If to the regions of the dead they be,

You take the speediest course to send by me. Almah. Heaven has not destined you so soon to

rest:

Heroes must live to succour the distrest.

Almanz. To serve such beauty all mankind should

live;

And, in our service, our reward you give.
But stay me not in torture, to behold
And ne'er enjoy. As from another's gold
The miser hastens, in his own defence,
And shuns the sight of tempting excellence;
So, having seen you once so killing fair,
A second sight were but to move despair.

I take my eyes from what too much would please,
As men in fevers famish their disease.

If

Almah. No; you may find your cure an easier

way,

you are pleased to seek it,-in your stay. All objects lose by too familiar view,

When that great charm is gone, of being new;
By often seeing me, you soon will find
Defects so many, in my face and mind,
That to be freed from love you need not doubt;
And, as you looked it in, you'll look it out.
Almanz. I rather, like weak armies, should re-
treat,

And so prevent my more entire defeat.
For your own sake in quiet let me go;
Press not too far on a despairing foe:

I

may turn back, and armed against you move, With all the furious train of hopeless love.

Almah. Your honour cannot to ill thoughts give

way,

And mine can run no hazard by your stay.
Almanz. Do you then think I can with patience

see

That sovereign good possessed, and not by me?
No; I all day shall languish at the sight,

And rave on what I do not see all night;
My quick imagination will present

The scenes and images of

your content.

Almah. These are the day-dreams which wild
fancy yields,

Empty as shadows are, that fly o'er fields.
Oh, whither would this boundless fancy move!
'Tis but the raging calenture of love.

Like a distracted passenger you stand,

And see, in seas, imaginary land,

Cool groves, and flowery meads; and while you

think

To walk, plunge in, and wonder that you sink.
Almanz. Love's calenture too well I understand;
But sure your beauty is no fairy-land!

Of your own form a judge you cannot be;
For, glow-worm like, you shine, and do not see.
Almah. Can you think this, and would you go
away?

Almanz. What recompence attends me, if I stay?
Almah. You know I am from recompence de-
barred,

But I will grant your merit a reward;
Your flame's too noble to deserve a cheat,
And I too plain to practise a deceit.
I no return of love can ever make,
But what I ask is for my husband's sake;
He, I confess, has been ungrateful too,
But he and I are ruined if you go:
Your virtue to the hardest proof I bring;-
Unbribed, preserve a mistress and a king.

Almanz. I'll stop at nothing that appears so brave

I'll do't, and now I no reward will have.
You've given my honour such an ample field,
That I may die, but that shall never yield.

Spite of myself I'll stay, fight, love, despair;
And I can do all this, because I dare.

Yet I may own one suit—

That scarf, which, since by you it has been borne, Is blessed, like relicks which by saints were worn. Almah. Presents like this my virtue durst not

make,

But that 'tis given you for my husband's sake. [Gives the scarf. Almanz. This scarf to honourable rags I'll wear, As conquering soldiers tattered ensigns bear; But oh, how much my fortune I despise, Which gives me conquest, while she love denies! [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-The Alhambra.

Enter ALMAHIDE and ESPERANZA.

Esper. Affected modesty has much of pride; That scarf he begged, you could not have denied; Nor does it shock the virtue of a wife,

When given that man, to whom you owe your life. Almah. Heaven knows, from all intent of ill 'twas free,

Yet it may feed my husband's jealousy;
And for that cause I wish it were not done.

To them BOABDELIN, and walks apart.

See, where he comes, all pensive and alone;
A gloomy fury has o'erspread his face:
"Tis so! and all my fears are come to pass.

Boab. Marriage, thou curse of love, and snare of

life,

[Aside

That first debased a mistress to a wife!

Love, like a scene, at distance should appear,
But marriage views the gross-daubed landscape near.
Love's nauseous cure! thou cloyest whom thou
should'st please;

1

And, when thou cur'st, then thou art the disease.
When hearts are loose, thy chain our bodies ties;
Love couples friends, but marriage enemies.
If love like mine continues after thee,

'Tis soon made sour, and turned by jealousy;
No sign of love in jealous men remains,
But that which sick men have of life-their pains.
Almah. Has my dear lord some new affliction

had?

[Walking to him. Have I done any thing that makes him sad? Boab. You! nothing: You! But let me walk

alone.

Almah. I will not leave you till the cause be

known:

My knowledge of the ill may bring relief.

Boab. Thank ye; you never fail to cure my grief! Trouble me not, my grief concerns not you.

Almah. While I have life, I will your steps pursue. Boab. I'm out of humour now; you must not stay. Almah. I fear it is that scarf I gave away.

Boab. No, 'tis not that; but speak of it no more: Go hence! I am not what I was before.

Almah. Then I will make you so; give me your hand!

Can you this pressing and these tears withstand?
Boab. Oh heaven, were she but mine, or mine
alone! [Sighing, and going off from her.
Ah, why are not the hearts of women known!
False women to new joys unseen can move;
There are no prints left in the paths of love,

All goods besides by public marks are known;
But what we most desire to keep, has none.
Almah. Why will you in your breast your pas-
sion crowd,
[Approaching him.

Like unborn thunder rolling in a cloud?
Torment not your poor heart, but set it free,
And rather let its fury break on me.

I am not married to a god; I know,

Men must have passions, and can bear from you. I fear the unlucky present I have made!

Boab. O power of guilt! how conscience can upbraid!

It forces her not only to reveal,

But to repeat what she would most conceal! Almah. Can such a toy, and given in public too Boab. False woman, you contrived it should be

SO.

That public gift in private was designed
The emblem of the love you meant to bind.
Hence from my sight, ungrateful as thou art!
And, when I can, I'll banish thee my heart.

[She weeps.

To them ALMANZOR wearing the Scarf. He sees her weep.

Almanz. What precious drops are those, Which silently each other's track pursue, Bright as young diamonds in their infant dew? Your lustre you should free from tears maintain, Like Egypt, rich without the help of rain. Now cursed be he who gave this cause of grief; And double cursed, who does not give relief!

Almah. Our common fears, and public miseries, Have drawn these tears from my afflicted eyes. Almanz. Madam, I cannot easily believe It is for any public cause you grieve.