Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

The king in person animate our men,
Granada's lost: and to confirm this fear,
The traitor Perez, and the captive Moor,
Are through a postern fled, and join the foe.
Gon. Would all were false as that; for whom
you call

The Moor, is dead. That Osmyn was Alphonso;
la whose heart's blood this poniard yet is warm.
Gar. Impossible, for Osmyn was, while flying,
Pronounced aloud by Perez for Alphonso.
Gon. Enter that chamber, and convince your
eyes,

How much report has wrong'd your easy faith. [GARCIA goes in.

Alon. My lord, for certain truth, Perez is fled; And has declared the cause of his revolt, Was to revenge a blow the king had given him.

[blocks in formation]

whence, or how, or wherefore was this done? ut what imports the manner, or the cause? lothing remains to do, or to require,

at that we all should turn our swords against Jurselves, and expiate with our own his blood. Gon. O wretch! O cursed, and rash, deluded fool!

In me, on me, turn your avenging sword! who have spilt my royal master's blood, hould make atonement by a death as horrid ; nd fall beneath the hand of my own son.

Gar. Ha! what? atone this murder with a greater?

he horror of that thought has damp'd my rage. he earth already groans to bear this deed; ppress her not, nor think to stain her face With more unnatural blood. Murder my father! etter with this to rip up my own bowels, nd bathe it to the hilt, in far less damnable elf-murder.

Gon.

O my son! from the blind dotage If a father's fondness these ills arose ; or thee I've been ambitious, base, and bloody: or thee I've plunged into this sea of sin; lemming the tide with only one weak hand, Thile t'other bore the crown, (to wreath thy brow,)

Those weight has sunk me ere I reach'd the shore. Gar. Fatal ambition! Hark! the foe is enter'd. [Shout.

The shrillness of that shout speaks 'em at hand. fe have no time to search into the cause of this surprising and most fatal error. What's to be done? the king's death known, will

strike

The few remaining soldiers with despair,

And make 'em yield to mercy of the conqueror. Alon. My lord, I've thought how to conceal the

body;

[blocks in formation]

Though for the crown of universal empire.
As but an hour ago I'd not have done,
But what are kings reduced to common clay?
Or who can wound the dead? I've from the body
Sever'd the head, and in an obscure corner
Disposed it, muffled in the mute's attire,
Leaving to view of them that enter next,
Alone the undistinguish'd trunk :

Which may be still mistaken by the guards
For Osmyn, if in seeking for the king
They chance to find it.

Gon.
'Twas an act of horror;
And of a piece with this day's dire misdeeds.
But 'tis no time to ponder or repent.
Haste thee, Alonzo, haste thee hence with speed,
To aid my son. I'll follow with the last
Reserve to re-enforce his arms at least,

I shall make good, and shelter his retreat.

SCENE VIII.

ZARA, followed by SELIM, and two Mutes bearing the bowls.
Zara. Silence and solitude are everywhere!
Through all the gloomy ways and iron doors
That hither lead, nor human face nor voice
Is seen or heard. A dreadful din was wont
To grate the sense, when enter'd here; from
groans
And howls of slaves
chains,

condemn'd, from clink of

And crash of rusty bars and creeking hinges :
And ever and anon the sight was dash'd
With frightful faces, and the meagre looks
Of grim and ghastly executioners.
Yet more this stillness terrifies my soul,
Than did that scene of complicated horrors.
It may be, that the cause of this my errand
And purpose, being changed from life to death,
Has also wrought this chilling change of temper.
Or does my heart bode more? what can it more
Than death?

Let 'em set down the bowls, and warn Alphonso
That I am here-so. You return and find

[Mutes go in.

The king; tell him, what he required I've done, And wait his coming to approve the deed.

SCENE IX.

SCENE XI.

ZARA and Mutes.

Zara. What have you seen? Ha! wherefore stare you thus

[The Mutes return, and look affrighted With haggard eyes? why are your arms a-cross? Your heavy and desponding heads hung down? Why is't you more than speak in these sad signs? Give me more ample knowledge of this mourning.

[They go to the Scene, which opening, she perceives the
body.

Ha! prostrate! bloody! headless! O-I'm lost!
O Osmyn! O Alphonso! Cruel fate!
Cruel, cruel, O more than killing object!
I came prepared to die, and see thee die-
Nay, came prepared myself to give thee death-
But cannot bear to find thee thus, my Osmyn-
O this accursed, this base, this treacherous king!

SCENE X.

ZARA, SELIM, and Mutes.

Sel. I've sought in vain, for nowhere can the king Be found. Zara.

Get thee to hell, and seek him there!
[Stabs him.

His hellish rage had wanted means to act,
But for thy fatal and pernicious counsel.
Sel. You thought it better then-but I'm re-
warded:

The mute you sent by some mischance was seen,
And forced to yield your letter with his life:
I found the dead and bloody body stripp'd-
My tongue falters, and my voice fails-I sink-
Drink not the poison-for Alphonso is-

[Dies.

Zara. As thou art now-and I shall quickly be. "Tis not that he is dead; for 'twas decreed We both should die. Nor is't that I survive; I have a certain remedy for that.

But oh, he died unknowing in my heart!

He knew I loved, but knew not to what height:
Nor that I meant to fall before his eyes,
A martyr and a victim to my vows:
Insensible of this last proof he's gone.
Yet fate alone can rob his mortal part

Of sense; his soul still sees, and knows each purpose,
And fix'd event of my persisting faith.
Then, wherefore do I pause? give me the bowl.
[A Mute kneels and gives one of the bowls.
Hover a moment, yet, thou gentle spirit,
Soul of my love, and I will wait thy flight!
This to our mutual bliss when join'd above.

[Drinks.

[blocks in formation]

ALMERIA, LEONORA, and Mutes.

Alm. O let me seek him in this horrid cell; For in the tomb, or prison, I alone Must hope to find him.

Leon.

Heavens! what dismal scene

Of death is this? The eunuch Selim slain! Alm. Show me, for I am come in search of death;

But want a guide; for tears have dimm'd my sight.

Leon. Alas, a little farther, and behold Zara all pale and dead! two frightful men, Who seem the murderers, kneel weeping by, Feeling remorse too late for what they've done. But O forbear-lift up your eyes no more; But haste away, fly from this fatal place! Where miseries are multiplied; return, Return and look not on; for there's a dagger Ready to stab the sight, and make your eyes Rain blood

Alm.

Oh I foreknow, foresee that object.
Is it at last then so? is he then dead?
What, dead at last! quite, quite, for ever dead!
There, there I see him! there he lies, the blood
Yet bubbling from his wounds-O more than
savage!

Had they or hearts or eyes, that did this deed!
Could eyes endure to guide such cruel hands?
Are not my eyes guilty alike with theirs,
That thus can gaze, and yet not turn to stone?
I do not weep! The springs of tears are dried;
And of a sudden I am calm, as if

All things were well: and yet my husband's mar der'd!

Yes, yes, I know to mourn! I'll sluice this heart,
The source of woe, and let the torrent loose.
Those men have left to weep! they look on me!
I hope they murder all on whom they look.
Behold me well; your bloody hands have err'd,
And wrongfully have slain those innocents;
I am the sacrifice design'd to bleed ;
And come prepared to yield my throat-they
shake

Their heads, in sign of grief and innocence!
[The Mutes point at the bowl on the ground,
And point-what mean they? Ha! a cup. O well
I understand what medicine has been here.
O noble thirst! yet greedy to drink all-
Oh for another draught of death.-What mean they
[The Mutes point at the other cup
Ha! point again? 'tis there, and full, I hope.
Thanks to the liberal hand that fill'd thee thus;
I'll drink my glad acknowledgment—
Leon.

O hold,
For mercy's sake! upon my knee I beg--
Alm. With thee the kneeling world should beg
in vain.

Seest thou not there? behold who prostrate lies,
And pleads against thee? who shall then prevail?
Yet I will take a cold and parting leave,
From his pale lips; I'll kiss him, ere I drink,
Lest the rank juice should blister on my mouth,
And stain the colour of my last adieu.
Horror! a headless trunk! nor lips nor face,

[Coming nearer the body, starts and lets fall the cuph But spouting veins, and mangled flesh! Oh, oh!

SCENE XII.

ALMERIA, LEONORA, ALPHONSO, HELI, PEREZ, with GARCIA prisoner, Guards and Attendants.

Alph. Away, stand off! where is she? let me fly, Save her from death, and snatch her to my heart. Alm. Oh!

Alph. Forbear; my arms alone shall hold her up,

Warm her to life, and wake her into gladness.
O let me talk to thy reviving sense,

The words of joy and peace! warm thy cold beauties,
With the new-flushing ardour of my cheek!
Into thy lips pour the soft trickling balm
Of cordial sighs! and re-inspire thy bosom

With the breath of love! Shine, awake, Almeria !
Give a new birth to thy long-shaded eyes,
Then double on the day reflected light!

Alm. Where am I? Heaven! what does this dream intend?

Alph. O mayst thou never dream of less delight, Nor ever wake to less substantial joys!

Alm. Given me again from death! O all ye

powers

Confirm this miracle! Can I believe

ly sight, against my sight? and shall I trust Eat sense, which in one instant shows him dead and living? Yes, I will; I've been abused

[blocks in formation]

Frail life, to be entirely bless'd. Even now,
In this extremest joy my soul can taste,
Yet am I dash'd to think that thou must weep;
Thy father fell, where he design'd my death.
Gonsalez and Alonzo, both of wounds
Expiring, have with their last breath confess'd
The just decrees of Heaven, which on themselves
Has turn'd their own most bloody purposes.
Nay, I must grant, 'tis fit you should be thus-
[ALMERIA weeps.

Let 'em remove the body from her sight.
Ill-fated Zara! Ha! a cup? Alas!
Thy error then is plain; but I were flint
Not to o'erflow in tribute to thy memory.
O Garcia !

Whose virtue has renounced thy father's crimes;
Seest thou, how just the hand of Heaven has been ?
Let us, who through our innocence survive,
Still in the paths of honour persevere,
And not from past or present ills despair:
For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds;
And though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
[Exeunt omnes.

EPILOGUE

SPOKEN BY MRS. BRACEGIRDLE.

HE tragedy thus done, I am, you know,
more a princess, but in statu quo:
ed now as unconcern'd this mourning wear,
if indeed a widow or an heir.
ve leisure now to mark your several faces,
nd know each critic by his sour grimaces.
poison plays, I see some where they sit,
catter'd, like ratsbane, up and down the pit;
hile others watch like parish-searchers, hired
o tell of what disease the play expired.

with what joy they run to spread the news f a damn'd poet, and departed muse!

at if he 'scape, with what regret they're seized! nd how they're disappointed when they're pleased! ritics to plays for the same end resort, Lat surgeons wait on trials in a court;

For innocence condemn'd they've no respect,
Provided they've a body to dissect.
As Sussex-men, that dwell upon the shore,
Look out when storms arise, and billows roar,
Devoutly praying, with uplifted hands,
That some well-laden ship may strike the sands;
To whose rich cargo they may make pretence,
And fatten on the spoils of Providence:
So critics throng to see a new play split,
And thrive and prosper on the wrecks of wit.
Small hope our poet from these prospects draws;
And therefore to the fair commends his cause.
Your tender hearts to mercy are inclined,
With whom, he hopes, this play will favour find,
Which was an offering to the sex design'd.

S

[blocks in formation]

MY LORD,-Whether the world will arraign me of vanity or not, that I have presumed to dedicate this comedy s your Lordship, I am yet in doubt; though, it may be, it is some degree of vanity even to doubt of it. One who has. any time had the honour of your Lordship's conversation, cannot be supposed to think very meanly of that which would prefer to your perusal; yet it were to incur the imputation of too much sufficiency, to pretend to such a nar as might abide the test of your Lordship's censure.

Whatever value may be wanting to this play while yet it is mine, will be sufficiently made up to it when it is on become your Lordship's; and it is my security, that I cannot have overrated it more by my dedication, than you Lordship will dignify it by your patronage.

That it succeeded on the stage, was almost beyond my expectation; for but little of it was prepared for that genera taste which seems now to be predominant in the palates of our audience.

Those characters which are meant to be ridiculed in most of our comedies, are of fools so gross, that, in my humbl opinion, they should rather disturb than divert the well-natured and reflecting part of an audience; they are rathe objects of charity than contempt; and instead of moving our mirth, they ought very often to excite our compassi .. This reflection moved me to design some characters which should appear ridiculous, not so much through a natura folly (which is incorrigible, and therefore not proper for the stage) as through an affected wit; a wit, which at th same time that it is affected, is also false. As there is some difficulty in the formation of a character of this nature, s there is some hazard which attends the progress of its success upon the stage; for many come to a play so overcharge with criticism, that they very often let fly their censure, when through their rashness they have mistaken their zi This I had occasion lately to observe; for this play had been acted two or three days, before some of these hasty judge could find the leisure to distinguish betwixt the character of a Witwoud and a Truewit.

I must beg your Lordship's pardon for this digression from the true course of this epistle; but that it may not seem altogether impertinent, I beg that I may plead the occasion of it, in part of that excuse of which I stand in need, fe recommending this comedy to your protection. It is only by the countenance of your Lordship, and the few so qualited that such who write with care and pains can hope to be distinguished; for the prostituted name of poet promiscuousl levels all that bear it.

Terence, the most correct writer in the world, had a Scipio and a Lælius, if not to assist him, at least to support in his reputation; and notwithstanding his extraordinary merit, it may be their countenance was not more that

necessary.

The purity of his style, the delicacy of his turns, and the justness of his characters, were all of them beauties whic the greater part of his audience were incapable of tasting; some of the coarsest strokes of Plautus, so severely censure by Horace, were more likely to affect the multitude; such who come with expectation to laugh at the last act of play, and are better entertained with two or three unseasonable jests, than with the artful solution of the fable. As Terence excelled in his performances, so had he great advantages to encourage his undertakings; for he built mo on the foundations of Menander; his plots were generally modelled, and his characters ready drawn to his hand. Hi copied Menander, and Menander had no less light in the formation of his characters, from the observatiore e Theophrastus, of whom he was a disciple; and Theophrastus, it is known, was not only the disciple, but the immed successor of Aristotle, the first and greatest judge of poetry. These were great models to design by; and the furthe advantage which Terence possessed, towards giving his plays the due ornaments of purity of style and justness manners, was not less considerable, from the freedom of conversation which was permitted him with Lælius and Scipio, two of the greatest and most polite men of his age. And indeed the privilege of such a conversation is the only certain means of attaining to the perfection of dialogue.

If it has happened in any part of this comedy, that I have gained a turn of style or expression more correct, or at least more corrigible, than in those which I have formerly written, I must, with equal pride and gratitude, ascribe it t

e honour of your Lordship's admitting me into your conversation, and that of a society where everybody else was so ell worthy of you, in your retirement last summer from the town; for it was immediately after that this comedy was ritten. If I have failed in my performance, it is only to be regretted, where there were so many, not inferior either to Sipio or a Lælius, that there should be one wanting equal in capacity to a Terence.

If I am not mistaken, poetry is almost the only art which has not yet laid claim to your Lordship's patronage. chitecture and painting, to the great honour of our country, have flourished under your influence and protection. the mean time, poetry, the eldest sister of all arts, and parent of most, seems to have resigned her birthright, by ving neglected to pay her duty to your Lordship, and by permitting others of a later extraction, to prepossess that ce in your esteem to which none can pretend a better title. Poetry, in its nature, is sacred to the good and great; relation between them is reciprocal, and they are ever propitious to it. It is the privilege of poetry to address them, and it is their prerogative alone to give it protection.

This received maxim is a general apology for all writers who consecrate their labours to great men; but I could wish this time, that this address were exempted from the common pretence of all dedications; and that as I can distinguish r Lordship even among the most deserving, so this offering might become remarkable by some particular instance respect, which should assure your Lordship, that I am, with all due sense of your extreme worthiness and humanity, Lord, your Lordship's most obedient, and most obliged humble servant,

[blocks in formation]

r those few fools who with ill stars are curst,
are scribbling fools, call'd poets, fare the worst:
or they're a sort of fools which Fortune makes,
ind after she has made 'em fools, forsakes.
Anh Nature's oafs 'tis quite a different case,
er Fortune favours all her idiot-race.
n her own nest the cuckoo-eggs we find,

Yer which she broods to hatch the changeling-kind.
No portion for her own she has to spare,
o much she dotes on her adopted care.
Poets are bubbles, by the town drawn in,
affer'd at first some trifling stakes to win;
what unequal hazards do they run !

ach time they write they venture all they've won :
squire that's butter'd still, is sure to be undone.
is author heretofore has found your favour;
at pleads no merit from his past behaviour.
build on that might prove a vain presumption,
hould grants, to poets made, admit resumption :
And in Parnassus he must lose his seat,
that be found a forfeited estate.

He owns with toil he wrought the following

scenes;

But, if they're naught, ne'er spare him for his
pains:

Damn him the more; have no commiseration
For dulness on mature deliberation,

He swears he'll not resent one hiss'd-off scene,
Nor, like those peevish wits, his play maintain,
Who, to assert their sense, your taste arraign.
Some plot we think he has, and some new thought;
Some humour too, no farce; but that's a fault.
Satire, he thinks, you ought not to expect;
For so reform'd a town who dares correct?
To please, this time, has been his sole pretence,
He'll not instruct, lest it should give offence.
Should he by chance a knave or fool expose,
That hurts none here, sure here are none of those :
In short, our play shall (with your leave to show it)
Give you one instance of a passive poet,
Who to your judgments yields all resignation;
So save or damn, after your own discretion.

« ZurückWeiter »