John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

Zul. What you deserve

  I’ll not dispute, because I do not know;

  This only I will say, she shall not go.

  Almanz. Thou, single, art not worth my answering:

  But take what friends, what armies thou canst bring;

  What worlds; and, when you are united all,

  Then will I thunder in your ears, — She shall.

  Zul. I’ll not one tittle of my right resign. —

  Sir, your implicit promise made her mine;

  When I, in general terms, my love did show,

  You swore our fortunes should together go.

  Abdal. The merits of the cause I’ll not decide,

  But, like my love, I would my gift divide.

  Your equal titles then no longer plead;

  But one of you, for love of me, recede.

  Almanz. I have receded to the utmost line,

  When, by my free consent, she is not mine:

  Then let him equally recede with me,

  And both of us will join to set her free.

  Zul. If you will free your part of her, you may;

  But, sir, I love not your romantic way.

  Dream on, enjoy her soul, and set that free;

  I’m pleased her person should be left for me.

  Almanz. Thou shalt not wish her thine; thou shalt not dare

  To be so impudent, as to despair.

  Zul. The Zegrys, sir, are all concerned to see

  How much their merit you neglect in me.

  Hamet. Your slighting Zulema, this very hour

  Will take ten thousand subjects from your power.

  Almanz. What are ten thousand subjects such as they?

  If I am scorned — I’ll take myself away.

  Abdal. Since both cannot possess what both pursue,

  I grieve, my friend, the chance should fall on you;

  But when you hear what reason I can urge —

  Almanz. None, none that your ingratitude can purge.

  Reason’s a trick, when it no grant affords;

  It stamps the face of majesty on words.

  Abdal. Your boldness to your services I give:

  Now take it, as your full reward, — to live.

  Almanz. To live!

  If from thy hands alone my death can be,

  I am immortal, and a god to thee.

  If I would kill thee now, thy fate’s so low,

  That I must stoop ere I can give the blow:

  But mine is fixed so far above thy crown,

  That all thy men,

  Piled on thy back, can never pull it down:

  But, at my ease, thy destiny I send,

  By ceasing from this hour to be thy friend.

  Like heaven, I need but only to stand still.

  And, not concurring to thy life, I kill.

  Thou canst no title to my duty bring;

  I’m not thy subject, and my soul’s thy king.

  Farewell. When I am gone,

  There’s not a star of thine dare stay with thee:

  I’ll whistle thy tame fortune after me;

  And whirl fate with me wheresoe’er I fly,

  As winds drive storms before them in the sky. [Exit.

  Zul. Let not this insolent unpunished go;

  Give your commands; your justice is too slow. [Zulema, Hamet, and others are going after him.

  Abdal. Stay, and what part he pleases let him take:

  I know my throne’s too strong for him to shake.

  But my fair mistress I too long forget;

  The crown I promised is not offered yet.

  Without her presence all my joys are vain,

  Empire a curse, and life itself a pain. [Exeunt.

  ACT IV.

  SCENE I.

  Enter Boabdelin, Abenamar, and Guards.

  Boab. Advise, or aid, but do not pity me:

  No monarch born can fall to that degree.

  Pity descends from kings to all below;

  But can, no more than fountains, upward flow.

  Witness, just heaven, my greatest grief has been,

  I could not make your Almahide a queen.

  Aben. I have too long the effects of fortune known,

  Either to trust her smiles, or fear her frown.

  Since in their first attempt you were not slain,

  Your safety bodes you yet a second reign.

  The people like a headlong torrent go,

  And ev’ry dam they break, or overflow;

  But, unopposed, they either lose their force,

  Or wind, in volumes, to their former course.

  Boab. In walls we meanly must our hopes inclose,

  To wait our friends, and weary out our foes:

  While Almahide

  To lawless rebels is exposed a prey,

  And forced the lustful victor to obey.

  Aben. One of my blood, in rules of virtue bred!

  Think better of her, and believe she’s dead.

  Enter Almanzor.

  Boab. We are betrayed, the enemy is here;

  We have no farther room to hope or fear.

  Almanz. It is indeed Almanzor whom you see,

  But he no longer is your enemy.

  You were ungrateful, but your foes were more;

  What your injustice lost you, theirs restore.

  Make profit of my vengeance while you may,

  My two-edged sword can cut the other way. —

  I am your fortune, but am swift like her,

  And turn my hairy front if you defer:

  That hour, when you deliberate, is too late;

  I point you the white moment of your fate.

  Aben. Believe him sent as prince Abdalla’s spy;

  He would betray us to the enemy.

  Almanz, Were I, like thee, in cheats of state grown old,

  (Those public markets, where, for foreign gold,

  The poorest prince is to the richest sold)

  Then thou mightst think me fit for that low part;

  But I am yet to learn the statesman’s art.

  My kindness and my hate unmasked I wear;

  For friends to trust, and enemies to fear.

  My heart’s so plain,

  That men on every passing through may look,

  Like fishes gliding in a crystal brook;

  When troubled most, it does the bottom shew,

  ’Tis weedless all above, and rockless all below.

  Aben. Ere he be trusted, let him then be tried;

  He may be false, who once has changed his side.

  Almanz. In that you more accuse yourselves than me;

  None who are injured can inconstant be.

  You were inconstant, you, who did the wrong;

  To do me justice does to me belong.

  Great souls by kindness only can be tied;

  Injured again, again I’ll leave your side.

  Honour is what myself, and friends, I owe;

  And none can lose it who forsake a foe.

  Since, then, your foes now happen to be mine,

  Though not in friendship, we’ll in interest join:

  So while my loved revenge is full and high,

  I’ll give you back your kingdom by the by.

  Boab. That I so long delayed what you desire, [Embracing him.

  Was, not to doubt your worth, but to admire.

  Almanz. This counsellor an old man’s caution shows,

  Who fears that little, he has left, to lose:

  Age sets a fortune; while youth boldly throws.

  But let us first your drooping soldiers cheer;

  Then seek out danger, ere it dare appear:

  This hour I fix your crown upon your brow;

  Next hour fate gives it, but I give it now. [Exeunt.

  SCENE II.

  Enter Lyndaraxa.

  Lyndar. O, could I read the dark decrees of fate,

  That I might once know whom to love, or hate!

  For I myself scarce my own thoughts can guess,

  So
much I find them varied by success.

  As in some weather-glass, my love I hold;

  Which falls or rises with the heat or cold. —

  I will be constant yet, if fortune can;

  I love the king, — let her but name the man.

  Enter Halyma.

  Hal. Madam, a gentleman, to me unknown,

  Desires that he may speak with you alone.

  Lyndar. Some message from the king. — Let him appear.

  Enter Abdelmelech; who throws off his disguise. — She starts.

  Abdelm. I see you are amazed that I am here:

  But let at once your fear and wonder end.

  In the usurper’s guards I found a friend,

  Who led me safe to you in this disguise.

  Lyndar. Your danger brings this trouble in my eyes. —

  But what affair this ‘venturous visit drew?

  Abdelm. The greatest in the world, — the seeing you.

  Lyndar. The courage of your love I so admire,

  That, to preserve you, you shall straight retire. [She leads him to the door.

  Go, dear! each minute does new dangers bring;

  You will be taken, I expect the king.

  Abdelm. The king! — the poor usurper of an hour:

  His empire’s but a dream of kingly power. —

  I warn you, as a lover and a friend,

  To leave him, ere his short dominion end:

  The soldier I suborned will wait at night,

  And shall alone be conscious of your flight.

  Lyndar. I thank you, that you so much care bestow;

  But, if his reign be short, I need not go.

  For why should I expose my life, and yours,

  For what, you say, a little time assures?

  Abdelm, My danger in the attempt is very small;

  And, if he loves you, yours is none at all.

  But, though his ruin be as sure as fate,

  Your proof of love to me would come too late.

  This trial I in kindness would allow;

  ’Tis easy; if you love me, show it now.

  Lyndar. It is because I love you, I refuse;

  For all the world my conduct would accuse,

  If I should go with him I love away;

  And, therefore, in strict virtue, I will stay.

  Abdelm. You would in vain dissemble love to me;

  Through that thin veil your artifice I see.

  You would expect the event, and then declare;

  But do not, do not drive me to despair:

  For, if you now refuse with me to fly,

  Rather than love you after this, I’ll die;

  And, therefore, weigh it well before you speak;

  My king is safe, his force within not weak.

  Lyndar. The counsel, you have given me, may be wise;

  But, since the affair is great, I will advise.

  Abdelm. Then that delay I for denial take. [Is going.

  Lyndar. Stay; you too swift an exposition make.

  If I should go, since Zulema will stay,

  I should my brother to the king betray.

  Abdelm. There is no fear; but, if there were, I see

  You value still your brother more than me. —

  Farewell! some ease I in your falsehood find;

  It lets a beam in, that will clear my mind:

  My former weakness I with shame confess,

  And, when I see you next, shall love you less. [Is going again.

  Lyndar. Your faithless dealings you may blush to tell: [Weeping.

  This is a maid’s reward, who loves too well. — [He looks back.

  Remember that I drew my latest breath,

  In charging your unkindness with my death.

  Abdelm. [coming back]

  Have I not answered all you can invent,

  Even the least shadow of an argument?

  Lyndar. You want not cunning what you please to prove,

  But my poor heart knows only how to love;

  And, finding this, you tyrannize the more:

  ’Tis plain, some other mistress you adore;

  And now, with studied tricks of subtlety,

  You come prepared to lay the fault on me. [Wringing her hands.

  But, oh, that I should love so false a man!

  Abdelm. Hear me, and then disprove it, if you can.

  Lyndar. I’ll hear no more; your breach of faith is plain:

  You would with wit your want of love maintain.

  But, by my own experience, I can tell,

  They, who love truly, cannot argue well. —

  Go faithless man!

  Leave me alone to mourn my misery;

  I cannot cease to love you, but I’ll die. [Leans her head on his arm.

  Abdelm. What man but I so long unmoved could hear [Weeping.

  Such tender passion, and refuse a tear! —

  But do not talk of dying any more,

  Unless you mean that I should die before.

  Lyndar. I fear your feigned repentance comes too late;

  I die, to see you still thus obstinate:

  But yet, in death my truth of love to show,

  Lead me; if I have strength enough, I’ll go.

  Abdelm. By heaven, you shall not go! I will not be

  O’ercome in love or generosity.

  All I desire, to end the unlucky strife,

  Is but a vow, that you will be my wife.

  Lyndar. To tie me to you by a vow is hard;

  It shows, my love you as no tie regard. —

  Name any thing but that, and I’ll agree.

  Abdelm. Swear, then, you never will my rival’s be.

  Lyndar. Nay, pr’ythee, this is harder than before. —

  Name any thing, good dear, but that thing more.

  Abdelm. Now I too late perceive I am undone;

  Living and seeing, to my death I run.

  I know you false, yet in your snares I fall;

  You grant me nothing, and I grant you all.

  Lyndar. I would grant all; but I must curb my will,

  Because I love to keep you jealous still.

  In your suspicion I your passion find;

  But I will take a time to cure your mind.

  Halyma. O, madam, the new king is drawing near!

  Lyndar. Haste quickly hence, lest he should find you here!

  Abdelm. How much more wretched than I came, I go!

  I more my weakness and your falsehood know;

  And now must leave you with my greatest foe! [Exit Abdelm.

  Lyndar. Go! — How I love thee heaven can only tell:

  And yet I love thee, for a subject, well. —

  Yet whatsoever charms a crown can bring,

  A subject’s greater than a little king.

  I will attend till time this throne secure;

  And, when I climb, my footing shall be sure. — [Music without.

  Music! and, I believe, addressed to me.

  SONG.

  I.

  Wherever I am, and whatever I do,

  My Phyllis is still in my mind;

  When angry, I mean not to Phyllis to go,

  My feet, of themselves, the way find:

  Unknown to myself I am just at her door,

  And, when I would rail, I can bring out no more

  Than, Phyllis too fair and unkind!

  II.

  When Phyllis I see, my heart bounds in my breast,

  And the love I would stifle is shown;

  But asleep, or awake, I am never at rest,

  When from my eyes Phyllis is gone.

  Sometimes a sad dream does delude my sad mind;

  But, alas! when I wake, and no Phyllis I find,

  How I sigh to myself all alone!

  III.

  Should a king be my rival in her I adore,

  He should offer his treasure in vain:

  O, let me alone to be happy and poor,

  And give me my Phyllis again!

  Let Phylli
s be mine, and but ever be kind,

  I could to a desart with her be confined,

  And envy no monarch his reign.

  IV.

  Alas! I discover too much of my love,

  And she too well knows her own power!

  She makes me each day a new martyrdom prove,

  And makes me grow jealous each hour:

  But let her each minute torment my poor mind,

  I had rather love Phyllis, both false and unkind.

  Than ever be freed from her power.

  Enter Abdalla, with guards.

  Abdal. Now, madam, at your feet a king you see;

  Or, rather, if you please, a sceptered slave:

  ’Tis just you should possess the power you gave.

  Had love not made me yours, I yet had been

  But the first subject to Boabdelin.

  Thus heaven declares the crown I bring your due;

  And had forgot my title, but for you.

  Lyndar. Heaven to your merits will, I hope, be kind;

  But, sir, it has not yet declared its mind.

  ’Tis true, it holds the crown above your head;

  But does not fix it ‘till your brother’s dead.

  Abdal. All, but the Alhambra, is within my power;

  And that my forces go to take this hour.

  Lyndar. When, with its keys, your brother’s head you bring,

  I shall believe you are indeed a king.

  Abdal. But since the events of all things doubtful are,

  And, of events, most doubtful those of war;

  I beg to know before, if fortune frown,

  Must I then lose your favour with my crown?

  Lyndar. You’ll soon return a conqueror again;

  And, therefore, sir, your question is in vain.

  Abdul. I think to certain victory I move;

  But you may more assure it, by your love.

  That grant will make my arms invincible.

  Lyndar. My prayers and wishes your success foretell. —

  Go then, and fight, and think you fight for me;

  I wait but to reward your victory.

  Abdal. But if I lose it, must I lose you too?

  Lyndar. You are too curious, if you more would know.

  I know not what my future thoughts will be:

  Poor women’s thoughts are all extempore.

  Wise men, indeed,

  Beforehand a long chain of thoughts produce;

  But ours are only for our present use.

  Abdal. Those thoughts, you will not know, too well declare.

  You mean to wait the final doom of war.

  Lyndar. I find you come to quarrel with me now;

  Would you know more of me than I allow?

  Whence are you grown that great divinity,

  That with such ease into my thoughts can pry?

  Indulgence does not with some tempers suit;

  I see I must become more absolute.