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 ^oAk Christian Captibes. 
 
THE 
 
 CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES 
 
 ■ •s .J'< 
 
 A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS IN A Mtl^nr-O'l} 
 
 MANNER •■ '^NV'-itCiS-M 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT BRIDGES. 
 
 Published by EtWARD BuMPUs, Holborn Bars, London, E.G. 1890. 
 
 •V.^''iy,. 
 
 

 >#il|ttt;HlifiiN CAPTIVES. 
 
 '{DRAMATIS- PEfiSOH^. 
 
 KING OF FEZ. 
 '*■••' "y^'^>>'SALA BEN SALA 
 
 f ' ' — 
 
 '••< .•'>"■*' ^/j daughter. 
 K ■■ ¥. V-;-^^ V..:^A ';>V -sal a ben SALA his General. 
 ' ■,,^ ■C:':''^;:S:^[£j:<l-{:-TARUDANTE ..,; ; - .-^rime of M, 
 
 ■'''': "[}"-r^'^ '■r:'''^FERn/NANjD] -."":'..':.■ 
 
 ^'?"-'V^> .: ENRIQUE ■/ - : -.^^ ^^'^ 
 
 -. ...^. ■ i' *.-,:' ^:^-'^-'^}ir7^%''.l/^^^-^^ maid to Almeh. 
 
 r^V'^£^i^:M'^^:^^i:-^'' '-^^^^ ^^ CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES. 
 /V;.'.'\"'".:""' -i*; ": v-(-':V- Soldiers, Guards, and Messengers. 
 
 ••:• ..v >•• T • • -r/^^? scefie is in the garden of a castle of the King of Fez, by the sea. 
 
 orocco. 
 ^ortugal. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Almeh and Zapel. 
 
 Almeh. 
 sq'HY never came we here before? To think 
 I have lived for eighteen years shut up in 
 
 Fez, 
 Hemmed by the sandy desert, and all the 
 while 
 There was the sea ! To have never seen the sea ! 
 
 Za. If thou hadst ever seen it, where were now 
 Thy joy? 'tis the first sight makes the delight. 
 To them that in this castle dwell, the sea 
 Is as the desert was to us at Fez. 
 
 Al. Custom will dull the sense of any pleasure. 
 But set them down at Fez, would they not pine ? " i" 
 There's life in the air. 'Twixt yon blue roomy dome 
 And watery pavement the young winds charge forth 
 Stored with refreshment : now we taste the springs 
 Man's spirit should drink, the very mountain torrent 
 Of heaven, that were content to slake our throats' 
 Immortal thirst at stagnant pools. What, Zapel, 
 Is the limit of our stay ? now I am here, 
 I would abide for ever. 
 
 Za. ... .-•' .-:, I know as little' • 
 
 As thou. _The king, thy sire, came here to fight 
 The unbelievers : when they are beaten back 20 
 
 We shall go home. But why he sent for thee 
 I cannot guess, . ' ' 
 
 ^^- Last night I know not',- Zapel, 
 
 Whether I slept or waked, — 
 
 ^'^- Nor could I sleep. 
 
 Al. But aS I lay and listened to the sea, 
 I plainly heard a waft of singing voices. 
 That rose and fell and died anon away, 
 Whiling the dark with some sweet lullaby. 
 
 Za. Why, 'twas the Christian captives that thou 
 heardsl. 
 
 Al. Ah ! prisoners 4n the castle : . I had forgot : 
 'Twas told me. And they are Christians ! Cah it be 
 They sing so sweetly ? 
 
 , ^°^- Nay, I call it not sweety 
 
 Tis sadder than the moaning of the wind ' ■ ' . 
 
 To hear them praise their god. . . • ; 
 
 ^^' True, it was sad : 
 
 Unearthly it seemed. Now more than ever, Zapel, 
 I am glad I came ; if there be Christians here. 
 And I may come to see them. All my life 
 I have heard strange things of them, and wondered 
 much 
 
:<*' 
 
 Act I.] 
 
 l^he Christian Captives. 
 
 103 
 
 What they were like. I'll speak with them. 
 
 Za. Ha! ha! 
 
 AL Why not? 
 
 Za. They lie chained in a noisome.pit, 
 
 Where 'tis impossible to come. 
 
 A/. Who be they? ^0 
 
 What is their fault ? 
 
 Za. They are captives in the war. 
 
 Al. My father doth not use his captives ^o. . 
 
 Za. They are unbelievers. 
 
 AL True : yet that's no crime 
 
 But what they might impute to us. Were we 
 In their hands fallen, thus cut off from our homes, 
 'Twere cruel to be tortured for the faith. 
 
 Za, They are worthless dogs. 
 
 A/. Alas ! is.all my teaching 
 
 So cast away upon thy boorish soul ? . ■ \ ^- ..^ 
 Pity makes brethren of our enemies. 
 
 Za. Forgive me, lady; I spoke in haste i "apd 
 yet— ■ . ■ •• ■, *" 
 
 I would that thou Couldst think as J. . • ' 
 
 A/. " Indeed,' 
 
 That were attainment. Vex me not, I bid thee ; 
 But plan with me how I may see these captives : 
 Were 't but to have them sing to me I'd do it :, • 
 But curiosity and pity alike ■.'.', -, ' 
 
 Move me. If man is cruel, 'tis woman's part 
 To ease the suffering which she cannot hinder. 
 
 Za. How wouldst thou s6e them? 
 
 A/. I shall ask my father 
 
 To grant them, if it be but once a day. 
 To walk at liberty within the walls. ^o 
 
 Za. 'Tis pity Sala is not here. 
 
 Al. ■ •_ Thy meaning? 
 
 Za. The general hatn the keeping of the castle. 
 And he would grant thy way in any wi§h, .. 
 Howe'er preposterous. , , " ; . 
 
 A/. And thou sayst not ill. 
 
 Sala is approachable and kind at heart : 
 'Tis pity he is away. \Trt17npets hford without,- 
 
 Za, Here comes the king. 
 
 He bade me shew thee hither in the garden, 
 And here will look to find thee. 
 
 Al, Go, I bid thee, 
 
 And tell him that I am here. \Exit Zapel, 
 
 Now shall I know why I was sent for hither. ^"^ 
 
 Would 'twere to take this castle for my own, 
 With no more retinue than might suffice 
 To till this garden, and to cook my food. 
 I'd win these Christian captives to my service 
 For ministers and minstrels ; ay, and they 
 Should row me on the sea. ■ I'd have my books 
 In the northern tower, where set on high my lamp. 
 Forestalling darkness with its seaward ray. 
 Sailors should look for, and on tranquil nights 
 Hear solemn music faintly, and believe ■ ^ 
 
 There was enchantment. Could I have my will. 
 So would I live. And where's the gain to be 
 The daughter of a king, when every wish 
 Nearest one's heart is of like course denied. 
 As to the meanest peasant ... when one word, 
 One nod could grant it ? 
 
 Enter King. ." .' 
 
 K. Almeh !-my I'ose ofjune.! 
 
 Queen of my gardens, flower of all my kingdom ! • 
 
 Al. Honour be thind, my sire. 
 
 K. ' • „• I bring thee joy. 
 
 Hast thou not wondered why I sent. for thee? 
 
 Al. Why was it? I- Icfng to know. 
 
 K. {giving). See for thyself. 
 
 Al. A picture ! *• • , 
 
 .K.. ■ 'Tis a portrait. 
 
 Al. ' And of whom ? 
 
 K, Dost thou not guess who this young Kaled is : 
 This high and dauntless brow, this stalwart arm. 
 Keen eye and martial poise? . ; . . 
 
 Al. If thisj>e he,^ 
 
 Who made of late entreaty for my hand. 
 Prince Tarudante ... 
 
 K. A happy omen. Ay, 
 
 Look, girl, and love him, for he woes thee well 
 With all Morocco; ■ 
 . Al. Yet I cannot love 
 
 Thy wish to banish me so far. 
 . K, ■ Thy marriage- 
 
 'Will bring Morocco Tiearer, and renew i<*° 
 
 Our old alliance : for thy valiant lover 
 Comes nof with gold to woo thee, but sharp steel. 
 His flag is black, his ceremonious train 
 Are twenty thousand horsemen sworn to avenge 
 The Prophet . .• . Ceuta will be mine. 
 
 Al. ' . . Ah, sire ! 
 
 I like not Idire that qomes with war to woo. 
 
 K. But war that shall, bfing peace, whose lasting 
 olive 
 May not be sceptred in my hand, until 
 This fallen jew'el be set back in my crown. 
 Thy bridal with Morocco shall wipe out ^'° 
 
 The old dishonour that hath vexed my reign. 
 
 Al. jA.nd yet doth Ceuta, sire, in all thy kingdom 
 Rank as a little towp." . • 
 
 A'. . Thou.apt-a woman ; - " 
 
 How can I show thee? This anemone; " 
 'Tis beautiful, nor canst thou say its grace 
 Resides in this part nor in that : but look ; , 
 I pluck a petal from it. — Thou beholdest 
 My kingdom without Ceuta. Wouldst thou, wish 
 To set this back unto the perfect flower? 
 
 Al. How could I do it ? . . 
 
 K. I'must tell thee all. ^ 
 
 Our ancestors, thou knowest, blest be tiieir names. 
 Long ruled in Spain, and made that coign of the earth 
 The glory of all ; but to the peaceful arts 
 Turning their genius when the sword was sheathed, 
 . Their prudence slept : for that hdlf- barbarous race, 
 Whom conquering they had spared, grew up more apt 
 In arms, and rising 'gainst our easy fojk . 
 O'erthrew and dispossest them ; — and, not content 
 To have driven us out of Spain, pursued us hither, 
 Where in our southern bounds we lived retired, ^" 
 Behind the ocean as an ample shield. 
 'Twas in thy grandsire's time, ei'e thou wert bom,. 
 They did this wrong ; the boastful Portuguese 
 Swoln with malevolence, — why should I say it?— 
 King Joam and his sons, all unprovoked. 
 For we had oaths of peace, attacked us here 
 With sudden treacherous assault, and seized 
 Ceuta, our strongest fortress thitherward. 
 Impregnable we deemed it, and indeed 
 Impregnable have found it 'gainst Ourselves ^*'' 
 
 For twenty year«, besieging it in vain. 
 
 '6mT37 
 

 104 
 
 7V/ft' Christian Captives. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 >50 
 
 Then should this shame, unbearable to us^ 
 Prove but incitement to our foeS, a foothold 
 For further wresting. Two nioutlis have not passed 
 Since that a new Armada sailed i")om Tagus 
 Against Tangiers, and both by land and sea ' !.%■*•'• 
 Beleaguering would have reft that city too, •'..''••.• 
 And added my dishonour to my father's,. • ' •" •' • 
 Had not Ben Sala's generalship o'ermatched. ' ■ 
 Their most infernal malice. Praised be Allah! - 
 They fell, they fled ; and such as fled not lie . '; , '••' 
 Dead on our sands or in our dungeons chained.' ' •' ■ 
 
 A/. Are those the captives in the castle pit.? 
 
 JiT. Ay, but thou breakstmy tale; — mark'W]i?it: I 
 
 tell.— . , •,' ;■: ■ [ ■•...;"■ 
 
 The victory mine, I looked to rttake'fair pesi(Se^»v, 
 And would have given my prisoners in exchangje' '" 
 For Ceuta ; but the prince of Portugal, '■; . . 
 
 Behind those walls retired, refused the ransom ^ .'' 
 And gathering reinforcement hath come forth 
 To devastate the country. 'Tis 'gainst him ^ 
 
 That Sala marched five days ago. Meanwhfle •■>.."...] 
 Morocco, who was treating for thy hand, • *.'■ '.^ ' 
 Heard tidings of our war, and having now 
 An armament collected 'gainst the tribes, 
 Has turned it to my rescue. 'Twas for this . .• . 
 I sent for thee ; in furtherance of thy marriage'); .••. 
 Hoping thereby to bind him in the terms • '*'ii'' 
 I have to tell thee. However Sala fare, ■ ,''•■*•"■'■ 
 And hitherto no news comes from his camp,';-' I,'-' 
 'Twere no achievement worthy of Tarudaqte. • ^ 
 To make dispersal of a broken foe : ' _ '• • ' 
 I shall propose a greater enterprise ; ' 
 
 I'll say " Thou wilt not grudge to sweep the bound; 
 •Of the fair realm, whose heiress thou wouJdst wed, . , 
 Make we this compact — Win me Ceuta back\-'>'' '••' , .■' 
 And drive the idolaters across the sea, •' ,' ''"■ -'.J 
 Ere thou take home my daughter for thy queen." 
 
 AL But doth Morocco, sire, know I am here ? 
 
 A'. Nay, nor myself knew, when I sent for thee, 
 How 'twould fall out : 'twas timed most happily. ^** 
 
 A I. But coming not to woo, may he-i)oUfin4 ■ 
 Offence in the constraint ; as I confess .■\y " *». ;. ^" '. 
 I feel to lay it on him, tho' my lover? , .,• '.'.." ' .'. ' ^;, 
 
 II'. Nay, nay, girl j he. is, in. earnesl-J-meef hitti' 
 frankly; '■':.',■■■''.■ ' ■ ' ' ■'.•'. '''■'■ • - 
 
 'Tis by his love thou shaft festore' my town. 
 
 , i.^JEMip- Mes.se}tger. ] 
 Mess, News irom the aroiy, Sire. 
 A' • ; V' ' .■,,• Thou lopkest bla(;k : 
 
 What is it ?' .speak. . • , '.-. ■ ' 
 
 Mess. ' •- ■. ■ O Ttiighty king, 'tis ill. ' :. 
 Sala ben Sala's forces were attacked 
 At nightfall by the Christians. In the dark 
 Was battle waged. By morn what men remained ^^^ 
 And all the camp were captive. . 
 
 K. God forbid !•.•■ 
 
 Five thousand men were there : be none eScape'd ? ' 
 Mess. Such as in darkness fled. . .' 
 
 And fl.eddst thou thence? 
 The general sent me on. 
 
 And what of him ? 
 The dawn discovered him, when all was 
 
 K. 
 
 Mess. 
 
 a: 
 
 ^Mesi;- 
 ■ loiit, 
 
 Fighting on foot upon a little hill, , •. ' ■• .'• 
 Surrounded by the foe ; when seeing no liopi, 
 
 He made surrender to the Christian leader, 
 Who gave him liberty. Thus far to tell 
 He bade, nnd that he followed speedily. ■ "'* 
 
 •A'. When will he come? 
 ■ Mess. : , Sire, tho' I used all duty, 
 
 '. H^ hath -b.Tertaken me and dismounts without. 
 '. K\\ ^6,. WAit upon him. \Exit Messenger. 
 
 .• i, ' ■ •: ■' Accursed be the seed 
 
 Df these idolaters. Five thousand men, 
 '^The best in Fez : the right arm of my power 
 Lost in -one night. Five thousand men were there. 
 All! by God's holiest names ! 
 
 Al.' Thank heaven, dear father, 
 
 '*»■.•> (The best is saved, if Sala be escaped.' 
 
 ..* K.- True, girl :. aad from the ill there's good to 
 
 come;- ' ' . '. ' " ' . 
 
 Their victoiy w'rH lead these deyil?, on. '^^" 
 
 Ay, they wjll qome. They know not of Morocco ; 
 They run into ^ trap. , " 
 
 .Al, ■ ■ '..:.,-.• , Will you make peace? 
 '^K, *God bicjs' us ^ihite these hogs : I would that 
 :;.\ h«Il •■•.-■ \:' 
 Were de,dper.t9|receive them. 
 
 ; . • • . .. ■ Enter Sala. 
 Bala lien "Sala, peace be with thee ! 
 *■ ' Sa^.. Xhe peacfe c^ heaven bf thine, my king ! 
 ^ I^:', ■ '■ »,•;• ■.••..* ' • Thou comest 
 
 • MQsl-swiftlJr from the battle. '/ •. 
 
 Sa.; .'..''■>,". *■,"■ ' With less haste 
 Than.Heecled ;' biit-fatigue and wounds delayed me. 
 What see I? -The princess here ! Alas, alas ! 
 
 my^ disa,ster ! . . ■ 
 .-.AL '- ^ Now I thank GodV. Sala,- ^20 
 
 That thou.' i;f:".alf}re;, •,.'.. ^'v ■. 
 
 '* Sa. ' •• ■ ..' .' T.o.'stlch shame is not good. 
 Sire, while there's time, escape ; and leave me here 
 To hold the castle for thee as I may. 
 
 A". Have thou no fear, Sala. My daughter, go : 
 Leave us alone : or better sit thou there. 
 And hear wliat Sala tells : and, Sala, thou 
 Begin the tale, for which thy messenger 
 ■Hath well prepared my, ear. Here is thy seat, 
 
 Sa. -'Hfear than,' my. liege, what happened, as I 
 
 •tell. ;■ 
 
 {Aside. )' Yet how to tell my shame in Almeh s ears ?— 
 'Tis the fifth day since thou didst send me forth 
 Against the Christian bands, which as we learned 
 Harassed the plains of Ceuta.— Thither I marched 
 Four thousand strong, besides our cavalry 
 And bowmen : Here and there some small encounters 
 Drove back the foe within the gates, and then 
 
 1 made return, establishing the country 
 And strengthening the garrisons, nor heard 
 That any greater force had come afield : 
 When yesterday at noon our scouts espied "■*" 
 The flash and dust of marching in the west. 
 Among the hills: thither we turned our face, 
 And had no fear but for the foe's escape. 
 Nor guessed how much the lurking enemy 
 Outmatched our weakened numbers. What sui-prise, — 
 I blame myself,— then, when our scouts came in 
 At sunset with the tidings that the foe. 
 Whom we thought flying from us, held the pass 
 Against our coming. Straight I chose a spot 
 Such as we might defend, and there encamped,' -^ 
 
 .?^- 
 
 
 . V-^' 
 
 
Act I.] 
 
 The Chris-tian Captives. 
 
 105 
 
 And would have stayed till morn, when suddenly 
 The stragglers on our rear were driven in 
 By horse that fell upon our flank ; and soon 
 I heard our front engaged. The moon to them, .; 
 — That was our peril, — the accursed yellow moon. *" 
 Exposed our camp, while in the sliadowy glens , * 
 The night hid their attack : our disposition ■ . .v 
 Was else not ill. Taking sufficient force, ' . .' 
 I turned to clear the rear ; but in the dai k , '. 
 
 Met with great numbers. Hoyv we. fouglit- God 
 knows, ■=^, ,^ :■ . ; •■ ^, 
 
 Surrounded on all hands. If jmy fted"- ' " .>\ . . v . 
 I cannot guess : but battling there till dawn, , * --■ . 
 I saw at daybreak there were left with me ' '. ', . 
 
 But hundreds against thousands. Then to -save ' _ ' 
 The needless slaughter, I gave up my sword ";, 
 
 Unto the Christian leader, Ferdinand 
 Of Portugal ; nor ever had here returned y," , •• ' 
 
 To speak of the disaster, but that prince, ^ : .'!' ' 
 Clement as valiant, asked me courteously " ^^^ •.,.•>•■.'■• 
 My name, and hearing it returned my swordj." •'i-.f 
 And bidding me choose out from all his .suif'e' 
 What horse best pleased me, — fur my own >^•as 
 killed,-^ _ • ,, _ , - . 
 
 He raised his helm, and said, ■.'".■' • ' " . ' •. / ".' 
 " Go free, brave Sala ; ride and tell thy king 
 We follow thee to rescue from his hands 
 The prisoners he withholds : " That is myiale, 
 Allah is great, and what be doth to-d^ .• • '■••fr- .• 
 To-morrow he may undo. • - . ■ " ' '■-*•»,■*•-' 
 
 A^ This co'urfeons'^nStran 
 
 Is but a fool : for had he kept thee fast, . *.-. <..'. 
 He might have had his men in thy exc)iahg€'. ^^ 280 
 
 Sa. No less now must thou grant tliem. ' *"*."■ '.■ ." 
 
 a: •' . • No, by God. 
 
 Hark, Sala : these few'days thou hast been away ; ', 
 Have brought me from the east four times the forcp '■ 
 Which thou ill^fatedly hast lost. Morocco . • 
 Lies camped a short league hence, and in his tints '. 
 Are twenty thousand men. 
 
 Sa. .■ Morocco is here ? .. " 
 
 A'. Said, I not well^ Is he not one to meet 
 These Christians? Let them come. How m^y'be 
 they? ■; ; '. ■ '* '' 
 
 Sa. Eight, maybe, or nine thousand. Where's 
 Morocco? '. 
 
 A'. At Alcabar. When lo6k they to be here? "o 
 
 Sa. They have no thought we can oppose Iheit 
 host, • . . . • • • -^ 
 
 And will not hasten. ^ . *' 
 
 /C. We will be r<^dy for them. 
 
 Prepare to leave V)y noon : thou must' collect 
 What men thou canst. I will go \yrite my summons 
 To Tarudante. Stay : I have not enquired 
 What are thy wounds. 
 
 Sa.' Nothing that should forbid ,. 
 
 Immediate service: food, an h9ur.of rest 
 Will make me fit. . ' *. 
 
 A'. Jn three hours be' thou ready. 
 
 •. • • • ■ • •- . [£xii. 
 
 ■ Ai. Go thou within, Sala ; and rest thee nbw. 
 Or wilt thou first tjxke food ? 
 
 Sa. ' There's tim6 enough. 
 
 Bid me not hence, my rest and foijd are herJS. 
 How cam'st tliou hither? ' , • 
 
 -^/. The kitig sent Tor me. 
 
 Sa. And why ? Thee in the camp ! O beauteous 
 Almeh, . • 
 
 Dost thou think vilely of me, that the Christian 
 Surprised and overcame me? If I had known 
 That thou wast here . . . 
 
 ' Al. Stay, Sala : thou wilt hurt 
 
 Thy soldierslup. • I<doubt not Ferdinand 
 
 . Is a most worthy foe : I rather fear 
 
 He hath a quality unconquerable. 
 
 Sa. Ha ! then I am scorned. 
 
 .Ai. .. I mean he is generous : 
 
 Hef sel^tltee 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 '^ord,' 
 .And cry, him quit; • . " 
 
 -■- ■ J^, \ ■ . ' ■ , Still thoulrt for war : ' 'twere better 
 
 - Pay tby.debt fairly, with the price hp asks, 
 'Phesemibt'i^Ie captives. •, 
 
 " , Sa. ■ ' . • '. !• .. . T.^ould have done so. 
 But thou didst hear the Iving refuse.' He is sworn 
 To grant no terms till Ceuta be restored. ^20 
 
 Besides our prophet's law forbids this traffic, 
 •To exchange our captives with the infidels. 
 
 ' * Al. But hast thou then thyself, Sala, no power 
 To do them any kindnfess j 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 ; 
 Arid to speak truth, for my own sake I ask it. 
 
 • Sa. How for thy sake ? 
 
 "^AL., • * I \vish to hear them sing. 
 
 Sft. JioXy could that please ? Who told thee that* 
 
 ' iKey sing?. . . _ - •■ v " 
 
 Al. Tw'as last night, Sala, as I lay Jong awake 
 Dreavriily-heaikenirig to the ocean mUrmur, 
 Softer. than silence, on mine ears there stole 
 ' A solemn sound of wailful harmony : 
 'So beautiful it wa3 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, wlio make the se^ 
 Theijr-secret god, a,nd at midnight arise 2*" 
 
 To kneel upon the shore, and Vis divinity 
 Beseech witli shrilling prayer : or then it seemed 
 A liquid-voiced choir of spirits that swam'-' •' . 
 Upon the ocean surface, harp.in h^nd, 
 Swelling their hymns with his deep undersong. 
 That was the Christian captivts. 
 
 Sa. :■ . .,'« • ... •.. : 'T was the night 
 
 Softefled their wails t« sweretriess.: as the space 
 'Twixt heli and lieaven makes th?x;ries of the-dan\ned 
 Music to the angels. ■,.'.■ 
 
 Al. ■ ^ala, 'tis riot the king, 
 
 'Tis thou art cruel ; thou hast a heart of hate. ^*'' 
 
 Sa. Onay, a heart 6f love. I would not count 
 Dishonour, Almeh ; I would be at peace 
 With shame and infidels and all the world, 
 Wo.uldst thou be. mine. 
 
 • Al. . Novv, if my father heard thee ! 
 Thou dar'st much, 'thiriking that I cannot tell : . • .. 
 Which if I have never done> 'tis that I ani loth', i" .'." 
 To lose so old a friend ; 'tis pain to see •" ••. 
 .That as I am grxxw.n trorii childhood, thou art grown 
 
 A 
 
 :<.• 
 
 u^.y 
 
 .;»• 
 
 ^>^\^-;.--;'V'-:'--!^; V >:^i^>'.; 
 
io6 
 
 ^rhe Christian Captives. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 From friendship, and for loving me too much 
 Must love me now no more. 
 
 Sa. Ah ! what is that ? ^eo 
 
 A poi-trait in thy hand ? Nay show it me. 
 why dost thou blush? Wlio is.thejiappy one 
 Thou carriest thus to gaze on? 
 
 Al. Look and see. 
 
 Sa. 'Tis Tarudante. O thou faithless Almch, 
 To speak of friendship who hastnever told me 
 Thou hast a lover. Npw I see the cause 
 Why thou art here. This boy.— 'Tis a smooth cheek, 
 A pretty picture. Ah! wert thou not shamed . 
 To sliglit me for a sprinkling of grey hajr . ' . • 
 About my temples, thou wouldst nfever thus ' . . ^'^ . 
 Have hid thy passion. ' ' • .• ' ' 
 
 A I. 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. 
 As herald of tlie prince whom it pourtrays. ''^^ 
 
 He comes on double mission, first to fight 
 Agiinst our foes . » . • v ,_ 
 
 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 U. 
 
 • . Al. My wish can count but little :,but my wisK 
 Is not for this nor any other marriage. . 
 
 Sa. Thou hast yielded to the thought. "VVbuld I 
 had died •• - • ' 
 
 On Ferdinand's sword ; or that that prince haJi\e'er 
 Heard my ill-fated name, Sala, far happier ^- ■ 
 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 v.'' 
 
 "This cursed portrait : held it . . . 
 , Al- - • ; Nay, I pFay. 
 
 Sa. Gazed on it, fondled k : a pictured boy ! 
 Thy champion. • " . 
 
 ■Al. I bid thee think . . . 
 
 Sti. A painted image ! 
 
 Al. And what, pray, wouldst thou have had me do? 
 . Sa. . What do ? 
 
 Never to have taken it :. refused it : scoFhed it : 
 Cast it beneath thy feet : trodd^ it tq atoms. 
 
 Al. Thou wrongst me^ Sala, now ; thou, art 
 overcome 
 With fasting and much fighting. 
 
 Sa. ' O, I am wronged 
 
 To have the temper of mypassion judged 
 As hunger or fatigue. Here is thy picture. 
 Thy lover. Take it back. Farewell. I go. 
 But not to eat or rest. Almeh, farewell : 
 I would have died for thee. 
 
 Al. Nay, go not thus 
 
 Unkindly. 
 
 Sa. 'Tis farewell : but not unkindness, 
 
 Lest thou shouWst say my last word w{is unl>indness, 
 
 I will go seek the king, and shall persuade him 
 Ere I depart to grant the Christian captives 
 The little liberty which thou hast asked : *' 
 
 Then to the war ; wherein I pray that heaven 
 Hath laid my death : if anywhere on earth 
 Within my reach, I'll find it. O farewell. 
 The Angels guard thee. [Going 
 
 AL . I bid thee go not thus. 
 
 \Miisic by 
 Anerio. ] 
 
 They sing of Jesus, whom they make 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Alweh and Zapel listetiing. The Christian 
 Captives are singing at back among tlie trees. 
 Chorus. 
 Jesu dulcis memoria, 
 Dans vera cordis gandia ; 
 Sed super met ^t omnia, [Music by 
 
 Ejus dulcis praisentia. Allegri.] 
 
 Za. . How strange a moan ! 
 
 Al. •■.-.• ' '.■ Hush, Zapel, Tiush : go in. 
 Leave me. Stay,[Xwin go with thee so far *^ 
 
 That they sHall'tliink we both are gone. This way. 
 
 Almeh and Zapel go aside. Exit Zapel. Almeh 
 enters arbour. 
 Chorus. yi?"' decus angelicum. 
 
 In aure duke canticwn, 
 In ore niel mirificum, 
 ■ ' -^xj" , /« corde nectar ccelicum. 
 
 . > i #- •* . Nil canitur siiavius, 
 .'." ' Nil auditur jiicundius. 
 
 Nil cogitatur dulcius, 
 Quamjesu Deifilius. 
 
 Al. [aside). 
 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 
 To ease the pains of your captivity, *** 
 
 'Tis but a debt I owe you for the pleasjire 
 Your music wakes within me. Come this way. 
 
 C/to . 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. 
 
 Cfi. We dare not disobey. • 
 
 Al. " ' Cpme forward, hither. 
 
 I bid you all for pleasure as my friends. 
 And ye could much delight me, would ye tell ^^ 
 
 What theme ye lately sang : for- though sweet music 
 Needs no inteqjretation, yet the thought 
 That gives occasion to the smile of love 
 Is dear itself; and I am like a lovpr 
 Wondering what fancy 'twas, that bred a strain 
 
 •-.v. '.*. 
 
Act II.] 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 107 
 
 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 
 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. Knowst thou that, 
 
 And askest 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 imto 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. 
 
 OJesu mi dulcis'iinie, 
 
 O spes spirantis dnivKE, 
 
 Te quarunt pia lacrymict, [Music by 
 
 Et clamor nfentis intimce. KvLt.x\o.~\ 
 
 Al. Music ne'er found a better speech. I pray 
 Could I sing with you ? Were it long to learn ? 
 
 Ch. Thou hast tlie art's first secret, loving it. 
 
 Al. Many have that : and I can sing alone, 
 But ne'er have learned your many-voiced 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 
 Thy passion was the deepest, and could blend **" 
 
 The wandering strains in closer harmony. 
 
 Al. Make me your pupil. Jiow should I begin ? 
 [Drums and trutkpets iviiheiit. 
 
 Ch. The king \ 
 
 Al. Break off, my father is retunied. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 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 coulff not blame 
 Your natural grief. But 'tis tlie vice of war, 
 That whatsoever side hafh victory. 
 
 The misery is alike, nor in the advantage 
 Is aught to compensate the evil done. 
 May God give strength to right ! 
 
 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 therefor^ bid thee thus. 
 
 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 s^d 
 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. 
 
 Al, . Silence : see they come. "^ 
 
 Enter Kihg with Tflrudante and Ferdinand, 
 folloivcd by Enrique and Sala. 
 
 Za. {to A.). , There's Tarudante. 
 
 Al. {aside). There is Ferdinand. 
 
 King {to T.). Now, noble prince, thou hast over- 
 come our foes ; 
 This is thy Second battlefield, whereon 
 Thy love may make 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 hot carnation and full-blooded rose. 
 See, 1 will lead thee to the virgin fortress 
 That thou mayst kneel to take. Come hither, Almeh : 
 Here is the prince thy lover. Tarudante, 
 Behold her whom thou askest for thy queen. 
 
 Al. {aside, coming foriuard). Now of these two 
 might I but choose. 
 
 K. Come, daughter, 
 
 Put off this modesty. 
 
 Al. {aside). My eyes refuse him. 
 
 Tar. 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, 
 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 
 
 ••v. 
 
lo! 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Of pictures, ^and mere beauty is no more, — 
 
 Exalteth but the maker. May the ^z.y% 
 
 Thou spendest here with us be rich in peace. [Goin^. 
 
 Fer. [aside to En.), By heaven, the devil is gentle 
 to these Moors : ' : . " 
 
 They match our folk inbeauty as in.arms. • 
 
 JC. Stay, Almeh, stay ! \^Almeh titrns. , 
 
 En. {to F.). These be the Spanish Arab : such a 
 race 
 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, siich spe'ecb and modesty 
 Outbid my faiicy ; I would fight thy battles . • 
 For twenty years to call thy treasure- mine." 
 
 JC. I say she is thine, and sl.i.e is my only child. 
 
 Sa. (aside). And I 'piust' hear this, spoken, and 
 hold my peace. 
 
 IC. So now, prince Ferdinand ', the chance of war 
 In making thee my captive gives me power 
 To dictate tefms 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 fansom, prince. 
 The king, thy brother, will not grudge to yield ^^^ 
 To me, a king, part of mincown, which he 
 Wrongfully came by ; if so, he may buy thee, 
 • His natural own, his flesh and bjood, 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 ma.y, the tidings 
 Of thy defeat, captivity, and the terms 
 Of thy release. Look liot so sorrowful. 
 
 Fer. I thank your majesty for just rebuke *^** 
 
 Of my discourtesy. By selfish gloom 
 I mar my entertainment, an4 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.- Yrt if now 
 Thou'rt sad, I spak^ in vain. 
 
 Fer. , • 'Tis for my fault 
 
 And ill-success I am sad : To have lost my troops 
 Or led them to the fate of tiiose whose rescue 
 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 thurches. 
 The abandonment of loyal lovirig 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 Christ's truth for full four hundred years 
 
 Before your prophet's birth ;. and now we fight 
 
 To win back from Mahommet what he took 
 
 £y 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 swortl. 
 
 Fer. 'Tis writ in ours, that they 
 
 Who take the sword, shall perish with the sword. ^^^ 
 
 K. Surely 'twas truly spoken of yourselves. 
 Yet will 1 make no change, but my demand 
 Shall urge upon the king your brother ; he 
 Will thank me for it. 
 
 Sa. Now, most 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 oyer : let him too 
 Go find another army : we meanwhile 
 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, 
 
 iTl 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 norvv with war, 
 Rather than grasp the hours of peace and love, 
 What shall! think? . 
 
 > Tar. . . That threat must stay me here. 
 
 , . K. Ay/ stay ; and I will solve thy scruple thus,- 
 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 
 I am but a traveller," that took occasion ^-5^' 
 
 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. 
 
 A'. • . • And so it were, 
 
 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 vvill return. 
 
 K. Nay, nay. I doubt thee not : but 'tis my will 
 Thee to keep, not -thy brother. 
 
Act II.] 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 109 
 
 Fer. • 'Then, my Enrique, 
 
 1 make appeal to thee. Urge not these terms 
 On Edward : tell him rather I' am myself, 
 And could not live ashamed. 
 
 /r. 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 shallbe thy chain : 
 Give me but that, and. thou shalt have the freedom 
 Of all this castle. 
 
 Fcr. I give 't your majestyi 
 
 K.- 'Tis virell: so all are, suited. And thou, 
 Enrique, . ■ ' . . 
 
 Make thy best speed'. - • _•■ 
 
 Eli. ' I go,. yoqf majesty. eso 
 
 Fer. {to £.). T|iou know'st my mind. — 
 
 En. (to F.). In any case I will deliver thee. 
 
 ■Jir. No "words. Begone, I pray. . 
 
 En. So- fare you tvell. [Exit. 
 
 K. [to T.^. -Arid how, Morocco, GoniQ 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 ijie mpon. 
 
 Tar. ... What here I have seen, 
 
 Might I not take it with me when I go, 
 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 71 
 
 {To F.) Most generous prince, forgive m^ 
 
 Fcr. I thank thee, Sala. , 
 
 Sa. I pressed the king so far as I mayxla.re. 
 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 p.iths for my goodwill. 
 Deem nre thy servant e and o'erlook the wrong 
 I seem to have done thee, being again constrtiined 
 To fight against thee. 
 
 FeV. Say nb'more, my friend. '.''" 
 
 We serve our kings. . Thou didst surprise our people 
 By numbers, merely nurtibers. I* prithee tell me 
 The nanie of yourprincess. • • 
 
 Sa. . • • • Almeh. 
 
 Fer." ' • • ■ •- Betrothed 
 
 Already to the. prince: rtiyconqireror?. . 
 
 Sa. The thing Is new. Thou know'st as much 
 as I. . ' . 
 
 Fer, . The prinde 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. 
 
 Fer. ■ It were fi strained ungentle consequence, ^'^ 
 That I should sail from Poftugal*to force 
 A lover on this lady's inclination. 
 
 Sa. I were like grieved. . 
 
 Fer. . ' '.. Hef beauty far exceeds 
 
 All that I thoflgfat to fifid^ .'In my 9\y;ij country 
 Our court holds'-not her equal, 
 Sa. "-'.*•• ■ I bejieve it. 
 
 Fer. And jf her mind be as her speech, en- 
 dowed ... 
 ••Sa. Thou owest her so much praise for kindnesses 
 Done. to your prisoned countrymen. 
 
 Eer. Ah, Sala, 
 
 Where bp, these captives" kept? if thou wouldst help 
 
 D^e, - ■ . 
 
 I pray thee bring me in time where I may see them. 
 I must speak with them. 
 
 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 thesoft lizard, that hath made his home 
 Among the clefts with scorpions and' snakes, 
 And oy the, scorching ledges basks all day. 
 'Tis there tiiese Christians lie. One way there iS 
 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 princesg, 
 'Tis granted them to come and walk above 
 In shadow of yon balmy cypress grove, 
 That skirts the northern brink : and but for this, 
 Their sole refreshment, all were like to have died '*'' 
 Of woe, and scant food, and the daily stroke 
 Shelterless .of the bot 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 wroqg. 
 
 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, 
 And bid them forth : and for thy less constraint "" 
 .Will then depart. . . ' \Gocs 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, witli an angel in it, 
 And no hope of deli\terance. Now I see 
 Nature hath vainly lavished on these Mpors 
 "Bravery and beauty find all gifts of pride ; 
 And left them barbarous for lack of thee. 
 Sweet Pity, of human sorrow born:, 'tfs thou 
 Dost raise man 'bove the bmtes.: 'tis thou dost make 
 His heart so singular, that he alone, 
 .Himself commisei^ating, against heaven 
 Pitshes 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 
 t/iey see him. 
 ChoR. Hail,, mighty Ferdinand ! — 
 
 Hail, generous prince ! — Behold 
 Tliy countrymen enslaved. — 
 Wliat. hope ? what hope ? O say — 
 Arm of our fatherland, ' """ 
 
 What mercy may be told ?— 
 
I lO 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 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) — 
 Fain into the enemy's hand ? — 
 And com'st thou thus alone ? 
 Thine army slain and lost, — ''^ 
 
 The cause of Christ o'erthrown. — 
 What hope? what hope? O say. — 
 Fcr. 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 
 Thy ransom also, when thou goest free ? '*** 
 
 Per. 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. 
 
 Fer. Then take them for example : be as they : 
 Lament not, pine not. 
 
 Ch. Rank we now as stones ? 
 
 Fer. Stones, .but not Ceuta's stones ; they if they 
 bled 
 Would spout heroic blood : royally therewith 
 Were they baptised, ere they might wear tlie cross. 
 I was a babe then : but the nurse that rocked 
 My cradle sang it : How the youthful prince, 
 Edward my brotlier, led the assault and fought 
 With hundreds hand to hand : how in the ships. 
 That watched the issue, the old king himself 
 Could no more be restrained, but forth descending, 
 For envy of the fi,:.;ht, with aged hands 
 Clambered upon the walls, and by his son 
 Dealt wary strokes of death : till o'er the heaps 
 Of his own slain, out of his robber nest 
 Sala ben Sala fled. 
 
 Ch. Long live the king ! 
 
 Fer. Since that day hath the fame ceased ? Hath 
 not Ceuta 
 Been as Christ's tourney, where the nations 
 Have clapped their hands to see a few brave knights 
 Hold Africa at bay, and in the field 
 Conquer whole armies of the unbelievers ? ^"'^ 
 
 Ch. Praised be God ! 
 
 Fer. I made an oath to match 
 
 My brother's praise. 
 
 Ch. Alas ! what fate withheld 
 
 God's favour from our arms ? — We who set out 
 To do him honour, and to plant the cross 
 On Tangiers', as it stands on Ceuta's walls ? — 
 The foe lay watching for us, like a lion 
 D^fiscended from the mountains. 
 
 Fer. On that day 
 
 I led your battle ; and when ye were taken, 
 I fled but to retrieve the day. I found 
 A second army ; I sought out the foe, ^^ 
 
 And overcame him : and the furious Sala, 
 Fain in my hands, I feared not to set free 
 As herald of my triumph. I was here : I had come 
 Even to this castle, when behold, swarming 
 Innumerable from the hills around, 
 The horsemen of Morocco ! 
 
 Ch. What of the army ? 
 
 Fer. Led off in captive gangs to serve the Moor. 
 
 Ch. Alas for us and them. Thou canst not save. 
 We are all enslaved, all undone. 
 
 Fer. / Be so. 
 
 Tamed wills, caged brutes, the off-scourings of fortune, 
 Mere counters of disaster ! I will not yield. 
 
 Ch. Yield, prince, for us, who left our homes so far 
 To serve under thy banner ; whom thine arm 
 Hath led to slavery — O prince, set them free. 
 Whom thou hast bound. — Restore us. Pay the price. 
 
 Fer. Can ye forget ? 
 
 Ch. Nay, we remember well 
 
 Estramadura, we remember Tagus, 
 The banks of Guadiana, and our homes 
 Among the vineyards ; Ezla we remember, 
 Obidos and Alenquer, where the trees ' ^^^ 
 
 Shadow the village steps, and on the slopes 
 Our gardens bloom : where cold Montego laves 
 The fertile valleys 'mong the hills of Beira : 
 Our country we remember, and the voices 
 Of wives and children, by whose tears we pray, 
 Despise us not. See on our knees we bow. 
 And by God's love pray thee deliver us. 
 
 [ Ihey all kneel to Feriiiitand. 
 
 Fer. Ah, wretched rebels ! hath a little hardship 
 Melted the metal from you ? I see ye are dross 
 Quite to the bottom.. These hands that ye raise ®*^ 
 Should have smote down the foe. Being as ye are, 
 How took ye upon you to defend the cross ? 
 Doth not the shame of capture and defeat 
 .Suffice, but ye must kneel to beg the addition 
 Of treason and betrayal, to deliver 
 Your worthless bodies from the pains that ye 
 Have thousandfold deserved ? My brethren are ye ? 
 Nay I'll not look upon you. \Turns away. 
 
 Enter Almeh and Zapel. 
 
 Al. Lo, what is this ? 
 
 Ch. O gracious kind priacess, 
 
 Plead for us now, , _.. , -^-^ . 
 
 Al. What would ye ? •' -^ -r ' ■- \ 
 
 Fer. N<?blelady, 870 
 
 I have a title to thy heart's Compassion 
 Greater than these my countrymen, whose woes 
 Have moved thy spirit, and by that kindness in thee. 
 As by that beauty,— may I use the name ■ :'^ .- 
 
 Of what I only worship,^! beseech thee "•'''!,-) 
 Hear them not speak, Jest thou'misjudge me HuicSi. ' 
 
 AL Rise, friends : ere I .can help.'jp<ju.l musft Jlfn<}W 
 What boon.ye su^ior. , .; .*•■ ,.\ ' ..•!.■, '^. ',■■* .' 
 
Act II.] 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 Ill 
 
 
 '.^ 
 
 Fer. Not so : lest thou add 
 
 To theirs thy prayer, too strong to be denied. 
 
 Al. What feair'st thou that my voice might win for 
 them ? " "^ 
 
 Fer. Ask not of them nor me. 
 
 Al. Thou must dissuade 
 
 My pity, or meet it where 'tis first engaged. 
 
 Fer. Then hear the truth from me. They vainly 
 . beg . 
 Their liberty. 
 
 Al. From thee ? 
 
 Fer. Ay, lady. 
 
 Al. How ! 
 
 For this I too was lately on my knees ; 
 But that was to the king. What power hast thou 
 To grant this ; or, being able, why deniest ? 
 
 Fer. They think at least that they would share my 
 freedom, 
 If I went forth : wherefore they ur^e me do 
 For them the thing I will not for myself, ^^ 
 
 Al. And what is that ? 
 
 Fer. Thy father hath appointed 
 
 The town of Ceuta for my ransom, lady. 
 
 Al. And that lies then within thy power to grant ? 
 
 Fer. So far as 'tis witliin the power of him 
 Who scorns base actions to commit the basest. 
 
 Al. My sire, prince, hath a right and titled claim. 
 
 Fer. Christ hath erased all titles with his cross ; 
 And by that sign reclaims the world he made. 
 
 Al. I know, prince, thou art generous j for thou 
 gavest 
 Life to thine enemy : and for that gift *"* 
 
 I am thy friend. 'Tis for thyself I plead. 
 The king hath nothing nearer to his heart 
 Than this possession : 'tis thy life's condition. 
 Yield where thou must, 
 
 Fer. I hold my life as nought. 
 
 Al. Then, prince, tho' not for these, nor for thyself 
 Thou wilt be bent, nor to my sire wilt yield ; 
 Yet for the sake of holy peace submit ; 
 For pity of all our people and thine own, 
 Whom pride will siay : think of the myriad wounds 
 Softoess may staunch ; and how kings have no honour 
 Above the keeping of their folk in peace." 
 
 Fer. Is't in thy creed man shall buy:peace of heaven 
 By selling honour ? O nay. Let the king 
 But take my life, and count my blood enough 
 To be one slave's redemption ; there were then 
 No cause to kneel. Yea, wpuldst thou show me 
 
 kindness. 
 Make this thy prayer. Go back unto thy sire. 
 And sue that he will graciously, as the exchange 
 For these men's freedom, kill me, or in their pit 
 •Bury me alive, » 
 
 Al. ■ Alas, alas ! ^-^ 
 
 Fer. If now my words in pleading for myself 
 Have hiirt thee, lady, forgive them : nay, weep. not. 
 Until I saw thy pity for my sake, 
 l.had" no vybie to bear. ' • " 
 •. Ah '. :.■;■'.. 'And woe i{. is 
 
 To see such differing wfo«_i*bt byman on man. 
 And seek'to heal it with a- woman's words. 
 ' ; Fer: Lady, I need not pity : there's noiottun^ ' 
 vl'ljave pot heairt for, ' ' . .' •'..":, .- . ,n 
 
 •^4, •* ' '.■•■■'' » N'ow.I see;thesfr -rtidn , . / . 
 ttaVil' jetftl^ohifajtl th^n.thou," : tkey; gave me comfort 
 
 • V •'..;.'.,•,;: ■/. . '. . . ' ^ : 
 
 Receiving my compassion ; thou'rt too proud. ^^ 
 
 Fer. For I was shamed seeing a woman weep 
 Vainly for what I suffer without tears. 
 
 Al. I too am bred to shows. — Prince : I was sent 
 To fetch thee to the house. Attend the summons. 
 My father sits to dinner, and enquires 
 Wherefore thou tarriest. Of thy courtesy 
 Play our good guest with freedom ; for the king 
 Will use no more constraint, than as thy health 
 And princely state require. 
 
 Fer. I will obey thee. 
 
 A I. And not my father? 
 
 Fer. Him, lady, perforce ; **" 
 
 But thee most cheerfully. To thee no less 
 Am I a captive. 
 
 [Exatnt Almeh and Ferdinand and Zapel. 
 Chorus. ( The leader ( i ) speaks, ans-uiered by others. ) 
 Now see we hope, friends : God hath sent 
 His best and nearest messenger 
 For our deliverance. — 
 
 Ckor. Who is he ?— 
 
 (i). W^hat, hast thou eyes, and couldst riot see? — 
 
 Chor. If by thy hasty boast is meant 
 The sudden love upsprung 
 
 Between Christ's champion and the heathen maid, 
 'Tis withered on thy tongue. — ^° 
 
 (l).. Heathen how call'st thou her, 
 Our pitying angel who hath been. 
 And from our mouth the word of truth received ? — 
 
 Chor. Hath she believed ? — 
 
 (i). How shall not love persuade, 
 Now fallen to water God's own seed, 
 And in such soil ? — 
 
 Chor. If she confess, 
 
 'Twill but the more our tyrant's anger feed 
 With tenfold torture to oppress, 
 Or end us all at a stroke. — 
 
 (i). And so might be. *** 
 
 But hark ye what I whisper. Mark. Ye see 
 How in this garden one permitted hour 
 Each day we wander free . . . , 
 
 Chor. Ay, ay — an hour a day — what should this 
 mean ? — 
 
 (i). By their good help, secretly armed, I say , , . 
 
 Chor. What sayst thou? Armed I — go on. — 
 
 (i). How easy 'twere to find 
 Occasion , , , 
 
 Chor. When the foe is gone to fight 
 
 Thou meanest ? — r 
 
 (i). Ay, (hou'rt right . . . 
 
 Chor. And so to overpower ^'^ 
 
 The few men left behind. — 
 
 (i). See ye — 
 
 Chor. Ay, ay. Well done ! 
 
 .Convert our high- walled prison to a fortress strong — 
 To Ceuta horse a courier— or ail at night 
 ■Make our escape by flight. — 
 Each choosing a swift steed. — 
 Better await until they send 
 A rescue. — Nay, how long 
 Could we sustain the fight ? 
 
 • (i). Now tell me, was I wrong ^^ 
 
 Speaking of hope? 
 ■ Chor. Nay, nay. 
 
 We make thee'leader.-rShow the way 
 To bring this soen.aWout. 
 
 "■•' — ^ ' **. 
 
 
 
I 12 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 (i). Mark me. I say 
 
 This is no council -chamber, and I fear, 
 Unless we now make end, 
 Joy will exalt our voices to betray 
 Our hope, ere 'tis well founded. Let us return 
 Submissively to our pit, and as we go 
 Sing a strain full of woe, 
 
 That, reaching to the princess' ear, ^^^ 
 
 May work upon her, that she yearn 
 To set us free. With step and voice I lead. 
 Follow. 
 
 C/ior. We give thee heed. — 
 
 [Going, singing as they go. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 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 basht dfjiowers. 
 
 Za. Here are thy lilies. 
 
 At. 'Tis enough of these ; _ 
 
 I thank thee, Zapel. Now there grows a flower • 
 Wild 'neath the castle walls, a yellow rose , '_ . 
 
 It seems, of sUibborn habit, br.inching low ; 
 When walking on the ramparts I have seen it. 
 And wondered whence it drew its sustenance, ^"1° 
 
 In scattered tufts upon the waste sea sands, 
 Cio to the gate, and say I sent thee forth ; " 
 And pluck me blooms, and such a shoot of it/ .' , '' 
 As I may set at hortie : if it should thrive, '-u]:"^',' ' 
 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^^ .thQ^i 
 saidst ; . .-..,< ;r ' 
 
 Go where thou wilt, so thou return not a6oo> , . -••,' 
 Now is the hour prince Ferdinand .shquldcomp^ii*;- 
 Lovers would be alone. ■ • ' . ■ ' '' , • • ' * 
 
 Al. -■. Be sure of this ; " ."^^ 
 
 'Tis my sqle comfort to be rid of thee ; 
 And wlien we are back in Fez, I will bestow .th^ 
 Upon another uiistress. ■ ■• . *'^'.%" v- ' '-. 
 
 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. . .••;••' > Ei^oxaing.f-K' \ . 
 
 Dar'st tliou ,to say?.. ,'!•* .'..'■..•' ••.• ■ '. *>„.. 
 - -Za.' , .- , I say but what tsef.'.^ ^/.. 
 
 The infidel- i§dazy^d. by .thy beauty ; ;*• '^[ . ' ^""' 
 ■•■.....- ■-■■'■"'j^ • 
 
 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, 
 
 Or sent on useless errands, while the prince 
 
 Steals in my place? If I should say 'twas love . . . 
 
 At. 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. 
 
 Per. What, Almeh ! thon'rt here ? 
 
 Dost thou indeed a>vait me ? 
 
 Al. Didst thou think 
 
 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 rnakes me desire the name. 
 
 Fer. Now is the'purpcse of my expedition 
 Revealed : for this I sailed to Africa : '®''' 
 
 Fdr this I was defeated, and for this 
 Brought captive here. 'Tis tliou that art my prize. 
 , ■ -(i/.,, 'Twere 3 poor prize for so much war : but tell 
 • . me, ' . 
 How carn^ it thou'rt a soldier ? 
 
 Fer, . . Thou hast thought 
 
 My failure shames that title? 
 
 Al: ; ,'■'.■'.;■■ Nay, I ask 
 
 HoWj.being'a Christian, thou professesl 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? 
 
 Fer. 'Tis asked too late. When conscience, like 
 an angel, ' . , ^•''? 
 
 Stood in the way to bar my setting forth, .*. v * *• * 
 Zeal and ambition blinded me ; tho' yet '. • 'J ; "} •'* '" 
 Against the voice of them that urged me on 
 There lacked riot prodigies of heaven to stay me. 
 For as we sailed from Lisbon, all the host "• « 
 
 That lined the shore with banners and gay music, '/t'.* 
 Was changed before my eye$ to funeral trains '-1 • • "■ 
 Of black and weeping mourners, who with wails 
 And screams affrighted us. Tlie sun in heaven 
 Turned to blood-red, and'dolefid rnists of grey ^"^^ 
 Shut us in darkness, while the. sucking, ebb 
 
 .'.; >.' -U :':• 1^- i'..'..'^ .^•:- . y.\.' •'»; V.^ 
 
 ■^^-vc', ■ '-r**^:- •*'^- ^t^* j^>-^ :.N'iv^ .- '^ 
 

 Act III.] 
 
 7/ie Christian Captives. 
 
 113 
 
 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, 
 And thins own freedom — 
 
 J^er. Let no words betweetf us 
 
 Be spoke in vain, as these words now must be. 
 
 M. 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. 
 
 A/. I henr the gate : some one comes forth. I pray 
 Retire, ere we be seen. [£xeun( r. 
 
 Enter Sola and Tarudante. 
 
 Sa. I owe him life,, your highness, and would 
 stake it 
 A thousand times upon his princely worth. 
 As are his manners, you shall find hisi honour. 
 I will go fetch him. 
 
 Ta. Stay, I undersl-and "<» 
 
 .Something, and know that now he is in the groopds 
 With the princess alone. Go if thou wilt. 
 Assure thyself: I need to see no inore. 
 
 Sa. Await me here then while I go. I pray thee 
 Jndge not so hastily. 
 ■ • To. I judge not hastily. 
 
 Sa. Then wait me here. 
 
 Ta. ■.. .1 wait for no raat^ Sala ; 
 
 Save out of courtesy \ in .which I hope 
 I have not lacked hitnertb; - _., 
 
 Sa. Yo«u hfive rather set iis ■ 
 
 In everlasting debt. 
 
 Ta. 
 
 Speak not of that.-' -y 
 
 Sa. Then mock Hot our repayment. 
 
 Ta.,- '•• . Look year, *SaIa ^ 
 
 Innderstaiid toseize a prizeby force,- ■..•- 
 Or kindly take a gift, but not to suQ.-, -^ .' . "; :' ' ' 
 
 Sa. Yet women must be wooed. ; • ; '"'y ',' .' *^ 
 
 Ta. Ay, tHatV^.gatfi^:" 
 
 But if 'tis more than play, I've no mind for it. - ,. ', ; 
 Patch up the matter as you (fan. ;, For me,,. . , ;. '. 
 I cry To horSe. •* , . <. : *. %• -* *•'•<...' 
 
 Sa. Whit bilta.mometitlbnger;* J-' •**.•; 
 
 I will fetch Ferdinand. (Asid^:) Tq have two-rivals, 
 Tho' both be princes, maybe better yet •' 
 Than to have only one. , . ' , ': . [£xiL 
 
 Ta. By heaven, they trifle with me, anc} by waiting 
 I allow it; cherishing an idle softness .,-.'.• 
 
 That fool^ me to take slights, yet cannot sootbe' ••'•■. 
 My pride to competition. Nay, nor would I . . ', 
 Rob grey-haired Sala of it, if he has dfeamed '.;•' •■ 
 His heirs shall reign in Fez. . . But the infidel—'. ', 
 How should the general countenance him, — altho' 7' * 
 There be some tie of chivalry between them? .. *. 
 A riddle it is ; a riddle I- leave it. Now . ■ . • ; .'*•- '",. • 
 ■ To save engaged honour I must feign . ' '••.■ • j,'.;; ' 
 Some exigency. I will go. warn. my men ;.• '-• *'** 
 That they break camp J^t sunrise..' Iti thifec dk% * ^. 
 All is forgotten. '•• ' ' . [Exii. 
 
 •■r. :. 
 
 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. 
 
 Fei-. 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 thon ? 
 
 Sa. . Fly, 
 
 Feign sickness. I will let thee forth to-night. 
 Thou slialt 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 r there art thou deemed 
 A heartless soldier ; not a bloody tale , , ' 
 
 That would pass current, but usurps thy name : 
 Men curse by thee. • . . 
 
 Sa. I pray you now return, ' ^^ 
 
 And disabuse your friends. 
 
 • Fer. ,. ': ' Ay, that. and more 
 When I rfetum.- • ' 
 
 Sa. ■ Thou never wilt return. 
 
 Unless thou fly at once. , . . . . 
 
 Fer. Tell me the worst. • 
 
 . Sa. . What think you, should I slay you with tJifige 
 hands? 
 
 Per. Thou, Sala ! why ? , 
 
 .5a, . ' I spake not empty Words. 
 
 * Fet*^ . Their darkness is to me as emptiness. ' , 
 Sa. ^y heaven, I would not now unseal my lips, 
 
 But I kqow him I speak to, and my speech . • i ' 
 
 Shall win thee. Hark, I have been 'for twenty 
 
 years . , .,.■'.'»■'■ 
 
 Familiar with the'king, one of his house ; . « "*", 
 
 ,1 have known the princess Almeh from her cracfle':" '. 
 •Her father's only child, she hath been to me , • '. •.' 
 J, My single joy no less : from the first words \ ' .'". ■ 
 •She lisped hpon my knee, unto this day, ^ . ■ '• * ;* '*'* 
 
 ■ Her sayings and doings have been still the event^ ' 
 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 
 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 w^ile 
 
 * I trod in blood, and heard the mortal gasp 
 
 , Of foes, my scimitar struck down to hell, . . • 
 
 I strffered nothing to approach ihy soul - . ".» 
 
 But what might too be hers. • Sala is stern, 
 Men s^y, and register piy -actions bluntly 
 
 , ^ . '^ > . ' ., • . ■:'• . . . ; , -"^-, •^'% i'> ,. x'i . -^ 
 
 ^ " ? . . : ... .»-,. • >v"*v .»*.i.> .::•-.' o 
 
 iw». 
 
 *:-'^ 
 
 .v.* 
 
 '"► •*'.••. '^ 
 
 ■ - » ?'«.'. 
 
114 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 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 ; 
 And looking still to meet the child I left, "^c 
 
 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 
 We are grown to lean on. — Cursed 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. 
 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 yebetrothed ? 
 Sa. Nay, prince . . . 
 
 Ftr. Nay ? . . . Yet if not betrothed, maybe 
 
 Almeh hath loved thee, shown thee preference, 
 Some promise ... 
 Sa. Nay. 
 
 Fer. Then, Sala, in .plain words. 
 
 How have I wronged thee ? what ca}i be the'cause 
 Why thou didst threat to kill me ? 
 Sa. .1 said not that. 
 
 Fer. Esteem'st thou then a prince of Portugal 
 So much less than Morocco? . . » 
 
 Sa. Dreatfi'st thou the king 
 
 Would wed his daughter to , . . - 
 
 Fer. Ah infidel, 1220 
 
 Thou'dst say. 
 
 Sa. Is't not impossible ? 
 
 Fer. 'Tvvould seem 
 
 No miracle to me shouldst thou thyself 
 Turn Christian. 
 
 Sa. By Allah ! Hush ! here is the king. Begone, 
 I-est my goodwill to thee be more suspected . 
 
 Th.in it deserve. . , ' ' . 
 
 Fer. I'll speak with thee again. \Exit. . 
 
 Sa. (solns). 1 have shot my best bolt forth, and 
 
 missed i6y aim. 
 
 Enter TGng. ' .' •••..>•.,_■ 
 
 JiT. Sala, what dost thou here? I sent foi' thee. 
 Sa. No message, sire, hath reached me. 
 JC. I am come myself 
 
 To find thee ; I need thy counsel, and I desire 
 Thou wilt, put ofl" the manner of advisers, -"^^ 
 
 Who afiect 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. 
 
 A'. Whate'er it be, I bid thee 
 
 Put thy dislike aside : the business threatens 
 To fail without our aid. 
 
 Sa. How so ? 
 
 AT. The prince 
 
 Hath been with us five days : 'tis now full time 
 He spoke his mind ; and yet he hath said no word, 
 ^ia:. Well, sire? 
 
 /T, The cause : I'll tell thee first my thoughts. 
 
 Sa. The fancy of a maid is as the air- 
 Light, uncontrollable. 
 
 A". 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. 
 So foreign to her years, might well repel ^-^ 
 
 So fine a lover. 
 Sa, That is not the cause. 
 
 AT. I gay 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 ? 
 
 AT. Find sonie 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. 
 
 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? : J;..''"'.' 
 
 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. 
 
 Sa. So, sire ; for never 
 
 Will you hold Ceuta for the prince. You asked' 
 My advice : you have it. • Where uiy honour, weighed 
 not, ... , ■ • , . . 
 
 Nor my long service fiads me any favour, 
 Suspect not I would use a lady's tears : •"-.J 
 
 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. 
 
 
 
 .^^'^. 
 
 s>\.ur>K-: 
 
Act III.] 
 
 77/e Christian Captives. 
 
 115 
 
 K. But if I free the rest and keep the prince ? 
 
 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 
 The prince and all the captives shall be hers : ^^^ 
 
 And she shaH 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 the' 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, 
 According to the judgment of their fellows, ^^^ 
 
 Is doctrine for the multitude. For me 
 I would possess my wisdom as my health, 
 In reality, not semblance. 
 
 Enter Almeh. 
 
 Al. My father sent for me ? . - ' 
 
 K. Come hither, Almeh. 
 
 I have news for thee. 
 
 AL Ck)od news ? 
 
 A'. Thou shalt say good. 
 
 Guess. 
 
 Al. There hath something happened ? 
 
 K. Something shall be. 
 
 Al. Is it peace with Portugal ? 
 
 K. Nayi not so far. 
 
 Al. Tell me. 
 
 K. ' The Christian captives. " 
 
 . Al. ■ Dare I giiess 
 
 They may go free ? 
 • J<:. 'Tis that. 
 
 Al. O kindest father. 
 
 Thou healest my heart, that hath the chi^f enlargement 
 In this deliverance.. If they know it not, 
 May I go tell them ? 
 
 A^ .Stay. There's one conditiob. 
 
 It lies with thfie to fix the day. . 
 
 Al. . .• With me ? 
 
 I say to-day. , ' " 
 
 . A''. Thou canst n9t.'s.a^ tb-day. 
 
 _Al. ' Hqwsoon?. 
 
 K: ' ,' ,'Tis thus. I make their liberty 
 
 A gift to thee the day thou shalt be married. 
 To Tarudante.. ;•'...*.'..•' 
 
 . aL.': /.K^X'^ . . - ' ^•.. •V-;'^ 
 
 JC. -■-.'•■" _• The smile that 6un^ V •" ^. ' ■ 
 Sc) quickly to thy face hath fled again. .. ^ ? '.-'*. 't- 
 is the condition bard? ■. ; . ; .1. " '• i; 
 ■, -Ai, '■■■' .'•:. .,.*,' ■ '.'Tis like deai^' * '..V*-.'* "' 
 •'AT- tDenial! •[.'■V. ' V • ■['./. ' .', 
 
 ''Al/ To 3o tfie thing I never wished, '^^ 
 
 Atid if I wished lies not in me to do. 
 
 AT. Thou dost not wish, sayst thou ? It lies not 
 in thee ? 
 
 Al. 'Tis true I do not wish this marriage, sire. 
 
 AT. 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. 
 As I have power to stand against thy will. 
 
 AT. I know it, child : but for that hold thee to 
 blame: i3»o 
 
 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 . . . 
 
 A'. 'Tis no small gift, the lives of fifty men. 
 
 Al. Tell me, sire ; with the captives dost thou 
 reckon 
 Prince Ferdinand of Portugal ? :. ^ 
 
 A*. I knew 
 
 Thou wouldst ask this, and am content to grant it. 
 See how I yield. I will go fetch thy lover : ^^^ 
 
 Be ready to receive him : what thou dost 
 Ruleth his happiness as well as niine, 
 And theirs whose life I give thee. Await him here. 
 
 [Going. 
 
 Al. Stay, -father, stay ! 
 
 A-. Well, child! 
 
 Al. {aside). It cannot be: 
 
 I dare not tell — 
 
 A". 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 ?im married, be set free ? 
 
 A'. I do. . . 
 
 Al. And if I marry nof Morocco, . ^^ 
 
 What is their fate ? 
 
 A'. y They die ; unless the prince 
 
 Surrender Ceuta to' me. 
 
 Al. ■■"■'. O sire, the prince 
 
 Spared Sala's life : thou owest as much to him : 
 Thou mayst not kill him. . 
 
 A^ - See, if that's a scruple. 
 
 How thou mayst ■gratify'^ thyself and Sala. 
 I put this in thy power. Canst not thou thfink me, 
 And smile on Tarudante? 
 
 Al. I thank tliee, sire. 
 
 If I seemed not to thank thee, 'twas the effect 
 Of suddenness, nothing but suddeimess. 
 I am glad to do it. 
 
 K. ' I knew thou wouldst be glad. 
 
 I shall go fetch thy lover. I shall not grudge 
 ■These hogs for him. [Exit. 
 
 Al. Death, said he ? He would sl^y him ! 
 
 My gentlest prince ! O bloody spirit of war, 
 That hast no ear where any pitiful plea 
 Might dare to knock! — Alas, my dismal blindness ! 
 I am but as others are, selfish, O selfish, 
 That thought myself in converse with the skies ; 
 So shamed, so small in spirit. What is my love, 
 
 V.>» 
 
 
ii6 
 
 TVie Christian Captives. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 My yesterday's desii-e, but death to him ? 
 And what to me ? What but an empty fancy 
 Nursed against reason? which I cling to now" 
 In spite of duty. Duty . . . Ah, I remember 
 I had a childish fondness for that name, 
 Dreamed I would serve God wiUingly. But now, 
 Now 'tis impossible . . • Now if I serve, 
 I do his bidding with unwilling will ; 
 Yet must I do it. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand. 
 
 Alas! thy sorrow 
 
 Fer. Princess, I come to beg 
 Shows me a greater care. 
 
 Al. Nay ; ask thy wish. 
 
 Fer. 'Tis changed to learn thy grief, and why that 
 brightness, ^^®" 
 
 That shone to cheer my life, now clouds with rain. 
 
 Al. Each hath his private grief, prince : why 
 should I 
 Be wondered at, or questioned of my tears ? 
 Enough the world is sad, and I am sad. 
 
 Fer. A twofold error, lady : the world is gay, 
 And thou art half its splendour. When I first 
 Beheld thee in this earthly paradise, 
 What wondrous jewels, thought I, God hath strewn 
 About the world, which in our count of it 
 Stand out of reckoning, being unseen. 
 
 A/. And then 
 
 If I was light of spirit, I knew not why ; 
 Now, — but thou speakest of some favour : tell me, 
 
 Fer. Since my request is guilty of my coming,-^ 
 'Twas for my countrymen : to-day the gate . 
 Hath not been opened to them. 
 
 Al. I am happy, prince. 
 
 Their woes are ended. Ere thou camest hither 
 The king was here ; and in his kindest mood 
 Granted their liberty. 
 
 Fer. ' Thy prayers, lady, 
 
 Must be the sweetest incense that from' earth 
 Perfumes God's mercy-seat : He bends to soften 
 The heart that thou beseechest. 
 
 A I. ■ Stay, His thu§. 
 
 They are given to me to grace my bridal. 
 
 Fer. How ! 
 
 Thy bridal? . , 
 
 Al. ■ When I am married where thou kpowest, 
 The prisoners shall be mine. 
 
 Fer. • And when thy bridal ? 
 
 Al. Whene'er Morocco, that is come to woo me. 
 Shall ask to vved me. 
 
 Fer. ' Lady, forbid me not. 
 
 It needs no skjU to read thy sorrow now : 
 For coldly speak'st thou, and with trembling tongue — 
 
 Al. What think' St thou then ? , . 
 
 Fer. Forgive me, if I am bold : 
 
 Thou dost not love him thou art bid to wed. ^"'i" 
 
 Al. That were my blame, since he is worthy of me. 
 
 Fer. Nay 'tis not that : but if I have guessed the 
 truth, 
 O if thou hast now consented, and wilt sell 
 Thyself for pity of these wretched men, 
 Now I forbid the odious sacrifice. . . 
 
 Perchance thou thinkest that these many souls ; ' 
 Against thy single welfare, must make up . ■ 
 The greater stake. Not so ; they're mites and scraps 
 'Gainst thy immeasurable worth : .a thousand _ • 
 
 Would not complete the thousandth part of thee ; "^^ 
 And \yere I where their base ill-natured wills 
 Obey me, thou shouldst tell them for thy slaves 
 As hairs upon thy head. 'Twere heavy tidings 
 That thou shouldst love Morocco, and being so far 
 Won to the faith, shouldst willingly renouftce 
 Thy saintly liberty : but rather so. 
 Than that by one thou lov'st not; against thy will, 
 Thou shouldst be harnessed 'neath the common yoke. 
 
 A/. My will is nothing, prince, and if Morocco 
 Already hath three wives, I shall rank first. ■ }'^^° 
 
 Fer. Monstrous ! Wilt thou stoop to such servile 
 change? 
 
 Al. Unwittingly thou speak'st against thyself. 
 . Fer. Alas! what words have injured me with thee? 
 
 Al. None : but thy fate is knit in one with theirs. 
 Whose happiness thou bidst me now not weigh. 
 
 Fer. On that day shall 1 too be given to thee ? 
 
 Al. Betray me not, I pray. 
 
 Fer, O Mockery ! 
 
 What hast thou done ? 
 
 Al. The best for thee. 
 
 Fer. For me ! 
 
 nay. ' And for thyself ? 
 
 Al. Think not of me. 
 
 Fer. ' Not think of thee ! My very thoughts of 
 heaven ^*^ 
 
 Are thoughts of theel 'Tis now so short a time. 
 Nor have I on my part any desert 
 To challenge favour at thy gracious hands, 
 That I should dare to speak : nor any words 
 That man hath e'er invented, to combine 
 In sentences that mock mortality, 
 Are proud enough to tell thee ; therefore — 
 
 1 say in plainest speech, Almeh> I love thee. 
 For thy goodwill I thank thee : but my fate. 
 
 If thou dost love me not, or art another's, — " ^^^^ 
 Life or death, misery and imprisonment. 
 Slavery or freedom, count as little with me. 
 As when I shall be dead where I may lie. 
 Say, if thou canst, thou lov'st me : and if not, 
 Thou shalt at least have heard, and I have told. 
 My tale; how to prince Ferdinand of Portugal 
 Thou didst appear the only beihg on earth 
 Worth his devotion ; that for thy possessing 
 He would have given all else, to live with thee 
 As Christiaris use, in state of man and wife, ^^^^ 
 
 Which God hath blessed. 
 
 Al, ' No more, I pray no more. 
 
 The graveyard ghosts are not so waste and dead^ 
 As is thy phantom picture." * * 
 
 Fer, ■ " • Dost thou love me? 
 
 Al. Why ask me? Yet be this an hour of truth, 
 Tho' all time lie.- I love thee, Ferdinand, 
 Even as thou lovest me ; would be thy wife, 
 To live alone with thee as Christians use. 
 
 Fer. Almeh ! Weep not. Fear nothing, if thou 
 art mine. ' . 
 
 • Al; I am nought that is not thine : only thy hope 
 I capnot share. . •: . 
 
 Fer. How canst thou love and fear? 
 
 5>ee, I can teach thee how to. trust in love 
 Now with this kiss. 
 
 Enter King, Tarudante, and Sala, 
 Al. {seeing K.). Away! My father ! my father ! 
 
Act III.] 
 
 The Christian- Captives. 
 
 117 
 
 ■ A'.. • What see I ? 
 
 Sa, (osi(ie). Now could T slay him. 
 
 K. (Jo Tar.). Thest white-faced Christians 
 
 Flave most uncultured manners. {To F.") By my soul, 
 Priiice P'erdinand, thou uscst thy liberty 
 With small restraint; (_To S.) Sala, conduct the prince 
 Into'the dungeon tower : see him there locked. 
 
 Tar. [aside). 'Tis as I thought. 
 
 K. Hegone. I say : my passion 
 
 Brooks not his presence. \Exit Sola ivith Fei-dittand. 
 
 Tar. [aside). But what word for her, 
 
 The gieater culprit ? . . . 
 
 A'. [io'AL). . As for fhee, my daughter, ^<80 
 
 Retire thou too. Thy bltish cannot be cured 
 Hut by this felon's punishment, Moi-eover, 
 Thou dost not veil tn walk even in these grounds 
 Unveiled without attendant. [ijcit Almeh. 
 
 Tar. [aside). 'Tis well said. 
 
 Without attendant. -[To A".) With us, your majesty, 
 The women all go veiled. 
 
 K. _ And so with us 
 
 The custom is approvecT, and general. 
 Hut license hath bden granted to my daughter 
 And her attendants, when within the walls. • 
 Nor wilt thou find her modesty is touched ' ' ^^'** 
 
 By such concession. As for Ferdinand, 
 'Ihou shall decree his punishment. 
 • Ta. • Nny, sire; 
 
 I shall not ask that. I have here a letter 
 Writ by my father, urging my return : ' ." 
 
 lie needs my troops. I look for yOur permission" 
 To take my leave to-night. As for the matter . 
 Which brought me liere, the service I was able 
 To render your majesty has given me ' '" . ' ' 
 Much pleasure, as the recital will my father. 
 And should confirm our friendship. . I confess '*** 
 'Tis disappointment to me that .the league •■ 
 Cannot be knit by marriage, and to have seen 
 The princess hath much slinrpened my fegVet. 
 Could she have loved me,- I had held myself 
 Not so unworthy of her grace. . ' 
 
 K. Stay, stay. 
 
 Pray misinterpret not this fool's presumption 
 As her consent. • 
 
 Ta. O nay. 
 
 K. ■ I see thou'rt wronged. 
 
 I bear thee no ill-will for thy resentment : '■ . 
 
 I should feel shame for the^ wert. thou not sTiamed : 
 But all shfill be atoned for : the' unbeliever ^'^^ 
 
 Shall pay full penally. Thou shalt decjee it* 
 
 Ta', 'Might that rest' with mp, I'd be quit of him ; 
 DeAl courteously, nnd send him home to Spain 
 To wive among his kin. 
 
 A'. Be not so hasty. 
 
 Make not so much of this. I promise thee 
 All shall be well. Stay, prince, and Perdinand 
 Shall lose his head this very day. '• • 
 
 Ta. Your majesty 
 
 Mistakes me ; I cannot sue. My troops are warned. 
 
 K. Cannot I stay thee ? .Now, by God, il4 done. 
 I am w.ronged, wronged. 
 
 Ta. Farewell,- sire : in such a soreness 
 
 Few words are wisest. What Allah forbids 
 Must be renounced. 'Tis of necessity 
 I now depart. Yet should you need me again. 
 Send, and I come. God's peace be with you. [Exil. 
 
 K. He is gone — 
 
 Incredible ! Consenting : I could not gloss it : 
 Before my eyes, the eyes of Africa. 
 Is this her secret? this her melancholy 
 That cannot love? Treachery and apostasy ! 
 Or is it that sick passion, some have suffered" 
 For things strange and detestable. I will see her : 
 She shall renounce it.^-Holal [Calling.) Ho! 
 
 ■within — 
 No cure but that : immediate disavow'al, 
 lire 'tis too late. O shame ! [Calls. ) Ho there, within ? 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 [To serzant.) Give word that the princess attend me 
 . here. ' -. . [Exit seivant. 
 
 That devil knowB ;, he looked as if helinew. 
 AT\d Sala knew it. 'Twas for this he urged • 
 The villain's lilierty. He shall go free ... 
 Tohell . . . and I will grant such liberty 
 To all who have seen him. There's one hiding-place, 
 W'here I may stow dishonour. But for her, ^^" 
 
 My daughter ; if yet pferchance there is any spot 
 Tp all her heart untainted by this shame 
 Which I may reach, that natural .piety 
 May feel my yearning sorrow . . . Tenderly, 
 
 Enter Almth. 
 Tenderly must I work. Lo, where she comes, 
 Her shameful head bowed down with consciousness. 
 Come, Almeh, come ; come nearer. See : 
 TJiy tender grace, thy beauty's perfect flower, • 
 The vesture of thy b&ing ; all thy motions, 
 Thoughts, and imaginations, thy desires, ' ' ■**'" 
 
 ■p"ancies, and dreams ; whate'er from day to day' 
 Thou art, and callst thyself, what is it all 
 But part of me ? .Art thou the beauteous branch, 
 I am the gnarled tnmk that bore and bears thee ; . 
 The root that feeds. I call thee not to judgnjent; 
 Only to save •what most I prize, thy name, ' 
 And mine : there's one way that can be : Morocco 
 Jlath tJiken- his leave : before he leave must thou 
 Beg him to see Ihy injury avenged. 
 And for thine honours sake imist on thy knees ■ ""*. 
 Bid me revenge it. If ori the same day 
 The Christian prince insulted thee he die. 
 And die at thy request, before the- eyes 
 That saw thy shame, ere busy tongues can tell 
 A tale in the ear, such speedy' penalty , 
 Will /right the scandaJ to a taleof terror. 
 And save our name. Withal He is a prince. 
 And that a prince should die may. welt atone. 
 What sayst thou, child ? ' ' • 
 
 Al. Bid me not s^eak. 
 
 AT. tliy t^^rs 
 
 And sobsT cannot read. I bid thee speak. ^''P 
 
 Al. O father! 
 
 K. Speak ! 
 
 .At. Thy words, recall thy words. 
 
 Al What words? 
 
 A I. Thy words of blood. 
 
 K. Ah, Almeh! Almeh ! 
 
 Art tliou my daughter? 
 
 Al. ' . : ' Osire, on my kiiees 
 
 I beg.' , 
 
 A'. Well, what ? . . 
 
 AL 'His life ! his life ! 
 
ii8 
 
 '^rhe Cliristian Captives, 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 A'. All, traitress. 
 
 Al. Was not thy first condition hard enough, 
 To save prince P^rdinand that I should marry 
 Another? and I consented : but when now 
 Thou knowest I love iiim . . . 
 
 A'. Love him. Thou confessest ! 
 
 Al. I hid it from thee but to save his life ; 
 Now I avow it to save him. If thou'rt wronged, ^^^^ 
 'Tis I have wronged thee : so if one must die 
 Let it be me. 
 
 K. Then perish all of us. 
 
 Al. Nay, why, when peace hath such a simple way. 
 When kindness would cure all? If thou wouldst see 
 How noble he is, how true . . . 
 
 K. Silence ! speak not 
 
 What thou hast dnred to think lest I should curse thee. 
 I in my house to see God's holy laws 
 Reversed ; my blood contaminate abroad 
 With infidfls ! Fly quickly. What thou h.ist said 
 Will keep thee prisoned till thy heart is changed. 
 Go to thy chamber. I will send thee soon 
 Physic to cure thee. PVom my sight ! Away, 
 Traitress, apostate. 
 
 Al. O father, by thy love . . . 
 
 K. Away ! away ! 
 
 Al. By all God's pity I pray thee : 
 
 For pity of me. 
 
 A' Begone, lest I should strike thee. 
 
 Al. Strike me, and I will bear it. I did the wrong. 
 Punish me and pardon. I only ask for him, 
 Take not his life. 
 
 A'. The more thou plead est for him, 
 
 The more I hate him. 
 
 Al. Heaven will soften thee. 
 
 Thou must relent. Thou wilt not slay us both. ^"^ 
 
 JC. Begone, I say. [Exit Almeh. 
 
 May all the plagues of hell 
 Torture these Christians evermore. I see 
 No safe revenge. Kill him ? and the worst believed? 
 And he my hope of Ceuta? I cannot kill him. 
 It needs considerate action. Ilola there. {Calling.) 
 I'll speak with Sala. Hola there, hola ! 
 
 Enter Sei-iant. 
 Bid Sala attend me here. [Exit sei-vant. 
 
 And if he blame me. 
 Because I harked not to him at the first. 
 He will not thwart my resolution now. 
 When policy and revenge are bound together. "^^^^ 
 
 'Tis changed. The Christian now hath done a wrong. 
 For which his death is due : I have my plan : 
 I'll starve him till he yield. I'll force him to it 
 By chains and torture till his stubborn pride 
 Pay down his ransom humbly. 
 
 Enter Sala. 
 
 Sa. Peace be with you. 
 
 JC. The devil take thy mocking salutation. 
 I have three matters for thee : attend. The first 
 Is that Morocco leaves us, and with him 
 Our army is gone ; whereon the second follows : 
 Thou must send forth with speed to all the towns ^^** 
 To levy succours ; and thy forces here. 
 Disordered in the war, visit thyself. 
 Reform, and make report. The third is this. 
 My will concerning Ferdinand, — and let that 
 
 Be first in thine attention ; — 'tis his death. 
 
 My hospitality which he hath wronged, 
 
 I now withhold ... to death — thou understandest ? 
 
 And more, 'tis death to any that shall give him 
 
 A crust or drop of water : and I will change 
 
 His entertainment. Set him in the stables ^^^ 
 
 To serve the grooms : put chains upon his feet : 
 
 Appoint a guard to enforce his tasks, and make 
 
 Mouieh their Serjeant. For the execution 
 
 I hold thee liable. Let not his life 
 
 Outdrag three days. But hark : in spite of vengeance. 
 
 And in remembrance of his claim on thee. 
 
 He may go quit upon the old condition, 
 
 Ceuta :— thou understandest ? Go tell him this. 
 
 The only hope my clemency allows. 
 
 But of my provocation not a word. •'*'*' 
 
 Be thou in time prepared to clear thyself 
 
 Of having known this mischief and concealed it. 
 
 Sa. My liege . . . 
 
 A'. Begone and do my will. Thy words 
 
 Save to persuade the prince. Speak not to me. 
 It angers me to see thee. Go. I have done. 
 
 [Exit Sala. 
 Three days I said ; three days. Within that time, 
 Unless I have my town, I'll be revenged. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Zapel and Sala, meeti'jig. 
 
 Sa. What tidings, Zapel? I have been all day 
 away. 
 And had no word. 
 
 Za. There's none of good to tell. 
 
 She hath neither ate nor slept. 
 
 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 
 Wiiat 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. 
 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 
 
Act IV.] 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 119 
 
 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 \ et 
 He lives, and whether he hath spoke of her. This 
 
 morn, 
 As I returned from such unhappy quest, 
 She gave me this : See, 'tis a letter for him . . . ^"^^o 
 
 [^Shounng 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 
 As makes me hope 1 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 a.d thy words. 
 
 [Exit Zapel. 
 I said there's hope. 'Twas hope that bade nie lie, 
 For none I see. And this is misery, 
 To cherish consolations, and be happy 
 Doing the loathed thing. Am I content 
 To bear a letter of Almeh's to her lover? 
 Allah is great. My best desire is only 
 To save her, — my one hope that the prince should 
 yield : i^oo 
 
 Ajid no persuasion but her love will move him. 
 Tliis letter will entreat him ; I must carry it. 
 
 Enter King. 
 
 K. 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 Emique and this Ferdinand. 
 The other I cannot read, and 'tis addressed 
 To Ferdinand. I doubt not that it urges 
 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 ciiange his mind. 
 
 Sa. And will you see him in (lis shameful dress? 
 
 K. Nay, that is past :— his own, and with his sword. 
 
 Sa. And his despatch ; shall I not l)ear it to him ? 
 
 K. Ay. Give it him; lake 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 tiien. (71; Sala.) Give it me. I'll keep it 
 back. "20 
 
 What is this other paper ? [Seeing A. 's letter. 
 
 Sa. I pray, my liege, 
 
 Ask not. 
 
 A'. I'll know. 
 
 Sa. I pray you trust me, sire. 
 
 A'. Trust thee! what means this? 
 
 .Sa. 'Tis a forbidden paper. 
 
 'Twould anger you to see it. 
 
 A". 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 1 judge lit. 
 
 A'. And well discovered now. 
 
 By God, wouldst thou play carrier ? Give it to me. 
 
 Sa. It hath not been five minutes in my hands. 
 
 A". 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. 
 
 A'. Go thou and do thine. [Exit Sala. 
 
 Will he too plot against me ! Let us see 
 What style she dares. T/iy death, O my beloved, 
 Already is avenged. — O very tenderly, ^'*' 
 
 And most determined. — Willingly I suffer 
 What pains of thine I may. ' 7'is all my joy 
 To have taken neither food nor rest 
 Since first thou %vert deprived ; nor will I take 
 Till thoii 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 I Then let her perish. She is dead. 
 I cast her off. 'lill jiozv 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 
 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 : 
 All curses seize me. Almeh, thou must not die. ^'' 
 
 Enter Sala. 
 
 Sa. Prince Ferdinand will come. 
 
 JC, 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 wifh such failing gasps 
 As mastering death allows to his sure prey. 
 
 A'. Thou art over-fearful ; three days without food 
 Should make him weak and faint, but not to death. 
 
I20 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 PAct IV. 
 
 Nay, I am determined now he shall not die, ^^"^ 
 
 P'ood 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 conte in 
 with table, etc., which they set doivn, 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. 
 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 Afoorish soldiers. 
 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 
 1 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 
 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. 
 
 Fer. 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.) 
 
 {Aside.) Life doth not tempt this man. ^^2* 
 
 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. 
 
 IC. Trust not to such deliverance. 
 
 Fer. Nay, O king : 
 
 For Cometh he at even or at morn, 
 To-monow or to-day, he cometh late. ^^^ 
 
 My tves 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 toiuards him. 
 
 Fer. Why should I eat? 
 
 K. (pouring). Myself I pour the wine. 
 
 Drink with me. 'Tis thy life. 
 
 Fer. Why should I live? 
 
 A'. 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 : 
 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 — 
 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 toivards food. 
 K. And will. Ay, drink. 
 Fer. And Ceuta? 
 
 K. That is mine. 
 
 Her price. 
 
 Fer. (thrusting things from hitn). Ah, never. 
 K. Dost thou then refuse ? 
 
 Fer. It cheereth death to spend my last breath thus. 
 IC. Sittest thou there balanced 'twixt death and life, 
 Daintily making choice, and to my offer 
 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 
 
Act IV.] 
 
 Ike Christian Captives. 
 
 Ill 
 
 To send him also thither, wliere thou goest 
 To thine idolatrous and thieving sires. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter from pit Chorus . . , Tivilight. 
 
 Chorus [inter se). 
 We come with labgured breath ^s*" 
 
 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 I — the broken moan 
 Of the ever-murmuring sea 
 Reaches my ear alone — 
 Come forward, ye may dare, '^90 
 
 All is quite still and free. — 
 All, 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, 
 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 
 That thou couldst see God's will ? — We are quite for- 
 saken, 1910 
 Forgotten— (i.) 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. — 
 
 (i.) Renew your courage, and devote your care 
 Tn solemn duty to the dead. Upraise 
 This noble corpse, and bear it to the bower ; 
 Where, roofed by rose and jasmine, it may lie ^^^^ 
 
 Hid from the dews of swilt descending night. 
 Take ye the feet, while I uplift the head, 
 And, grasping in the midst, ye, by his robe. 
 Bear him witn slow accommodated step, 
 Where we may best dispose his limbs in peace. 
 
 [Exeunt bearers tvUh Fer. 's body to boiver. 
 Bearers. Alas, ah ! noble prince. 
 
 What burial wilt thou have? 
 Far from where thy fathers lie, 
 In a heathen grave. 
 If grave they give thee at all. i*^^ 
 
 Yet will thy countiy mourn ; 
 And where victorious banners hang, 
 And hymns of Christian joy are sung, 
 Upraise thine empty tomb. 
 The othei-s. 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 borver. 
 
 Ch. {i). ( Who has Fer. ' j letter and sword. ) 
 
 We are saved ! we are saved ! 
 
 Ch. How saved ?— How so ? — Tell us ! — 
 
 (!•) This letter here. 
 
 Ch. What letter ? say. 
 
 (i-) 'Tis from the prince Enrique. 
 
 Ch . Read ! read ! 
 
 (l-) 'Tis written to prince Ferdinand, 
 
 In our home speech. 'Twas in his grasp. 
 
 Ch. Read ! read ! 
 
 (i.) UnL'ss I have thee in my camp to-night, 
 At morn I rescue thee. 
 
 Ch. Whefe is the camp ? 
 
 (i.) A league hence to the west, he writes. 
 
 Ch. Alas ! 
 
 Now they have slain his brother he will not coms. — 
 Or, should he come, then in the siege he makes 
 Hunger will slay us all. — 
 
 (i.) Hark then to me. {Sta^e darkens more.) 
 
 He lying so near we may escape to him. 
 
 Ch. How shall we escape ? — The guards upon the 
 walls iS'O 
 
 Would see us. — They would send pursuit of horse 
 To cut us down. — 
 
 (i) Not now. I said not now ; 
 
 But later in darkest night. 
 
 Ch. And how to escape ? 
 
 (l.) 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. 
 
 (i.) Ye trust me now ? 
 
 Ch. Ay, ay: if thou canst kill him. 
 
 (i.) Ohev me, and I will lead you forth to-night. 
 
 Ch. What to do ? 
 
 (i.) 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. 
 
 Enter K. and Sala, Left. There is li^s^ht 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 liglit within : 
 'Tis not so dark but we shall see anon. 
 
 Sa. I have loved thee, sire, so well : sei"ved 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 ? 
 
122 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 JC. When he refused, 
 
 I smote him through. 
 
 Sa. Refused ! 
 
 JC. There where he sits, 
 
 Sa. Can this be truth ? 
 
 JC. Ay, by the prophet. Ha ! 
 
 He is gone. 
 
 Sa. Nay, none is here. 
 
 JC. He hath yet found strength 
 
 To crawl away to die. 'Twill not be fiir. 
 Hark ! heardst thou that? Again. {Sighing heard. 
 
 Sa. 'Twas some one sighed. 
 
 JC. '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. 
 
 JC. Go, go. I will watch here. [Exit Sala. 
 
 Why should I fear ? 
 I'll draw my sword. {Calling.) Ferdinand ! 
 (The sighiii!^ again.) If thou canst speak, say where 
 thou art. _ "'«' 
 
 Answer me : Dost thou live? nay, sigh not so. 
 If yet ihoulivest I think I wouldabale. {The sighing.) 
 Now 'tis here, now 'tis there. Thank heaven, the 
 moon : 
 
 {Moon appears, and shows ghost of Fn-dinand 
 viidzvay 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 ajunge at him, and 
 ghost vanishes. 
 
 Enter Sala. 
 
 Sa. Wiiat noise is that ? What, sire : with thy 
 sword drawn ! 
 
 K. Uidst 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? 
 
 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. 
 
 JC. Nay, I struck him not. 
 
 Sa. 'Tis now like day. I see him nowhere, sire. 
 
 K. He haih hid himself. Look, Sala; search 
 about. 
 I'll sit awhile. See ; why the food is gone. 
 The food that he refused. He hath eaten all. 
 His weakness was but feigned. 
 
 Sa. I'll search about. 
 
 K. He stood and walked upright as if unhurt. 
 Yet how, unless he be a devil in tlesh 
 Could he have 'scaped my mortal thrust? 
 
 Sa. {in the arbour). Alas ! 20:0 
 
 He is here, he is dead. 
 
 A'. How now ! he is dead ? [Goes to arbour. 
 
 Sa. {coming out). He is slain. 
 
 May heaven forgive thee ! {Aside.) Murdered, most 
 
 basely murdered, 
 And by this shifty, inconsiderate king. 
 Murdered for pride ; because he would not take 
 The gift that was begrudged. Oh, Almeh, Almeh, 
 Thou hadst a noble and a gentle lover. 
 
 K. {re-entering). How came he there, Sala ? 
 How could I see him ? 
 'Tis true he is dead and cold. 
 
 Sa. The Christian captives 
 
 Have caused our error. They have eaten the food. 
 And laid their prince's body in the bower : ^"^ 
 
 It was their sighing that we heard, re-echoed 
 From the deep pit. 
 
 K. By heaven, 
 
 I saw him, Sala, when the moon shone out: 
 He stood upright before me ; while I spoke 
 He walked away. 
 
 Sa. 'Tis like your majesty 
 
 Hath been deluded by some airy vision 
 Bred in the troubled brain. 
 
 K. Nay, he was there. 
 
 Sa. The spirits of the dead have power to fix 
 The image of their presence in the place 
 Wiiere life was robbed : there are a thousand stories 
 Of such frail apparitions. 
 
 Enter J\fessenger. 
 
 JC. Who Cometh here? 
 
 Mess. Your majesty's command. 
 
 JC. I know thee : speak. 
 
 Mess. Tlie scouts returned report the Christians 
 camped 
 To north of Ahah on the stream's left bank. 
 They do not hold the hill, and set no guard 
 Save on their front. 
 
 K. What numbers are they guessed? 
 
 Mess. At some four thousand : and prince Fer- 
 dinand 
 Is witli them. 
 
 K. Who ? 
 
 Mess. The scouts, your majesty, 
 
 Spake of prince Ferdinand's escape. They saw him 
 Ride at full speed into the Christian camp. ^*^*' 
 
 JC. When saw they him ? 
 
 Afess. At dusk. 
 
 JC. It could not be. 
 
 Mess. They tell he galloped thro' their company. 
 Tiiey might have touched him. When tliey called his 
 
 name 
 He took no heed. Some fired their pieces at him : 
 And some pursued : V>ut he, as tho' his horse 
 Were winged, held on, nor ever turned his head. 
 And soon was out of reach. 
 
 Ji. Enougii. Begone. [Exit Messenger. 
 
 I knew I had seen him, Sala: 'tis his spirit. 
 What is thy counsel ? 
 
 Sa. Think no more of this. 
 
 Take a sufficient force within the walls : '"'*" 
 
 The rest entrenched upon the hill without. 
 We must abide their coming on at dawn. 
 
 K. WHiat is your force? 
 
 Sa. At most eight hundred men. 
 
Act v.] 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 123 
 
 K. We are so o'ermatched, Sala, I shall.not wait, 
 I shall assault their camp to-night. The darkness 
 Will hide our numbers : we will steal upon them. 
 
 Sa. I pray you, sire, be well advised. Consider, 
 If our small force be sundered in the darkness. . . . 
 
 JC. The darkness is our friend. We know the 
 ground. 
 Would I could blot the moon from heaven to-night. 
 My plan is fixed. Take thou five luindred men 
 And steal upon their rear, when battle joins 
 I with the rest will charge their front. 
 
 Sa. My duty 
 
 Bids me dissuade thee, ere I can obey. 
 
 K. I am brave to fight, Sala : but not to wait ; 
 I will not wait an hour ; nay, not an instant. 
 Thou wilt not move me. Not a word, I bid thee. 
 'Tis my last hope. Come, get thy men together : 
 If once they hear these hellisii tales, we are lost. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Moonlight. Almeh e?itenng, foUmued by 
 Zapel. 
 Za. My lady, I pray come back. *^° 
 
 The night is shaqj and cold : thou art not clad 
 To encounter its brisk sting. 
 
 Al. 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 
 Of faery moonbeams visitest our world ^^ 
 
 To make renewal of its jaded life. 
 Breathe, breathe ! 'Tis drunken with the stolen scents 
 Of sleeping pinks : faint with quick kisses snatched 
 From roses, that in crowds of softest snow 
 Dream of the moon upon their blanched 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. 
 
 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 wouklst be my muse, 
 I would enchant the sun ; 
 And steal the silken hues. 
 Whereof his light is spun : 
 And from the whispering way ^^'^ 
 
 Of the high-arching air 
 Look with the dawn of day 
 Upon the countries fair. 
 
 Za. See I will fetch thy cloak. \^Extt. 
 
 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 
 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 
 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. 
 Wondering at this I saw another marvel : '^'* 
 
 They were not clothed nor naked, but o'er each 
 A veil of quality or colour thrown 
 Showed and distinguished them, with 'nickering 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 
 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 opposed 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 
 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 griefi and shrouds his face, not to be seen ; 
 So these by their own robes were swallowed up, 
 That thinned to blackness and invisible darkness, *'*" 
 And were no more. Thus, while I wondered much 
 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 : — 
 
I 24 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Go tell Iwm that I am here. • • . ■ 
 
 Za. . . I cannot, lady. • • 
 
 AL The king and Sala are gone forth to fight : 
 There's none 'can know. Be not afraid. Obey. • 
 
 Za. Alas I a'as ! 
 
 ■Al. ■ ' Why dost thou stand and wail ? 
 
 Za. Oh, I would serve thee ; alas ! hut 'tis too late. 
 
 Al. ■ Too late ! how is't to6 late ? if he were 
 dead ... • 
 
 Za. Lady, bear up, I pray thee : for 'tis sure 
 Thy xlream betrayed the truth. 
 
 Al.- . ■ ■■ The truth ! Alas ! 
 
 Thou dost believe lie is dead. Why, folly, think 
 Ho<^ could I then be'living? It could not be 
 That I, a feeble woman, full of faintings • " 
 And fears, were more enduring to outlast 
 The pangs of hunger than is he, a man ' . *'?° . 
 
 Whom hardship hath inured. Nay, while I live 
 He must be living. • •• . . 
 
 .Zrt. • True it is. he is dead.- 
 
 Al. ThoH 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 foilh.? . Didst thou not know the cause? 
 His brother has returned in force to take hi;n. 
 Didst thou not see t-he dungeon 'tloor set wide? 
 And dar'st lie thus? .• . 
 
 . Za. (aside). Alas! what can I say? 
 
 (T(> A.) ■ Here is a chair : I pray tiiee sit awhile, 
 I will gp find him i-f I may. 
 
 Al. , {aside). ' Sh^ lied. . 
 
 Now she will fetch him. {To-Za.) Where's. the seat? 
 
 Za. . . ■ , ■ ■ Here, 'Iie^e. 
 
 Al. I am dizzy. Lead me 'to it Go fetch the 
 
 •■ prince. . . ' 
 
 . Za. Be comfort'ed. . ' _ • * 
 
 Al.' . Who hatji sat here, I sajr ? 
 
 Wlio hath sat here ?• " • ; 
 
 Za: • Prithee "be comforted. 
 
 ///.'If tills should be!- ■ ' 
 
 Za* ' : ' ■ ' ' ■ ' Verily we are God's, 
 And^untff 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 io me. . ' . • . 
 
 . Za. ' Thank .God. . 'Tis the sea air ' 
 
 Hath quickened thee. .•• 
 
 , AL' ■-.... ■'/rhinkst thoir that' vexed .riionster* 
 ■Hath. any. physic fp his briny bteath • •. •. • .. • 
 For'grief like mine? ." , . • •••..«. 
 . Zd.'- ■ Lady, have better heart. 
 
 Why, thou must; live. When .dnce thy tfeats have fallen 
 Thou wilt be comforted. " . •. ' 
 
 .. Al. • ». ^cn^' sh6uld I weep? 
 
 Bid men weep who with their light-hearted sin. 
 Make the world's misery : bid women weep 
 Who have been.untrue-to love'ahd hope : but I, 
 Why sliould I we'ep ? Begone : bring me food here. 
 
 Za. that I am glad to do.' Thank God -for this. 
 • . • ,..;■■ [Exit, 
 
 Al. Why did she lie to -me? H-ad they a plot 
 To make me think he is dead? . Sala's my friend-:, 
 Sala sent word of iiope : and- if he lives 
 
 Ail may be saved. Nay, if he be not gone, 
 
 If yet he is in the castle, I may findiiim. 
 
 I'll give him food : we will .steal forth together : 
 
 I have marked tiie way ; and by the rocks of the shore 
 
 We may lie hid till we may reach the camp. 
 
 JMovv would I had kept my strength. Had I foreseen 
 
 This chance . . . There's none aijout. 'Tis not too 
 
 lato. [N^aise oJ\n7ins a'lidJi^^JUiiig heard. 
 
 T may dare call. Prince Feidiiiand ! Good heart. 
 What nojse of battle. I'ray God he be not there. 
 Against. my sive now Tpray God : I pray 
 Our men be driven back : yet not too soon. 
 Ferdinand I Ferdijiand I Heaven grant there's noive 
 To hear but he :. and he will never hear me 
 Calling so fearfully, so faintly . . . Alas ! 
 Better to seek him. Since he is not witiiin. 
 He must be in this garden. He will have sought 
 Some-slieltef from the night. — Ah! the arbour . . . 
 
 •tharfe . . '. _ . \Goes to arhoitr. 
 
 Why, here. \Vake, Ferdinand, wake ! Come,. 'tis I, 
 We may escape. ' Come. Nay, this cannot be. 
 Ah, God !— not this. Have pity ; undo it, revoke ; 
 
 let thy hand for once undo, 
 'fhou-inightest,' O Thou mit;htest. Ah, how cold. 
 Oh ! oil I he is murdered. Blood, his blood. 'Tis true. 
 Dead, and my dream, my fate, my love ; 'tis done. 
 Tile end. Nay, God, as Thou art God, I trust Thee ; 
 Take me with hini. Here in this bower of death 
 
 1 leave my body, — to this pitiless world --''*' 
 Of hate : and to thy peaceful shores of joy 
 
 I arise. O Ferdinand ! hie 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 011 Ferdinand' s body. 
 
 Scuffling at baik of .stage^^ .the iinard runs forward, 
 followed by the Chorus. 
 Guard. - Some fiend hath pierced ray back in the 
 dark. ■ . ■ . 
 
 ' Ch. ' Hey, fellow ; ' 
 
 S.ilence,-or I will slay thee. 'Tis well ; he is dead. — 
 —Silently, silently. — Stay, stay. .Which way? — 
 Here 6'e.r the wall. — Hark thoujthere's fighting there — 
 Our meji have driven them back — we be too late. — 
 They will return — See wheVe they clinjb the wall. 
 [The shouting and fii^ing'at'e. grown quite near, and 
 sojiie figures qre seen thfoitgb the trees sealing the 
 luall frovi 'without. 
 Ch. Who bethey? 'I 
 castle- 
 Our men, 'tis th'ej». -'iWe are saved. — Make not too 
 
 sure— r 
 B.est hide.among the. trees. — .Hide, hide.— I'll take 
 The pagan's scimitar. . ' [They reiire among trees. 
 
 Enter left through -the door a feiu Moorish soldiers, 
 ^ followed by the king, whom Enrique ^urstces. 
 
 Soldiers.- To the walls ! to the walls I — 
 
 "Xoo late — they are here. 
 ■ En. (to JC.). Thy sword. Give up thy sword. 
 
 K.: 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 ! . , 
 
 'they ?^ 'S*^, tljey are swarming in the 
 
Act v.] 
 
 The Christian Captives. 
 
 125 
 
 A'. Die, 
 
 Accursed infidel : but ere thou die ... 
 
 [ T/ie soldiers set on Enriqtie ivitJi the king. 
 This hand that slayeth thee, hath slain thy brother. 
 
 En. May God forgive thee if thou speak truth. 
 
 The Captives nish out from the trees and overpower 
 the soldiers, the artned of them kill the king as he 
 fights with Enriqtu. 
 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 tJie wall now 
 come foriuard. 
 Ch. soldiers. Victory ! victory ! 
 
 The castle is taken. 
 En. ' Some go seize the towersi 
 Make speed : there may be men we know not of. 
 Take store of ammunition. [Some run off. 
 
 Enter inore Christian soldiers by door (L.), leading 
 Sala prisoner. 
 
 1st Soldier. Here is the general taken. 
 
 En. . Sala ben Sala ! 
 
 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 sjyord : 
 
 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- daath 
 At the hands of his own 'prisoners, who ran 
 Upon him from the trees and cut him down. 
 
 Sa. By their hands fell he on this spot ? 
 
 En. ". - •;*.'• •-;'..• 'Twas so. 
 
 Sa. O justest stroke qif .'fale. • 'Twas here he slew 
 The prince thy brotheri,' ,.• ' .-,;'•.*.. 
 
 En. " JTelKme, nof,' I pray, 
 
 That brag of his was true. ' ."• ■. 
 
 Sa. , • Alas, 'tis tnje. 
 
 En. My brother is dead ! Ferdinand, Ferdinand ! 
 . Sa. Thy grief is as my shame. 
 
 En. , Eternal shamfe. 
 
 He who spared thee : your royal prisoner. 
 Murdered. . ■ 
 
 Sa. Forbear. I'll lead thee where he lies,-.'. 
 
 See thou, he is in the bower. 
 
 E71. {approaching boTMer). Ah I my bi^ve.brother ! 
 Is thy proud spirit no more ? But what is this ? 
 Who is this woman that with eager arms 
 Embrac^th his pale corpse ? • 
 
 Sa. (pressing forzijard). How sayst thou ? Almeh. 
 Dead, dead. 
 
 En. Not so, she is warm. 
 
 ■^a. Ahneh. 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. 
 ( I.) Joy of our heavy prison ; Ch. Rescued too late- 
 Beauty too fair. (I.) Ah ! surely in earth's prison . . . 
 Ch. A mortal as immortal made — . . ^^^ 
 
 O unforeseen her end ! Lament, lament ! 
 
 (i.) Our woe is a storm, our hope the fringe oCa 
 shade. 
 
 The smile ef a cloud by tempest rent. 
 Ch. A dawn in vain arisen. ^ — 
 
 Alma is dead : 
 And we, to onr superfluous prayer 
 Permitted still, our lives.have won, — 
 Shaking in fear to be untimely undone, — 
 By long misdoing iindone, unworthy who were ; — 
 Saved by her, but saved too late. 
 
 Alma the fair, 23i» 
 
 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 toteil it. 
 
 En. . , And was't for that . 
 
 Tliy. king slew Feijiiriand? ■ ■. , 
 
 Sa. ' , • - ." . ' That was not all : 
 
 For Satan. did persuade our thwafteous king . 
 To make a godless bargain of their loves : ^^° 
 
 ' He wpuld have given his daughter ta the Princ? 
 As Genoa's price. When he rtfused, 'twas then 
 In pride and wrath he slew him. _ . '. * 
 
 En. Alasj rriy l>rotheir. 
 
 Inflexible in honour against thyself. ' 
 If but for a day thou hadst seemed t9 niake.CQDsent^ 
 All had. been well. - .' ' 
 
 Sa. • . Not well for, him. He.3ived '• \ 
 
 And died wilh tonigue as faithful as his soul. . . ' '. 
 
 Ch. He tells not all. Maybe he doth not know".' ' 
 
 En. • What's more to tell ? ' , ■ " 
 
 Cfi. ■ O .sir, the princess here, 
 
 Who loved thy brother, learned the faith of us. ^'^ 
 
 Her name is Alma. She is a Ghri^tian. , 
 
 5V?. ■ - Yea, 
 
 'Tis tme. I knew it. I would have hidden it from thee. 
 In this we areshamedmost. Prince Ferdinand ■ 
 Conquered us here. His love and not his arms^- 
 Wove our disaster. , 
 
 . Chor. .Love and faith have conquered. 
 
 Yet did his S\yOrd no less avenge his death. ' 
 See, printe, 'tis here, wet with the murderer's blood. 
 It saved thee. For this we may rejoice : 
 And that we shail 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. 
 
126 
 
 Tlie Christian Captives. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 I wipe out debt ; knowing that thou hast been 
 
 Generous and faithful to my hapless brotiier. 
 
 Let us make peace. Possess you what was yours 
 
 Before this war : I shall lead back my troops, 
 
 Nor vex your kingdom further. But I claim 
 
 The body of your princess, to inter 
 
 lu Christian ground. One grave shall bold these lovers. 
 
 Sa. I would not separate them, — Heaven be my 
 witness, — 
 But sliouldst thou bury Almeh in some spot 
 Whereto I might not come, there's nothing left 
 For Saia on this earth but still to fight, 
 To gain possession of that holy tomb. 
 
 £n. Fear not, for I will have their sepulchre 
 In Ceuta, and there to thee it shall be granted 
 To enter when thou wilt. 
 
 Sa. I loved her, prince. 
 
 Before thy brother. 
 
 JSn. 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 
 In various countries ; and by what safe roads 
 They may knit peaceful commerce, — this is well, 
 And this hath ben, 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. 
 
 C/i. . Thou wilt lead us home. 
 
 £ni Peace ! peace ! 
 
 So much is sa\^d. Now have ye mournful duty 
 Here to the dead. . Bring ye these lovers in. 
 Let there be no more speech. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Yattendon, 1886. 
 
 NOTE. — This -play, Jiamed after- tJu chorus, is on the same subject as Cal.ieron's El Principe 
 ConstantCj/rflw which the little common to. both plays is directly taken. Some of the differences 
 are historic, but the most dramatic. Sala ben Sala, whose fine figure is substituted for Muley, is a 
 famous warrior; 'a?td the- whole siory has this claim on English, attention, that the Portuguese 
 Regulus, Ferdinand, and his brother Hohr>', "the Navigator" ^ juore sdlid renowir, were grand- 
 children of]o\\n. of Gaunt, through his daughter Phiiippa, who was 7iiarried to King Joam I. The 
 history is shortly given in the J^ing of Fez' long speech, page 103, line 120 et seq. 
 
 Some of the verbal contractions in the printing, where apostrophes supplant vowels, are 
 accidefttalj but sometimes they are intended for guided to the rhythm in otherwise doubtful places. 
 
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