John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  You a sad, sullen, froward love did see;

  I’ll show him kind, and full of gaiety.

  In short, Almanzor, it shall be my care

  To show you love; for you but saw despair.

  Almanz. I, in the shape of love, despair did see;

  You, in his shape, would show inconstancy.

  Lyndar. There’s no such thing as constancy you call;

  Faith ties not hearts; ’tis inclination all.

  Some wit deformed, or beauty much decayed,

  First constancy in love a virtue made.

  From friendship they that land-mark did remove,

  And falsely placed it on the bounds of love.

  Let the effects of change be only tried;

  Court me, in jest, and call me Almahide:

  But this is only counsel I impart,

  For I, perhaps, should not receive your heart.

  Almanz. Fair though you are

  As summer mornings, and your eyes more bright

  Than stars that twinkle in a winter’s night;

  Though you have eloquence to warm and move

  Cold age, and praying hermits, into love;

  Though Almahide with scorn rewards my care, —

  Yet, than to change, ’tis nobler to despair.

  My love’s my soul; and that from fate is free;

  ’Tis that unchanged and deathless part of me.

  Lyndar. The fate of constancy your love pursue!

  Still to be faithful to what’s false to you. [Turns from him, and goes off angrily.

  Almanz. Ye gods, why are not hearts first paired above,

  But some still interfere in others’ love!

  Ere each for each by certain marks are known,

  You mould them up in haste, and drop them down;

  And, while we seek what carelessly you sort,

  You sit in state, and make our pains your sport. [Exeunt on both sides.

  ACT IV.

  SCENE I.

  Enter Abenamar, and Soldier.

  Aben. Haste and conduct the prisoner to my sight. [Exit Soldier, and immediately enters with Selin bound.

  Aben. Did you, according to my orders, write? [To Selin

  And have you summoned Ozmyn to appear?

  Selin. I am not yet so much a slave to fear,

  Nor has your son deserved so ill of me,

  That by his death or bonds I would be free.

  Aben. Against thy life thou dost the sentence give;

  Behold how short a time thou hast to live.

  Selin. Make haste, and draw the curtain while you may;

  You but shut out the twilight of my day.

  Beneath the burden of my age I bend:

  You kindly ease me ere my journey’s end. [To them a Soldier with Ozmyn; Ozmyn kneels.

  Aben. to Selin. It is enough, my promise makes you free;

  Resign your bonds, and take your liberty.

  Ozm. Sir, you are just, and welcome are these bands;

  ’Tis all the inheritance a son demands.

  Selin. Your goodness, O my Ozmyn, is too great;

  I am not weary of my fetters yet:

  Already, when you move me to resign,

  I feel them heavier on your feet than mine.

  Enter another Soldier.

  Sold. A youth attends you in the outer room,

  Who seems in haste, and does from Ozmyn come.

  Aben. Conduct him in. —

  Ozm. Sent from Benzayda, I fear, to me.

  To them Benzayda, in the habit of a man.

  Benz. My Ozmyn here!

  Ozm. Benzayda! ’tis she! —

  Go youth, I have no business for thee here;

  Go to the Albayzyn, and attend me there.

  I’ll not be long away; I pray thee go,

  By all our love and friendship —

  Benz. Ozmyn, no:

  I did not take on me this bold disguise,

  For ends so low, to cheat your watchmen’s eyes.

  When I attempted this, it was to do

  An action, to be envied even by you;

  But you, alas, have been too diligent,

  And what I purposed fatally prevent!

  Those chains, which for my father I would bear,

  I take with less content to find you here;

  Except your father will that mercy show,

  That I may wear them both for him and you.

  Aben. I thank thee, fortune! thou hast, in one hour,

  Put all I could have asked thee in my power.

  My own lost wealth thou giv’st not only back,

  But driv’st upon my coast my pirate’s wreck.

  Selin. With Ozmyn’s kindness I was grieved before,

  But yours, Benzayda, has’ undone me more.

  Aben. to a Soldier. Go fetch new fetters, and the daughter bind.

  Ozm. Be just at least, sir, though you are not kind:

  Benzayda is not as a prisoner brought,

  But comes to suffer for another’s fault.

  Aben. Then, Ozmyn, mark, that justice which I do,

  I, as severely, will exact from you:

  The father is not wholly dead in me;

  Or you may yet revive it, if it be.

  Like tapers new blown out, the fumes remain,

  To catch the light, and bring it back again.

  Benzayda gave you life, and set you free;

  For that, I will restore her liberty.

  Ozm. Sir, on my knees I thank you.

  Aben. Ozmyn, hold;

  One part of what I purpose is untold:

  Consider, then, it on your part remains,

  When I have broke, not to resume your chains.

  Like an indulgent father, I have paid

  All debts, which you, my prodigal, have made.

  Now you are clear, break off your fond design,

  Renounce Benzayda, and be wholly mine.

  Ozm. Are these the terms? Is this the liberty?

  Ah, sir, how can you so inhuman be?

  My duty to my life I will prefer;

  But life and duty must give place to her.

  Aben. Consider what you say, for, with one breath,

  You disobey my will, and give her death.

  Ozm. Ah, cruel father, what do you propose!

  Must I then kill Benzayda, or must lose?

  I can do neither; in this wretched state.

  The least that I can suffer is your hate;

  And yet that’s worse than death: Even while I sue,

  And choose your hatred, I could die for you.

  Break quickly, heart, or let my blood be spilt

  By my own hand, to save a father’s guilt.

  Benz. Hear me, my lord, and take this wretched life,

  To free you from the fear of Ozmyn’s wife.

  I beg but what with ease may granted be,

  To spare your son, and kill your enemy;

  Or, if my death’s a grace too great to give,

  Let me, my lord, without my Ozmyn live.

  Far from your sight and Ozmyn’s let me go,

  And take from him a care, from you a foe.

  Ozm. How, my Benzayda! can you thus resign

  That love, which you have vowed so firmly mine?

  Can you leave me for life and liberty?

  Benz. What I have done will show that I dare die;

  But I’ll twice suffer death, and go away,

  Rather than make you wretched by my stay:

  By this my father’s freedom will be won;

  And to your father I restore a son.

  Selin. Cease, cease, my children, your unhappy strife,

  Selin will not be ransomed by your life.

  Barbarian, thy old foe defies thy rage; [To Aben.

  Turn, from their youth, thy malice to my age.

  Benz. Forbear, dear father! for your Ozmyn’s sake,

  Do not such words to Ozmyn’s father speak.

  Ozm. Alas, ’tis counterfeited rage; he strives
r />   But to divert the danger from our lives:

  For I can witness, sir, and you might see,

  How in your person he considered me.

  He still declined the combat where you were;

  And you well know it was not out of fear.

  Benz. Alas, my lord, where can your vengeance fall?

  Your justice will not let it reach us all.

  Selin and Ozmyn both would sufferers be;

  And punishment’s a favour done to me.

  If we are foes, since you have power to kill,

  ’Tis generous in you not to have the will;

  But, are we foes? Look round, my lord, and see;

  Point out that face which is your enemy.

  Would you your hand in Selin’s blood embrue?

  Kill him unarmed, who, armed, shunned killing you?

  Am I your foe? Since you detest my line,

  That hated name of Zegry I resign:

  For you, Benzayda will herself disclaim;

  Call me your daughter, and forget my name.

  Selin. This virtue would even savages subdue;

  And shall it want the power to vanquish you?

  Ozm. It has, it has; I read it in his eyes;

  ’Tis now not anger, ’tis but shame denies;

  A shame of error, that great spirits find,

  When keeps down virtue struggling in the mind.

  Aben. Yes, I am vanquished! The fierce conflict’s past,

  And shame itself is now o’ercome at last.

  ’Twas long before my stubborn mind was won;

  But, melting once, I on the sudden run;

  Nor can I hold my headlong kindness more,

  Than I could curb my cruel rage before. [Runs to Benz., and embraces her.

  Benzayda, ’twas your virtue vanquished me;

  That could alone surmount my cruelty. [Runs to Selin, and unbinds him.

  Forgive me, Selin, my neglect of you;

  But men, just waking, scarce know what they do.

  Ozm. O father!

  Benz. Father!

  Aden. Dare I own that name!

  Speak, speak it often, to remove my shame. [They all embrace him.

  O Selin, O my children, let me go!

  I have more kindness than I yet can show.

  For my recovery I must shun your sight;

  Eyes used to darkness cannot bear the light. [He runs in, they following him.

  SCENE II. — The Albayzyn.

  Enter Almanzor, Abdelmelech, Soldiers.

  Almanz. ’Tis war again, and I am glad ’tis so;

  Success shall now by force and courage go.

  Treaties are but the combat of the brain,

  Where still the stronger lose, and weaker gain.

  Abdelm. On this assault, brave sir, which we prepare,

  Depends the sum and fortune of the war.

  Encamped without the fort the Spaniard lies,

  And may, in spite of us, send in supplies.

  Consider yet, ere we attack the place,

  What ’tis to storm it in an army’s face.

  Almanz. The minds of heroes their own measures are,

  They stand exempted from the rules of war.

  One loose, one sally of the hero’s soul,

  Does all the military art controul;

  While timorous wit goes round, or fords the shore,

  He shoots the gulph, and is already o’er;

  And, when the enthusiastic fit is spent,

  Looks back amazed at what he underwent. [Exeunt.

  [An alarum within.

  Re-enter Almanzor and Abdelmelech, with their Soldiers.

  Abdelm. They fly, they fly; take breath and charge again.

  Almanz. Make good your entrance, and bring up more men.

  I feared, brave friend, my aid had been too late.

  Abdelm. You drew us from the jaws of certain fate.

  At my approach,

  The gate was open, and the draw-bridge down;

  But, when they saw I stood, and came not on,

  They charged with fury on my little band,

  Who, much o’erpowered, could scarce the shock withstand.

  Almanz. Ere night we shall the whole Albayzyn gain.

  But see, the Spaniards march along the plain

  To its relief; you, Abdelmelech, go,

  And force the rest, while I repulse the foe. [Exit Almanzor.

  Enter Abdalla, and some few Soldiers, who seem fearful.

  Abdal. Turn cowards, turn! there is no hope in flight;

  You yet may live, if you but dare to fight.

  Come, you brave few, who only fear to fly,

  We’re not enough to conquer, but to die.

  Abdelm. No, prince, that mean advantage I refuse;

  ’Tis in your power a nobler fate to choose.

  Since we are rivals, honour does command

  We should not die, but by each other’s hand.

  Retire; and, if it prove my destiny [To his men.

  To fall, I charge you let the prince go free. [The Soldiers depart on both sides.

  Abdal. O, Abdelmelech, that I knew some way

  This debt of honour, which I owe, to pay!

  But fate has left this only means for me,

  To die, and leave you Lyndaraxa free.

  Abdelm. He, who is vanquished and is slain, is blest;

  The wretched conqueror can ne’er have rest;

  But is reserved a harder fate to prove.

  Bound in the fetters of dissembled love.

  Abdal. Now thou art base, and I deserve her more;

  Without complaint I will to death adore.

  Dar’st thou see faults, and yet dost love pretend?

  I will even Lyndaraxa’s crimes defend.

  Abdelm. Maintain her cause, then, better than thy own, —

  Than thy ill got, and worse defended throne. [They fight, Abdalla falls.

  Abdelm. Now ask your life.

  Abdal. ’Tis gone; that busy thing,

  The soul, is packing up, and just on wing,

  Like parting swallows, when they seek the spring:

  Like them, at its appointed time, it goes,

  And flies to countries more unknown than those.

  Enter Lyndaraxa hastily, sees them, and is going out again. Abdelmelech stops her.

  Abdelm. No, you shall stay, and see a sacrifice,

  Not offered by my sword, but by your eyes.

  From those he first ambitious poison drew,

  And swelled to empire from the love of you.

  Accursed fair!

  Thy comet-blaze portends a prince’s fate;

  And suffering subjects groan beneath thy weight.

  Abdal. Cease, rival, cease!

  I would have forced you, but it wonnot be;

  I beg you now, upbraid her not for me.

  You, fairest, to my memory be kind! [To Lyndar.

  Lovers like me your sex will seldom find.

  When I usurped a crown for love of you,

  I then did more, than, dying, now I do.

  I’m still the same as when my love begun;

  And, could I now this fate foresee or shun,

  Would yet do all I have already done. [Dies.

  [She puts her handkerchief to her eyes.

  Abdelm. Weep on, weep on, for it becomes you now;

  These tears you to that love may well allow.

  His unrepenting soul, if it could move

  Upward in crimes, flew spotted with your love;

  And brought contagion to the blessed above.

  Lyndar. He’s gone, and peace go with a constant mind!

  His love deserved I should have been more kind;

  But then your love and greater worth I knew:

  I was unjust to him, but just to you.

  Abdelm. I was his enemy, and rival too,

  Yet I some tears to his misfortune owe:

  You owe him more; weep then, and join with me:

  So much is d
ue even to humanity.

  Lyndar. Weep for this wretch, whose memory I hate!

  Whose folly made us both unfortunate!

  Weep for this fool, who did my laughter move!

  This whining, tedious, heavy lump of love!

  Abdelm. Had fortune favoured him, and frowned on me,

  I then had been that heavy fool, not he:

  Just this had been my funeral elegy.

  Thy arts and falsehood I before did know,

  But this last baseness was concealed till now;

  And ’twas no more than needful to be known;

  I could be cured by such an act alone.

  My love, half blasted, yet in time would shoot;

  But this last tempest rends it to the root.

  Lyndar. These little piques, which now your anger move,

  Will vanish, and are only signs of love.

  You’ve been too fierce; and, at some other time,

  I should not with such ease forgive your crime:

  But, in a day of public joy like this,

  I pardon, and forget whate’er’s amiss.

  Abdelm. These arts have oft prevailed, but must no more:

  The spell is ended, and the enchantment o’er.

  You have at last destroyed, with much ado,

  That love, which none could have destroyed, but you.

  My love was blind to your deluding art;

  But blind men feel, when stabbed so near the heart.

  Lyndar. I must confess there was some pity due;

  But I concealed it out of love to you.

  Abdelm. No, Lyndaraxa; ’tis at last too late:

  Our loves have mingled with too much of fate.

  I would, but cannot now, myself deceive:

  O that you still could cheat, and I believe!

  Lyndar. Do not so light a quarrel long pursue:

  You grieve your rival was less loved than you.

  ’Tis hard, when men of kindness must complain!

  Abdelm. I’m now awake, and cannot dream again.

  Lyndar. Yet hear —

  Abdelm. No more; nothing my heart can bend:

  That queen, you scorned, you shall this night attend.

  Your life the king has pardoned for my sake;

  But on your pride I some revenge must take.

  See now the effects of what your arts designed!

  Thank your inconstant and ambitious mind.

  ’Tis just that she, who to no love is true,

  Should be forsaken, and contemned, like you.

  Lyndar. All arts of injured women I will try:

  First I will be revenged; and then I’ll die.

  But like some falling tower,

  Whose seeming firmness does the sight beguile,

  So hold I up my nodding head a while,

  Till they come under; and reserve my fall,

  That with my ruins I may reach them all,

  Abdelm. Conduct her hence. [Exit Lyndar. guarded.