For saving thee, when I beheld thee first,
Driven by the Tide upon my Country’s Coast,
Pale and expiring, drench’d in briny Waves,
Thou and thy Friend, ‘till my Compassion sound thee;
Compassion! scarce will it 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 dry’d thy wat’ry Cheeks; chafing
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 ake,
When I beheld the Day-break of thy Eyes,
And felt the Balm of thy respiring Lips!
OSM. O call not to my Mind what you have done,
It sets a Debt of that Account before me,
Which shews me Bankrupt even in Hopes.
ZARA. The faithful Selim, and my Women know
The Dangers which I ‘tempted to conceal you.
You know how I abus’d the credulous King;
What Arts I us’d to make you pass on him,
When he receiv’d you as the Prince of Fez;
And as my Kinsman, honour’d and advanc’d you.
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
You hated Manuel, I urg’d my Husband
On to this Invasion; where he 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’ring first, then look on me;
Think on the Cause of all, then view thy self:
Reflect on Osmyn, and then look on Zara,
The fall’n, the lost, the Captive Zara.
What then is Osmyn?
OSM. A fatal Wretch- a huge stupendous Ruine,
That tumbling on its Prop, crush’d all beneath,
And bore contiguous Pallaces to Earth.
ZARA. Yet thus, thus fall’n, thus levell’d with the vilest
If I have gain’d thy Love, ’tis glorious Ruine;
Ruine, ’tis still to reign, and to be more
A Queen; for what are Riches, Empire, Power,
But larger Means to gratifie 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’ve serv’d their End
And are, like Lumber, 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 Conquerour is mine;
In Chains unseen, I hold him by the Heart,
And can unwind, or 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 your self,
And leave a Slave the Wretch that would be so.
ZARA. Thou canst not mean so poorly, as thou talk’st.
OSM. Alas, you know me not.
ZARA. Not who thou art;
But what, this last Ingratitude declares,
This groveling Baseness- Thou say’st true, I know
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:
’Tis that, I know; for thou dost look, with Eyes
Sparkling Desire, and trembling to possess.
I know my Charms have reach’d thy very Soul,
And thrill’d thee through with darted Fires; but thou
Dost fear so much, thou dar’st not wish. The King!
There, there’s the dreadful Sound, the King’s thy Rival!
SELIM. Madam, the King is here.
ZARA. As I could wish; by Heav’n I’ll be reveng’d. -
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 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 Lord,
And me, presume to Day to plead audacious Love,
And build bold Hopes, on my dejected Fate?
KING. Better for him to tempt the Rage of Heav’n,
And wrench the Bolt red-hissing from the Hand
Of him that thunders, than but think that Insolence.
’Tis daring for a God. Hence, to the Wheel
With that Ixion, who aspires to hold
Divinity embrac’d; to Whips and Prisons
Drag him with speed, and rid me of his Face
[Guards carry off OSMYN.]
ZARA. Compassion led me to bemoan his State,
Whose former Faith had merited much more:
And through my Hopes in you, I promis’d Freedom
From his Chains; 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; and Joys
Yet new, unborn, and blooming in the Bud,
That wait to be full-blown at your Approach,
And spread like Roses to the Morning Sun:
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. [Ex. Omnes.]
Act III, Scene 1
A Prison. -
Enter OSMYN 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 Remembrances.
In a dark Corner of my Cell I found
This Paper, what it is this Light will show. -
Reading. If my Alphonso- Ha!
If my Alphonso live, restore him, Heav’n;
Give me more Weight, crush my declining Years
With Bolts, with Chains, Imprisonment and Want;
But bless my Son, visit not him for me. -
It is his Hand; this was his Pray’r- yet more: -
Reading. Let ev’ry Hair, which Sorrow by the Roots
Tears from my hoary and devoted Head,
Be doubled in thy Mercies to my Son:
Not for my self, but him, hear me, all-gracious- -
’Tis wanting what should follow- Heav’n, Heav’n shou’d follow,
But ’tis torn off- Why shou’d that Word alone
Be torn from his 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 t
orn,
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 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 Errour lives
Ere Reason can be born: Reason, the Power
To guess at Right and Wrong; the twinkling Lamp
Of wand’ring Life, that winks and wakes by turns,
Fooling the Follower, betwixt Shade and Shining.
What Noise! Who’s there? My Friend! How cam’st thou hither? -
Enter HELI. -
HEL. The Time’s too precious to be spent in telling;
The Captain influenc’d 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?
HEL. 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? O Heav’n!
To a vile Prison, and a captiv’d Wretch;
To one, whom had she never known, she had
Been happy: why, why was the Heav’nly Creature
Abandon’d o’er to love what Heav’n forsakes?
Why does she follow with unwearied Steps,
One, who has tir’d Misfortune with pursuing?
One, driv’n about the World like blasted Leaves
And Chaff, the Sport of adverse Winds; till late
At length, imprison’d in some Cleft of Rock,
Or Earth, it rests, and rots to silent Dust.
HEL. Have Hopes, and hear the Voice of better Fate.
I’ve learn’d 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 reach’d Valentia’s Frontiers;
Where many of your Subjects long oppress’d
With Tyranny and grievous Impositions,
Are risen in Arms, and call for Chiefs to head
And lead ’em, to regain their Liberty
And Native Rights.
OSM. By Heav’n thou’st rous’d me from my Lethargy.
The Spirit which was deaf to my own Wrongs,
Deaf to Revenge, and the loud Crys of my
Dead Father’s Blood; nay, which refus’d to hear
The piercing Sighs and Murmurs of my Love
Yet unenjoy’d; what not Almeria could
Revive, or raise, my Peoples Voice has wak’ned.
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 indeed?
O I could tear and burst the Strings of Life,
To break these Chains. Off, off, ye Stains of Royalty.
Off Slavery. O curse! that I alone
Can beat and flutter in my Cage, when I
Would soar, and stoop at Victory beneath.
HEL. Our Posture of Affairs, and scanty Time,
My Lord, require you should compose your self,
And think on what we may reduce to practice.
Zara, the Cause of your Restraint, may be
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 my self
Where not far off some Male-Contents hold Counsel
Nightly; hating this Tyrant; some, who love
Anselmo’s Memory, and will, no doubt,
When they shall know you live, assist your Cause.
OSM. My Friend and Counsellour, as thou think’st fit,
So do. I will with Patience wait my Fortune.
HEL. When Zara comes, abate of your Aversion.
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 Pray’r for me, wherein appears
Paternal Love prevailing o’er his Sorrows;
Such Sanctity, such Tenderness, so mix’d
With Grief, as wou’d draw Tears from Inhumanity.
HEL. The Care of Providence sure left it there,
To arm your Mind with Hope. Such Piety
Was never heard in vain: Heav’n has in Store
For you, those Blessings it with-held 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. [Ex. 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 shou’d have better taught me;
This Lesson, in some Hour of Inspiration,
By him set down; when his pure Thoughts were born,
Like Fumes of Sacred Incense, o’er the Clouds,
And wafted thence, on Angels Wings, thro’ Ways
Of Light to the bright Source of all. There, in
The Book of Prescience, he beheld this Day;
And waking to the World and mortal Sense,
Left this Example of his Resignation,
This his last Legacy to me, which I
Will treasure here; more worth than Diadems,
Or all extended Rule of Regal Pow’r. -
Enter ZARA veil’d. -
What Brightness breaks upon me, thus thro’ 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.
OSM. Zara! I’m betray’d
By my surprize.
ZARA. What, does my Face displease thee?
That having seen it, thou do’st turn thy Eyes
Away, as from Deformity and Horrour.
If so, this Sable Curtain shall again
Be drawn, and I will stand before thee seeing,
And unseen. Is it my Love? as again
That Question, speak again in that soft Voice,
And look again with Wishes in thy Eyes.
O no, thou can’st not, for thou seest me now,
As she, whose Savage Breast has been the Cause
Of these thy Wrongs; as she, whose barbarous Rage
Has loaden thee with Chains and galling Irons:
Well, dost thou scorn me, and upbraid my Falseness;
Cou’d one that lov’d thus torture what she lov’d?
No, no, it must be Hatred, dire Revenge
And Detestation, that cou’d use thee thus.
So thou dost 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
Shalt weep for mine, forgetting thy own Miseries.
OSM. You wrong me, beauteous Zara, to believe
I bear m
y Fortunes with so low a Mind,
As still to meditate Revenge on all
Whom Chance,, or Fate working by secret Causes,
Has made perforce subservient to that End
The Heav’nly Pow’rs 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 deserv’d it.
ZARA. Can’st thou forgive me then? Wilt thou believe
So kindly of my Fault, to call it Madness?
O, 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. O thou dost wound me more with this thy Goodness,
Than e’er thou cou’dst with bitterest Reproaches;
Thy Anger cou’d not pierce thus, to my Heart.
OSM. Yet I could wish-
ZARA. Hast me to know it, what?
OSM. That at this Time, I had not been this Thing.
ZARA. What Thing?
OSM. This Slave.
ZARA. O Heav’n! 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 ruin’d.
Have I done this? Tell me, am I so curs’d?
OSM. Time may have still one fated Hour to come,
Which wing’d wit Liberty, might overtake
Occasion past.
ZARA. Swift as Occasion, I
My self will flie; and earlier than the Morn
Wake thee to Freedom. Now ’tis late; and yet
Some News, few Minutes past arriv’d, which seem’d
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 thro dusk; and folded Lids,
Forbidding rest; may stretch his Eyes awake,
And force their Balls abroad, at this dead Hour.
Complete Works of William Congreve Page 65