  Decoration A TRAGEDY Decoration Decoration DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
CHORUS OF CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES. Soldiers, Guards, and Messengers. The scene is in the garden of a castle of the King of Fez, by the sea. CHRISTIAN ACT · Idecoration He hath a quality unconquerable. 310 Sa. Ha! then I am scorned. Al.I mean he is generous: He set thee free. Couldst thou not match that deed? Sa. As friend or foe I would outmatch him bravely. Nay but to see him in his angel-fairness Provoked my emulation, and I vowed Some day to kill his horse, and take his sword, And cry him quit. Al.Still thou’rt for war: ’twere better Repay him with the gift that he demands, These miserable captives. Sa.I would have done so. But thou didst hear the king refuse. He is sworn 320 To grant no terms till Ceuta be restored. Our law moreover doth forbid this traffic, To exchange our captives with the infidels. Al. But hast thou then thyself, Sala, no power To do them any kindness; or for me Wilt thou not grant them so much liberty As to walk in the garden once a day? If I might speak with them I might do somewhat To pay the debt we owe their general; And to speak truth, for my own sake I ask it. Sa. How for thy sake? 330 Al.I wish to hear them sing. Sa. How could that please? Who told thee that they sing? Al. ’Twas last night, Sala, as I lay long awake Dreamily hearkening to the ocean murmur, Softer than silence, on mine ears there stole A solemn sound of wailful harmony: So beautiful it was that first I thought This castle was enchanted, as I have read In eastern tales; or else that ’twas the song Of people of this land, who make the sea 340 Their secret god, and at midnight arise To kneel upon the shore, and his divinity Trouble with shrilling prayer: or then it seemed A liquid-voicÈd choir of spirits that swam Upon the ocean surface, harp in hand, Swelling their hymns with his deep undersong. That was the Christian captives. Sa. ’Twas the night Softened their wails to sweetness: as the space ’Twixt hell and heaven makes the cries of the damned Music to the angels. Al.Sala, ’tis not the king, ’Tis thou art cruel; thou hast a heart of hate. Sa. O nay, a heart of love. I would not count Dishonour, Almeh; I would be at peace With shame and infidels and all the world, Wouldst thou be mine. Al.Now, if my father heard thee! Thou dar’st much, thinking that I cannot tell: Which if I have never done, ’tis that I am loth To lose so old a friend; ’tis pain to see That as I am grown from childhood, thou art grown From friendship, and for loving me too much Must love me now no more. 360 Sa.Ah! what is that? A portrait in thy hand? Nay show it me. Why dost thou blush? Who is the happy one Thou carriest thus to gaze on? Al.Look and see. Sa. ’Tis Tarudante. O thou faithless Almeh, To speak of friendship who hast never told me Thou hast a lover. Now I see the cause Why thou art here. This boy.—’Tis a smooth cheek, A pretty picture. Ah! wert thou not shamed To slight me for a sprinkling of grey hair 370 About my temples, thou wouldst never thus Have hid thy passion. Al.Tho’thou hast stolen from me A privilege to love me, I deny thee The liberty to judge me and reprove. Sa. Ever, when thou hast bidden my love be dumb, My tongue hath been obedient: but my anger, My jealousy will speak. How gottest thou this? Al. Question not so, or I will never tell. Sa. Have pity, Almeh, and tell me. Al.Then ’tis thus. My father gave it me this very hour, 380 As herald of the prince whom it portrays. He comes on double mission, first to fight Against our foes ... Sa.Hast thou consented, Almeh? Al. If ’tis my father’s will, and if the prince Be earnest in his courtship ... Sa.Ah! thou dost wish it. Al. My wish can count but little: but my wish Is not for this nor any other marriage. Sa. Thou hast yielded to the thought. Would I had died On Ferdinand’s sword; or that his ear had ne’er Heard my ill-fated name, Sala, far happier 390 Chained in a Spanish galley, than set free To find thee in a rival’s arms. Al.O shame! How have I yielded? Sa.Thou hast taken in hand This cursÈd portrait: held it ... Al.Nay, I pray. Sa. Gazed on it, fondled it: a pictured boy! Thy Decoration ACT · IIDecoration ALMEH and ZAPEL listening. The Christian Captives are singing at back among the trees. Chorus. Jesu dulcis memoria, Dans vera cordis gaudia; Sed super mel et omnia Ejus dulcis prÆsentia. ZAPEL. How strange a moan! ALMEH. Hush, Zapel, hush: go in. 420 Leave me. Stay, I will go with thee so far That they shall think we both are gone. This way. Almeh and Zapel go aside. Exit Zapel. Almeh enters arbour. Chorus. Jesu decus angelicum, In aure dulce canticum, In ore mel mirificum, In corde nectar cÆlicum. Nil canitur suavius, Nil auditur jucundius, Nil cogitatur dulcius, Quam Jesu Dei filius. 430 Al. (aside). They sing of Jesus, whom they make their god, I understand no more: only their praise Is sweeter than whatever I have heard In mosque or sacred temple, or the chant Of holy pilgrims, that beguile the road. I’ll learn what they will tell me of their hymns, And whence they have this music. Ah, they see me. Sir, pray withdraw not thus. Step on this terrace; Hence may you view the sea. Your helpless lot I pity; and if indeed I have any power 440 To ease the pains of your captivity, ’Tis but a debt I owe you for the pleasure Your music wakes within me. Come this way. Ch. Lady, we thank thy grace and gentleness: But yonder grove contents us, in the shade Where if we walked retired, we shall not strain The privilege we prize. Al.Why, since I ask, Take courage, come. There’s none will see but I. Ch. We dare not disobey. Al.Come forward, hither. I bid you all for pleasure as my friends. 450 And ye could much delight me, would ye tell What theme ye lately sang: for though sweet music Needs no interpretation, yet the thought That gives occasion to the smile of love Is dear itself; and I am like a lover Wondering what fancy ’twas, that bred a strain Of such deliberate joy. Ch.Forbid the thought, Lady: the sea, with whose expansive sight Thou thoughtest to rejoice our prisoned eyes, Doth not dissever us from our lost homes 460 With wider deeper gulf, than that which lies Betwixt our souls and thine. Thou mayst not know. Al. I know ye sang of Jesus. Ch.And knowing that, Wouldst thou know more? Al.Ay, tell me. Ch.Praised be God! Al. I envy you your skill. I prithee tell me What was’t ye sang. Ch.The praise of Jesus’name. ’Tis what all nature sings; the whole creation Ceaseth not, nor is silent in his praise: Neither God’s angels, nor the spirit of man With speech directed unto him, nor things Animate nor inanimate, by the mouth Of them that meditate thereon: which praise Music hath perfected, and that we use Less for his glory, than that thence our souls May from their weariness arise to him, In whom is our refreshment and true strength. Al. I pray you sing again. Ch.If thou wilt hear, We will sing more. O Jesu mi dulcissime, O spes spirantis animÆ, Te quÆrunt piÆ lacrymÆ, Et clamor mentis intimÆ. 482 Al. Music ne’er found a better speech. I pray Could I sing with you? Could I learn your art? Ch. Thou hast the master-secret, loving it. Al. Many have that: and I can sing alone, But ne’er have learned your many-voicÈd skill. Ch. That is the maker’s art: the song being made, ’Tis to sing strictly, and to teach thy phrase Confident rivalry, as if thou knewest 490 Thy passion was the deepest, and could blend The wandering strains in closer harmony. Al. Make me your pupil. How should I begin? [Drums and trumpets without. Ch. The king! Al.Break off, my father is returned; Lest he should enter here, haste to your bounds, And be not seen. There will I visit you, Or bid you forth again. Ch.We thank thee, lady. Re-enter Zapel, hurriedly. Za. My lady, hast thou heard? Al.What is it, Zapel? Za. The infidels are routed, and the king Is coming from the field with Tarudante, 500 Prince of Morocco, and between them ride The two chief captains of the unbelievers, Princes of Portugal: be Allah praised. Ch. Alas! O woe, alas! Forgive us, lady, That thus we weep before thee. Al.Nay, be sure I pity you myself, and could not blame Your natural grief. But ’tis the vice of war, That whatsoever side hath victory, The misery is alike, nor in the advantage Is aught to compensate the evil done. May God give strength to right! 510 Ch.Amen, Amen! (To Z.) Pray, lady, didst thou say Prince Ferdinand Was taken? Za.Ye may question him himself; Talk not with me. Al.I beg you, friends, be gone: Ye must not stay. Ch.We will depart and mourn Within our sultry pit. [Exeunt. Al.My father comes? Za. He is at the gate. Al.Whate’er thou’st seen or heard Between me and these hapless prisoners, See that thou tell not. Za. ’Tis an accursed thing. Al. ’Tis not for thee to judge, but do my bidding. Za. And thou shouldst trust me better. Al.I do trust thee, And therefore bid thee thus. 521 Za.And I obey. Al. Is not this Ferdinand they spoke of, he Whose chivalry we thank for Sala’s life? Za. That’s he. Al.Then I shall see this red-crossed knight, The noblest of them all. The general said He was of angel fairness: then he is cousin To the emperor of England. Za.Thou shalt see A Moor worth fifty Christian Portuguese, His conqueror, thy lover Tarudante, Heir of Morocco. 530 Al.Silence: see they come. Enter King with Tarudante and Ferdinand, followed by Enrique and Sala. Za. (to A.). There’s Tarudante. Al. (aside). There is Ferdinand. KING (to T.). Now, noble prince, thou hast overcome our foes; This is thy second battlefield, whereon Thy love may win like conquest as thy sword. Pitch here thy tent, and make thy war in peace. Forget the reeking and gore-dappled plain Mid scent of pinks and jasmin, and the flush Of oleander and full-blooded rose. See, I will lead thee to the virgin fortress That thou mayst kneel to take. Come hither, Almeh: 541 Here is the prince thy lover. Tarudante, Behold her whom I offer thee for queen. Al. (aside, coming forward). Now of these two might I but choose. K. Come, daughter, Put off this modesty. Al. (aside). My eyes refuse him. TARUDANTE. Lady, forgive my boldness in desiring What I had never seen. Thy beauty’s fame, The high nobility of this alliance Led me so far; but now I have seen, I see I must be bolder, or renounce my boldness, 550 That begged a grace so far beyond my thought. Al. I should be much ashamed, prince, if thy suit, Which seeks the honour of my father’s house, Stumbled at my unworthiness: but praise Of pictures,—and mere beauty is no more,— Exalteth but the maker. May the days Thou spendest here with us be rich in peace. [Going. FERDINAND (aside to En.). By heaven, the devil is gentle to these Moors: They match our folk in beauty as in arms. K. Stay, Almeh, stay! [Almeh turns. ENRIQUE (to F.). These be the Spanish Arab: such a race 560 Sprang never from the sooty loins of Ham. Al. (to K.). Excuse me, sire, I pray. [Exit with Zapel. Fer. (to En.). Devil or angel or Arab, she hath stolen my soul. Tar. Such perfect grace, such speech and modesty Outbid my fancy; I would fight thy battles For twenty years to call thy treasure mine. K. I say she is thine, and she is my only child. SALA (aside). And I must hear this spoken, and hold my peace. K. So now, prince Ferdinand, the chance of war In making thee my captive gives me power 570 To dictate terms which shall content us all. Thou shalt go free—that is my gift to thee:— But in return for that,—my profit this,— I will have Ceuta; ’tis an ancient town, By name and people African, and held By followers of the prophet from the day When truth unconquerable like a flood Of sunlight dawned on the benighted west. Thy father robbed it from us, and I ask That thou restore it. ’Tis thy ransom, prince. 580 The king, thy brother, will not grudge to yield To me, a king, part of mine own, which he Wrongfully came by; if so, he may buy thee, His natural own, his flesh and blood, whom I Conquered in self-defence. I’ll keep thee here, Till I may know his will: and to learn that I’ll send thy brother home, the prince Enrique, To bear him, with what speed he may, the tidings Of thy defeat, captivity, and the terms Of thy release. Look not so sorrowful. 590 Fer. I thank your majesty for just rebuke Of my discourtesy. By selfish gloom I mar my entertainment, and belie My gratitude for kindness to me shewn Since I was prisoner. K.No thanks for that: Nor seek I to impose a countenance Upon thy proper feeling. Yet if now Thou’rt sad, I spake in vain. Fer. ’Tis for my fault And ill-success I am sad—to have lost my troop, Or led them to the fate of those whose rescue 600 They thought to be—not for my private case, Wherein your terms of ransom but make hope Impossible: the cession of a town Under the king’s protection, and therewith The peril of so many Christian souls, The desecration of our hallowed churches, The abandonment of loyal loving subjects Unto the heavy yoke which Islam lays On true believers. No king would give ear To such a compact: and your claim falls short; For what you have urged doth not lay bare the root. Ceuta is African, but not for that Mahommedan: this thirsty continent Had drunk the truth for full four hundred years Before your prophet’s birth; and now we fight To win back from Mahommet what he took By force from Christ. K.What matters it to me What happened in the days of ignorance? ’Tis written in our book, that the whole world Shall feel our sword. Fer. ’Tis writ in ours, that they Who take the sword, shall perish by the sword. 621 K. Surely ’twas truly spoken of yourselves. Yet will I make no change, but my demand Shall urge upon the king your brother; he Will thank me for it. Sa.Now, my gracious master, Let me befriend our foe. ’Tis four days since I was his prisoner, and he set me free. This claim the prince most generously puts by; Let us not pass it over: let him too Go find another army: we meanwhile 630 Have ample force to march against the town. K. And why should blood be spent where ink will serve? ’Twere thankless answer to our good ally To put fresh pains upon him, and not use His full sufficient victory. Tar.My liege, I’ll serve thee as a son, and to that title Would prove my fitness. Sa. (aside). By thine absence prove it. K. And if thou, son, wouldst dally now with war, Rather than grasp the hours of peace and love, What shall I think? Tar.That threat must stay me here. K. Ay, stay; and I will solve thy scruple thus, 641 Good Sala. By the laws of chivalry Thou wouldst do to thy foe as he to thee: But Ferdinand is not thy prisoner, Nor can be spared: his brother, prince Enrique, Whom thou didst truly capture,—tho’my purpose Was to require his promise to return,— Him will I give his freedom for thy sake: If he return he shall not be detained. En. I thank your majesty: but for my part 650 I am but a traveller, that took occasion Of this adventure to inspect your land. I pray make me the hostage; I am content With any treatment, might I come to see Your city of Fez, and from your southward folk Learn their opinion of the Libyan coast, Which some aver is circled by one sea From where we stand to Suez. K.And so it were, 658 I care no more than doth a caterpillar: What could that serve? If thou’rt a man of peace, The fitter then for our ambassador. En. ’Tis not for me to choose, and you may trust me To urge the king to treat upon your terms. I carry them most gladly. Fer. (to K.). Now, I pray, Do as my brother begs: let him be hostage, And make me messenger: I will return. K. Nay, nay. I doubt thee not: but ’tis my will Thee to keep, not thy brother. Fer.Then, my Enrique, I make appeal to thee. Urge not these terms On Edward: tell him rather I am myself, 670 And could not live ashamed. K.I swear thou wrongst me, And temptest me to use thee ill. No more. Begone, Enrique; I shall look to thee For amicable settlement. Go therefore, And tell thy king I hold your brother here Till he surrender Ceuta. As for thee, Prince Ferdinand; thy word shall be thy chain: Give me but that, and thou shalt have the freedom Of all this castle. Fer.I give’t your majesty. K. ’Tis well: so all are suited. And thou, Enrique, Make thy best speed. 680 En.I go, your majesty. Fer. (to E.). Thou know’st my mind.— En. (to F.). In any case I will deliver thee. K. No words. Begone, I pray. En.So fare you well. [Exit. K. (to T.). And now, Morocco, come within: I’ll show thee Whatever preparation in thine honour Is ordered; hoping it may so content thee, That thou wilt reconsider of thy threat To leave us with the moon. Tar.What here I have seen, Might I not take it with me when I go, 690 Would hold me fast until the day of doom. Sa. (aside). And may the day of doom come ere thou take it! [Exeunt K. and T. (To F.) Most generous prince, forgive me. Fer.I thank thee, Sala. Sa. I pressed the king so far as I may dare. He hath a temper to resent advice, Which urged, will rather drive him from the matter It looks to favour, than assist him towards it. I must find other paths for my goodwill. Deem me thy servant: and o’erlook the wrong I seem to have done thee, being again constrained To fight against thee. 700 Fer.Say no more, my friend. We serve our kings. Thou didst defeat our people By numbers, merely numbers. I prithee tell me The name of your princess. Sa.Almeh. Fer.Betrothed Already to the prince my conqueror? Sa. The thing is new. Thou know’st as much as I. Fer. The prince is fortunate. Sa.So is the king In his alliance. Fer.Is the marriage then Between the kingdoms rather than the parties? Sa. If ’twas your war that hath determined it. 710 Fer. It were a strained ungentle consequence, That I should sail from Portugal to force A lover on this lady’s inclination. Sa. I were like grieved. Fer.Her beauty far exceeds All that I thought to find. In my own country Our court holds not her equal. Sa.I believe it. Fer. And if her mind be as her speech, endowed.... Sa. Thou owest her so much praise for kindnesses Done to your prisoned countrymen. Fer.Ah, Sala, Where be these captives kept? if thou wouldst help me, I pray thee bring me in time where I may see them. I must speak with them. 721 Sa.That is easy, prince. Behind these garden grounds is a deep pit, Used as a quarry once; steep hanging sides Of rock it hath, that hewn away below Are inaccessible to any foot Save the soft lizard, that hath made his home Among the clefts with scorpions and snakes, And on the scorching ledges basks all day. ’Tis there these Christians lie. One way there is 730 Climbing by solid steps of native stone, That comes up to the ground. Between those rocks Thou seest the iron gate, and by the gate The sentinel that keeps it. I would guide thee To see thy countrymen; but there’s no need To make the hard descent; for once a day, At prayer and pity of our good princess, ’Tis granted them to come and walk above In shadow of yon balmy cypress grove, That skirts the northern brink: and but for this, 740 Their sole refreshment, all were like to have died Of woe, and scant food, and the daily stroke Shelterless of the hot meridian sun. Fer. Alas! What fault of theirs deserved such punishment? Sa. That they refused confession of the prophet. Fer. To acknowledge him were to renounce their faith. That is no wrong. Sa.Whether it be wrong or no, ’Tis not my will they undergo these pains. Fer. I pray thee lead me to them, if thou mayst. Sa. Nay, bide thou here, I will throw back the gate, 750 And bid them forth: and for thy less constraint Will then depart.[Goes to back, and exit. Fer.Such courtesy and cruelty in one I never thought to have met, nor found on earth So fair a prison, with an angel in it, And no hope of deliverance. Now I see Nature hath vainly lavished on these Moors Bravery and beauty and all gifts of pride; And left them barbarous for lack of thee, Sweet Pity, of human sorrow born: ’tis thou Dost raise man ’bove the brutes: ’tis thou dost make 760 His heart so singular, that he alone, Himself commiserating, against heaven Pushes complaint, and finds within his heart Room for all creatures, that like him are born To suffer and perish. Enter Captives from gate; they run to Ferdinand as they see him. Chor. Hail, mighty Ferdinand!— Hail, generous prince!—Behold Thy countrymen enslaved.— What hope? what hope? O say— 770 Arm of our fatherland, What mercy may be told?— Com’st thou to set us free?— Are we already saved?— Or is it true, the boast We hear, the triumph-song?— And art thou too as we,— (O miserable day)— Faln into the enemy’s hand?— And com’st thou thus alone? 780 Thine army slain and lost,— The cause of Christ o’erthrown.— What hope? what hope? O say.— Fer. My friends, the worst is true. Trust still in God. Ch. Alas! have all our prayers been made in vain? Fer. Despair not yet. Ch.What hope then dost thou bring? Fer. I bring you courage, friends. I come to share Your prison, since I cannot set you free. Ch. Alas! thou too art captive. All is lost.— But if thou share our prison, shall we share 790 Thy ransom also, when thou goest free? Fer. I have no ransom, friends, that ye could share. Ch. No ransom! Fer.Nay, no ransom. Ch.Not for thee? Fer. But such a ransom as cannot be paid. Ch. So great? Fer.Ay, even so great, that ye yourselves Would not consent to share. Ch.Tell us the sum. Fer. ’Tis to surrender Ceuta to the Moor. Now are ye silent. Ch.We are flesh and blood. Fer. Say ye? Ch.The stones of Ceuta cannot bleed, The walls of Ceuta would not pine as we. 800 Fer. Then take them for example: be as they: Lament not, pine not. Ch.Rank we now as stones? Fer. Stones, but n Decoration ACT · IIIDecoration ALMEH. O delicate air, inviting The birth of the sun, to fire The heavy glooms of the sea with silver laughter: Ye sleepy flowers, that tire In melting dreams of the day, To splendour disregardful, with sloth awaking; 1000 Rejoice, rejoice, alway; But why are ye taking My soul to follow you after, To awake with you, and be joyful in your delighting? Ay me! Enter Zapel from the garden, with a basket of flowers. ZAPEL. Here are thy lilies. Al.’Tis enough of these; I thank thee, Zapel. Now there grows a flower Wild 'neath the castle walls, a yellow rose It seems, of stubborn habit, branching low; When walking on the ramparts I have seen it, 1010 And wondered whence it drew its sustenance, In scattered tufts upon the waste sea sand; Go to the gate, and say I sent thee forth; And pluck me blooms, and a young stem of it That I may plant at home: if it should thrive, It shall be proud I ever looked upon it. Why dost thou laugh? Didst thou not hearken, girl? Za. I heard thee well: Go forth, Zapel, thou saidst; Go where thou wilt, so thou return not soon. Now is the hour prince Ferdinand should come: Lovers would be alone. 1020 Al.Be sure of this; ’Tis my sole comfort to be rid of thee; And when we are back in Fez, I will bestow thee Upon another mistress. Za.If ’tis Fez, I care not. I’ll commend me to the queen That shall be of Morocco ... why, thou goest The way to spoil thy fortunes, and dost shame The suit of a most high and worthy prince By favouring the Christian. Al.Favouring Dar’st thou to say? Za.I say but what I see. 1030 The infidel is dazzled by thy beauty; And if thou dost not love his flatteries, How is it that thou art found so oft alone Where he must walk? that now these three days past At break of dawn, ere thou wast used to stir Thou must go forth, because the moon is bright, Or dwindling stars should be beheld, or flowers Gathered in dew; and I, who must be roused To bear thee company, am in haste dismissed, 1039 Or sent on useless errands, while the prince Steals in my place? If I should say ’twas love.... Al. Folly! what folly in thee. And if ’twere true, Should I need thee to tell me? Go fetch my yellow roses. Za.And in time: See here he comes. Al.Begone. Za.Ay, I must go. (Aside.) But I can send another.[Exit. Al. What is it I resent? that others see us Is our life’s evidence: loving as being Needs this conviction. Enter Ferdinand. FERDINAND. What, Almeh! thou’rt here? Dost thou indeed await me? Al.Didst thou think 1050 I should play truant like an idle child, Who when the clock has struck cannot be found, And must be dragged to school? Fer.O nay. But in this world, Where all things move outside our reckoning, To find the least desire hath come to pass Will seem a miracle. Al.What is thy desire? What is the miracle? Fer.O beauteous Almeh! If I might call thee Christian! Al.Nay, I know not: But what I have learned makes me desire the name. Fer. Now is the purpose of my expedition 1060 Revealed: for this I sailed to Africa: For this I was defeated, and for this Brought captive here. ’Tis thou that art my prize. Al. ’Twere a poor prize for so much war: but tell me, How came it thou’rt a soldier? Fer.Thou hast thought My failure shames that title? Al.Nay, I ask How, being a Christian, thou professest arms. Why hast thou come against us, with no plea Save thy religion, and that happy gospel Thou hast trampled on in coming, Peace on earth? 1070 Fer. Too late to ask. When conscience, like an angel, Stood in the way to bar my setting forth, Zeal and ambition blinded me; tho’yet Against the voice of them that urged me on There lacked not prodigies of heaven to stay me. For as we sailed from Lisbon, all the host That lined the shore with banners and gay music, Was changed before my eyes to funeral trains Of black and weeping mourners, who with wails And screams affrighted us. The sun in heaven 1080 Turned to blood-red, and doleful mists of grey Shut us in darkness, while the sucking ebb Dragged us to doom. And here now that I stand In the rebuke of judgment, I have no plea Save that I suffer: unless thou be found My unsought prize. Al.Thou missest the conclusion, Considering but thyself, not those thou hast wronged. Thou must surrender Ceuta: ’tis a debt To justice and to peace: my father’s honour. Thy duty towards thy wretched countrymen, 1090 And thine own freedom— Fer.Let no words between us Be spoke in vain, as these words now must be. Al. Were thy words true, my words were not in vain. Fer. Lady, were Ceuta mine, had my sword won it, Thy words might move, though not thy father’s threats. Al. I hear the gate: some one comes forth. I pray Retire, ere we be seen.[Exeunt R. Enter Sala and Tarudante. SALA. I owe him life, your highness, and would stake it A thousand times upon his princely worth. As are his manners, you shall find his honour. I will go fetch him. TARUDANTE. 1100 Stay, I understand Something, and know that now he is in the grounds With the princess alone. Go if thou wilt. Assure thyself: I need to see no more. Sa. Await me here then while I go. I pray thee Judge not so hastily. Tar.I judge not hastily. Sa. Then wait me here. Tar.I wait for no man, Sala; Save out of courtesy; in which I hope I have not lacked hitherto. Sa.You have rather set us In everlasting debt. Tar.Speak not of that. 1110 Sa. Then mock not our repayment. Tar.Look you, Sala; I understand to seize a prize by force, Or kindly take a gift, but not to sue. Sa. Yet women must be wooed. Tar.Ay, that’s a game: But if ’tis more than play, I’ve no mind for it. Patch up the matter as you can. For me, I cry To horse. Sa.Wait but a moment longer; I will fetch Ferdinand. (Aside.) To have two rivals, Tho’both be princes, may be better yet Than to have only one. [Exit. Tar. By heaven, they trifle with me, and by waiting 1121 I allow it; cherishing an idle softness That fools me to take slights, yet cannot soothe My pride to competition. Nay, nor would I Rob grey-haired Sala of it, if he has dreamed His heirs shall reign in Fez.... But the infidel— How should the general countenance him,—altho’ There be some tie of chivalry between them? A riddle it is; a riddle I leave it. Now To save engagÈd honour I must feign 1130 Some exigency. I will go warn my men That they break camp at sunrise. In three days All is forgotten. [Exit. Re-enter Sala with Ferdinand. Fer.He is not here. Sa.’Tis well. Fer. What wouldst thou, Sala? Sa.For thy safety, prince, And for my honour both, accept the terms, And go hence while thou mayst. Fer.Now spare thy words; For I am firm. Sa.Then if thou close the door, Thou must o’erleap the wall. Fer.What mean’st thou? Sa.Fly. Feign sickness. I will let thee forth to-night. 1139 Thou shalt be safe beyond pursuit to-morrow, While yet ’tis thought thou keep’st thy chamber. Fer.Nay. Sa. As men will risk their lives to save their lives, Risk thou thine honour now to save thine honour,— Ay, and thy life. ’Tis looked for of no man To make his tongue his executioner; Nor any hath this right, to bind his brother To die when it shall please him. Fer.O honest Sala, We wrong thee much in Spain: there art thou deemed A heartless soldier; not a bloody tale That would pass current, but usurps thy name: Men curse by thee. 1150 Sa.I pray you now return, And disabuse your friends. Fer.Ay, that and more When I return. Sa.Thou never wilt return, Unless thou fly at once. Fer.Tell me the worst. Sa. What think you, should I slay you with these hands? Fer. Thou, Sala! why? Sa.I spake not empty words. Fer. Their darkness is to me as emptiness. Sa. By heaven, I would not now unseal my lips, But I know him I speak to, and my speech Shall win thee. Hark, I have been for twenty years 1160 Familiar with the king, one of his house; I have known the princess Almeh from her cradle: Her father’s only child, she hath been to me My single joy no less: from the first words She lisped upon my knee, unto this day, Her sayings and doings have been still the events Which measured time to me: her childish ways, Her growth, well-being, happiness, were mine, Part of my life. Whene’er I have been away On distant service, the same couriers 1170 That carried my despatches to the king, Returned to me with tidings of the child, Writ for my use, the careful chronicle Of prattle, with whatever pretty message She had devised to send me: as she grew I watched her, taught her, was her friend; and while I trod in blood, and heard the mortal gasp Of foes my scimitar struck down to hell, I suffered nothing to approach my soul But what might too be hers. Sala is stern, 1180 Men say, and register my actions bluntly To common qualities,—I serve my age In such a tedious practice,—but in truth Sala is gentle as the tend’rest plant That noonday withers, or the night frosts pinch. I tell thee what I would not dare tell any, Lest he should smile at me, and I should slay him: I tell it thee, knowing thou wilt not smile. Now late it happed that I returned to Fez After some longer absence than was wont; 1190 And looking still to meet the child I left, I found her not. She had made a dizzy flight From prettiest to fairest. Slow-working time Had leapt in a miracle: ere one could say, From being a child suddenly she was a woman, Changed beyond hope, to me past hope unchanged. Maybe thou hast never tasted, prince, this sorrow, When fortune smiling upon those we love Removes them from our reach—when we awake To our small reckoning in the circumstance 1200 We are grown to lean on.—CursÈd be the day Whereon we met: or would thou hadst slain me there— My wrongs are worse than death. Fer.How! can it be? Tell me but truth. Art thou my rival, Sala? Thou art: thou art. Yet ’twas thyself deceived me. Thou’st ever spoken of her as of a daughter. Forgive me, Sala; thy familiarity And thy years blinded me. If, ere I came Her heart was thine, and I by pity’s softness Have stolen the passion that was thine before, 1210 Now by mine honour I will do thy bidding: If ’tis the only way, I’ll fly to-night. Thy word, and I will fly. Were ye betrothed? Sa. Nay, prince ... Fer.Nay?... Yet if not betrothed, maybe Almeh hath loved thee, shewn thee preference, Some promise ... Sa.Nay. Fer.Then, Sala, in plain words, How have I wronged thee? what can be the cause Why thou didst threat to kill me? Sa.I said not that. Fer. Esteem’st thou then a prince of Portugal So much less than Morocco? ... Sa.Dream’st thou the king Would wed his daughter to ... 1220 Fer.An infidel, Thou’dst say. Sa.Is’t not impossible? Fer.’Twould seem No miracle to me shouldst thou thyself Turn Christian. Sa.By Allah! Hush! here is the king. Begone, Lest my goodwill to thee be more suspected Than it deserve. Fer.I’ll speak with thee again.[Exit. Sa. (solus). I have shot my best bolt forth, and missed my aim. Enter King. KING. Sala, what dost thou here? I sent for thee. Sa. No message, sire, hath reached me. K.I am come myself To find thee; I need thy counsel, and I desire 1230 Thou wilt put off the manner of advisers, Who affect disapprobation of whatever Is done without their sanction; in which humour Thou hast looked grudgingly upon the marriage ’Twixt Almeh and Morocco. Sa.My dislike Hath better ground. K.Whate’er it be, I bid thee Put thy dislike aside: the business threatens To fail without our aid. Sa.How so? K.The prince Hath been with us five days: ’tis now full time He spoke his mind; and yet he hath said no word. 1240 Sa. Well, sire? K.The cause: I’ll tell thee first my thoughts. Sa. The fancy of a maid is as the air— Light, uncontrollable. K.What dream is this? ’Tis not her liking that I count. The day That Tarudante asks her she is his: ’Tis that he doth not ask.—I have myself perceived A melancholy habit that hath come Upon my daughter of late, and grows apace. I thought awhile ’twas love, but now I fear ’Tis a deep disaffection: such behaviour, 1250 So foreign to her years, might well repel So fine a lover. Sa.That is not the cause. K. I say it is. I have watched her with the prince Now for two days, and marked in her behaviour Indifference and abstraction. Sa.And if ’tis so? K. Find some device to drive these humours off. Did I but know, could we discover, Sala, What lies the nearest to her heart, a prompt And unforeseen indulgence would restore Her spirit to cheerfulness. Sa. (aside).Now here is hope. 1260 If I could work him to my purpose now. K. What say’st thou? Sa.Sire, the sufferings of the captives First hurt your daughter’s spirit. Would you heal it, Release them. K.Eh! Wellah! I think thou’rt right. Twice hath she knelt before me for these men: I had never thought of it. Sa. (aside).Heaven give my tongue Persuasion. K.I’ll do it, Sala: ’tis worth the price. Sa. There is yet one captive whom you cannot free. K. Who’s he? Sa.The prince. K.He counts not with the rest. Sa. Nay, since his wrong and claim stand above all. K. Thou art pleading for thyself, Sala: thou knowest I hold the prince for Ceuta. 1271 Sa.So, sire; for never Will you hold Ceuta for the prince. You asked My advice: you have it. Where my honour weighed not, Nor my long service finds me any favour, Suspect not I would use a lady’s tears: Tho’true it be, the grief that Almeh felt Hath been tenfold increased, since the good prince Who gave me life was asked to buy his own. K. But if I free the rest and keep the prince? 1280 Sa. A stinted favour brings no gladness. Yet You could not more, you cannot, nay you are pledged. K. Hark, Sala: I care not if he live or die. Did I not offer him his liberty On a condition? Since to win Morocco Is to have Ceuta, I may change my terms, And use him for that purpose, tho’it stand One remove from my object: and I see How I can make a bargain. Fetch my daughter, For the same day she marries Tarudante 1290 The prince and all the captives shall be hers: And she shall know it. Send her hither. Sa.I go. (Aside.) Yet the condition mars the gift for all. [Exit Sala. K. Nay, he shall not dissuade me. ’Twas good counsel Slipped from him unawares; and tho’I swore To keep the prince till he surrendered Ceuta, That oath turned ’gainst myself I will cast o’er, Making his liberty my tool; and what Self-interest persuades I’ll do with grace.— That men are strong or weak, foolish or wise, 1300 According to the judgment of their fellows, Is doctrine for the multitude. For me I would possess my wisdom as my health, In verity, not semblance. Re-enter Almeh. Al. My father sent for me? K.Come hither, Almeh. I have news for thee. Al.Good news? K.Thou shalt say good. Guess. Al. There hath something happened? K.Something shall be. Al. Is it peace with Portugal? K.Nay, not so far. Al. Tell me. K.The Christian captives. Al.Dare I guess They may go free? K.’Tis that. Al.O kindest father, Thou healest my heart, that hath the chief enlargement 1311 In this deliverance. If they know it not, May I go tell them? K.Stay. There’s one condition. It lies with thee to fix the day. Al.With me? I say to-day. K.Thou canst not say to-day. Al. How soon? K.’Tis thus. I make their liberty A gift to thee the day thou shalt be married To Tarudante. Al.Ah! K.The smile that came So quickly to thy face hath fled again. Is the condition hard? Al.’Tis like denial. K. Denial! 1320 Al.To do the thing I never wished, And if I wished lies not in me to do. K. Thou dost not wish, sayst thou? It lies not in thee? Al. ’Tis true I do not wish this marriage, sire. K. Well, well. To wish to leave thy home and me Were undesired: but to obey my will, To trust thy welfare to my guidance, girl; Not to oppose my dictates.... Al.Truly, father, I have found as little occasion to oppose, 1329 As I have power to stand against thy will. K. I know it, child: but for that hold thee to blame: Thou hast not wished: ’tis in thy power to wish. Marriage thou dost not wish: but thou must wish What is my will; which to make more thine own I add this boon. Was’t not thy chief desire? Dost thou not thank me? Al.Alas.... K. ’Tis no small gift, the lives of fifty men. Al. Tell me, sire; with the captives dost thou reckon Prince Ferdinand of Portugal? K.I knew Thou wouldst ask this, and am content to grant it. 1340 See how I yield. I will go fetch thy lover: Be ready to receive him: what thou dost Ruleth his happiness as well as mine, And theirs whose life I give thee. Await him here. [Going. Al. Stay, father, stay! K.Well, child! Al. (aside).It cannot be: I dare not tell— K.What wouldst thou say? Al.I know not. I have not well understood; not yet considered. K. What is there to consider? Al.Dost thou promise The Christian captives and prince Ferdinand Shall all, the day I am married, be set free? K. I do. 1350 Al.And if I marry not Morocco, What is their fate? K.They die; unless the prince Surrender Ceuta to me. Decoration ACT · IVDecoration ZAPEL and SALA, meeting. SALA. What tidings, Zapel? I have been all day away, And had no word. ZAPEL. There’s none of good to tell. She hath neither ate nor slept. 1650 Sa.Will she not eat? Za. Nothing. Sa.’Tis the third day. Za.Nor will she sleep. She fights ’gainst sleep, as if ’twere death. Like one That must keep watch against its soft approaches, Sitting upon her couch with head inclined She mourneth to herself, and ’twixt her sighs What words may be distinguished overlook Her own distress, and squander their laments Upon an unknown sorrow, which she says Enwraps the world. Or sometimes she will sing The melancholy strains which she hath heard The Christian captives use. Sa.’Tis a brain-sickness: Miserable. Za.And ever, when I have tried to cheer her, Hath she rebuked me, as she is wont; but gently, And bid me leave her: Then to meet her humour I have gone, but made occasion to return, Bringing such simple food as best she likes, Freshly prepared to tempt her; and with tears I pray her but to taste: yet she endures, And saith, 'I thank thee, Zapel: tho’I eat not, 1670 Thy skill is not misspent stretching the rack That proves my constancy. I prithee, girl, Set fresh and fresh before me.’Hearing this I weep for pity: but she saith, 'Be sure I shall not taste thy dishes, till one eat Who is now denied.’ Sa.Doth she not speak his name? Za. Rarely and reverently, as a name of God. Then I am sent to learn the last; if yet He lives, and whether he hath spoke of her. This morn, As I returned from such unhappy quest, 1680 She gave me this: See, ’tis a letter for him.... [Shewing letter. Sa. Thou darest! Za.O sir, the piteous prayer she made, Kneeling and clasping me about the knees, Went to my heart. But now I have it I fear To have broke the king’s command. I prithee take it. Sa. Give’t me.[Takes. Za.To see her thus, Allah forgive me, I wish well to the infidel. What word Shall I take back? Sa.Say truth. I will deliver it. And tell her prince Enrique is returned: He is camped a league away, and in such force 1690 As makes me hope I may persuade the king To yield to his demand. Since there’s this hope, Bid her preserve her strength bravely, nor thus Prejudge God’s will. His blessing aid thy words. [Exit Zapel. I said there’s hope. ’Twas hope that bade me lie, For none I see. And this is misery, To cherish consolations, and be happy Doing the loathÈd thing. Am I content To bear a letter of Almeh’s to her lover? 1699 Allah is great. My best desire is only To save her,—my one hope that the prince should yield: And no persuasion but her love will move him. This letter will entreat him; I must carry it. Enter King. KING. Sala, make haste: a herald from Enrique. This to me: Read. Edward of Portugal Is dead. His eldest son being but a babe, A regency now governs, and the rulers Are prince Enrique and this Ferdinand. The other I cannot read, and ’tis addressed To Ferdinand. I doubt not that it urges 1710 Acceptance of my terms and quick return. Sa. I pray it be so. Is it your pleasure, sire, To speak with Ferdinand? K.Ay, fetch him hither. The dog being master now may change his mind. Sa. And will you see him in his shameful dress? K. Nay, that is past:—his own, and with his sword. Sa. And his despatch; shall I not bear it to him? K. Ay. Give it him; take it. Stay. (Aside.) I never know What it may say. Better to try him first Without its knowledge. Should I fail ’twere time To use it then. (To Sala.) Give it me. I’ll keep it back. What is this other paper? [Seeing A.'s letter. 1721 Sa.I pray, my liege, Ask not. K.I’ll know. Sa.I pray you trust me, sire. K. Trust thee! what means this? Sa.’Tis a forbidden paper. ’Twould anger you to see it. K.By heaven, I am angered Before I see it. What is it thou wouldst hide? Sa. It is a letter which I have intercepted From Almeh to the prince. If you have pity On your own flesh, beseech you, let me use it As I judge fit. 1729 K.And well discovered now. By God, wouldst thou play carrier? Give it to me. Sa. It hath not been five minutes in my hands. K. And shall not be. (Takes.) Go fetch the prince. Sa. If you should read it, sire, and find therein Messages of such softness as might melt The stubbornness of Ferdinand, I pray you, For her sweet sake that writ it, let it go And do its errand. K.Go thou and do thine. [Exit Sala. Will he too plot against me! Let us see What style she dares. Thy death, O my beloved, 1740 Already is avenged.—O very tenderly, And most determined.—Willingly I suffer What pains of thine I may. ’Tis all my joy To have taken neither food nor rest Since first thou wert deprived; nor will I take Till thou be respited.—Why this might move him. Oh, if thou diest!—Ah, great heavens, What read I here? Now I see all. Baptized! Baptized in secret by thy countrymen. Baptized! Then let her perish. She is dead. 1750 I cast her off. Till now I hid this from thee, Doubting my worthiness.—He doth not know it. He shall not know. None shall know. We will die. I will slay all. I will go down to the grave, And plead my cause before the holy angels, Whether it may be permitted for a princess, Against her father and faith....—Nay, is’t not writ There is there no vain discourse nor charge of sin, But pleasure to the faithful? And I to die With house and kingdom shamed! How would my crown Shine ’mong the blessed caliphs, and the martyrs 1761 Who fell in fight upon the road of God? How would they look upon me, If ’mong their moonbright scimitars I came, My child’s blood on my head? and she not there, The fair flower of my life, the bud of grace, Which my long-withering and widowed tree Held to the face of heaven, Now from my own trunk by my own hands torn. Better the bole be split: heaven’s lightning rend me: 1770 All curses seize me. Almeh, thou must not die. Re-enter Sala. Sa. Prince Ferdinand will come. K.Is he not here? Sa. He comes. K.Why look’st thou thus upon me, Sala? Sa. Because, sire, thou’st dishonoured me, and slain A noble warrior, who gave me life. K. Slain him! Sa.Ay, king: except thou raise the dead. For tho’he breathes, ’tis with such failing gasps As mastering death allows to his sure prey. K. Thou art over-fearful; three days without food Should make him weak and faint, but not to death. 1780 Nay, I am determined now he shall not die. Food will restore him. Set me here a table With meat and drink: here in the garden set it, And he shall eat at once. See it be done, And quickly. Sa.Sire, I obey: tho’’tis too late.[Exit. During the King’s following speech, servants come in with table, etc., which they set down, and go out. K. He must not die, since only by his life I can save Almeh: and ’tis not too late. The sight of food will tempt, the taste restore him: He will yield. I have here too what will move him, This letter; were he built of Atlas stone, 1790 For Almeh’s sake he must relent. I know, I see what must be done. I can consent: For such alliance with an ancient foe Is honourable. Peace between the realms, Happiness to both houses—bought may be With sacrifice on my side—yet there’s pride On both to balance: and, this way refused, ’Tis hell and death. And he will thank me too. He is brave and noble; and the stoutest foes Are won to stoutest friendship. See, he comes. Enter Fer., upborne between two Moorish soldiers. 1800 Prince Ferdinand, our quarrel comes to end. A message has arrived from prince Enrique. Your brother Edward, that was king, is dead. Wherefore the power which I have used on thee I now relax. I have a gentler purpose And a persuasion thou mayst guess; while thou, Owing no loyalty but to thyself, I am well assured wilt not be slow to meet me. Sit with me first and eat: when thou’rt restored We will compose these matters at our leisure: Which done, and peace agreed, thou mayst return 1811 In time to pay thy brother’s memory The sorrow it deserves: and in his place Govern the Portuguese. See, there’s thy life, Thy strength and restoration. Sit and eat. FERDINAND. I feel no hunger, sire. The time is past When thou couldst save my life. K.Despair not. Fer.Nay, I do not know the word. K.This is despair. Come, sit and eat. Fer.I say the wish is past. K. Dost thou not then believe? See in this paper Writ to thyself. (Gives.) 1820 (Aside.) Life doth not tempt this man. The call to rule his people yet may move him. What readst thou now therein? Fer.What thou hast said. My brother Edward’s soul rest in God’s peace! K. Is nought else in thy paper? Fer.Ay, there’s more. I’d not conceal it. Prince Enrique writes, If I return not to his camp to-night, He comes himself in force to rescue me. K. Trust not to such deliverance. Fer.Nay, O king: For cometh he at even or at morn, 1830 To-morrow or to-day, he cometh late. My eves and morns are passed, and my deliverance Is nearer than his coming: yet for that, Tho’I shall see him not when he doth come, Not the less will he come; for so he saith. K. Thou wilt not eat and live? Fer.I thank thee, sire. K. (to attendants). Set the prince in the chair, and all go out; And send the guard within. [They obey. As they go out they take with them the sentinel from the pit gate. From this point the stage gradually begins to darken to end of act. Now, prince, we are left alone, eat what I give thee. [Puts food towards him. Fer. Why should I eat? K. (pouring). Myself I pour the wine. Drink with me. ’Tis thy life. 1840 Fer.Why should I live? K. Canst thou not guess? I’ll tell thee then, and speak Not as a foe. Thy will hath conquered mine; And if I wronged thee, thou hast wronged me more. Thou hast loved my daughter, and strangely won her love Away from him whom for my son I had chosen, And pillar of my house: thou hast driven away My best ally, and left my kingdom naked:— For this thy death would be but fair revenge. And there’s a secret cause why I should hate thee Above all this: thou hast suborned my daughter: 1851 She hath denied her faith. See there: (gives letter) see there, What she hath writ. Read all. Seest thou not now? ’Tis true, she kills herself; she dies for thee. Yet I’ll forgive thee; tho’she is none of mine, Apostate, disobedient.—Yet for her I will forgive thee. See, ’tis for her sake I pray thee eat. Fer.Too late, ’twould be too late. K. Say not too late: that word is death. Thou’rt brave. Tho’not for me, yet for her sake I bid thee Eat, drink, and live. So she may live, and thou— 1861 The altitude of thrones may overlook Such differences—I give her thee to wife. Save us, I pray. Fer.What hear I? wouldst thou then Have given me in good faith Almeh to wife? [Makes motions towards food. K. And will. Ay, drink. Fer.And Ceuta? K.That is mine, Her price. Fer. (thrusting things from him). Ah, never. K.Dost thou then refuse? Fer. It cheereth death to spend my last breath thus. K. Sittest thou there balanced ’twixt death and life, Daintily making choice, and to my offer 1870 Of all that God could grant thee, life and love, Wrung from me by my sorrow, to my shame Preferrest the Christian hell? O Infidel Apostatizing dog, lest now thy mouth Should find the power to gasp one broken speech Of triumph over me, die at my hand. Death shall not rob me of thy blood that’s left. [Stabs Fer. across the table. Thus let thy brother find thee, if I fail To send him also thither, where thou goest To thine idolatrous and thieving sires. [Exit. Enter from pit Chorus.... Twilight. Chorus (inter se). 1880 We come with laboured breath Climbing from underground:— In fear we creep and quake:— What voice with furious sound, Choking in wrath outspake The names of blood and death?— Who is here?—Look around.— Hearken!—the broken moan Of the ever-murmuring sea Reaches my ear alone— 1890 Come forward, ye may dare, All is quite still and free.— Ah, stay! behold him there, That sitteth with his head Upon his breast bent low— The prince—the prince.—Forbear, He sleepeth.—Nay, I fear, Now may the truth strike dead My terror—step thou near— Gently.—Alas! woe, woe, 1900 Woe, woe, woe, woe, he is dead. He sits dead in his chair. See at his heart, where yet The murderous wound is wet.— Our prince, our prince is dead— They have slain him in their spite— Ai, ai, ai, ai! Who now Can save us? We are lost men, friends; we are lost— And thou, who saidst that we should live to fight, Where are thy arms? Didst thou not make a boast 1910 That thou couldst see God’s will?—We are quite forsaken, Forgotten—(1.) Refrain, refrain. Can God forget? Ch. Who could refrain? Alas! Hath not long woe Crushed us so low?—Ah me! This is our pain.— Now we deplore, alas!—Hell and despair!— Now it is plain—O woe—we are no more What once we were.— (1.) Renew your courage, and devote your care In solemn duty to the dead. Upraise This noble corpse, and bear it to the bower; 1920 Where, roofed by rose and jasmine, it may lie Hid from the dews of swift descending night. Take ye the feet, while I uplift the head, And, grasping in the midst, ye, by his robe, Bear him with slow accommodated step, Where we may best dispose his limbs in peace. [Exeunt bearers with Fer.'s body to bower. Bearers. Alas, ah! noble prince, What burial wilt thou have? Far from where thy fathers lie, In a heathen grave, 1930 If grave they give thee at all. Yet will thy country mourn; And where victorious banners hang, And hymns of Christian joy are sung, Upraise thine empty tomb. The others. We see our fate to-night. Thus shall we die.— If thus they treated him, how shall we fare?— Who bids us hope?—There is no hope, no hope: I’ll mask my thought no more. Bearers re-enter from bower. Ch. (1.) (Who has Fer.'s letter and sword.) We are saved! we are saved! Ch. How saved?—How so?—Tell us!— (1.) This letter here. 1940 Ch. What letter? say. (1.) ’Tis from the prince Enrique. Ch. Read! read! (1.) ’Tis written to prince Ferdinand, In our home speech. ’Twas in his grasp. Ch.Read! read! (1.) Unless I have thee in my camp to-night, At morn I rescue thee. Ch.Where is the camp? (1.) A league hence to the west, he writes. Ch.Alas! Now they have slain his brother he will not come.— Or, should he come, then in the siege he makes Hunger will slay us all.—
(1.) Hark then to me. (Stage darkens more.) He lying so near we may escape to him. 1950 Ch. How shall we escape?—The guards upon the walls Would see us.—They would send pursuit of horse To cut us down.— (1.) Not now. I said not now; But later in darkest night. Ch.And how to escape? (1.) See here the prince’s sword: with this in hand To creep at midnight on our sentinel, And slay him: then in darkness unperceived To climb out o’er the wall. Ch.Now sayst thou well. (1.) Ye trust me now? Ch.Ay, ay: if thou canst kill him. (1.) Obey me, and I will lead you forth to-night. 1960 Ch. What to do? (1.) Hush ye! Our careless sentinel Must soon return. Let him not see us here. Begone, and some take up this food and wine, Which we may share below to help our strength, Hiding it 'neath your garments, as do I The sword. With silent step troop to your shades. [Exeunt. As they go out the stage darkens quite. Re-enter K. and Sala, Left. There is light on them from the doorway, where they stand awhile. K. Come forth and see! Sa.The night hath wrapped thy deed In fourfold darkness, that I should not see. K. Thine eyes are straitened by the light within: ’Tis not so dark but we shall see anon. 1970 Sa. I have loved thee, sire, so well: served thee so long.... K. What sayst thou? Sa.I complain ’tis ill-repaid. I am ill-repaid. K.Sala! Sa.Prince Ferdinand Had given me life. K.Stay. Why harbourest thou still That grudge against me? Didst thou read her letter I gave thee? Sa.I did. K.Thou didst: and canst not guess? To save her life I yielded. I consented To make this man my son. If he would live And give up Ceuta, then I promised him Almeh to wife. Sa.What hear I? K.When he refused, I smote him through. Sa.Refused! 1980 K.There where he sits. Sa. Can this be truth? K.Ay, by the prophet. Ha! He is gone. Sa.Nay, none is here. K.He hath yet found strength To crawl away to die. ’Twill not be far. Hark! heardst thou that? Again.[Sighing heard. Sa. ’Twas some one sighed. K. ’Twas that way, Sala: seek about. Sa.The moon Is up, but curtained by yon inky cloud, Cannot shine forth. Let me go fetch a lantern. K. Go, go. I will watch here. [Exit Sala. Why should I fear? I’ll draw my sword. (Calling.) Ferdinand! 1990 (The sighing again.) If thou canst speak, say where thou art. Answer me: Dost thou live? nay, sigh not so. If yet thou livest I think I would abate. (The sighing.) Now ’tis here, now ’tis there. Thank heaven, the moon: (Moon appears, and shews ghost of Ferdinand midway back.) I see him. He stands upright! Prince Ferdinand! He walketh from me. Stay. I bid thee stand,— By heaven, or I will slay thee. Villain, traitor! [Goes after ghost, makes a lunge at him, and ghost vanishes. Re-enter Sala. Sa. What noise is that? What, sire: with thy sword drawn! K. Didst thou not see him? Sa.The Prince? K.Ay. Sa.Was it the prince You spake with? K.Ay, he lives. Sa.And drew you upon him? 2000 K. I called to him, Sala, and he made away: I followed him to stay him. Sa.Thank God, he lives. You did not strike him. K.Nay, I struck him not. Sa. ’Tis now like day. I see him nowhere, sir Decoration ACT · VDecoration Moonlight. ALMEH entering, followed by ZAPEL. ZAPEL. 2070 My lady, I pray come back. The night is sharp and cold: thou art not clad To encounter its brisk sting. ALMEH. Nay, I must breathe. I fell into a stifling slumber, Zapel; And woke affrighted in a sweat of terror. Za. For heaven’s sake, lady, let thy spirit be soothed: Thou killest thyself. Al. Air, air! that from the thousand frozen founts Of heaven art rained upon the drowsy earth, And gathering keenness from the diamond ways 2080 Of faery moonbeams visitest our world To make renewal of its jaded life, Breathe, breathe! ’Tis drunken with the stolen scents Of sleeping pinks: heavy with kisses snatched From roses, that in crowds of softest snow Dream of the moon upon their blanchÈd bowers. I drink, I drink. Za.If thou wilt tarry here, Let me go fetch thy cloak. Al.Where is my father? Za. He is not in the castle. Al.Where is Sala? I must speak with him. Za.They are both sallied forth To assault the Christian camp. 2090 Al.O then ’twas true The noise I heard. They are fighting: ’twas the guns, The shouts I heard. I thought ’twas in my ears. —I have had strange visions, Zapel, these last days: ’Twere past belief what I have seen and heard. I’ll tell thee somewhat when I have time—O love, If thou wouldst be my muse, I would enchant the sun; And steal the silken hues, Whereof his light is spun: 2100 And from the whispering way Of the enarching air Look with the dawn of day Upon the countries fair. Za. See, I will fetch thy cloak. [Exit. Al.This is the reason Why all’s so quiet. Sweet peace, thou dost lie. Men steal forth silently to kill: they creep, That they may spring to murder. Who would think, Gazing on this fair garden, as it lieth Lulled by the moonlight and the solemn music 2110 Made everlastingly by the grave sea, That ’twas a hell of villany, a dungeon Of death to its possessors. Death.— Za. (re-entering). Here is thy cloak. Al.Away! what dost thou think, Zapel, of death? I’ll tell thee. Nay, I promise I’ve much to tell.—Thou’st heard, when one is dead, An angel comes to him where he lies buried, And bids him sit upright, and questions him Of Islam and Mohammet. ’Tis not so. For in my dream I saw the spirits of men 2120 Stand to be judged: along the extended line Of their vast crowd in heaven, that like the sea Swayed in uncertain sheen upon the bounds Of its immensity, nor yet for that Trespassed too far upon the airy shores, I gazed. The unclouded plain, whereon we stood, Had no distinction from the air above, Yet lacked not foothold to that host of spirits, In all things like to men, save for the brightness Of incorruptible life, which they gave forth. 2130 Wondering at this I saw another marvel: They were not clothed nor naked, but o’er each A veil of quality or colour thrown Shewed and distinguished them, with bickering glance And gemlike fires, brighter or undiscerned. As when the sun strikes on a sheet of foam The whole is radiant, but the myriad globes Are red or green or blue, with rainbow light Caught in the gauzy texture of their coats,— So differed they. Then, as I gazed, and saw 2140 The host before me was of men, and I In a like crowd of women stood apart, The judgment, which had tarried in my thought, Began: from out the opposÈd line of men Hundreds came singly to the open field To take their sentence. There, as each stepped forth, An angel met him, and from out our band Beckoned a woman spirit, in whose joy Or gloom his fate was written. Nought was spoken, And they who from our squadron went to judge 2150 Seemed, as the beckoning angel, passionless. Woman and man, ’twas plain to all that saw Which way the judgment went: if they were blessed, A smile of glory from the air around them Gathered upon their robes, and music sounded To guide them forward: but to some it happed That darkness settled on them. As a man Who hears ill tidings wraps his cloak about him, For grief, and shrouds his face, not to be seen; So these by their own robes were swallowed up, Which thinned to blackness and invisible darkness, And were no more. Thus, while I wondered much 2162 How two fates could be justly mixed in one, Behold a man for whom the beckoning angel Could find no answering woman, and I watched What sentence his should be; when I myself Was 'ware that I was called. A radiant spirit Waited for me. I saw prince Ferdinand:— Go tell him that I am here. Za.I cannot, lady. Al. The king and Sala are gone forth to fight: 2170 There’s none can know. Be not afraid. Obey, Za. Alas! alas! Al.Why dost thou stand and wail? Za. Oh, I would serve thee; alas! but ’tis too late. Al. Too late! how is’t too late? If he were dead.... Za. Lady, bear up, I pray thee: for ’tis sure Thy dream betrayed the truth. Al.The truth! Alas! Thou dost believe he is dead. Why, folly, think How could I then be living? It could not be That I, a feeble woman, full of faintings And fears, were more enduring to outlast 2180 The pangs of hunger than is he, a man Whom hardship hath inured. Nay, while I live He must be living. Za.True it is he is dead. Al. Thou art suborned: thou liest, thou dost. Confess. Za.O nay. Al.Now God have pity, or thou hast lied. But thou hast lied. Didst thou not say the king Sent for him forth? Didst thou not know the cause? His brother has returned in force to take him. Didst thou not see the dungeon door set wide? And dar’st lie thus? Za. (aside).Alas! what can I say? (To A.) Here is a chair: I pray thee sit awhile, I will go find him if I may. 2191 Al. (aside).She lied. Now she will fetch him. (To Za.) Where’s the seat? Za.Here, here. Al. I am dizzy. Lead me to it. Go fetch the prince. Za. Be comforted. Al.Who hath sat here, I say? Who hath sat here? Za.Prithee be comforted. Al. If this should be! Za.Verily we are God’s, And unto Him return. Al.Thou, thou! Begone. Stay, Zapel, here: give me my cloak. I am cold. Since I must die ... think not this strange, I pray. Bring food to me. 2200 Za.Thank God. ’Tis the sea air Hath quickened thee. Al.Thinkst thou that vexÈd monster Hath any physic in his briny breath For grief like mine? Za.Lady, have better heart. Why, thou must live. When once thy tears have fallen Thou wilt be comforted. Al.How should I weep? Bid men weep who with their light-hearted sin Make the world’s misery: bid women weep 2208 Who have been untrue to love and hope: but I, Why should I weep? Begone: bring me food here. Za. O that I am glad to do. Thank God for this. [Exit. Al. Why did she lie to me? Had they a plot To make me think he is dead? Sala’s my friend: Sala sent word of hope: and if he lives All may be saved. Nay, if he be not gone, If yet he is in the castle, I may find him. I’ll give him food: we will steal forth together: I have marked the way: and by the rocks of the shore We may lie hid till we may reach the camp. Now would I had kept my strength. Had I foreseen This chance.... There’s none about. ’Tis not too late. [Noise of guns and fighting heard. I may dare call. Prince Ferdinand! Good heart, What noise of battle. Pray God he be not there. 2223 Against my sire now I pray God: I pray Our men be driven back: yet not too soon. Ferdinand! Ferdinand! Heaven grant there’s none To hear but he: and he will never hear me Calling so fearfully, so faintly.... Alas! Better to seek him. Since he is not within, He must be in this garden. He will have sought Some shelter from the night.—Ah! the arbour ... there.... [Goes to arbour. Why, here. Wake, Ferdinand, wake! Come, ’tis I, We may escape. Come. Nay, this cannot be. Ah, God!—not this. Have pity; undo it, revoke; O let thy hand for once undo. Thou mightest, O Thou mightest. Ah, how cold. Oh! oh! he is murdered. Blood, his blood. ’Tis true. Dead, and my dream, my fate, my love; ’tis done. The end. Nay, God, as Thou art God, I trust Thee; Take me with him. Here in this bower of death 2240 I leave my body,—to this pitiless world Of hate: and to thy peaceful shores of joy I arise. O Ferdinand! me thou didst love. Thou didst kiss, once ... and these thy lips so cold I kiss once more. I have no fear: I come. [Dies, falling on Ferdinand’s body. Scuffling at back of stage, the guard runs forward, followed by the Chorus. GUARD. Some fiend hath pierced my back in the dark. CHORUS. Hey, fellow; Silence, or I will slay thee. ’Tis well; he is dead.— —Silently, silently.—Stay, stay. Which way?— Here o’er the wall.—Hark thou, there’s fighting there— Our men have driven them back—we be too late.— They will return—See where they climb the wall. [The shouting and firing are grown quite near, and some figures are seen through the trees scaling the wall from without. 2251 Ch. Who be they? See, they are swarming in the castle— Our men, ’tis they. We are saved.—Make not too sure— Best hide among the trees—Hide, hide.—I’ll take The pagan’s scimitar.[They retire among trees. Enter left through the door a few Moorish soldiers, followed by the king, whom Enrique pursues. SOLDIERS. To the walls! to the walls!— Too late—they are here. ENRIQUE (to K.). Thy sword. Give up thy sword. KING. Curse thee. I defy thee. En.Thy sword, or I shall slay thee. K. Never. Ho! villains, rally. ’Tis the prince Enrique. Kill him, and save me. En.A rescue! a rescue! K.Die, 2259 Accursed infidel: but ere thou die.... [The soldiers set on Enrique with the king. This hand that slayeth thee, hath slain thy brother. En. May God forgive thee if thou speak truth. The Captives rush out from the trees and overpower the soldiers, the armed of them kill the king as he fights with Enrique. Ch.A rescue! Revenge—revenge. K. Ha! treachery, ho! I am slain.[Falls dead. En. Now who be ye? Ch.Your own men, Prince; the captives. En. Praised be God! ye have saved my life. The Christian soldiers who were scaling the wall now come forward. CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS. Victory! victory! The castle is taken. En.Some go seize the towers. Make speed: there may be men we know not of. Take store of ammunition. [Some run off. Enter more Christian soldiers by door (L.), leading Sala prisoner. 1st Soldier. Here is the general taken. En.Sala ben Sala! 2270 Sa. ’Tis I. En.Give me thy sword. Sa.I give it thee. [Gives. En. Is the day ours? Sa.The night is yours. En.I pray, What force is in the castle? Sa.There is none. Where is the king? En.See thou. But where’s my brother? Sa. What! slain! the king! En.I bade him render his sword: But, when he saw I stood alone before him, He made a rally of some beaten men Who had fled with him; and so provoked his death At the hands of his own prisoners, who ran Upon him from the trees and cut him down. 2280 Sa. By their hands fell he on this spot? En.’Twas so. Sa. O justest stroke of fate. ’Twas here he slew The prince thy brother. En.Tell me not, I pray, That brag of his was true. Sa.Alas, ’tis true. En. My brother is dead! Ferdinand, Ferdinand! Sa. Thy grief is as my shame. En.Eternal shame. He who spared thee: your royal prisoner, Murdered. Sa.Forbear. I’ll lead thee where he lies. See thou, he is in the bower. En. (approaching bower). Ah! my brave brother! Is thy proud spirit no more? But what is this? 2290 Who is this woman that with eager arms Embraceth his pale corpse? Sa. (pressing forward). How sayst thou? Almeh. Dead, dead. En.Not so, she is warm. Sa.Almeh. Sweet’st Almeh O nay, she is dead. Ah, loveliest child of earth, Is thy young bloom perished? Alas! alas! Is this thy end? O miserable king, What hast thou done? Chorus. Alma is dead! Alma the fair!— By love of Ferdinand whelmed in his fate.— Lament her, O lament. (1.) Joy of our heavy prison; Ch. Rescued too late— Beauty too fair. (1.) Ah! surely in earth’s prison.... 2302 Ch. A mortal as immortal made— O unforeseen her end! Lament, lament! (1.) Our woe is a storm, our hope the fringe of a shade, The smile of a cloud by tempest rent. Ch. A dawn in vain arisen— Alma is dead: And we, to our superfluous prayer Permitted still, our lives have won,— 2310 Shaking in fear to be untimely undone,— By long misdoing undone, unworthy who were;— Saved by her, but saved too late. Alma the fair, Our Alma is dead. En. What mean these words? Sa.O prince, The woes so suddenly befallen us here Make a long tale. In brief, these whom thou seest Embraced in death, were drawn in life together By love’s o’ermastering bond. Fate’s stroke at me Is that I live to tell it. 2320 En.And was’t for that Thy king slew Ferdinand? Sa.That was not all: For Satan did persuade our thwarteous king To make a godless bargain of their loves: He would have given his daughter to the Prince As Ceuta’s price. When he refused, ’twas then In pride and wrath he slew him. En.Alas, my brother. Inflexible in honour against thyself. If but for a day thou hadst seemed to make consent, All had been well. Sa.Not well for him. He lived 2330 And died with tongue as faithful as his soul. Ch. He tells not all. Maybe he doth not know. En. What’s more to tell? Ch.O sir, the princess here, Who loved thy brother, learned the faith of us. Her name is Alma. She is a Christian. Sa.Yea, ’Tis true. I knew it. I would have hidden it from thee. In this we are shamÈd most. Prince Ferdinand Conquered us here. His love and not his arms Wove our disaster. Ch.Love and faith have conquered. 2339 Yet did his sword no less avenge his death. See, prince, ’tis here, wet with the murderer’s blood. It savÈd thee. For this we may rejoice: And that we shall return. En. Ye shall return. But now ’tis not an hour For your rejoicing. Still your tongues. And, Sala, It lies with thee in place of thy king dead To treat with me. Here is thy sword: and thus [Giving. I wipe out debt; knowing that thou hast been Generous and faithful to my hapless brother. Let us make peace. Possess you what was yours 2350 Before this war: I shall lead back my troops, Nor vex your kingdom further. But I claim The body of your princess, to inter In Christian ground. One grave shall hold these lovers. Sa. I would not separate them,—Heaven be my witness,— But shouldst thou bury Almeh in some spot Whereto I might not come, there’s nothing left For Sala on this earth but still to fight, To gain possession of that holy tomb. En. Fear not, for I will have their sepulchre In Ceuta, and there to thee it shall be granted To enter when thou wilt. 2361 Sa.I loved her, prince, Before thy brother. En.For myself, I vow Ne’er to draw sword again. I count all days That ever I spent in arms lost to my life. Man’s foe is ignorance: and the true soldier May sit at home, and in retirement win Kingdoms of knowledge; or to travel forth And make discovery of earth’s bounds, and learn What nations of his fellows God hath set 2370 In various countries; and by what safe roads They may knit peaceful commerce,—this is well, And this hath been my choice. To shed man’s blood Brings but such ills on man as here ye see. To save my brother and these Christian captives I drew this sword, which thus I sheathe again For ever. Ch.Thou wilt lead us home. En.Peace! peace! So much is saved. Now have ye mournful duty Unto the dead. Bring ye these lovers in. Let there be no more speech. Decoration
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