John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  What place have I, but this, for my relief?

  Lyndar. This favour does your handmaid much oblige,

  But we are not provided for a siege:

  My subjects few; and their provision thin;

  The foe is strong without, we weak within.

  This to my noble lord may seem unkind,

  But he will weigh it in his princely mind;

  And pardon her, who does assurance want

  So much, she blushes when she cannot grant.

  Abdal. Yes, you may blush; and you have cause to weep.

  Is this the faith you promised me to keep?

  Ah yet, if to a lover you will bring

  No succour, give your succour to a king.

  Lyndar. A king is he, whom nothing can withstand;

  Who men and money can with ease command.

  A king is he, whom fortune still does bless;

  He is a king, who does a crown possess.

  If you would have me think that you are he,

  Produce to view your marks of sovereignty;

  But if yourself alone for proof you bring,

  You are but a single person, not a king.

  Abdal. Ungrateful maid, did I for this rebel?

  I say no more; but I have loved too well.

  Lyndar. Who but yourself did that rebellion move:

  Did I e’er promise to receive your love?

  Is it my fault you are not fortunate?

  I love a king, but a poor rebel hate.

  Abdal. Who follow fortune, still are in the right;

  But let me be protected here this night.

  Lyndar. The place to-morrow will be circled round;

  And then no way will for your flight be found.

  Abdal. I hear my enemies just coming on; [Trampling within.

  Protect me but one hour, till they are gone.

  Lyndar. They’ll know you have been here; it cannot be;

  That very hour you stay, will ruin me:

  For if the foe behold our interview,

  I shall be thought a rebel too, like you.

  Haste hence; and, that your flight may prosperous prove,

  I’ll recommend you to the powers above. [Exit Lynd. from above.

  Abdal. She’s gone: Ah, faithless and ungrateful maid! —

  I hear some tread; and fear I am betrayed.

  I’ll to the Spanish king; and try if he,

  To countenance his own right, will succour me:

  There is more faith in Christian dogs, than thee. [Exit.

  Enter Ozmyn, Benzayda, and Abenamar.

  Benz. I wish

  (To merit all these thanks) I could have said,

  My pity only did his virtue aid;

  ’Twas pity, but ’twas of a love-sick maid.

  His manly suffering my esteem did move;

  That bred compassion, and compassion love.

  Ozm. O blessing sold me at too cheap a rate!

  My danger was the benefit of fate. [To his father.

  But that you may my fair deliverer know,

  She was not only born our house’s foe,

  But to my death by powerful reasons led;

  At least, in justice, she might wish me dead.

  Aben. But why thus long do you her name conceal?

  Ozm. To gain belief for what I now reveal:

  Even thus prepared, you scarce can think it true,

  The saver of my life from Selin drew

  Her birth; and was his sister whom I slew.

  Aben. No more; it cannot, was not, must not be:

  Upon my blessing, say not it was she.

  The daughter of the only man I hate!

  Two contradictions twisted in a fate!

  Ozm. The mutual hate, which you and Selin bore,

  Does but exalt her generous pity more.

  Could she a brother’s death forgive to me,

  And cannot you forget her family?

  Can you so ill requite the life I owe,

  To reckon her, who gave it, still your foe?

  It lends too great a lustre to her line,

  To let her virtue ours so much out-shine.

  Aben. Thou gav’st her line the advantage which they have,

  By meanly taking of the life they gave.

  Grant that it did in her a pity shew;

  But would my son be pitied by a foe?

  She has the glory of thy act defaced:

  Thou kill’dst her brother; but she triumphs last:

  Poorly for us our enmity would cease;

  When we are beaten, we receive a peace.

  Benz. If that be all in which you disagree,

  I must confess ’twas Ozmyn conquered me.

  Had I beheld him basely beg his life,

  I should not now submit to be his wife;

  But when I saw his courage death controul,

  I paid a secret homage to his soul;

  And thought my cruel father much to blame,

  Since Ozmyn’s virtue his revenge did shame.

  Aben. What constancy can’st thou e’er hope to find

  In that unstable, and soon conquered mind?

  What piety can’st thou expect from her,

  Who could forgive a brother’s murderer?

  Or, what obedience hop’st thou to be paid,

  From one who first her father disobeyed?

  Ozm. Nature, that bids us parents to obey,

  Bids parents their commands by reason weigh;

  And you her virtue by your praise did own,

  Before you knew by whom the act was done.

  Aben. Your reasons speak too much of insolence;

  Her birth’s a crime past pardon or defence.

  Know, that as Selin was not won by thee,

  Neither will I by Selin’s daughter be.

  Leave her, or cease henceforth to be my son:

  This is my will; and this I will have done. [Exit Aben.

  Ozm. It is a murdering will,

  That whirls along with an impetuous sway,

  And, like chain-shot, sweeps all things in its way.

  He does my honour want of duty call;

  To that, and love, he has no right at all.

  Benz. No, Ozmyn, no; it is a much less ill

  To leave me, than dispute a father’s will:

  If I had any title to your love,

  Your father’s greater right does mine remove:

  Your vows and faith I give you back again,

  Since neither can be kept without a sin.

  Ozm. Nothing but death my vows can give me back:

  They are not yours to give, nor mine to take.

  Benz. Nay, think not, though I could your vows resign,

  My love or virtue could dispense with mine.

  I would extinguish your unlucky fire,

  To make you happy in some new desire:

  I can preserve enough for me and you,

  And love, and be unfortunate, for two.

  Ozm. In all that’s good and great

  You vanquish me so fast, that in the end

  I shall have nothing left me to defend.

  From every post you force me to remove;

  But let me keep my last entrenchment, love.

  Benz. Love then, my Ozmyn; I will be content [Giving her hand.

  To make you wretched by your own consent:

  Live poor, despised, and banished for my sake,

  And all the burden of my sorrows take;

  For, as for me, in whatsoe’er estate,

  While I have you, I must be fortunate.

  Ozm. Thus then, secured of what we hold most dear,

  (Each other’s love) we’ll go — I know not where.

  For where, alas, should we our flight begin?

  The foe’s without; our parents are within.

  Benz. I’ll fly to you, and you shall fly to me;

  Our flight but to each other’s arms shall be.

  To providence and chance permit the rest;

  Let us but
love enough, and we are blest. [Exeunt.

  SCENE II.

  Enter Boabdelin, Abenamar, Abdelmelech, Guards: Zulema and Hamet, Prisoners.

  Abdelm. They are Lyndaraxa’s brothers; for her sake,

  Their lives and pardon my request I make.

  Boab. Then, Zulema and Hamet, live; but know,

  Your lives to Abdelmelech’s suit you owe.

  Zul. The grace received so much my hope exceeds,

  That words come weak and short to answer deeds.

  You’ve made a venture, sir, and time must shew,

  If this great mercy you did well bestow.

  Boab. You, Abdelmelech, haste before ’tis night,

  And close pursue my brother in his flight. [Exeunt Abdelmelech, Zulema, and Hamet.

  Enter Almanzor, Almahide, and Esperanza.

  But see, with Almahide

  The brave Almanzor comes, whose conquering sword

  The crown, it once took from me, has restored.

  How can I recompence so great desert!

  Almanz. I bring you, sir, performed in every part,

  My promise made; your foes are fled or slain;

  Without a rival, absolute you reign.

  Yet though, in justice, this enough may be,

  It is too little to be done by me:

  I beg to go,

  Where my own courage and your fortune calls,

  To chase these misbelievers from our walls.

  I cannot breathe within this narrow space;

  My heart’s too big, and swells beyond the place.

  Boab. You can perform, brave warrior, what you please;

  Fate listens to your voice, and then decrees.

  Now I no longer fear the Spanish powers;

  Already we are free, and conquerors.

  Almanz. Accept, great king, to-morrow, from my hand,

  The captive head of conquered Ferdinand.

  You shall not only what you lost regain,

  But o’er the Biscayan mountains to the main,

  Extend your sway, where never Moor did reign.

  Aben. What, in another, vanity would seem,

  Appears but noble confidence in him;

  No haughty boasting, but a manly pride;

  A soul too fiery, and too great to guide:

  He moves excentric, like a wandering star,

  Whose motion’s just, though ’tis not regular.

  Boab. It is for you, brave man, and only you,

  Greatly to speak, and yet more greatly do.

  But, if your benefits too far extend,

  I must be left ungrateful in the end:

  Yet somewhat I would pay,

  Before my debts above all reckoning grow,

  To keep me from the shame of what I owe.

  But you

  Are conscious to yourself of such desert,

  That of your gift I fear to offer part.

  Almanz. When I shall have declared my high request,

  So much presumption there will be confest,

  That you will find your gifts I do not shun;

  But rather much o’er-rate the service done.

  Boab. Give wing to your desires, and let ‘em fly,

  Secure they cannot mount a pitch too high.

  So bless me, Alha, both in peace and war,

  As I accord, whate’er your wishes are.

  Almanz. Emboldened by the promise of a prince, [Putting one knee to the ground.

  I ask this lady now with confidence.

  Boab. You ask the only thing I cannot grant. [The King and Abenamar look amazedly on each other.

  But, as a stranger, you are ignorant

  Of what by public fame my subjects know;

  She is my mistress.

  Aben. — And my daughter too.

  Almanz. Believe, old man, that I her father knew:

  What else should make Almanzor kneel to you? —

  Nor doubt, sir, but your right to her was known:

  For had you had no claim but love alone,

  I could produce a better of my own.

  Almah. [softly to him.]

  Almanzor, you forget my last request:

  Your words have too much haughtiness expressed.

  Is this the humble way you were to move?

  Almanz. [to her.]

  I was too far transported by my love.

  Forgive me; for I had not learned to sue

  To any thing before, but heaven and you. —

  Sir, at your feet, I make it my request — [To the King.

  [First line kneeling: second, rising, and boldly.

  Though, without boasting, I deserve her best;

  For you her love with gaudy titles sought,

  But I her heart with blood and dangers bought.

  Boab. The blood, which you have shed in her defence,

  Shall have in time a fitting recompence:

  Or, if you think your services delayed,

  Name but your price, and you shall soon be paid.

  Almanz. My price! — why, king, you do not think you deal

  With one who sets his services to sale?

  Reserve your gifts for those who gifts regard;

  And know, I think myself above reward.

  Boab. Then sure you are some godhead; and our care

  Must be to come with incense and with prayer.

  Almanz. As little as you think yourself obliged,

  You would be glad to do’t, when next besieged.

  But I am pleased there should be nothing due;

  For what I did was for myself, not you.

  Boab. You with contempt on meaner gifts look down;

  And, aiming at my queen, disdain my crown.

  That crown, restored, deserves no recompence.

  Since you would rob the fairest jewel thence.

  Dare not henceforth ungrateful me to call;

  Whate’er I owed you, this has cancelled all.

  Almanz. I’ll call thee thankless, king, and perjured both:

  Thou swor’st by Alha, and hast broke thy oath.

  But thou dost well; thou tak’st the cheapest way;

  Not to own services thou canst not pay.

  Boab. My patience more than pays thy service past;

  But now this insolence shall be thy last.

  Hence from my sight! and take it as a grace,

  Thou liv’st, and art but banished from the place.

  Almanz. Where’er I go, there can no exile be;

  But from Almanzor’s sight I banish thee:

  I will not now, if thou wouldst beg me, stay;

  But I will take my Almahide away.

  Stay thou with all thy subjects here; but know,

  We leave thy city empty when we go. [Takes Almahide’S hand.

  Boab. Fall on; take; kill the traitor. [The Guards fall on him; he makes at the King through the midst of them, and falls upon him; they disarm him, and rescue the King.

  Almanz. — Base and poor,

  Blush that thou art Almanzor’s conqueror. [Almahide wrings her hands, then turns and veils her face.

  Farewell, my Almahide!

  Life of itself will go, now thou art gone,

  Like flies in winter, when they lose the sun. [Abenamar whispers the King a little, then speaks aloud.

  Aben. Revenge, and taken so secure a way,

  Are blessings which heaven sends not every day.

  Boab. I will at leisure now revenge my wrong;

  And, traitor, thou shalt feel my vengeance long:

  Thou shalt not die just at thy own desire,

  But see my nuptials, and with rage expire.

  Almanz. Thou darest not marry her while I’m in sight:

  With a bent brow thy priest and thee I’ll fright;

  And in that scene,

  Which all thy hopes and wishes should content,

  The thought of me shall make thee impotent. [He is led off by Guards.

  Boab. As some fair tulip, by a storm oppressed, [To Almah.

 
Shrinks up, and folds its silken arms to rest;

  And, bending to the blast, all pale and dead,

  Hears, from within, the wind sing round its head, —

  So, shrouded up, your beauty disappears:

  Unveil, my love, and lay aside your fears.

  The storm, that caused your fright, is passed and done. [Almahide unveiling, and looking round for Almanzor.

  Almah. So flowers peep out too soon, and miss the sun. [Turning from him.

  Boab. What mystery in this strange behaviour lies?

  Almah. Let me for ever hide these guilty eyes,

  Which lighted my Almanzor to his tomb;

  Or, let them blaze, to show me there a room.

  Boab. Heaven lent their lustre for a nobler end;

  A thousand torches must their light attend,

  To lead you to a temple and a crown.

  Why does my fairest Almahide frown?

  Am I less pleasing then I was before,

  Or, is the insolent Almanzor more?

  Almah. I justly own that I some pity have,

  Not for the insolent, but for the brave.

  Aben. Though to your king your duty you neglect,

  Know, Almahide, I look for more respect:

  And, if a parent’s charge your mind can move,

  Receive the blessing of a monarch’s love.

  Almah. Did he my freedom to his life prefer,

  And shall I wed Almanzor’s murderer?

  No, sir; I cannot to your will submit;

  Your way’s too rugged for my tender feet.

  Aben. You must be driven where you refuse to go;

  And taught, by force, your happiness to know.

  Almah. To force me, sir, is much unworthy you, [Smiling scornfully.

  And, when you would, impossible to do.

  If force could bend me, you might think, with shame,

  That I debase the blood from whence I came.

  My soul is soft, which you may gently lay

  In your loose palm; but, when ’tis pressed to stay,

  Like water, it deludes your grasp, and slips away.

  Boab. I find I must revoke what I decreed:

  Almanzor’s death my nuptials must precede.

  Love is a magic which the lover ties;

  But charms still end when the magician dies.

  Go; let me hear my hated rival’s dead; [To his Guard.

  And, to convince my eyes, bring back his head.

  Almah. Go on: I wish no other way to prove

  That I am worthy of Almanzor’s love.

  We will in death, at least, united be:

  I’ll shew you I can die as well as he.

  Boab. What should I do! when equally I dread

  Almanzor living and Almanzor dead! —

  Yet, by your promise, you are mine alone.

  Almah. How dare you claim my faith, and break your own?

  Aben. This for your virtue is a weak defence: