And promises a day to this dark dwelling? Is it my love?

Zara. Oh, that thy heart had taught

Thy tongue that saying!

Osm. Zara! I am betrayed

By my surprise.

Have I done this? Tell me, am I so cursed? Osm. Time may have still one fated hour to

come,

Zara. What! does my face displease thee?
That, having seen it, thou dost turn thy eyes
Away, as from deformity and horror?
If So, this sable curtain shall again

Be drawn, and I will stand before thee, seeing,
And unseen. Is it my love? Ask again
That question; speak again in that soft voice;
And look again with wishes in thy eyes.
Oh, no! thou canst not, for thou seest me now,
As she, whose savage breast hath been the cause
Of these thy wrongs; as she, whose barbarous

Could one who loved, thus torture whom she loved?

No, no, it must be hatred, dire revenge,
And detestation, that could use thee thus.
So dost thou think; then do but tell me so;
Tell me, and thou shalt see how I'll revenge
Thee on this false one, how I'll stab and tear
This heart of flint, 'till it shall bleed; and thou
Shall weep for mine, forgetting thy own miseries.
Osm. You wrong me, beauteous Zara, to be-
lieve

I bear my fortunes with so low a mind,
As still to meditate revenge on all,
Whom chance, or fate, working by secret causes,
Has made, per-force, subservient to that end
The heavenly powers allot me; no, not you,
But destiny, and inauspicious stars,
Have cast me down to this low being. Or,
Granting you had, from you I have deserved it.
Zura. Canst thou forgive me, then? wilt thou
believe

So kindly of my fault, to call it madness?
Oh, give that madness yet a milder name,
And call it passion! then, be still more kind,
And call that passion love.

Osm. Give it a name,

Or being, as you please, such I will think it. Zara. Oh, thou dost wound me more with this thy goodness,

Than e'er thou couldst with bitterest reproaches; Thy anger could not pierce thus to my heart. Osm. Yet I could wish

Zara. Haste me to know it; what?

Osm. That at this time I had not been this thing.

Zara. What thing?

Osm. This slave.

Zara. Oh, Heaven! my fears interpret This thy silence; somewhat of high concern, Long fashioning within thy labouring mind, And now just ripe for birth, my rage has ruined.

Zara. Swift as occasion, I

Myself will fly; and earlier than the morn, Wake thee to freedom. Now 'tis late; and

yet

Some news few minutes past arrived, which seemed

To shake the temper of the king-Who knows
What racking cares disease a monarch's bed?
Or love, that late at night still lights his lamp,
And strikes his rays through dusk and folded lids,
Forbidding rest, may stretch his eyes awake,
And force their balls abroad at this dead hour.
I'll try.

Osm. I have not merited this grace;
Nor, should my secret purpose take effect,
Can I repay, as you require, such benefits.

Zara. Thou canst not owe me more, nor have

I more

To give, than I have already lost. But now,
So does the form of our engagements rest,
Thou hast the wrong till I redeem thee hence;
That done, I leave thy justice to return
My love. Adieu.

[Exit.

Osm. This woman has a soul,
Of godlike mould, intrepid and commanding,
And challenges, in spite of me, my best
Esteem; to this, she's fair, few more can boast
Of personal charms, or with less vanity
Might hope to captivate the hearts of kings;
But she has passions which outstrip the wind,
And tear her virtues up, as tempests root
The sea. I fear, when she shall know the truth,
Some swift and dire event of her blind rage
Will make all fatal. But, behold, she comes
For whom I fear, to shield me from my fears,
The cause and comfort of my boding heart.
Enter ALMERIA.

My life, my health, my liberty, my all!
How shall I welcome thee to this sad place?
How speak to thee the words of joy and trans-
port?

How run into thy arms, withheld by fetters?
Or take thee into mine, while I am thus mana-
cled,

And pinioned, like a thief or murderer ?
Shall I not hurt and bruise thy tender body,
And stain thy bosom with the rust of these
Rude irons? Must I meet thee thus, Almeria ?
Alm. Thus, thus; we parted, thus to meet a-
gain.

Thou toldst me thou wouldst think how we might meet,

To part no more-Now, we will part no more; For these thy chains, or death, shall join us ever. Osm. Hard means to ratify that word! Oh

cruelty!

That ever I should think beholding thee

A torture! Yet such is the bleeding anguish
Of my heart, to see thy fufferings Oh, Heaven!
That I could almost turn my eyes away,
Or wish thee from my sight.

Alm. Oh, say not so!

Though 'tis because thou lovest me. Do not say,
On any terms, that thou dost wish me from thee.
No, no, 'tis better thus, that we together
Feed on each other's heart, devour our woes
With mutual appetite; and, mingling in

One cup the common stream of both our eyes,
Drink bitter draughts, with never-slaking thirst;
Thus better, than for any cause to part.
What dost thou think? Look not so tenderly
Upon me-speak, and take me in thy arms-
Thou canst not; thy poor arms are bound, and
strive,

In vain, with the remorseless chains, which gnaw
And eat into thy flesh, festering thy limbs
With rankling rust.

Osm. Oh! O

Alm. Give me that sigh.

Why dost thou heave, and stifle in thy griefs?
Thy heart will burst, thy eyes look red, and start;
Give thy soul way, and tell me thy dark thought.
Osm. For this world's rule, I would not wound
thy breast

With such a dagger as then stuck my heart.
Alm. Why? why? To know it, cannot wound

me more

Than knowing thou hast felt it. Tell it me, Thou givest me pain with too much tenderness.

Osm. And thy excessive love distracts my sense. Oh, wouldst thou be less killing, soft, or kind, Grief could not double thus his darts against me. Alm. Thou dost me wrong, and grief, too, robs my heart,

If there he shoot not every other shaft;

Thy second self should feel each other wound,
And woe should be in equal portions dealt.
I am thy wife-

Osm. Oh, thou hast searched too deep:
There, there I bleed; there pull the cruel cords,
That strain my cracking nerves; engines and
wheels,

That piece-meal grind, are beds of down and balm

To that soul-racking thought.

Alm. Then I am cursed

Indeed, if that be so! if I am thy torment,
Kill me, then, kill me, dash me with thy chains,
Tread on me: What, am I the bosom-snake
That sucks thy warm life-blood, and gnaws thy
heart?

Oh, that thy words had force to break those bonds,

As they have strength to tear this heart in sunder;

So shouldst thou be at large from all oppression. Am I, am I of all thy woes the worst?

Osm. My all of bliss, my everlasting life, Soul of my soul, and end of all my wishes,

Why dost thou thus unman me with thy words, | And melt me down to mingle with thy weepings? Why dost thou ask? Why dost thou talk thus piercingly?

Thy sorrows have disturbed thy peace of mind, And thou dost speak of miseries impossible.

Alm. Didst not thou say, that racks and wheels

were balm,

And beds of ease, to thinking me thy wife? Osm. No, no; nor should the subtlest pains that hell,

Or hell-born malice, can invent, extort

A wish, or thought, from me to have thee other.
But thou wilt know what harrows up my heart:
Thou art my wife-nay, thou art yet my bride-
The sacred union of connubial love
Yet unaccomplished: his mysterious rites
Delayed; nor has our Hymeneal torch
Yet lighted up his last most grateful sacrifice;
But dashed with rain from eyes, and swailed with
sighs,

Burns dim, and glimmers with expiring light.
Is this dark cell a temple for that god?
Or this vile earth an altar for such offerings?
This den for slaves, this dungeon damped with

Luxurious, revelling amidst thy charms;
And thou, per-force, must yield, and aid his trans-
port,

Hell! hell! have I not cause to rage and rave?
What are all racks, and wheels, and whips, to this?
Are they not soothing softness, sinking ease,
And wafting air, to this? Oh, my Almeria!
What do the damned endure, but to despair,
But knowing heaven, to know it lost for ever?
Alm. Oh, I am struck; thy words are bolts of
ice,

Which, shot into my breast, now melt and chill

Choak in my rage, and know the utmost depth Of this deceiver-You seem much surprised.

Osm. At your return so soon, and unexpected! Zara. And so unwished, unwanted too, it seems. Confusion! Yet I will contain myself. You are grown a favourite since last we parted; Perhaps I am saucy and intruding

Osm. Madam!

Zara. I did not know the princess' favourite. Your pardon, sir-mistake me not; you think I am angry; you are deceived. I came to set You free; but shall return much better pleased, To find you have an interest superior.

Osm. You do not come to mock my miseries? Zara. I do.

Osm. I could at this time spare your mirth. Zara. I know thou couldst; but I am not often pleased,

And will indulge it now. What miseries?
Who would not be thus happily confined,
To be the care of weeping majesty;

To have contending queens, at dead of night,
Forsake their down, to wake with watery eyes,
And watch, like tapers, o'er your hours of rest?
Oh, curse! I cannot hold-

Osm. Come, it is too much.
Zara. Villain!

Osm. How, madam!
Zara. Thou shalt die.
Osm. I thank you.

Zara. Thou liest, for now I know for whom thou wouldst live.

Osm. Then you may know for whom I would

die.

Zara. Hell! hell!

Yet I will be calm-Dark and unknown be trayer!

But now the dawn begins, and the slow hand Of fate is stretched to draw the veil, and leave Thee bare, the naked mark of public view.

Osm. You may be still deceived, 'tis in my power

Zara. Ha! sayest thou-but I will prevent itWho waits there? As you will answer it, look this slave [To the guard. Attempt no means to make himself away. I have been deceived. The public safety now Requires he should be more confined, and none, No, not the princess, suffered or to see Or speak with him. I will quit you to the king. Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent The base injustice thou hast done my love: Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past distress, And all those ills which thou so long hast mourned;

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned [Excunt.

SCENE I-A Room of State.

ZARA and SELIM.

Zara. THOU hast already racked me with thy stay;

Therefore require me not to ask thee twice:
Reply at once to all. What is concluded?

Sel. Your accusation highly has incensed
The king, and were alone enough to urge
The fate of Osmyn; but, to that, fresh news
Is since arrived, of more revolted troops.
'Tis certain Heli, too, is fled, and with him
(Which breeds amazement and distraction) some
Who bore high offices of weight and trust,
Both in the state and army. This confirms
The king in full belief of all you told him
Concerning Osmyn, and his correspondence
With them who first began the mutiny.
Wherefore a warrant for his death is signed;
And order given for public execution.

Zara. Ha! haste thee! fly, prevent his fate and mine;

Find out the king, tell him I have of weight,
More than his crown, to impart ere Osmyn die.
Sel. It needs not, for the king will straight be
here,

And, as to your revenge, not his own interest,
Pretend to sacrifice the life of Osmyn.

Zara. What shall I say, invent, contrive, ad-
vise?

Something to blind the king, and save his life,
In whom I live. Spite of my rage and pride,
I am a woman, and a lover still.

Oh! 'tis more grief but to suppose his death,
Than still to meet the rigour of his scorn.
From my despair my anger had its source;
When he is dead I must despair for ever.
For ever! that's despairit was distrust
Before; distrust will ever be in love,
And anger in distrust; both short-lived pains.
But in despair, and ever-during death,
No term, no bound, but infinite of woe.
Oh, torment, but to think! what then to bear?
Not to be borne-Devise the means to shun it,
Quick; or, by Heaven, this dagger drinks thy
blood.

Sel. My life is yours, nor wish I to preserve it,
But to serve you. I have already thought.
Zara. Forgive my rage; I know thy love and
truth.

But say, what's to be done, or when, or how,
Shall I prevent or stop the approaching danger?
Sel. You must still seem more resolute, and
fixed

On Osmyn's death; too quick a change of mercy
Might breed suspicion of the cause. Advise
That execution may be done in private.
Zara. On what pretence?

Sel. Your own request is enough,

However, for a colour, tell him, you
Have cause to fear his guards may be corrupted,
And some of them bought off to Osmyn's interest,
Who, at the place of execution, will
Attempt to force his way for an escape;
The state of things will countenance all suspicions.
Then offer to the king, to have him strangled
In secret, by your mutes; and get an order,
That none but mutes may have admittance
him.

I can no more, the king is here. Obtain
This grant, and I'll acquaint you with the rest.

Enter KING, GONSALEZ, and PEREZ.

King. Bear to the dungeon those rebellious
slaves,

The ignoble curs that yelp to fill the cry,
And spend their mouths in barking tyranny.
But for their leaders, Sancho and Ramirez,
Let them be led away to present death.
Perez, see it performed.

Gons. Might I presume,

Their execution better were deferred,
Till Osmyn die. Mean time we may learn more
Of this conspiracy.

King. Then be it so.

Of the same nature divers notes have been
Dispersed, to amuse the people; whereupon
Some, ready of belief, have raised this rumour:
That, being saved upon the coast of Afric,
He there disclosed himself to Albuccacim,
And, by a secret compact made with him,
Opened and urged the way to this invasion;
While he himself, returning to Valentia,
In private, undertook to raise this tumult.

Zara. Ha! hearest thou that? Is Osmyn then
Alphonso?

Oh, Heaven! a thousand things occur at once
To my remembrance now, that make it plain.
Oh, certain death for him, as sure despair
For me, if it be known-If not, what hope
Have I? Yet 'twere the lowest baseness now,
To yield him up-No, I will conceal him,
And try the force of yet more obligations.

Gons. 'Tis not impossible. Yet it may be,
That some impostor has usurped his name.
Your beauteous captive Zara can inform,
If such a one, so escaping, was received,
At any time, in Albuccacim's court.

1

King. Pardon, fair excellence, this long neglect:

An unforeseen, unwelcome hour of business,
Has thrust between us and our while of love;
But wearing, now, apace with ebbing sand,
Will quickly waste and give again the day.

Zara. You're too secure: the danger is more imminent

Than your high courage suffers you to see;
While Osmyn lives, you are not safe.
King. His doom

Is passed; if you revoke it not, he dies.

To cast beneath your feet the crown you have saved,

Though on the head that wears it, were too little.

Zara. Of that hereafter: but, mean time, tis fit You give strict charge that none may be admitted To see the prisoner, but such mutes as I Shall send.

King. Who waits there?

Enter PEREZ.

On your life, take heed

That only Zara's mutes, or such who bring

entrance,

I find I can unfold what yet concerns
You more. One, who did call himself Alphonso,
Was cast upon my coast, as 'tis reported,
And oft had private conference with the king;
To what effect I knew not then: but he,
Alphonso, secretly departed, just

About the time our arms embarked for Spain.
What I know more is, that a triple league,
Of strictest friendship, was professed between
Alphonso, Heli, and the traitor Osmyn.

King. Public report is ratified in this.
Zara. And Osmyn's death required, of strong
necessity.

King. Give order strait, that all the prisoners
die.

Zara. Forbear a moment, somewhat more I have,

Worthy your private ear, and this your mini

ster.

King. Let all, except Gonsalez, leave the room. [Exeunt Perez, &c. Zara. I am your captive, and you've used me nobly;

And, in return of that, though otherwise
Your enemy, I have discovered Osmyn,
His private practice, and conspiracy,
Against your state: and, fully to discharge
Myself of what I've undertaken, now
I think it fit to tell you, that your guards
Are tainted; some among them have resolved
To rescue Osmyn at the place of death.

King. Is treason, then, so near us as our guards?
Zara. Most certain; though my knowledge is

not yet

So ripe, to point at the particular men.
King. What is to be done?

Zara. That, too, I will advise.

I have, remaining in my train, some mutes,
A present once from the sultana queen,

In the grand signior's court. These, from their infancy,

Are practised in the trade of death; and shall (As there the custom is) in private strangle Osmyn.

Gons. My lord, the queen advises well. King. What offering, or what recompence remains

In me, that can be worthy so great services?

Zara. They, and no other, not the princess' self.
Per. Your Majesty shall be obeyed.
King. Retire.

[Exit Perez. Gons. That interdiction, so particular, Pronounced with vehemence, against the princess, Should have more meaning than appears barefac

Her words and actions are obscure and double,
Sometimes concur, and sometimes disagree:
I like it not.
[Aside,

King. What dost thou think, Gonsalez?
Are we not much indebted to this fair one?
Gons. I am a little slow of credit, sir,
In the sincerity of women's actions.
Methinks this lady's hatred to the Moor
Disquiets her too much; which makes it seem
As if she'd rather that she did not hate him.
I wish her mutes are meant to be employed
As she pretends-I doubt it now-Your guards
Corrupted! How? By whom? Who told her so?
In the evening Osmyn was to die; at midnight
She begged the royal signet, to release him;
In the morning he must die again; ere noon
Her mutes alone must strangle him, or he'll
Escape. This, put together, suits not well,
King. Yet that there's truth in what she has
discovered