Mul. Zeyd. Thus, then, a doubtful title is extinguished:

Thus Moluch, still the favourite of fate,
Swims in a sanguine torrent to the throne,
As if our prophet only work'd for him:

The heavens and all the stars are his hir'd ser

vants,

As Muley-Zeydan were not worth their care,
And younger brothers but the draff of nature.
Bend. Be still, and learn the soothing arts of
court;

Adore his fortune, mix with flattering crowds,
And when they praise him most, be you the loudest.
Your brother is luxurious, close, and cruel,
Generous by fits, but permanent in mischief.
The shadow of a discontent would ruin us;
We must be safe before we can be great:
These things observ'd, leave me to shape the rest.
Mul. Zeyd. You have the key, he opens in-
ward to you.

Bend. So often tried, and ever found so true,
Has given me trust, and trust has given me means
Once to be false for all. I trust not him:
For now his ends are serv'd, and he grown ab-
solute,

How am I sure to stand who serv'd those ends?
I know your nature open, mild, and grateful;
In such a prince the people may be blest,
And I be safe.

Mul. Zeyd. My father! [Embracing him.
Bend. My future king! auspicious Muley-
Zeydan!

Shall I adore you? No, the place is public,
I worship you within; the outward act
Shall be reserv'd till nations follow me,
And heaven shall envy you the kneeling world.
You know th' alcald of Alcazar, Dorax?
Mul. Zeyd. The gallant renegade you mean?
Bend. The same:

That gloomy outside, like a rusty chest,
Contains the shining treasure of a soul,
Resolv'd and brave; he has the soldiers' hearts,
And time shall make him ours.

Mul. He's just upon us.
Bend. I know him from afar,

By the long stride and by the sullen port:
Retire, my lord.

Wait on your brother's triumph; your's is next;
His growth is but a wild and fruitless plant;
I'll cut his barren branches to the stock,
And graft you on to bear.

Mul. Zeyd. My oracle!

[Exit MULEY-ZEYD. Bend. Yes, to delude your hopes; poor credu

lous fool,

Him I can manage till I make him odious

Now, Dorax!

Enter DORAX.

Dor. Well, Benducar.

Bend. Bare Benducar?

Dor. Thou wouldst have titles? take 'em then; chief minister,

First hangman of the state.

Bend. Some call me favourite.
Dor. What's that, his minion?
Thou art too old to be a catamite.
Now prithee tell me, and abate thy pride,
Is not Benducar bare a better name

In a friend's mouth, than all those gaudy titles,
Which I disdain to give the man I love!
Bend. But always out of humour.
Dor. I have cause:

Though all mankind is cause enough for satire.

Bend. Why then thou hast reveng'd thee on

vulgar

Like whipp'd cream, feels 'em not in going down. Bend. Brave renegade ! couldst thou not meet Sebastian?

Thy master had been worthy of thy sword.

Dor. My master! by what title? Because I happen'd to be born where he Happen'd to be a king? and yet I serv'd him, Nay, I was fool enough to love him too. You know my story, how I was rewarded, For fifteen hard campaigns, still hoop'd in iron, And why I turn'd Mahometan. I'm grateful; But whosoever dares to injure me, Let that man know, I dare to be reveng'd. Bend. Still you run off from bias; say

moves

Your present spleen?

what

Dor. You mark'd not what I told you:
I kill'd not one that was his maker's image;
I met with none but vulgar two-legg'd brutes.
Sebastian was my aim: he was a man,
Nay, though he hated me, and I hate him,
Yet I must do him right,-he was a man
Above man's height, ev'n tow'ring to divinity;
Brave, pious, generous, great, and liberal;
He lov'd his people, him they idoliz'd:
Just as the scales of heaven, that weigh the seasons.
And thence proceeds my mortal hatred to him,

That thus unblameable to all besides,
He err'd to me alone:

His goodness was diffus'd to human kind,
And all his cruelty confin'd to me.
Bend. You could not meet him then?
Dor. No, though I sought
Where ranks fell thickest; 'twas indeed the place
To seek Sebastian: through a track of death
I follow'd him, by groans of dying foes,

ke lightning, swift before me to new slaugh

ters;

mow'd across, and made irregular harvest, efac'd the pomp of battle, but in vain, or he was still supplying death elsewhere: his mads me, that perhaps ignoble hands ave overlaid him, for they could not conquer: urder'd by multitudes, whom I alone

ad right to slay; I too would have been slain, hat, catching hold upon his flitting ghost, might have robb'd him of his opening heav'n; nd dragg'd him down with me, spite of predestination.

Bend. 'Tis of as much import as Afric's worth, o know what came of him, and of Almeyda, he sister of the vanquish'd Mahomet, Those fatal beauty to her brother drew he land's third part, as Lucifer did heaven's. Dor. I hope she died in her own female calling,

hoak'd up with man, and gorg'd with circum

cision.

s for Sebastian, we must search the field, nd where we see a mountain of the slain, end one to climb, and, looking down below, here he shall find him at his manly length, Vith his face up to heav'n, in the red monument,

Which his true sword has digg'd.

Bend. Yet we may possibly hear farther news;
For while our Africans pursued the chase,
The captain of the rabble issued out,

With a black, shirtless train to spoil the dead,
And seize the living.

Dor. Each of 'em an host,

A million strong of vermin ev'ry villain :
No part of government, but lords of anarchy,
Chaos of power, and privileged destruction.
Bend. Yet I must tell you, friend, the great
must use 'em,

Sometimes as necessary tools of tumult.
Dor. I would use 'em

Like dogs in times of plague, outlaws of nature,
Fit to be shot and brain'd without a process,
To stop infection; that's their proper death.
Bend. No more;

Behold the emperor coming to survey
The slaves, in order to perform his vow.
Enter MULEY-MOLUCH, the Emperor, with at-
tendants; the Mufti, and MULEY-ZEYDAN.
M. Mol. Our armours now may rust, our idle
scymitars

Hang by our sides, for ornament not use:
Children shall beat our atabals and drums,
And all the noisy trades of war no more
Shall wake the peaceful morn: the Xeriff's blood
No longer in divided channels runs,
The younger house took end in Mahomet.
Nor shall Sebastian's formidable name
Be longer us'd to lull the crying babe!

Muf. For this victorious day our mighty pro-
phet

Expects your gratitude, the sacrifice
Of Christian slaves, devoted, if you won.

VOL. I.

Must. All, upon my honour. If you'll take 'em as their fathers got 'em, so; if not, you must stay till they get a better generation: these Christians are mere bunglers; they procreate nothing but out of their own wives; and these have all the looks of eldest sons.

M. Mol. Pain of your lives, let none conceal a slave.

Must. Let every man look to his own conscience; I am sure mine shall never hang me.

Bend. Thou speak'st as thou wert privy to concealments: then thou art an accomplice.

Must. Nay, if accomplices must suffer, it may go hard with me; but here's the devil on't, there's a great man and a holy man too, concern'd with me. Now if I confess, he'll be sure to 'scape between his greatness and his holiness, and I shall be murder'd, because of my poverty and rascality.

Muf. [Winking at him.] Then if thy silence save the great and holy, 'Tis sure thou shalt go straight to paradise.

Must. 'Tis a fine place, they say ; but, doctor, I am not worthy on't: I am contented with this homely world; 'tis good enough for such a poor rascally mussulinan as I am: besides I have learnt so much good manners, doctor, as to let my betters be serv'd before me.

M. Mol. Thou talk'st as if the Mufti were concern'd.

2 A

Must. Your majesty may lay your soul on't: but for my part, though I am a plain fellow, yet I scorn to be trick'd into paradise: I would he should know it. The troth on't is, an't like you, his reverence bought of me the flower of all the market; these these are but dogs' meat to 'em, and a round price he paid me too, I'll say that for him; but not enough for me to venture my neck for: If I get paradise when my time comes, I can't help myself; but I'll venture nothing before-hand, upon a blind bargain.

M. Mol. Where are those slaves? produce 'em. Muf. They are not what he says.

M. Mol. No more excuses.

[One goes out to fetch them. Know, thou may'st better dally With a dead prophet than a living king. Muf. I but reserv'd 'em, to present thy great

ness

An off'ring worthy thee.

Must. By the same token there was a dainty virgin, (Virgin! said I? but I won't be too positive of that neither) with a roguish leering eye! he paid me down for her upon the nail a thousand golden sultanins, or he had never had her, I can tell him that. Now is it very likely he would pay so dear for such a delicious morsel, and give it away out of his own mouth, when it had such a farewel with it too?

Enter SEBASTIAN, conducted in mean habit, with ALVAREZ, ANTONIO, and ALMEYDA: her face veiled with a Barnus.

M. Mol. Ay; these look like the wormanship
of Heav'n:

This is the porcelain clay of human kind,
And therefore cast into these noble moulds.
Dor. [Aside, while the Emperor whispers BEN-
DUCAR.] By all my wrongs

'Tis he; damnation seize me but 'tis he!
My heart heaves up and swells; he's poison to

Shall I trust heav'n, that heav'n which I renounc'd, [Aside. With my revenge? then, where's my satisfaction?

No, it must be my own; I scorn a proxy.
M. Mol. 'Tis decreed,

These of a better aspect, with the rest
Shall share one common doom, and lots decide it.
For ev'ry number'd captive put a ball
Into an urn; three only black be there,
The rest, all white, are safe.

Muf. Hold, sir, the woman must not draw.
M. Mol. O Mufti,

We know your reason-let her share the danger.

Muf. Our law says plainly, women have no souls.

M. Mol. 'Tis true, their souls are mortal; st her by:

Yet were Almeyda here, though fame reports her
The fairest of her sex, so much, unseen,
I hate the sister of our rival house,
Ten thousand such dry notions of our Alcoran
Should not protect her life; if not immortal,
Die as she could, all of a piece, the better
That none of her remain.

Here an Urn is brought in: the prisoners 47-
proach with great concernment; and among
the rest SEBASTIAN, ALVAREZ, and Aš-
TONIO, who come more chearfully.
Dor. Poor abject creatures, how they fear to

die!

heroes.

[Aside These never knew one happy hour in life, Yet shake to lay it down: is load so pleasant? Or has heav'n hid the happiness of death, That men may bear to live? Now for out [The three approach. O, these come up with spirits more resolv❜d! Old venerable Alvarez, well I know him, The fav'rite once of this Sebastian's father; Now minister; (too honest for his trade) Religion bears him out; a thing taught young, In age ill practis'd, yet his prop in death.— O, he has drawn a black, and smiles upon't, As who should say, my faith and soul are white, Though my lot swarthy: Now, if there be here

after,

He's blest; if not, well cheated, and dies pleas'd
Ant. [Hoiding his lot in his clenched hand.]
Here I have thee;

Be what thou wilt, I will not look too soon.
Thou hast a colour; if thou prov'st not right,
I have a minute good ere I behold thee.
Now, let me roll and grubble thee:
Blind men say white feels smooth, and black feels
rough;

Thou hast a rugged skin; I do not like thee. Dor. There's th' amorous airy spark, Antonio;

The wittiest woman's toy in Portugal.
Lord! what a loss of treats and serenades!
The whole she-nation will be in mourning for him.
Ant. I've a moist sweaty palm; the more's
my sin;

If it be black, yet only dy'd, not odious,
Damn'd natural ebony, there's hope in rubbing
To wash this Ethiop white.-[Looks] Pox of
the proverb!

As black as hell: another lucky saying!
I think the devil's in me:-good again!
I cannot speak one syllable, but tends
To death or to damnation. [Holds up his bel!.
Dor. He looks uneasy at his future journey;
[Aside.

And wishes his boots off again, for fear
Of a bad road, and a worse inn at night.
Go to bed, fool, and take secure repose,
For thou shalt wake no more.

[SEB. comes up to draa.

proaches to the lott'ry;

He looks secure of death, superior greatness, Like Jove, when he made Fate, and said thou art The slave of my creation; I admire him.

Bend. He looks as man was made, with face erect,

That scorns his brittle corpse, and seems asham'd
He's not all spirit; his eyes, with a dumb pride,
Accusing fortune that he fell not warm;

Yet now disdains to live. [SEB. draws a black.
M. Mol. He has his wish;
And I have fail'd of mine!

Dor. Robb'd of my vengeance, by a trivial chance!

[Aside.

Fine work above, that their anointed care
Should die such little death: or did his genius
Know mine the stronger demon, fear'd the grap-
ple,

And, looking round him, found this nook of fate
To skulk behind my sword!-shall I discover him?
Still he would die not mine, no thanks to my
Revenge; reserv'd but to more royal shambles.
Twere base too, and below those vulgar souls,
That shar'd his danger, yet not one disclos'd
him,

But, struck with rev'rence, kept an awful silence. I'll see no more of this: dog of a prophet!

Exit DOR. M. Mol. One of these three is a whole hecatomb;

And therefore only one of 'em shall die:
The rest are but mute cattle; and when death
Comes, like a rushing lion, couch like spaniels,
With lolling tongues, and tremble at the paw:
Let lots again decide it.

[The three draw again, and the lot falls on SEB.

Seb. Then there's no more to manage! if I

fall,

It shall be like myself; a setting sun
Should leave a track of glory in the skies.-
Behold Sebastian, king of Portugal!

M. Mol. Sebastian! ha! it must be he; no other

Could represent such suff'ring majesty:
I saw him, as he terms himself, a sun
Struggling in dark eclipse, and shooting day
On either side of the black orb that veil'd him.
Seb. Not less ev'n in this despicable now,
Than when my name fill'd Afric with affrights,
And froze your hearts beneath your torrid zone.
Bend. [To M. MOL.] Extravagantly brave! ev'n
to an impudence
Of greatness.

Seb. Here satiate all your fury;
Let fortune empty her whole quiver on me;
I have a soul, that, like an ample shield,
Can take in all, and verge enough for more.
I would have conquer'd you; and ventur'd only
A narrow neck of land for a third world,
To give my loosen'd subjects room to play.
Fate was not mine,

Nor am I Fate's: Now I have pleas'd my longing, And trod the ground which I beheld from far,

For, if you give it burial, there it takes Possession of your earth:

If burnt and scatter'd in the air, the winds,
That strow my dust, diffuse my royalty,
And spread me o'er your clime: for where one

atom

Of mine shall light, know there Sebastian reigns. M. Mol. What shall I do to conquer thee? Seb. Impossible!

Souls know no conquerors.

M. Mol. I'll show thee for a monster through my Afric.

Seb. No, thou canst only show me for a man: Afric is stor❜d with monsters; man's a prodigy, Thy subjects have not seen.

M. Mol. Thou talk'st as if Still at the head of battle.

Seb. Thou mistak'st,
For then I would not talk.

Bend. Sure he would sleep.
Seb. Till dooms-day, when the trumpet sounds
to rise;

For that's a soldier's call.

M. Mol. Thou'rt brave too late:

Thou should'st have died in battle, like a soldier. Seb. I fought and fell like one, but death deceiv'd me;

I wanted weight of feeble Moors upon me,
To crush my soul out.

M. Mol. Still untameable?

In what a ruin has thy head-strong pride
And boundless thirst of empire plung'd thy people!
Seb. What say'st thou? ha! No more of that.
M. Mol. Behold,

What carcases of thine thy crimes have strew'd,
And left our Afric vultures to devour.

Bend. Those souls were those thy God entrusted with thee,

To cherish, not destroy.

Seb. Witness, O heaven! how much This sight concerns me! Would I had a soul For each of these: How gladly would I pay The ransom down! But since I have but one, 'Tis a king's life, and freely 'tis bestow'd. Not your false prophet, but eternal justice, Has destin'd me the lot, to die for these: 'Tis fit a sovereign so should pay such subjects For subjects such as they are seldom seen, Who not forsook me at my greatest need, Nor for base lucre sold their loyalty, But shar'd my dangers to the last event, And fenc'd 'em with their own: These thanks I pay you: [Wipes his eyes, And know, that, when Sebastian weeps, his tears Come harder than his blood.

M. Mol. They plead too strongly To be withstood: My clouds are gath'ring too, In kindly mixture with this royal shower.Be safe, and owe thy life, not to my gift, But to the greatness of thy mind, Sebastian: Thy subjects too shall live; a due reward For their untainted faith, in thy concealment. Muf. Remember, sir, your vow. [4 general shout.

M. Mol. Do thou remember Thy function, mercy, and provoke not blood. Mul. Zeyd. One of his generous fits; too strong to last. [Aside to BEND.

Bend. The Mufti reddens; mark that holy cheek. [To him. He frets within, froths treason at his mouth, And churns it through his teeth: Leave me to work him.

Seb. A mercy unexpected, undesir'd, Surprises more: You've learnt the art to vanquish :

You could not, give me leave to tell you, sir,
Have giv'n me life but in my subjects' safety:
Kings, who are fathers, live but in their people.
M. Mol. Still great, and grateful, that's thy
character.-

Unveil the woman; I would view the face
That warm'd our Mufti's zeal:
These pious parrots peck the fairest fruit :
Such tasters are for kings.

[Officers go to ALM. to unveil her. Alm. Stand off, ye slaves, I will not be un

veil'd.

Is puddled and defil'd with tyranny.

M. Mol. What female fury have we here?
Alm. I should be one,

Because of kin to thee: Would'st thou be touch'd

By the presuming hands of saucy grooms?
The same respect, nay more, is due to me:
More for my sex; the same for my descent.
These hands are only fit to draw the curtain,
Now, if thou darʼst, behold Almeyda's face.
[Unveils herself.
Bend. Would I had never seen it! [Aside.
Alm. She whom thy Mufti tax'd to have no
soul!

Think not I could forgive, nor dare thou pardon.

M. Mol. Would'st thou revenge thee, trait'ress, hadst thou power?

Whether the toils of battle, unrepair'd
With due repose, or other sudden qualm.
Benducar, do the rest.

[Goes off, the court follows hi Bend. Strange; in full health! This pang is of the soul;

The body's unconcern'd: I'll think hereafter.-
Conduct these royal captives to the castle;
Bid Dorax use 'em well, till farther order.
[Going off, stops

The inferior captives their first owners take,
To sell, or to dispose.-You, Mustapha,
Set ope the market for the sale of slaves.

[Exit BEND [The Masters and Slaves come forward, and buyers of several qualities come in and cheffer about the several owners, who make their

slaves do tricks.

Must. My chattels are come into my hands again, and my conscience will serve me to sell 'em twice over; any price now, before the Mufti comes to claim 'em.

1 Mer. [To MUST.] What do'st hold that old fellow at?[Pointing to ALVAREZ.] He's tough, and has no service in his limbs.

Must. I confess he's somewhat tough; but i suppose you wou'd not boil him. I ask for him a thousand crowns.

1 Mer. Thou mean'st a thousand marvedi's. Must. Prithee, friend, give me leave to know my own meaning.

1 Merch. What virtues has he to deserve that price?

Must. Marry, come up, sir! Virtues, quotha! I took him in the king's company; he's of a great family, and rich; what other virtues wou'dst thou

1 Merch. I buy him with another man's purse, that's my comfort. My Lord Dorax, the gover nor, will have him at any rate:-There's handsel.