spread every Wall, And cling, as if with Claws they did enforce Their Hold, thro' clifted Stones, stretching, and staring, As if they were all of Eyes, and every Limb Would feed his Faculty of Admiration.

While you alone retire, and shun this Sight; This Sight, which is indeed not seen (tho' twice The Multitude should gaze) In Absence of your Eyes.

Alm. My Lord, my Eyes ungratefully behold The gilded Trophies of exterior Honours. Nor will my Ears be charm'd with sounding Words, Or pompous Phrase; the Pageantry of Souls. But that my Father is return'd in Safety, I bend to Heav'n with Thanks and humble Praise.

Gons. Excellent Princess! But 'tis a Task unfit for my weak Age, With dying Words, to offer at your Praise. Garcia, my Son, your Beauties lowest Slave, Has better done; In proving with his Sword, upon your Foes The Force and Influence of your matchless Charms.

Alm. I doubt not of the Worth of Garcias Deeds, Which had been brave, tho' I had ne'er been born.

Leo. Madam, the King.

Alm. My Women. I would meet him.

Symphony of Warlike Musick. Enter the King, attended by Garcia and several Officers. Files of Prisoners in Chains, and Guards, who are ranged in Order, round the Stage. Almeria meets the King, and kneels; afterwards Gonsalez kneels and kisses the King's Hand, while Garcia does the same to the Princess.

King. Almeria, rise—My best Gonsalez rise. What Tears! my good old Friend.——

Gons. But Tears of Joy. To see you thus, has fill'd My Eyes with more Delight, than they can hold.

King. By Heav'n thou lov'st me, and I'm pleas'd thou do'st: Take it for Thanks, Old Man, That I rejoice To see thee weep on this Occasion—But some Here are who seem to mourn at our Success! How is it Almeria, that you meet our Eyes

Upon this solemn Day, in these sad Weeds? You, and yours, are all, in opposition To my Brightness, like Daughters of Affliction.

Alm. Forgive me, Sir, if I offend. The Year, which I have vow'd to pay to Heav'n, In Mourning, and strict Life, for my Deliverance From Death, and Wreck of the tempestuous Sea, Wants yet to be expired.

King. Your Zeal to Heav'n is great; so is your Debt: Yet something too is due to me, who gave That Life, which Heav'n preserv'd. A Day bestow'd In Filial Duty, had aton'd and giv'n A Dispensation to your Vow——No more. 'Twas weak and wilful——and a Woman's Errour. Yet——upon thought, it doubly wounds my sight, To see that Sable worn upon the Day Succeeding that, in which our deadliest Foe, Hated Anselmo, was interr'd——By Heav'n, It looks as thou didst mourn for him: Just as Thy senseless Vow appear'd to bear its Date, Not from that Hour, wherein thou wert preserv'd, But that, wherein the curs'd Alphonso perish'd. Ha! what? thou dost not weep to think of that?

Gons. Have Patience, Royal Sir, the Princess weeps To have offended you. If Fate decreed, One 'pointed Hour should be Alphonsos Loss, And her Deliverance; Is she to blame?

King. I tell thee she's to blame, not to have feasted When my first Foe was laid in Earth, such Enmity, Such Detestation, bears my Blood to his; My Daughter should have revell'd at his Death. She should have made these Pallace Walls to shake, And all this high and ample Roof to ring With her Rejoicings. What, to mourn, and weep; Then, then, to weep, and pray, and grieve? By Heav'n, There's not a Slave, a shackled Slave of mine, But should have smil'd that Hour, through all his Care, VicarWakefieldv2p208And shook his Chains in Transport and rude Harmony.

Gons. What she has done, was in excess of Goodness; Betray'd by too much Piety, to seem As if she had offended.

King. To seem is to commit, at this Conjuncture. I wonnot have the seeming of a Sorrow seen To day——Retire, divest your self with speed Of that offensive black; on me be all The Violation of your Vow. You stand excused that I command it.

Gar. kneeling. Your Pardon, Sir, if I presume so far, As to remind you of your gracious Promise.

King. Rise, Garcia——I forgot. Yet stay, Almeria.

Alm. O my boding Heart——What is you Pleasure, Sir?

King. Draw near, and give your hand; and, Garcia, yours: Receive this Lord, as one whom I have found Worthy to be your Husband, and my Son.

Gar. Thus let me kneel to take——O not to take, But to devote, and yield my self for ever The Slave and Creature of my Royal Mistress.

Gons. O let me prostrate, pay my worthless Thanks For this high Honour.

King. No more; my Promise long since pass'd, thy Loyalty, And Garcias well-try'd Valour, all oblige me. This Day we Triumph; but to morrow's Sun Shall shine on Garcias Nuptials.

Alm. Oh!4

Gar. Alas, she faints! help to support her.

Gons. She recovers.

King. A Bridal Qualm; soon off. How is't, Almeria?

Alm. A sudden Chilness Seizes on my Spirits. Your Leave, Sir, to retire.

King. Garcia, conduct her.

This idle Vow hangs on her Woman's Fears. I'll have a Priest shall preach her from her Faith, And make it Sin, not to renounce that Vow, Which I'd have broken.

<>Enter Alonzo.

Offic. The beauteous Captive, Zara, is arriv'd, And with a Train, as if she still were Wife To Albucacim; and the Moor had conquer'd.

King. It is our Will she should be so attended. Bear hence these Prisoners. Garcia, which is he, Of whose mute Valour you relate such Wonders?

Gar. Osmyn, who led the Moorish Horse; he does, Great Sir, at her Request, attend on Zara.

King. He is your Prisoner, as you please dispose him.

Gar. I would oblige him, but he shuns my Kindness; And with a haughty Mien; and stern Civility Dumbly declines all Offers: If he speak 'Tis scarce above a word; as he were born Alone to do, and did disdain to talk; At least, to talk where he must not command.

King. Such sullenness, and in a Man so brave, Must have some other Cause than his Captivity. Did Zara, then, request he might attend her?

Gar. My Lord, she did.

King. That join'd with his Behaviour, Begets a Doubt. I'd have 'em watch'd: perhaps Her Chains hang heavier on him than his own.

Flourish; and Enter Zara and Osmyn bound; conducted by Perez and a Guard, and attended by Selim and several Mutes and Eunuchs in a Train.

King. What Welcome, and what Honours, beauteous Zara, A King and Conquerour can give, are yours. A Conquerour indeed, where you are won; Who with such Lustre strike admiring Eyes, That had our Pomp, been with your Presence grac'd, Th' expecting Crowd had been deceiv'd; and seen Their Monarch enter not Triumphant, but In Triumph led; your Beauty's Slave.

Zara. If I on any Terms could condescend To like Captivity, or think those Honours, Which Conquerours in Courtesie bestow, Of equal Value, with unborrow'd Rule, And Native Right to Arbitrary Sway; I might be pleas'd when I behold this Train With usual Homage wait. But when I feel These Bonds, I look with loathing on my self; And scorn vile Slavery, tho' doubly hid Beneath Mock-Praises, and dissembled State.

King. Those Bonds! 'twas my Command you should be free: How durst you, Perez, disobey me?

Perez. Great Sir, Your Order was, she should not wait your Triumph; But at some distance follow, thus attended.

King. 'Tis false; 'twas more; I bad she should be free: If not in Words, I bad it by my Eyes. Her Eyes, did more than bid— Free her and hers, With speed— yet stay——my Hands alone can make Fit Restitution here——Thus, I release you, And by releasing you enslave my self.

Zara. Favours conferr'd, tho' when unsought, deserve Acknowledgement from Noble Minds. Such Thanks As one hating to be oblig'd—— Yet hating more, Ingratitude, can pay, I offer.

King. Born to excel, and to command! As by transcendent Beauty to attract All Eyes, so by Preheminence of Soul To rule all Hearts. Garcia, what's he, who with contracted Brow,

And sullen Port, glooms downward with his Eyes; At once regardless of his Chains, or Liberty?

Gar. That, Sir, is Osmyn.

King. He answers well, the Character you gave him. Whence comes it, Valiant Osmyn, that a Man So great in Arms, as thou art said to be,

So ill can brook Captivity; The common Chance of War?

Osm. Because Captivity has robb'd me of a just Revenge.

King. I understand not that.

Osm. I would not have you.

Zara. That Gallant Moor, in Battle lost a Friend Whom more than Life he lov'd; and the Regret, Of not revenging on his Foes, that Loss, Has caus'd this Melancholy and Despair.

King. She does excuse him; 'tis as I suspected.

Gons. That Friend may be her self; show no Resentment Of his Arrogance yet; she looks concern'd.

King. I'll have Enquiry made; his Friend may be A Prisoner. His Name?

Zara. Heli.

King. Garcia, be it your Care to make that search. 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: For, ling'ring there, in long suspence she stands, Shifting the Prize in unresolving Hands: Unus'd to wait, I broke through her Delay, Fix'd her by Force, and snatch'd the doubtful Day. But late, I find, that War is but her Sport; In Love the Goddess keeps her awful Court: Fickle in Fields, unsteadily she flyes, But Rules with settled Sway in Zaras Eyes.

<>The End of the First Act.

Act II

ACT II. SCENE I.

Representing the Ile of a Temple.

<>Enter Garcia, Heli and Perez.

THis Way, we're told, Osmyn was seen to walk; Choosing this lonely Mansion of the Dead, To mourn, brave Heli, thy mistaken Fate.

Hel. Let Heav'n with Thunder to the Centre strike me, If to arise in very Deed from Death, And to revisit with my long clos'd Eyes This living Light, could to my Soul, or Sense Afford a Thought, or Glimpse of Joy, In least Proportion to the vast Delight I feel, to hear of Osmyns Name; to hear That Osmyn lives, and I again shall see him.

Gar. Unparalell'd Fidelity! I've heard with Admiration, of your Friendship; And could with equal Joy and Envy, view The transports of your meeting.

Perez. Yonder, my Lord, behold the Noble Moor.

Hel. Where? where?

Gar. I see him not.

Perez. I saw him when I spoke, thwarting my View, And striding with distemper'd Haste; his Eyes Seem'd Flame, and flash'd upon me with a Glance; Then forward shot their Fires, which he pursu'd, As to some Object frightful, yet not fear'd.

Gar. Let's haste to follow him, and know the Cause.

Hel. My Lord, let me entreat you to forbear: Leave me alone, to find and cure the Cause. I know his Melancholy, and such Starts Are usual to his Temper. It might raise him

To act some Violence upon himself, So to be caught in an unguarded Hour, And when his Soul gives all her Passions Way, Secure and loose in friendly Solitude. I know his Noble Heart would burst with Shame To be surpriz'd by Strangers in its Frailty.

Gar. Go Gen'rous Heli, and relieve your Friend. Far be it from me, officiously to pry Or Press upon the Privacies of others.

Hel. Y'are truly Noble.

Gar. Perez, the King expects from our return, To have his Jealousie confirm'd or clear'd Of that appearing Love, which Zara bears To Osmyn; but some other Opportunity Must make that plain.

Perez. To me 'twas long since plain, And every Look of his and hers confess it.

Gar. If so, Unhappiness attends their Love And I cou'd pity 'em. I hear some coming, The Friends perhaps are met; let us avoid 'em.

<>Enter Almeria and Leonora.

EnglandanditsPeoplep47 Alm. It was a fancy'd Noise; for all is hush'd.

Leo. It bore the Accent of a Humane Voice.

Alm. It was thy Fear; or else some transient Wind Whistling thro' Hollows of this vaulted Isle. We'll listen——

Leo. Hark!

Alm. No, all is hush'd, and still as Death—'Tis dreadful! How rev'rend is the Face of this tall Pile,tall pile Whose antient Pillars rear their Marble Heads, To bear aloft its arch'd and pond'rous Roof, By its own Weight, made stedfast, and immoveable, Looking Tranquility. It strikes an Awe And Terror on my aking Sight; the Tombs And Monumental Caves of Death, look Cold, And shoot a Chilness to my trembling Heart.