by John Dryden
Ozm. My honour bids me succour the oppressed;
That life he sought, for his I’ll freely give;
We’ll die together, or together live.
Benz. I’ll call more succour, since the camp is near,
And fly on all the wings of love and fear. [Exit Benz.
Enter Abenamar, and four or five Moors. He looks and finds Selin.
Aben. You’ve lived, and now behold your latest hour.
Selin. I scorn your malice, and defy your power.
A speedy death is all I ask you now;
And that’s a favour you may well allow.
Ozm. [shewing himself.]
Who gives you death, shall give it first to me;
Fate cannot separate our destiny. — [Knows his father.
My father here! then heaven itself has laid
The snare, in which my virtue is betrayed.
Aben. Fortune, I thank thee! thou hast kindly done,
To bring me back that fugitive, my son;
In arms too? fighting for my enemy! —
I’ll do a Roman justice, — thou shalt die!
Ozm. I beg not you my forfeit life would save;
Yet add one minute to that breath you gave.
I disobeyed you, and deserve my fate;
But bury in my grave two houses’ hate.
Let Selin live; and see your justice done
On me, while you revenge him for his son:
Your mutual malice in my death may cease,
And equal loss persuade you both to peace.
Aben. Yes, justice shall be done on him and thee. —
Haste and dispatch them both immediately. [To a soldier.
Ozm. If you have honour, — since you nature want, —
For your own sake my last petition grant;
And kill not a disarmed, defenceless foe,
Whose death your cruelty, or fear, will show.
My father cannot do an act so base: —
My father! — I mistake; — I meant, who was.
Aben. Go, then, dispatch him first who was my son!
Ozm. Swear but to save his life, I’ll yield my own.
Aben. Nor tears, nor prayers, thy life, or his, shall buy.
Ozm. Then, sir, Benzayda’s father shall not die! — [Putting himself before Selin.
And, since he’ll want defence when I am gone,
I will, to save his life, defend my own.
Aben. This justice, parricides, like thee, should have! — [Aben. and his party attack them both. Ozm. parries his father’s thrusts, and thrusts at the others.
Enter Benzayda, with Abdalla, the Duke of Arcos, and Spaniards.
Benz. O, help my father! and my Ozmyn save!
Abdal. Villains, that death you have deserved is near!
Ozm. Stay, prince! and know, I have a father here! — [Stops Abdalla’s hand.
I were that parricide, of whom he spoke,
Did not my piety prevent your stroke.
D. Arcos. to Aben. Depart, then, and thank heaven you had a son.
Aben. I am not with these shows of duty won.
Ozm. to his Father. Heaven knows, I would that life, you seek, resign;
But, while Benzayda lives, it is not mine.
Will you yet pardon my unwilling crime?
Aben. By no entreaties, by no length of time,
Will I be won; but, with my latest breath,
I’ll curse thee here, and haunt thee after death. [Exit Aben. with his party.
Ozm. Can you be merciful to that degree, [Kneeling to Selin.
As to forgive my father’s faults in me?
Can you forgive
The death of him I slew in my defence,
And from the malice separate the offence?
I can no longer be your enemy:
In short, now kill me, sir, or pardon me. [Offers him his sword.
In this your silence my hard fate appears.
Selin. I’ll answer you, when I can speak for tears.
But, till I can,
Imagine what must needs be brought to pass; [Embraces him.
My heart’s not made of marble, nor of brass.
Did I for you a cruel death prepare,
And have you, have you made my life your care!
There is a shame contracted by my faults,
Which hinders me to speak my secret thoughts.
And I will tell you — when the shame’s removed —
You are not better by my daughter loved. —
Benzayda be yours. — I can no more.
Ozm. Blessed be that breath which does my life restore! [Embracing his knees.
Benz. I hear my father now; these words confess
That name, and that indulgent tenderness.
Selin. Benzayda, I have been too much to blame;
But let your goodness expiate my shame:
You Ozmyn’s virtue did in chains adore,
And part of me was just to him before. —
My son! —
Ozm. My father! —
Selin. Since by you I live,
I, for your sake, your family forgive.
Let your hard father still my life pursue,
I hate not him, but for his hate to you;
Even that hard father yet may one day be
By kindness vanquished, as you vanquished me;
Or, if my death can quench to you his rage,
Heaven makes good use of my remaining age.
Abdal. I grieve your joys are mingled with my cares;
But all take interest in their own affairs;
And, therefore, I must ask how mine proceed.
Selin. They now are ripe, and but your presence need:
For Lyndaraxa, faithless as the wind,
Yet to your better fortunes will be kind;
For, hearing that the Christians own your cause,
From thence the assurance of a throne she draws.
And since Almanzor, whom she most did fear,
Is gone, she to no treaty will give ear;
But sent me her unkindness to excuse.
Abdal. You much surprise me with your pleasing news.
Selin. But, sir, she hourly does the assault expect,
And must be lost if you her aid neglect:
For Abdelmelech loudly does declare,
He’ll use the last extremities of war,
If she refuse the fortress to resign.
Abdal. The charge of hastening this relief be mine.
Selin. This while I undertook, whether beset,
Or else by chance, Abenamar I met;
Who seemed, in haste, returning to the town.
Abdal. My love must in my diligence be shown. —
And [To Arcos.] as my pledge of faith to Spain, this hour
I’ll put the fortress in your master’s power.
Selin. An open way from hence to it there lies,
And we with ease may send in large supplies,
Free from the shot and sallies of the town.
D. Arcos. Permit me, sir, to share in your renown;
First to my king I will impart the news,
And then draw out what succours we shall use. [Exit Duke of Arcos.
Abdal. [Aside.]
Grant that she loves me not, at least I see
She loves not others, if she loves not me. —
’Tis pleasure, when we reap the fruit of pain:
’Tis only pride, to be beloved again.
How many are not loved, who think they are!
Yet all are willing to believe the fair;
And, though ’tis beauty’s known and obvious cheat,
Yet man’s self-love still favours the deceit. [Exit Abdal.
Selin. Farewell, my children! equally so dear,
That I myself am to myself less near:
While I repeat the dangers of the war,
Your mutual safety be each other’s care.
Your father, Ozmyn, till the war be done,
As
much as honour will permit, I’ll shun:
If by his sword I perish, let him know
It was, because I would not be his foe.
Ozm. Goodness and virtue all your actions guide;
You only err in choosing of your side.
That party I, with honour, cannot take;
But can much less the care of you forsake:
I must not draw my sword against my prince,
But yet may hold a shield in your defence.
Benzayda, free from danger, here shall stay,
And for a father and a lover pray.
Benz. No, no! I gave not on those terms my heart,
That from my Ozmyn I should ever part:
That love I vowed, when you did death attend,
’Tis just that nothing but my death should end.
What merchant is it, who would stay behind,
His whole stock ventured to the waves and wind?
I’ll pray for both, but both shall be in sight;
And heaven shall hear me pray, and see you fight.
Selin. No longer, Ozmyn, combat a design,
Where so much love, and so much virtue join.
Ozm. [To Benz.]
Then conquer, and your conquest happy be,
Both to yourself, your father, and to me. —
With bended knees our freedom we’ll demand
Of Isabel, and mighty Ferdinand:
Then while the paths of honour we pursue,
We’ll interest heaven for us, in right of you. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — The Albayzyn.
An alarm within; then Soldiers running over the stage. Enter Abdelmelech, victorious, with Soldiers.
Abdelm. ’Tis won, ’tis won! and Lyndaraxa, now,
Who scorned to treat, shall to a conquest bow.
To every sword I free commission give;
Fall on, my friends, and let no rebel live.
Spare only Lyndaraxa; let her be
In triumph led, to grace my victory.
Since by her falsehood she betrayed my love,
Great as that falsehood my revenge shall prove. —
Enter Lyndaraxa, as frightened, attended by women.
Go, take the enchantress, bring her to me bound!
Lyndar. Force needs not, where resistance is not found:
I come, myself, to offer you my hands;
And, of my own accord, invite your bands.
I wished to be my Abdelmelech’s slave;
I did but wish, — and easy fortune gave.
Abdelm. O, more than woman false! — but ’tis in vain. —
Can you ere hope to be believed again?
I’ll sooner trust the hyæna, than your smile;
Or, than your tears, the weeping crocodile.
In war and love none should be twice deceived;
The fault is mine if you are now believed.
Lyndar. Be overwise, then, and too late repent;
Your crime will carry its own punishment.
I am well pleased not to be justified;
I owe no satisfaction to your pride.
It will be more advantage to my fame,
To have it said, I never owned a flame.
Abdelm. ’Tis true, my pride has satisfied itself:
I have at length escaped the deadly shelf.
The excuses you prepare will be in vain,
Till I am fool enough to love again.
Lyndar. Am I not loved?
Abdelm. I must with shame avow,
I loved you once; — but do not love you now.
Lyndar. Have I for this betrayed Abdalla’s trust?
You are to me, as I to him, unjust. [Angrily.
Abdelm. ’Tis like you have done much for love of me,
Who kept the fortress of my enemy.
Lyndar. ’Tis true, I took the fortress from his hand;
But, since, have kept it in my own command.
Abdelm. That act your foul ingratitude did show.
Lyndar. You are the ungrateful, since ’twas kept for you.
Abdelm. ’Twas kept indeed; but not by your intent:
For all your kindness I may thank the event.
Blush, Lyndaraxa, for so gross a cheat:
’Twas kept for me, — when you refused to treat! [Ironically.
Lyndar. Blind man! I knew the weakness of the place:
It was my plot to do your arms this grace.
Had not my care of your renown been great,
I loved enough to offer you to treat.
She, who is loved, must little lets create;
But you bold lovers are to force your fate.
This force, you used, my maiden blush will save;
You seemed to take, what secretly I gave.
I knew we must be conquered; but I knew
What confidence I might repose in you.
I knew, you were too grateful to expose
My friends, and soldiers, to be used like foes.
Abdelm. Well, though I love you not, their lives shall be
Spared out of pity and humanity. —
Alferez, [To a Soldier.] go, and let the slaughter cease. [Exit the Alferez.
Lyndar. Then must I to your pity owe my peace?
Is that the tenderest term you can afford?
Time was, you would have used another word.
Abdelm. Then, for your beauty I your soldiers spare:
For, though I do not love you, you are fair.
Lyndar. That little beauty why did heaven impart,
To please your eyes, but not to move your heart!
I’ll shroud this gorgon from all human view,
And own no beauty, since it charms not you!
Reverse your orders, and your sentence give;
My soldiers shall not from my beauty live.
Abdelm. Then, from your friendship they their lives shall gain;
Tho’ love be dead, yet friendship does remain.
Lyndar. That friendship, which from withered love does shoot,
Like the faint herbage on a rock, wants root.
Love is a tender amity, refined:
Grafted on friendship it exalts the kind.
But when the graff no longer does remain,
The dull stock lives, but never bears again.
Abdelm. Then, that my friendship may not doubtful prove, —
Fool that I am to tell you so! — I love.
You would extort this knowledge from my breast,
And tortured me so long that I confest.
Now I expect to suffer for my sin;
My monarchy must end, and yours begin.
Lyndar. Confess not love, but spare yourself that shame,
And call your passion by some other name.
Call this assault, your malice, or your hate;
Love owns no acts so disproportionate.
Love never taught this insolence you shew,
To treat your mistress like a conquered foe.
Is this the obedience which my heart should move!
This usage looks more like a rape than love.
Abdelm. What proof of duty would you I should give?
Lyndar. ’Tis grace enough to let my subjects live!
Let your rude soldiers keep possession still;
Spoil, rifle, pillage, — any thing but kill.
In short, sir, use your fortune as you please;
Secure my castle, and my person seize;
Let your true men my rebels hence remove;
I shall dream on, and think ’tis all your love!
Abdelm. You know too well my weakness and your power:
Why did heaven make a fool a conqueror!
She was my slave, ‘till she by me was shewn
How weak my force was, and how strong her own.
Now she has beat my power from every part,
Made her way open to my naked heart: [To a Soldier.
Go, strictly charge my soldiers to retreat:
Those countermand who are not
entered yet.
On peril of your lives leave all things free. [Exit Soldier.
Now, madam, love Abdalla more than me.
I only ask, in duty you would bring
The keys of our Albayzyn to the king:
I’ll make your terms as gentle as you please. [Trumpets sound a charge within, and soldiers shout.
What shouts, and what new sounds of war are these?
Lyndar. Fortune, I hope, has favoured my intent, [Aside.
Of gaining time, and welcome succours sent.
Enter the Alferez.
Alferez. All’s lost, and you are fatally deceived:
The foe is entered, and the place relieved.
Scarce from the walls had I drawn off my men,
When, from their camp, the enemy rushed in,
And prince Abdalla entered first the gate.
Abdelm. I am betrayed, and find it now too late.
When your proud soul to flatteries did descend, [To her.
I might have known it did some ill portend.
The weary seaman stormy weather fears,
When winds shift often, and no cause appears.
You by my bounty live —
Your brothers, too, were pardoned for my sake,
And this return your gratitude does make.
Lyndar. My brothers best their own obligement know;
Without your charging me with what they owe.
But, since you think the obligement is so great,
I’ll bring a friend to satisfy my debt. [Looking behind.
Abdelm. Thou shalt not triumph in thy base design;
Though not thy fort, thy person shall be mine. [He goes to take her: She runs and cries out help.
Enter Abdalla, Duke of Arcos, and Spaniards. Abdelmelech retreats fighting, and is pursued by the adverse party off the stage. The alarm within.
Enter again Abdalla and the Duke of Arcos, with Lyndaraxa.
D. Arcos. Bold Abdelmelech twice our Spaniards faced,
Though much out-numbered; and retreated last.
Abdal. Your beauty, as it moves no common fire, [To Lyndaraxa.
So it no common courage can inspire.
As he fought well, so had he prospered too,
If, madam, he, like me, had fought for you.
Lyndar. Fortune, at last, has chosen with my eyes;
And, where I would have given it, placed the prize.
You see, sir, with what hardship I have kept
This precious gage, which in my hands you left.
But ’twas the love of you which made me fight,
And gave me courage to maintain your right.
Now, by experience, you my faith may find,
And are to thank me that I seemed unkind.
When your malicious fortune doomed your fall,
My care restrained you then from losing all;
Against your destiny I shut the gate,