by John Dryden
Our army, led by valiant Torrismond,
Is now in hot engagement with the Moors;
’Tis said, within their trenches.
Bert. I think all fortune is reserved for him! —
He might have sent us word though;
And then we could have favoured his attempt
With sallies from the town.
Alph. It could not be:
We were so close blocked up, that none could peep
Upon the walls and live. But yet ’tis time.
Bert. No, ’tis too late; I will not hazard it:
On pain of death, let no man dare to sally.
Ped. Oh envy, envy, how it works within him![Aside.
How now? what means this show?
Alph. ’Tis a procession.
The queen is going to the great cathedral,
To pray for our success against the Moors.
Ped. Very good: she usurps the throne, keeps the old king in prison, and, at the same time, is praying for a blessing. Oh religion and roguery, how they go together!
[A Procession of Priests and Choristers in White, with Tapers, followed by the Queen and Ladies, goes over the Stage: the Choristers singing,
Look down, ye blessed above, look down,
Behold our weeping matrons’ tears,
Behold our tender virgins’ fears,
And with success our armies crown.
Look down, ye blessed above, look down:
Oh! save us, save as, and our state restore;
For pity, pity, pity, we implore:
For pity, pity, pity, we implore. [The Procession goes off; and shout within. Then
Enter Lorenzo, who kneels to Alphonso.
Bert. [To Alph.] A joyful cry; and see your son Lorenzo. Good news, kind heaven!
Alph. [To Lor.]
O welcome, welcome! is the general safe?
How near our army? when shall we be succoured?
Or, are we succoured? are the Moors removed?
Answer these questions first, and then a thousand more;
Answer them all together.
Lor. Yes, when I have a thousand tongues, I will.
The general’s well; his army too is safe,
As victory can make them. The Moors’ king
Is safe enough, I warrant him, for one.
At dawn of day our general cleft his pate,
Spite of his woollen night-cap: a slight wound;
Perhaps he may recover.
Alph. Thou reviv’st me.
Ped. By my computation now, the victory was gained before the procession was made for it; and yet it will go hard but the priests will make a miracle of it.
Lor. Yes, faith; we came like bold intruding guests,
And took them unprepared to give us welcome.
Their scouts we killed, then found their body sleeping;
And as they lay confused, we stumbled o’er them,
And took what joint came next, arms, heads, or legs,
Somewhat indecently. But when men want light,
They make but bungling work.
Bert. I’ll to the queen,
And bear the news.
Ped. That’s young Lorenzo’s duty.
Bert. I’ll spare his trouble. —
This Torrismond begins to grow too fast;
He must be mine, or ruined.[Aside, and Exit.
Lor. Pedro a word: — [whisper.]
Alph. How swift he shot away! I find it stung him,
In spite of his dissembling.
[To Lorenzo.] How many of the enemy are slain?
Lor. Troth, sir, we were in haste, and could not stay
To score the men we killed; but there they lie:
Best send our women out to take the tale;
There’s circumcision in abundance for them. [Turns to Pedro again.
Alph. How far did you pursue them?
Lor. Some few miles. —
[To Pedro] Good store of harlots, say you, and dog-cheap?
Pedro, they must be had, and speedily;
I’ve kept a tedious fast.[Whisper again.
Alph. When will he make his entry? he deserves
Such triumphs as were given by ancient Rome:
Ha, boy, what say’st thou?
Lor. As you say, sir, that Rome was very ancient.
[To Pedro.] I leave the choice to you; fair, black, tall, low,
Let her but have a nose; and you may tell her,
I am rich in jewels, rings, and bobbing pearls,
Plucked from Moors’ ears.
Alph. Lorenzo.
Lor. Somewhat busy
About affairs relating to the public. —
A seasonable girl, just in the nick now — [To Pedro.
[Trumpets within.
Ped. I hear the general’s trumpet. Stand and mark
How he will be received; I fear, but coldly.
There hung a cloud, methought, on Bertran’s brow.
Lor. Then look to see a storm on Torrismond’s;
Looks fright not men. The general has seen Moors
With as bad faces; no dispraise to Bertran’s.
Ped. ’Twas rumoured in the camp, he loves the queen.
Lor. He drinks her health devoutly.
Alph. That may breed bad blood betwixt him and Bertran.
Ped. Yes, in private.
But Bertran has been taught the arts of court,
To gild a face with smiles, and leer a man to ruin,
O here they come. —
Enter Torrismond and Officers on one Side, Bertran attended on the other; they embrace, Bertran bowing low.
Just as I prophesied. —
Lor. Death and hell, he laughs at him! — in his face too.
Ped. O you mistake him; ’twas an humble grin,
The fawning joy of courtiers and of dogs.
Lor. Here are nothing but lies to be expected: I’ll even go lose myself in some blind alley, and try if any courteous damsel will think me worth the finding.
[Aside, and Exit.
Alph. Now he begins to open.
Bert. Your country rescued, and your queen relieved, —
A glorious conquest, noble Torrismond!
The people rend the skies with loud applause,
And heaven can hear no other name but yours.
The thronging crowds press on you as you pass,
And with their eager joy make triumph slow.
Torr. My lord, I have no taste
Of popular applause; the noisy praise
Of giddy crowds, as changeable as winds;
Still vehement, and still without a cause;
Servant to chance, and blowing in the tide
Of swoln success; but veering with its ebb,
It leaves the channel dry.
Bert. So young a stoick!
Torr. You wrong me, if you think I’ll sell one drop
Within these veins for pageants; but, let honour
Call for my blood, and sluice it into streams:
Turn fortune loose again to my pursuit,
And let me hunt her through embattled foes,
In dusty plains, amidst the cannons’ roar,
There will I be the first.
Bert. I’ll try him farther. — [Aside.
Suppose the assembled states of Arragon
Decree a statue to you, thus inscribed:
“To Torrismond, who freed his native land.”
Alph. [To Ped.]
Mark how he sounds and fathoms him,
To find the shallows of his soul!
Bert. The just applause
Of god-like senates, is the stamp of virtue,
Which makes it pass unquestioned through the world.
These honours you deserve; nor shall my suffrage
Be last to fix them on you. If refused,
You brand us all with black ingratitude:
For times to come shall say, — Our Spain, like Rome,
Neglects her champions after noble acts,<
br />
And lets their laurels wither on their heads.
Torr. A statue, for a battle blindly fought,
Where darkness and surprise made conquest cheap!
Where virtue borrowed but the arms of chance,
And struck a random blow!— ’Twas fortune’s work,
And fortune take the praise.
Bert. Yet happiness
Is the first fame. Virtue without success
Is a fair picture shewn by an ill light;
But lucky men are favourites of heaven:
And whom should kings esteem above heaven’s darlings?
The praises of a young and beauteous queen
Shall crown your glorious acts.
Ped. [To Alph.] There sprung the mine.
Torr. The queen! that were a happiness too great!
Named you the queen, my lord?
Bert. Yes: you have seen her, and you must confess,
A praise, a smile, a look from her is worth
The shouts of thousand amphitheatres.
She, she shall praise you, for I can oblige her:
To-morrow will deliver all her charms
Into my arms, and make her mine for ever. —
Why stand you mute?
Torr. Alas! I cannot speak.
Bert. Not speak, my lord! How were your thoughts employed?
Torr. Nor can I think, or I am lost in thought.
Bert. Thought of the queen, perhaps?
Torr. Why, if it were,
Heaven may be thought on, though too high to climb.
Bert. O, now I find where your ambition drives!
You ought not to think of her.
Torr. So I say too,
I ought not; madmen ought not to be mad;
But who can help his frenzy?
Bert. Fond young man!
The wings of your ambition must be clipt:
Your shame-faced virtue shunned the people’s praise,
And senate’s honours: But ’tis well we know
What price you hold yourself at. You have fought
With some success, and that has sealed your pardon.
Torr. Pardon from thee! — O, give me patience, heaven! —
Thrice vanquished Bertran, if thou dar’st, look out
Upon yon slaughtered host, that field of blood;
There seal my pardon, where thy fame was lost.
Ped. He’s ruined, past redemption!
Alph. [To Torr.] Learn respect
To the first prince of the blood.
Bert. O, let him rave!
I’ll not contend with madmen.
Torr. I have done:
I know, ’twas madness to declare this truth:
And yet, ‘twere baseness to deny my love.
’Tis true, my hopes are vanishing as clouds;
Lighter than children’s bubbles blown by winds:
My merit’s but the rash result of chance;
My birth unequal; all the stars against me:
Power, promise, choice, the living and the dead;
Mankind my foes; and only love to friend:
But such a love, kept at such awful distance,
As, what it loudly dares to tell a rival,
Shall fear to whisper there. Queens may be loved,
And so may gods; else why are altars raised?
Why shines the sun, but that he may be viewed?
But, oh! when he’s too bright, if then we gaze,
’Tis but to weep, and close our eyes in darkness.[Exit.
Bert. ’Tis well; the goddess shall be told, she shall,
Of her new worshipper.[Exit.
Ped. So, here’s fine work!
He has supplied his only foe with arms
For his destruction. Old Penelope’s tale
Inverted; he has unravelled all by day,
That he has done by night. What, planet struck!
Alph. I wish I were; to be past sense of this!
Ped. Would I had but a lease of life so long,
As ‘till my flesh and blood rebelled this way,
Against our sovereign lady; — mad for a queen?
With a globe in one hand, and a sceptre in t’other?
A very pretty moppet!
Alph. Then to declare his madness to his rival!
His father absent on an embassy;
Himself a stranger almost; wholly friendless!
A torrent, rolling down a precipice,
Is easier to be stopt, than is his ruin.
Ped. ’Tis fruitless to complain; haste to the court;
Improve your interest there for pardon from the queen.
Alph. Weak remedies;
But all must be attempted.[Exit.
SCENE II.
Enter Lorenzo.
Lor. Well, I am the most unlucky rogue! I have been ranging over half the town; but have sprung no game. Our women are worse infidels than the Moors: I told them I was one of the knight-errants, that delivered them from ravishment; and I think in my conscience, that is their quarrel to me.
Ped. Is this a time for fooling? Your cousin is run honourably mad in love with her majesty; he is split upon a rock, and you, who are in chase of harlots, are sinking in the main ocean. I think, the devil’s in the family.
[Exit.
Lor. [Solus.] My cousin ruined, says he! hum, not that I wish my kinsman’s ruin; that were unchristian: but, if the general is ruined, I am heir; there’s comfort for a Christian! Money I have; I thank the honest Moors for it; but I want a mistress. I am willing to be lewd; but the tempter is wanting on his part.
Enter Elvira, veiled.
Elv. Stranger! Cavalier! — will you not hear me? you Moor-killer, you Matador! —
Lor. Meaning me, madam?
Elv. Face about, man! you a soldier, and afraid of the enemy!
Lor. I must confess, I did not expect to have been charged first: I see souls will not be lost for want of diligence in this devil’s reign. [Aside.] Now, Madam Cynthia, behind a cloud, your will and pleasure with me?
Elv. You have the appearance of a cavalier; and if you are as deserving as you seem, perhaps you may not repent of your adventure. If a lady like 397 you well enough to hold discourse with you at first sight; you are gentleman enough, I hope, to help her out with an apology, and to lay the blame on stars, or destiny, or what you please, to excuse the frailty of a woman?
Lor. O, I love an easy woman! there’s such ado, to crack a thick-shelled mistress; we break our teeth, and find no kernel. ’Tis generous in you, to take pity on a stranger, and not to suffer him to fall into ill hands at his first arrival.
Elv. You may have a better opinion of me than I deserve; you have not seen me yet; and, therefore, I am confident you are heart-whole.
Lor. Not absolutely slain, I must confess; but I am drawing on apace: you have a dangerous tongue in your head, I can tell you that; and if your eyes prove of as killing metal, there is but one way with me. Let me see you, for the safeguard of my honour; ’tis but decent the cannon should be drawn down upon me before I yield.
Elv. What a terrible similitude have you made, colonel, to shew that you are inclining to the wars? I could answer you with another in my profession: Suppose you were in want of money, would you not be glad to take a sum upon content in a sealed bag, without peeping? — but, however, I will not stand with you for a sample.
[Lifts up her veil.
Lor. What eyes were there! how keen their glances! you do well to keep them veiled; they are too sharp to be trusted out of the scabbard.
Elv. Perhaps now, you may accuse my forwardness; but this day of jubilee is the only time of freedom I have had; and there is nothing so extravagant as a prisoner, when he gets loose a little, and is immediately to return into his fetters.
Lor. To confess freely to you, madam, I was never in love with less than your whole sex before; but now I have seen you, I am in the direct road 398 of languishing and sighing; and, if love goes on as it begins, for aught I know, by to-mo
rrow morning you may hear of me in rhyme and sonnet. I tell you truly, I do not like these symptoms in myself. Perhaps I may go shufflingly at first; for I was never before walked in trammels; yet, I shall drudge and moil at constancy, till I have worn off the hitching in my pace.
Elv. Oh, sir, there are arts to reclaim the wildest men, as there are to make spaniels fetch and carry: chide them often, and feed them seldom. Now I know your temper, you may thank yourself, if you are kept to hard meat. You are in for years, if you make love to me.
Lor. I hate a formal obligation with an Anno Domini at end on’t; there may be an evil meaning in the word years, called matrimony.
Elv. I can easily rid you of that fear: I wish I could rid myself as easily of the bondage.
Lor. Then you are married?
Elv. If a covetous, and a jealous, and an old man be a husband.
Lor. Three as good qualities for my purpose as I could wish: now love be praised!
Enter Elvira’s Duenna, and whispers to her.
Elv. [Aside.] If I get not home before my husband, I shall be ruined. [To him.] I dare not stay to tell you where. Farewell! — Could I once more —
[Exit.
Lor. This is unconscionable dealing; to be made a slave, and know not whose livery I wear. Who have we yonder?
Enter Gomez.
By that shambling in his walk, it should be my rich 399 old banker, Gomez, whom I knew at Barcelona: As I live ’tis he! — What, old Mammon here!
[To Gomez.
Gom. How! young Beelzebub?
Lor. What devil has set his claws in thy haunches, and brought thee hither to Saragossa? Sure he meant a farther journey with thee.
Gom. I always remove before the enemy: When the Moors are ready to besiege one town, I shift quarters to the next; I keep as far from the infidels as I can.
Lor. That’s but a hair’s breadth at farthest.
Gom. Well, you have got a famous victory; all true subjects are overjoyed at it: There are bonfires decreed; an the times had not been hard, my billet should have burnt too.
Lor. I dare say for thee, thou hast such a respect for a single billet, thou wouldst almost have thrown on thyself to save it; thou art for saving every thing but thy soul.
Gom. Well, well, you’ll not believe me generous, ‘till I carry you to the tavern, and crack half a pint with you at my own charges.
Lor. No; I’ll keep thee from hanging thyself for such an extravagance; and, instead of it, thou shalt do me a mere verbal courtesy. I have just now seen a most incomparable young lady.
Gom. Whereabouts did you see this most incomparable young lady? — My mind misgives me plaguily.
[Aside.
Lor. Here, man, just before this corner-house: Pray heaven, it prove no bawdy-house.