John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

And nothing but the Alhambra now is ours.

  Almanz. Even that’s too much, except we may have more;

  You lost it all to that last stake before.

  Fate, now come back; thou canst not farther get;

  The bounds of thy libration here are set.

  Thou know’st this place,

  And, like a clock wound up, strik’st here for me;

  Now, Chance, assert thy own inconstancy,

  And, Fortune, fight, that thou may’st Fortune be! —

  They come: here, favoured by the narrow place, [A noise within.

  I can, with few, their gross battalion face.

  By the dead wall, you, Abdelmelech, wind;

  Then charge, and their retreat cut off behind. [Exeunt.

  [An alarm within.

  Enter Almanzor and his Party, with Abdalla prisoner.

  Almanz. You were my friend: and to that name I owe [To Abdal.

  The just regard, which you refused to show.

  Your liberty I frankly would restore,

  But honour now forbids me to do more.

  Yet, sir, your freedom in your choice shall be,

  When you command to set your brother free.

  Abdal. The exchange, which you propose, with joy I take;

  An offer easier than my hopes could make.

  Your benefits revenge my crimes to you,

  For I my shame in that bright mirror view.

  Almanz. No more; you give me thanks you do not owe:

  I have been faulty, and repent me now.

  But, though our penitence a virtue be,

  Mean souls alone repent in misery;

  The brave own faults when good success is given,

  For then they come on equal terms to heaven. [Exeunt.

  SCENE II. — The Albayzyn.

  Enter Ozmyn and Benzayda.

  Benz. I see there’s somewhat which you fear to tell;

  Speak quickly, Ozmyn, is my father well?

  Why cross you thus your arms, and shake your head?

  Kill me at once, and tell me he is dead.

  Ozm. I know not more than you; but fear not less;

  Twice sinking, twice I drew him from the press:

  But the victorious foe pursued so fast,

  That flying throngs divided us at last.

  As seamen parting in a general wreck,

  When first the loosening planks begin to crack;

  Each catches one, and straight are far disjoined,

  Some borne by tides, and others by the wind;

  So, in this ruin, from each other rent,

  With heaved-up hands we mutual farewells sent:

  Methought his eyes, when just I lost his view,

  Were looking blessings to be sent to you.

  Benz. Blind queen of Chance, to lovers too severe,

  Thou rulest mankind, but art a tyrant there!

  Thy widest empire’s in a lover’s breast:

  Like open seas, we seldom are at rest.

  Upon thy coasts our wealth is daily cast;

  And thou, like pirates, mak’st no peace to last.

  To them Lyndaraxa, Duke of Arcos, and Guards.

  D. Arcos. We were surprised when least we did suspect,

  And justly suffered by our own neglect.

  Lyndar. No; none but I have reason to complain!

  So near a kingdom, yet ’tis lost again!

  O, how unequally in me were joined

  A creeping fortune, with a soaring mind!

  O lottery of fate! where still the wise

  Draw blanks of fortune, and the fools the prize!

  These cross, ill-shuffled lots from heaven are sent,

  Yet dull Religion teaches us content;

  But when we ask it where the blessing dwells,

  It points to pedant colleges, and cells;

  There shows it rude, and in a homely dress,

  And that proud Want mistakes for happiness. [A trumpet within.

  Enter Zulema.

  Brother! what strange adventure brought you here?

  Zul. The news I bring will yet more strange appear.

  The little care you of my life did show,

  Has of a brother justly made a foe;

  And Abdelmelech who that life did save,

  As justly has deserved that life he gave.

  Lyndar. Your business cools, while tediously it stays

  On the low theme of Abdelmelech’s praise.

  Zul. This I present from Prince Abdalla’s hands. [Delivers a letter, which she reads.

  Lyndar. He has proposed, (to free him from his bands)

  That, with his brother, an exchange be made.

  D. Arcos. It proves the same design which we had laid.

  Before the castle let a bar be set;

  And when the captives on each side are met,

  With equal numbers chosen for their guard,

  Just at the time the passage is unbarred,

  Let both at once advance, at once be free.

  Lyndar. The exchange I will myself in person see.

  Benz. I fear to ask, yet would from doubt be freed, —

  Is Selin captive, sir, or is he dead?

  Zul. I grieve to tell you what you needs must know, —

  He is a prisoner to his greatest foe;

  Kept with strong guards in the Alhambra tower;

  Without the reach even of Almanzor’s power.

  Ozm. With grief and shame I am at once opprest.

  Zul. You will be more, when I relate the rest.

  To you I from Abenamar am sent, [To Ozmyn.

  And you alone can Selin’s death prevent.

  Give up yourself a prisoner in his stead;

  Or, ere to-morrow’s dawn, believe him dead.

  Benz. Ere that appear, I shall expire with grief.

  Zul. Your action swift, your counsel must be brief.

  Lyndar. While for Abdalla’s freedom we prepare,

  You in each other’s breast unload your care. [Exeunt all but Ozmyn and Benzayda.

  Benz. My wishes contradictions must imply;

  You must not go; and yet he must not die.

  Your reason may, perhaps, the extremes unite;

  But there’s a mist of fate before my sight.

  Ozm. The two extremes too distant are, to close;

  And human wit can no mid way propose.

  My duty therefore shows the nearest way

  To free your father, and my own obey.

  Benz. Your father, whom, since yours, I grieve to blame,

  Has lost, or quite forgot, a parent’s name;

  And, when at once possessed of him and you,

  Instead of freeing one, will murder two.

  Ozm. Fear not my life; but suffer me to go:

  What cannot only sons with parents do!

  ’Tis not my death my father does pursue;

  He only would withdraw my love from you.

  Benz. Now, Ozmyn, now your want of love I see;

  For would you go, and hazard losing me?

  Ozm. I rather would ten thousand lives forsake;

  Nor can you e’er believe the doubt you make.

  This night I with a chosen band will go,

  And, by surprise, will free him from the foe.

  Benz. What foe! ah whither would your virtue fall!

  It is your father whom the foe you call.

  Darkness and rage will no distinction make,

  And yours may perish for my father’s sake.

  Ozm. Thus, when my weaker virtue goes astray.

  Yours pulls it back, and guides me in the way:

  I’ll send him word, my being shall depend

  On Selin’s life, and with his death shall end.

  Benz. ’Tis that, indeed, would glut your father’s rage:

  Revenge on Ozmyn’s youth, and Selin’s age.

  Ozm. Whate’er I plot, like Sysiphus, in vain

  I heave a stone, that tumbles down again.

  Benz. This glorious work is the
n reserved for me:

  He is my father, and I’ll set him free.

  These chains my father for my sake does wear:

  I made the fault; and I the pains will bear.

  Ozm. Yes; you no doubt have merited these pains;

  Those hands, those tender limbs, were made for chains!

  Did I not love you, yet it were too base

  To let a lady suffer in my place.

  Those proofs of virtue you before did show,

  I did admire; but I must envy now.

  Your vast ambition leaves no fame for me,

  But grasps at universal monarchy.

  Benz. Yes, Ozmyn, I shall still this palm pursue;

  I will not yield my glory even to you.

  I’ll break those bonds in which my father’s tied,

  Or, if I cannot break them, I’ll divide.

  What, though my limbs a woman’s weakness show,

  I have a soul as masculine as you;

  And when these limbs want strength my chains to wear,

  My mind shall teach my body how to bear. [Exit Benz.

  Ozm. What I resolve, I must not let her know;

  But honour has decreed she must not go.

  What she resolves, I must prevent with care;

  She shall not in my fame or danger share.

  I’ll give strict order to the guards which wait,

  That, when she comes, she shall not pass the gate.

  Fortune, at last, has run me out of breath;

  I have no refuge but the arms of death:

  To that dark sanctuary I will go;

  She cannot reach me when I lie so low. [Exit.

  SCENE III. — The Albayzyn.

  Enter, on one side, Almanzor, Abdalla, Abdelmelech, Zulema, Hamet. On the other side, the Duke of Arcos, Boabdelin, Lyndaraxa, and their Party. After which the bars are opened; and at the same time Boabdelin and Abdalla pass by each other, each to his Party; when Abdalla is passed on the other side, the Duke of Arcos approaches the bars, and calls to Almanzor.

  D. Arcos. The hatred of the brave with battles ends,

  And foes, who fought for honour, then are friends.

  I love thee, brave Almanzor, and am proud

  To have one hour when love may be allowed.

  This hand, in sign of that esteem, I plight;

  We shall have angry hours enough to fight. [Giving his hand.

  Almanz. The man who dares, like you, in fields appear,

  And meet my sword, shall be my mistress here.

  If I am proud, ’tis only to my foes;

  Rough but to such who virtue would oppose.

  If I some fierceness from a father drew,

  A mother’s milk gives me some softness too.

  D. Arcos. Since first you took, and after set me free,

  (Whether a sense of gratitude it be,

  Or some more secret motion of my mind,

  For which I want a name that’s more than kind)

  I shall be glad, by whate’er means I can,

  To get the friendship of so brave a man;

  And would your unavailing valour call,

  From aiding those whom heaven has doomed to fall.

  We owe you that respect,

  Which to the gods of foes besieged was shown,

  To call you out before we take your town.

  Almanz. Those whom we love, we should esteem them too,

  And not debauch that virtue which we woo.

  Yet, though you give my honour just offence,

  I’ll take your kindness in the better sense;

  And, since you for my safety seem to fear,

  I, to return your bribe, should wish you here.

  But, since I love you more than you do me,

  In all events preserve your honour free;

  For that’s your own, though not your destiny.

  D. Arcos. Were you obliged in honour by a trust,

  I should not think my own proposals just;

  But since you fight for an unthankful king,

  What loss of fame can change of parties bring?

  Almanz. It will, and may with justice too be thought,

  That some advantage in that change I sought.

  And though I twice have changed for wrongs received,

  That it was done for profit none believed.

  The king’s ingratitude I knew before;

  So that can be no cause of changing more.

  If now I stand, when no reward can be,

  ‘Twill show the fault before was not in me.

  D. Arcos. Yet there is a reward to valour due,

  And such it is as may be sought by you;

  That beauteous queen, whom you can never gain,

  While you secure her husband’s life and reign.

  Almanz. Then be it so; let me have no return [Here Lyndaraxa comes near, and hears them.

  From him but hatred, and from her but scorn.

  There is this comfort in a noble fate,

  That I deserve to be more fortunate.

  You have my last resolve; and now, farewell:

  My boding heart some mischief does foretell;

  But what it is, heaven will not let me know.

  I’m sad to death, that I must be your foe.

  D. Arcos. Heaven, when we meet, if fatal it must be

  To one, spare him, and cast the lot on me. [They retire.

  Lyndar. Ah, what a noble conquest were this heart!

  I am resolved I’ll try my utmost art:

  In gaining him, I gain that fortune too,

  Which he has wedded, and which I but woo.

  I’ll try each secret passage to his mind,

  And love’s soft bands about his heart-strings wind.

  Not his vowed constancy shall ‘scape my snare;

  While he without resistance does prepare,

  I’ll melt into him ere his love’s aware. [She makes a gesture of invitation to Almanzor, who returns again

  Lyndar. You see, sir, to how strange a remedy

  A persecuted maid is forced to fly:

  Who, much distressed, yet scarce has confidence

  To make your noble pity her defence.

  Almanz. Beauty, like yours, can no protection need;

  Or, if it sues, is certain to succeed.

  To whate’er service you ordain my hand,

  Name your request, and call it your command.

  Lyndar. You cannot, sir, but know, that my ill fate

  Has made me loved with all the effects of hate:

  One lover would, by force, my person gain;

  Which one, as guilty, would by force detain.

  Rash Abdelmelech’s love I cannot prize,

  And fond Abdalla’s passion I despise.

  As you are brave, so you are prudent too;

  Advise a wretched woman what to do.

  Almanz. Have courage, fair one, put your trust in me;

  You shall, at least, from those you hate, be free.

  Resign your castle to the king’s command,

  And leave your love concernments in my hand.

  Lyndar. The king, like them, is fierce, and faithless too;

  How can I trust him who has injured you?

  Keep for yourself, (and you can grant no less)

  What you alone are worthy to possess.

  Enter, brave sir; for, when you speak the word,

  These gates will open of their own accord;

  The genius of the place its lord will meet,

  And bend its tow’ry forehead to your feet.

  That little citadel, which now you see,

  Shall, then, the head of conquered nations be;

  And every turret, from your coming, rise

  The mother of some great metropolis.

  Almanz. ’Tis pity, words, which none but gods should hear,

  Should lose their sweetness in a soldier’s ear:

  I am not that Almanzor whom you praise;

  But your fair mouth can fair ideas raise: —
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  I am a wretch, to whom it is denied

  To accept, with honour, what I wish with pride;

  And, since I light not for myself, must bring

  The fruits of all my conquests to the king.

  Lyndar. Say rather to the queen, to whose fair name

  I know you vow the trophies of your fame.

  I hope she is as kind as she is fair;

  Kinder than inexperienced virgins are

  To their first loves; (though she has loved before,

  And that first innocence is now no more:)

  But, in revenge, she gives you all her heart,

  (For you are much too brave to take a part.)

  Though, blinded by a crown, she did not see

  Almanzor greater than a king could be,

  I hope her love repairs her ill-made choice:

  Almanzor cannot be deluded twice.

  Almanz. No, not deluded; for none count their gains,

  Who, like Almanzor, frankly give their pains.

  Lyndar. Almanzor, do not cheat yourself, nor me;

  Your love is not refined to that degree:

  For, since you have desires, and those not blest,

  Your love’s uneasy, and at little rest.

  Almanz. ’Tis true, my own unhappiness I see;

  But who, alas, can my physician be?

  Love, like a lazy ague, I endure,

  Which fears the water, and abhors the cure.

  Lyndar. ’Tis a consumption, which your life does waste,

  Still flattering you with hope, till help be past;

  But, since of cure from her you now despair,

  You, like consumptive men, should change your air:

  Love somewhere else; ’tis a hard remedy,

  But yet you owe yourself so much, to try.

  Almanz. My love’s now grown so much a part of me,

  That life would, in the cure, endangered be:

  At least, it like a limb cut off would show;

  And better die than like a cripple go.

  Lyndar. You must be brought like madmen to their cure,

  And darkness first, and next new bonds endure:

  Do you dark absence to yourself ordain,

  And I, in charity, will find the chain.

  Almanz. Love is that madness which all lovers have;

  But yet ’tis sweet and pleasing so to rave:

  ’Tis an enchantment, where the reason’s bound;

  But Paradise is in the enchanted ground;

  A palace, void of envy, cares and strife,

  Where gentle hours delude so much of life.

  To take those charms away, and set me free,

  Is but to send me into misery;

  And prudence, of whose cure so much you boast,

  Restores those pains, which that sweet folly lost.

  Lyndar. I would not, like philosophers, remove,

  But show you a more pleasing shape of love.