Chapter I: Part 1

POETICAL WORKS
of
ROBERT BRIDGES

Volume V

[Colophon]

London
Smith, Elder & Co.
15 Waterloo Place
1902

OXFORD: HORACE HART
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY

_POETICAL WORKS OF_

_ROBERT BRIDGES_

_VOLUME THE FIFTH_

_CONTAINING_

_THE CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES_ _p._ 1

_HUMOURS OF THE COURT_ 127

_NOTES_ 293

LIST OF PREVIOUS EDITIONS

_CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES._

1. _THE CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES. A Tragedy in Five Acts in a mixed manner. Published by Ewd. Bumpus. Holborn Bars. London, 1890. 4to. pp. 101-116._

_HUMOURS OF THE COURT._

1. _THE HUMOURS OF THE COURT. A Comedy in Three Acts. Published by Geo. Bell & Sons and J. and E. Bumpus, Lim. London. 4to. pp. 147-181 [1893]._

THE CHRISTIAN
CAPTIVES

A TRAGEDY
IN A MIXED MANNER

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

_KING OF FEZ._
_ALMEH_ _his daughter._
_SALA BEN SALA_ _his General._
_TARUDANTE_ _Prince of Morocco._
_FERDINAND_ }
} _Princes of Portugal._
_ENRIQUE_ }
_ZAPEL_ _maid to Almeh._

_CHORUS OF CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES._

_Soldiers, Guards, and Messengers._

_The scene is in the garden of a castle of the King of Fez,
by the sea._

CHRISTIAN CAPTIVES

ACT·I

_ALMEH and ZAPEL._

_ALMEH._

Why 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!

_ZAPEL._

If thou hadst ever seen it, where were now
Thy joy? ’tis novelty 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? 10
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.

_Al._ Last night I know not, Zapel,
Whether I slept or waked,—

_Za._ 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 heardst.

_Al._ Ah! prisoners in the castle: I had forgot:
’Twas told me. And they are Christians! Can it be
They sing so sweetly?

_Za._ Nay, I call it not sweet. 31
’Tis sadder than the moaning of the wind
To hear them praise their god.

_Al._ 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
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.

_Al._ Who be they? 40
What is their fault?

_Za._ They are captives in the war.

_Al._ My father doth not use his captives so.

_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.

_Al._ 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; and yet—
I would that thou couldst think as I.

_Al._ Indeed, 51
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 see them?

_Al._ I shall ask my father
To grant them, if it be but once a day,
To walk at liberty within the walls. 60

_Za._ ’Tis pity Sala is not here.

_Al._ Thy meaning?

_Za._ The general hath the keeping of the castle,
And he would work thy way in any wish,
Howe’er preposterous.

_Al._ And thou sayst not ill.
Sala is approachable and kind at heart:
’Tis pity he is away. [_Trumpets heard 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. 70
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 water. 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 80
There was enchantment. Could I have my will,
So would I live. And where’s the gain to be
The daughter of a king, if 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._

_KING._

Almeh! my rose of June!
Queen of my gardens, flower of all my kingdom!

_Al._ Honour be thine, my sire.

_K._ I bring thee joy.
Hast thou not wondered why I sent for thee?

_Al._ Why was it? I long to know.

_K._ (_giving_). See for thyself. 90

_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 this be he,
Who made of late entreaty for my hand,
Prince Tarudante ...

_K._ A happy omen. Ay,
Look, girl, and love him, for he wooes thee well
With all Morocco.

_Al._ Yet I cannot love
Thy wish to banish me so far.

_K._ Thy marriage
Will bring Morocco nearer, and renew 100
Our old alliance: for thy valiant lover
Comes not 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 love that comes with war to woo.

_K._ But war that shall bring peace, whose lasting olive
May not be sceptred in my hand, until
This fallen jewel be set back in my crown.
Thy marriage with Morocco shall wipe out 110
The old dishonour that hath vexed my reign.

_Al._ And yet doth Ceuta, sire, in all thy kingdom
Rank as a little town.

_K._ Thou art 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. 120
Our ancestors, thou knowest, blest be their 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 they sat to rule,
Their prudence slept: for that half-barbarous race,
Whom conquering they had spared, grew up more apt
In arms, and rising ’gainst our easy folk
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 130
Behind the ocean as an ample shield.
’Twas in thy grandsire’s time, ere thou wert born,
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 barrier thitherward.
Impregnable we deemed it, and indeed
Impregnable have found it ’gainst ourselves 140
For twenty years besieging it in vain.
Then should this shame, unbearable to us,
Prove but incitement to our foes, a foothold
For further wresting. Two months have not passed
Since that a new Armada sailed from 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! 150
They fell, they fled; and such as fled not lie
Dead on our sands, or in our dungeons chained.

_Al._ Are those the captives in the castle pit?

_K._ Ay, but thou breakst my tale;—mark what I tell.—
The victory mine, I looked to make fair peace,
And would have given my prisoners in exchange
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 160
That Sala marched five days ago. Meanwhile
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
I have to tell thee. However Sala fare,
And hitherto no news comes from his camp,
’Twere no achievement worthy of Tarudante 170
To make dispersal of a broken foe:
I shall propose a greater enterprise;
I’ll say ’Thou wilt not grudge to sweep the bounds
Of the fair realm, whose heiress thou wouldst wed.
Make we this compact—Win me Ceuta back
And drive the idolaters across the sea,
Ere thou take home my daughter for thy queen.’

_Al._ But doth Morocco, sire, know I am here?

_K._ Nay, nor myself knew, when I sent for thee,
How ’twould fall out: ’twas timed most happily. 180

_Al._ But coming not to woo, may he not find
Offence in the constraint; as I confess
I feel to lay it on him, tho’my lover?

_K._ Nay, nay, girl; he is in earnest; meet him frankly;
’Tis by his love thou shalt restore my town.

_Enter Messenger._

_MESSENGER._

News from the army, Sire.

_K._ Thou lookest black:
What is it? speak.

_Mess._ O mighty 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 190
And all the camp were captive.

_K._ God forbid!
Five thousand men were there: be none escaped?

_Mess._ Such as in darkness fled.

_K._ And fledst thou thence?

_Mess._ The general sent me on.

_K._ And what of him?

_Mess._ The dawn discovered him, when all was lost,
Fighting on foot upon a little hill,
Surrounded by the foe; when seeing no hope,
He made surrender to the Christian leader,
Who gave him liberty. Thus far to tell
He bade, and that he followed speedily. 200

_K._ When will he come?

_Mess._ Sire, tho’I used all duty,
He hath overtaken me and dismounts without.

_K._ Go, wait upon him. [_Exit Messenger._
Accursed be the seed
Of these idolaters. Five thousand men,
The best in Fez: the right arm of my power
Lost in one night. Five thousand men were there.
Ah! by God’s holiest names!

_Al._ Thank heaven, dear father,
The best is saved, if Sala be escaped.

_K._ True, girl: and from the ill there’s good to come:
Their victory will lead these devils on. 210
Ay, they will come. They know not of Morocco;
They run into a trap.

_Al._ Will you make peace?

_K._ God bids us smite these hogs: I would that hell
Were deeper to receive them.

_Enter Sala._

Sala ben Sala, peace be with thee!

_SALA._

The peace of heaven be thine, my king!

_K._ Thou comest
Most swiftly from the battle.

_Sa._ With less haste
Than needed; but fatigue and wounds delayed me.
What see I? The princess here! Alas, alas!
O my disaster!

_Al._ Now I thank God, Sala, 220
That thou’rt alive.

_Sa._ To such shame is not good.
Sire, while there’s time, escape; and leave me here
To hold the castle for thee as I may.

_K._ Have thou no fear, Sala. My daughter, go:
Leave us alone: or better sit thou there,
And hear what Sala tells: and, Sala, thou
Begin the tale, for which thy messenger
Hath well prepared my ear. Here is thy seat.

_Sa._ Hear then, 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 231
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
I 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 240
The flash of arms and dust of troops moving
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 surprise,—
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, 250
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 shadowy glens
The night hid their attack: our disposition
Was else not ill. Taking sufficient force,
I turned to clear the rear; but in the dark
Met with great numbers. How we fought God knows,
Surrounded on all hands. If any fled 261
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
To speak of the disaster, but that prince,
Clement as valiant, questioned courteously
My name, and hearing it returned my sword, 270
And bidding me choose out from all his suite
What horse I fancied,—for my own was 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 my tale.
Allah is great, and what he doth to-day
To-morrow he may undo.

_K._ This courteous Christian
Is but a fool: for had he kept thee fast,
He might have had his men in thy exchange. 280

_Sa._ No less now must thou grant them.

_K._ No, by God.
Hark, Sala: these few days thou hast been away
Have brought me from the east four times the force
Which thou ill-fatedly hast lost. Morocco
Lies camped a short league hence, and in his tents
Are twenty thousand men.

_Sa._ Morocco is here?

_K._ Said I not well? Is he not one to meet
These Christians? Let them come. How many be they?

_Sa._ Eight, maybe, or nine thousand. Where’s Morocco?

_K._ At Alcabar. When look they to be here? 290

_Sa._ They have no thought we can oppose their host,
And will not hasten.

_K._ We will be ready for them.
Prepare to leave by noon: thou must collect
What men thou canst. I will go write my summons
To Tarudante. Stay: I have not enquired
What are thy wounds.

_Sa._ Nothing that should forbid
Immediate service: food, an hour of rest
Will make me fit.

_K._ In three hours be thou ready. [_Exit._

_Al._ Go thou within, Sala; and rest thee now.
Or wilt thou first take food?

_Sa._ There’s time enough. 300
Bid me not hence, my rest and food are here.
How cam’st thou hither?

_Al._ The king sent for 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 soldiership. I doubt not Ferdinand
Is a most worthy foe: I rather fear
He hath a quality unconquerable.

_Sa._ Ha! then I am scorned. 310

_Al._ I mean he is generous:
He set thee free. Couldst thou not match that deed?

_Sa._ As friend or foe I would outmatch him bravely.
Nay but to see him in his angel-fairness
Provoked my emulation, and I vowed
Some day to kill his horse, and take his sword,
And cry him quit.

_Al._ Still thou’rt for war: ’twere better
Repay him with the gift that he demands,
These miserable captives.

_Sa._ I would have done so.
But thou didst hear the king refuse. He is sworn
To grant no terms till Ceuta be restored. 320
Our law moreover doth forbid this traffic,
To exchange our captives with the infidels.

_Al._ But hast thou then thyself, Sala, no power
To do them any kindness; or for me
Wilt thou not grant them so much liberty
As to walk in the garden once a day?
If I might speak with them I might do somewhat
To pay the debt we owe their general;
And to speak truth, for my own sake I ask it.

_Sa._ How for thy sake?

_Al._ I wish to hear them sing. 330

_Sa._ How could that please? Who told thee that they sing?

_Al._ ’Twas last night, Sala, as I lay long awake
Dreamily hearkening to the ocean murmur,
Softer than silence, on mine ears there stole
A solemn sound of wailful harmony:
So beautiful it was that first I thought
This castle was enchanted, as I have read
In eastern tales; or else that ’twas the song
Of people of this land, who make the sea
Their secret god, and at midnight arise 340
To kneel upon the shore, and his divinity
Trouble with shrilling prayer: or then it seemed
A liquid-voicèd choir of spirits that swam
Upon the ocean surface, harp in hand,
Swelling their hymns with his deep undersong.
That was the Christian captives.

_Sa._ ’Twas the night
Softened their wails to sweetness: as the space
’Twixt hell and heaven makes the cries of the damned
Music to the angels.

_Al._ Sala, ’tis not the king,
’Tis thou art cruel; thou hast a heart of hate. 350

_Sa._ O nay, a heart of love. I would not count
Dishonour, Almeh; I would be at peace
With shame and infidels and all the world,
Wouldst thou be mine.

_Al._ Now, if my father heard thee!
Thou dar’st much, thinking that I cannot tell:
Which if I have never done, ’tis that I am loth
To lose so old a friend; ’tis pain to see
That as I am grown from childhood, thou art grown
From friendship, and for loving me too much
Must love me now no more.

_Sa._ Ah! what is that? 360
A portrait in thy hand? Nay show it me.
Why dost thou blush? Who is the happy one
Thou carriest thus to gaze on?

_Al._ Look and see.

_Sa._ ’Tis Tarudante. O thou faithless Almeh,
To speak of friendship who hast never told me
Thou hast a lover. Now I see the cause
Why thou art here. This boy.—’Tis a smooth cheek,
A pretty picture. Ah! wert thou not shamed
To slight me for a sprinkling of grey hair
About my temples, thou wouldst never thus 370
Have hid thy passion.

_Al._ Tho’thou hast stolen from me
A privilege to love me, I deny thee
The liberty to judge me and reprove.

_Sa._ Ever, when thou hast bidden my love be dumb,
My tongue hath been obedient: but my anger,
My jealousy will speak. How gottest thou this?

_Al._ Question not so, or I will never tell.

_Sa._ Have pity, Almeh, and tell me.

_Al._ Then ’tis thus.
My father gave it me this very hour,
As herald of the prince whom it portrays. 380
He comes on double mission, first to fight
Against our foes ...

_Sa._ Hast thou consented, Almeh?

_Al._ If ’tis my father’s will, and if the prince
Be earnest in his courtship ...

_Sa._ Ah! thou dost wish it.

_Al._ My wish can count but little: but my wish
Is not for this nor any other marriage.

_Sa._ Thou hast yielded to the thought. Would I had died
On Ferdinand’s sword; or that his ear had ne’er
Heard my ill-fated name, Sala, far happier
Chained in a Spanish galley, than set free 390
To find thee in a rival’s arms.

_Al._ O shame!
How have I yielded?

_Sa._ Thou hast taken in hand
This cursèd portrait: held it ...

_Al._ Nay, I pray.

_Sa._ Gazed on it, fondled it: a pictured boy!
Thy champion.

_Al._ I bid thee think....

_Sa._ A painted image!

_Al._ And what, pray, wouldst thou have had me do?

_Sa._ What do?
Never to have taken it: refused it: scorned it:
Cast it beneath thy feet: trodden it to atoms.

_Al._ Thou wrongst me, Sala, now: thou art overcome
With fasting and much fighting.

_Sa._ O, I am wronged 400
To have the temper of my passion 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 shouldst say my last word was unkindness,
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: 410
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.

ACT · II

_ALMEH and ZAPEL listening. The Christian Captives are singing at back
among the trees._

CHORUS.

_Jesu dulcis memoria,
Dans vera cordis gaudia;
Sed super mel et omnia
Ejus dulcis præsentia._

_ZAPEL._

How strange a moan!

_ALMEH._

Hush, Zapel, hush: go in.
Leave me. Stay, I will go with thee so far 420
That they shall think we both are gone. This way.

_Almeh and Zapel go aside. Exit Zapel. Almeh enters arbour._

CHORUS. _Jesu decus angelicum,
In aure dulce canticum,
In ore mel mirificum,
In corde nectar cælicum._

_Nil canitur suavius,
Nil auditur jucundius,
Nil cogitatur dulcius,
Quam Jesu Dei filius._

_Al._ (_aside_). They sing of Jesus, whom they make their god, 430
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, 440
’Tis but a debt I owe you for the pleasure
Your music wakes within me. Come this way.

_Ch._ Lady, we thank thy grace and gentleness:
But yonder grove contents us, in the shade
Where if we walked retired, we shall not strain
The privilege we prize.

_Al._ Why, since I ask,
Take courage, come. There’s none will see but I.

_Ch._ We dare not disobey.

_Al._ Come forward, hither.
I bid you all for pleasure as my friends.
And ye could much delight me, would ye tell 450
What theme ye lately sang: for though sweet music
Needs no interpretation, yet the thought
That gives occasion to the smile of love
Is dear itself; and I am like a lover
Wondering what fancy ’twas, that bred a strain
Of such deliberate joy.

_Ch._ Forbid the thought,
Lady: the sea, with whose expansive sight
Thou thoughtest to rejoice our prisoned eyes,
Doth not dissever us from our lost homes
With wider deeper gulf, than that which lies 460
Betwixt our souls and thine. Thou mayst not know.

_Al._ I know ye sang of Jesus.

_Ch._ And knowing that,
Wouldst thou know more?

_Al._ Ay, tell me.

_Ch._ Praised be God!

_Al._ I envy you your skill. I prithee tell me
What was’t ye sang.

_Ch._ The praise of Jesus’name.
’Tis what all nature sings; the whole creation
Ceaseth not, nor is silent in his praise:
Neither God’s angels, nor the spirit of man
With speech directed unto him, nor things
Animate nor inanimate, by the mouth 470
Of them that meditate thereon: which praise
Music hath perfected, and that we use
Less for his glory, than that thence our souls
May from their weariness arise to him,
In whom is our refreshment and true strength.

_Al._ I pray you sing again.

_Ch._ If thou wilt hear,
We will sing more.

_O Jesu mi dulcissime,
O spes spirantis animæ,
Te quærunt piæ lacrymæ,
Et clamor mentis intimæ._

_Al._ Music ne’er found a better speech. I pray 482
Could I sing with you? Could I learn your art?

_Ch._ Thou hast the master-secret, loving it.

_Al._ Many have that: and I can sing alone,
But ne’er have learned your many-voicèd skill.

_Ch._ That is the maker’s art: the song being made,
’Tis to sing strictly, and to teach thy phrase
Confident rivalry, as if thou knewest
Thy passion was the deepest, and could blend 490
The wandering strains in closer harmony.

_Al._ Make me your pupil. How should I begin?

[_Drums and trumpets without._

_Ch._ The king!

_Al._ Break off, my father is returned;
Lest he should enter here, haste to your bounds,
And be not seen. There will I visit you,
Or bid you forth again.

_Ch._ We thank thee, lady.

_Re-enter Zapel, hurriedly._

_Za._ My lady, hast thou heard?

_Al._ What is it, Zapel?

_Za._ The infidels are routed, and the king
Is coming from the field with Tarudante,
Prince of Morocco, and between them ride 500
The two chief captains of the unbelievers,
Princes of Portugal: be Allah praised.

_Ch._ Alas! O woe, alas! Forgive us, lady,
That thus we weep before thee.

_Al._ Nay, be sure
I pity you myself, and could not blame
Your natural grief. But ’tis the vice of war,
That whatsoever side hath victory,
The misery is alike, nor in the advantage
Is aught to compensate the evil done.
May God give strength to right!

_Ch._ Amen, Amen! 510
(_To Z._) Pray, lady, didst thou say Prince Ferdinand
Was taken?

_Za._ Ye may question him himself;
Talk not with me.

_Al._ I beg you, friends, be gone:
Ye must not stay.

_Ch._ We will depart and mourn
Within our sultry pit. [_Exeunt._

_Al._ My father comes?

_Za._ He is at the gate.

_Al._ Whate’er thou’st seen or heard
Between me and these hapless prisoners,
See that thou tell not.

_Za._ ’Tis an accursed thing.

_Al._ ’Tis not for thee to judge, but do my bidding.

_Za._ And thou shouldst trust me better.

_Al._ I do trust thee,
And therefore bid thee thus.

_Za._ And I obey. 521

_Al._ Is not this Ferdinand they spoke of, he
Whose chivalry we thank for Sala’s life?

_Za._ That’s he.

_Al._ Then I shall see this red-crossed knight,
The noblest of them all. The general said
He was of angel fairness: then he is cousin
To the emperor of England.

_Za._ Thou shalt see
A Moor worth fifty Christian Portuguese,
His conqueror, thy lover Tarudante,
Heir of Morocco.

_Al._ Silence: see they come. 530

_Enter King with Tarudante and Ferdinand, followed by Enrique and Sala._

_Za._ (_to A._). There’s Tarudante.

_Al._ (_aside_). There is Ferdinand.

_KING_ (_to T._).

Now, noble prince, thou hast overcome our foes;
This is thy second battlefield, whereon
Thy love may win like conquest as thy sword.
Pitch here thy tent, and make thy war in peace.
Forget the reeking and gore-dappled plain
Mid scent of pinks and jasmin, and the flush
Of oleander and full-blooded rose.
See, I will lead thee to the virgin fortress
That thou mayst kneel to take. Come hither, Almeh:
Here is the prince thy lover. Tarudante, 541
Behold her whom I offer thee for queen.

_Al._ (_aside, coming forward_). Now of these two
might I but choose.

_K._ Come, daughter,
Put off this modesty.

_Al._ (_aside_). My eyes refuse him.

_TARUDANTE._

Lady, forgive my boldness in desiring
What I had never seen. Thy beauty’s fame,
The high nobility of this alliance
Led me so far; but now I have seen, I see
I must be bolder, or renounce my boldness,
That begged a grace so far beyond my thought. 550

_Al._ I should be much ashamed, prince, if thy suit,
Which seeks the honour of my father’s house,
Stumbled at my unworthiness: but praise
Of pictures,—and mere beauty is no more,—
Exalteth but the maker. May the days
Thou spendest here with us be rich in peace. [_Going._

_FERDINAND_ (_aside to En._).

By heaven, the devil is gentle to these Moors:
They match our folk in beauty as in arms.

_K._ Stay, Almeh, stay! [_Almeh turns._

_ENRIQUE_ (_to F._).

These be the Spanish Arab: such a race
Sprang never from the sooty loins of Ham. 560

_Al._ (_to K._). Excuse me, sire, I pray.

[_Exit with Zapel._

_Fer._ (_to En._). Devil or angel or Arab, she hath stolen my soul.

_Tar._ Such perfect grace, such speech and modesty
Outbid my fancy; I would fight thy battles
For twenty years to call thy treasure mine.

_K._ I say she is thine, and she is my only child.

_SALA_ (_aside_).

And I must hear this spoken, and hold my peace.

_K._ So now, prince Ferdinand, the chance of war
In making thee my captive gives me power
To dictate terms which shall content us all. 570
Thou shalt go free—that is my gift to thee:—
But in return for that,—my profit this,—
I will have Ceuta; ’tis an ancient town,
By name and people African, and held
By followers of the prophet from the day
When truth unconquerable like a flood
Of sunlight dawned on the benighted west.
Thy father robbed it from us, and I ask
That thou restore it. ’Tis thy ransom, prince.
The king, thy brother, will not grudge to yield 580
To me, a king, part of mine own, which he
Wrongfully came by; if so, he may buy thee,
His natural own, his flesh and blood, whom I
Conquered in self-defence. I’ll keep thee here,
Till I may know his will: and to learn that
I’ll send thy brother home, the prince Enrique,
To bear him, with what speed he may, the tidings
Of thy defeat, captivity, and the terms
Of thy release. Look not so sorrowful.

_Fer._ I thank your majesty for just rebuke 590
Of my discourtesy. By selfish gloom
I mar my entertainment, and belie
My gratitude for kindness to me shewn
Since I was prisoner.

_K._ No thanks for that:
Nor seek I to impose a countenance
Upon thy proper feeling. Yet if now
Thou’rt sad, I spake in vain.

_Fer._ ’Tis for my fault
And ill-success I am sad—to have lost my troop,
Or led them to the fate of those whose rescue
They thought to be—not for my private case, 600
Wherein your terms of ransom but make hope
Impossible: the cession of a town
Under the king’s protection, and therewith
The peril of so many Christian souls,
The desecration of our hallowed churches,
The abandonment of loyal loving subjects
Unto the heavy yoke which Islam lays
On true believers. No king would give ear
To such a compact: and your claim falls short;
For what you have urged doth not lay bare the root.
Ceuta is African, but not for that 611
Mahommedan: this thirsty continent
Had drunk the truth for full four hundred years
Before your prophet’s birth; and now we fight
To win back from Mahommet what he took
By force from Christ.

_K._ What matters it to me
What happened in the days of ignorance?
’Tis written in our book, that the whole world
Shall feel our sword.

_Fer._ ’Tis writ in ours, that they
Who take the sword, shall perish by the sword.

_K._ Surely ’twas truly spoken of yourselves. 621
Yet will I make no change, but my demand
Shall urge upon the king your brother; he
Will thank me for it.

_Sa._ Now, my gracious master,
Let me befriend our foe. ’Tis four days since
I was his prisoner, and he set me free.
This claim the prince most generously puts by;
Let us not pass it over: let him too
Go find another army: we meanwhile
Have ample force to march against the town. 630

_K._ And why should blood be spent where ink will serve?
’Twere thankless answer to our good ally
To put fresh pains upon him, and not use
His full sufficient victory.

_Tar._ My liege,
I’ll serve thee as a son, and to that title
Would prove my fitness.

_Sa._ (_aside_). By thine absence prove it.

_K._ And if thou, son, wouldst dally now with war,
Rather than grasp the hours of peace and love,
What shall I think?

_Tar._ That threat must stay me here.

_K._ Ay, stay; and I will solve thy scruple thus,
Good Sala. By the laws of chivalry 641
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 650
Of this adventure to inspect your land.
I pray make me the hostage; I am content
With any treatment, might I come to see
Your city of Fez, and from your southward folk
Learn their opinion of the Libyan coast,
Which some aver is circled by one sea
From where we stand to Suez.

_K._ And so it were,
I care no more than doth a caterpillar: 658
What could that serve? If thou’rt a man of peace,
The fitter then for our ambassador.

_En._ ’Tis not for me to choose, and you may trust me
To urge the king to treat upon your terms.
I carry them most gladly.

_Fer._ (_to K._). Now, I pray,
Do as my brother begs: let him be hostage,
And make me messenger: I will return.

_K._ Nay, nay. I doubt thee not: but ’tis my will
Thee to keep, not thy brother.

_Fer._ Then, my Enrique,
I make appeal to thee. Urge not these terms
On Edward: tell him rather I am myself,
And could not live ashamed. 670

_K._ I swear thou wrongst me,
And temptest me to use thee ill. No more.
Begone, Enrique; I shall look to thee
For amicable settlement. Go therefore,
And tell thy king I hold your brother here
Till he surrender Ceuta. As for thee,
Prince Ferdinand; thy word shall be thy chain:
Give me but that, and thou shalt have the freedom
Of all this castle.

_Fer._ I give’t your majesty.

_K._ ’Tis well: so all are suited. And thou, Enrique,
Make thy best speed.

_En._ I go, your majesty. 680

_Fer._ (_to E._). Thou know’st my mind.—

_En._ (_to F._). In any case I will deliver thee.

_K._ No words. Begone, I pray.

_En._ So fare you well. [_Exit._

_K._ (_to T._). And now, Morocco, come within: I’ll show thee
Whatever preparation in thine honour
Is ordered; hoping it may so content thee,
That thou wilt reconsider of thy threat
To leave us with the moon.

_Tar._ What here I have seen,
Might I not take it with me when I go,
Would hold me fast until the day of doom. 690

_Sa._ (_aside_). And may the day of doom come ere thou take it!

[_Exeunt K. and T._

(_To F._) Most generous prince, forgive me.

_Fer._ I thank thee, Sala.

_Sa._ I pressed the king so far as I may dare.
He hath a temper to resent advice,
Which urged, will rather drive him from the matter
It looks to favour, than assist him towards it.
I must find other paths for my goodwill.
Deem me thy servant: and o’erlook the wrong
I seem to have done thee, being again constrained
To fight against thee.

_Fer._ Say no more, my friend. 700
We serve our kings. Thou didst defeat our people
By numbers, merely numbers. I prithee tell me
The name of your princess.

_Sa._ Almeh.

_Fer._ Betrothed
Already to the prince my conqueror?

_Sa._ The thing is new. Thou know’st as much as I.

_Fer._ The prince is fortunate.

_Sa._ So is the king
In his alliance.

_Fer._ Is the marriage then
Between the kingdoms rather than the parties?

_Sa._ If ’twas your war that hath determined it.

_Fer._ It were a strained ungentle consequence, 710
That I should sail from Portugal to force
A lover on this lady’s inclination.

_Sa._ I were like grieved.

_Fer._ Her beauty far exceeds
All that I thought to find. In my own country
Our court holds not her equal.

_Sa._ I believe it.

_Fer._ And if her mind be as her speech, endowed....

_Sa._ Thou owest her so much praise for kindnesses
Done to your prisoned countrymen.

_Fer._ Ah, Sala,
Where be these captives kept? if thou wouldst help me,
I pray thee bring me in time where I may see them.
I must speak with them.

_Sa._ That is easy, prince. 721
Behind these garden grounds is a deep pit,
Used as a quarry once; steep hanging sides
Of rock it hath, that hewn away below
Are inaccessible to any foot
Save the soft lizard, that hath made his home
Among the clefts with scorpions and snakes,
And on the scorching ledges basks all day.
’Tis there these Christians lie. One way there is
Climbing by solid steps of native stone, 730
That comes up to the ground. Between those rocks
Thou seest the iron gate, and by the gate
The sentinel that keeps it. I would guide thee
To see thy countrymen; but there’s no need
To make the hard descent; for once a day,
At prayer and pity of our good princess,
’Tis granted them to come and walk above
In shadow of yon balmy cypress grove,
That skirts the northern brink: and but for this,
Their sole refreshment, all were like to have died 740
Of woe, and scant food, and the daily stroke
Shelterless of the hot meridian sun.

_Fer._ Alas!
What fault of theirs deserved such punishment?

_Sa._ That they refused confession of the prophet.

_Fer._ To acknowledge him were to renounce their faith.
That is no wrong.

_Sa._ Whether it be wrong or no,
’Tis not my will they undergo these pains.

_Fer._ I pray thee lead me to them, if thou mayst.

_Sa._ Nay, bide thou here, I will throw back the gate,
And bid them forth: and for thy less constraint 750
Will then depart. [_Goes to back, and exit._

_Fer._ Such courtesy and cruelty in one
I never thought to have met, nor found on earth
So fair a prison, with an angel in it,
And no hope of deliverance. Now I see
Nature hath vainly lavished on these Moors
Bravery and beauty and all gifts of pride;
And left them barbarous for lack of thee,
Sweet Pity, of human sorrow born: ’tis thou
Dost raise man ’bove the brutes: ’tis thou dost make
His heart so singular, that he alone, 760
Himself commiserating, against heaven
Pushes complaint, and finds within his heart
Room for all creatures, that like him are born
To suffer and perish.

_Enter Captives from gate; they run to Ferdinand as they see him._

CHOR. Hail, mighty Ferdinand!—
Hail, generous prince!—Behold
Thy countrymen enslaved.—
What hope? what hope? O say—
Arm of our fatherland, 770
What mercy may be told?—
Com’st thou to set us free?—
Are we already saved?—
Or is it true, the boast
We hear, the triumph-song?—
And art thou too as we,—
(O miserable day)—
Faln into the enemy’s hand?—
And com’st thou thus alone?
Thine army slain and lost,— 780
The cause of Christ o’erthrown.—
What hope? what hope? O say.—

_Fer._ My friends, the worst is true. Trust still in God.

_Ch._ Alas! have all our prayers been made in vain?

_Fer._ Despair not yet.

_Ch._ What hope then dost thou bring?

_Fer._ I bring you courage, friends. I come to share
Your prison, since I cannot set you free.

_Ch._ Alas! thou too art captive. All is lost.—
But if thou share our prison, shall we share
Thy ransom also, when thou goest free? 790

_Fer._ I have no ransom, friends, that ye could share.

_Ch._ No ransom!

_Fer._ Nay, no ransom.

_Ch._ Not for thee?

_Fer._ But such a ransom as cannot be paid.

_Ch._ So great?

_Fer._ Ay, even so great, that ye yourselves
Would not consent to share.

_Ch._ Tell us the sum.

_Fer._ ’Tis to surrender Ceuta to the Moor.
Now are ye silent.

_Ch._ We are flesh and blood.

_Fer._ Say ye?

_Ch._ The stones of Ceuta cannot bleed,
The walls of Ceuta would not pine as we.

_Fer._ Then take them for example: be as they: 800
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 the cross.
I was a babe then: but the nurse that rocked
My cradle sang it: How the youthful prince,
Edward my brother, led the assault and fought
With hundreds hand to hand: how in the ships,
Watching the combat, the old king himself
Could no more be restrained, but forth descending,
For envy of the fight, with agèd hands 811
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? 820

_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
Descended 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, 830
And overcame him: and the furious Sala,
Faln 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 enslavèd, all undone.

_Fer._ Be so,
Tame, cagèd wills, the off-scourings of fortune,
Mere counters of disaster! I will not yield. 841

_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
Estremadura, we remember Tagus,
The banks of Guadiana, and our homes
Among the vineyards; Ezla we remember,
Obidos and Alenquer, where the trees 850
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.

[_They all kneel to Ferdinand._

_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 860
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._

_Re-enter Almeh and Zapel._

_Al._ Lo, what is this?

_Ch._ O gracious kind princess,
Plead for us now.

_Al._ What would ye?

_Fer._ Noble lady, 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,—I beseech thee
Hear them not speak, lest thou misjudge me much.

_Al._ Rise, friends: ere I can help you, I must know
What boon ye sue for.

_Fer._ Not so: lest thou add
To theirs thy prayer, too strong to be denied.

_Al._ What fear’st thou that my voice might win for them? 880

_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 urge me do
For them the thing I will not for myself. 890

_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 within 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; for thou gavest
Life to thine enemy: and for that gift 900
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 slay: think of the myriad wounds
Softness may staunch; and how kings have no honour
Above the keeping of their folk in peace. 911

_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, wouldst thou shew 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! 920

_Fer._ If now my words in pleading for myself
Have hurt thee, lady, forgive them: nay, weep not.
Until I saw thy pity for my sake,
I had no woe to bear.

_Al._ And woe it is
To see such suffering wrought by man on man,
And seek to heal it with a woman’s words.

_Fer._ Lady, I need not pity: there’s no fortune
I have not heart for.

_Al._ Now I see these men
Have gentler hearts than thou: they gave me comfort
Receiving my compassion; thou’rt too proud. 930

_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.

_Al._ And not my father?

_Fer._ Him, lady, perforce; 940
But thee most cheerfully. To thee no less
Am I a captive.

[_Exeunt Almeh and Ferdinand and Zapel._

CHORUS. (_The leader_ (1) _speaks, answered by others_.)

Now see we hope, friends: God hath sent
His best and nearest messenger
For our deliverance.—

_Ch._ Who is he?—

(1.) What, hast thou eyes, and couldst not see?—

_Ch._ If by thy hasty boast is meant
The sudden love upsprung
Between Christ’s champion and the heathen maid,
’Tis withered on thy tongue.— 950

(1.) Heathen how call’st thou her,
Our pitying angel who hath been,
And from our mouth the word of truth received?—

_Ch._ Hath she believed?—

(1.) How shall not love persuade,
Now fallen to water God’s own seed,
And in such soil?—

_Ch._ If she confess,
’Twill but the more our tyrant’s anger feed
With tenfold torture to oppress,
Or end us all at a stroke.—

(1.) And so might be. 960
But hark ye what I whisper. Mark. Ye see
How in this garden one permitted hour
Each day we wander free....

_Ch._ Ay, ay—an hour a day—what should this mean?—

(1.) By their good help, secretly armed, I say....

_Ch._ What sayst thou? Armed!—go on.—

(1.) How easy ’twere to find
Occasion ...

_Ch._ When the foe is gone to fight
Thou meanest?—

(1.) Ay, thou’rt right....

_Ch._ And so to overpower 970
The few men left behind.—

(1.) See ye—

_Ch._ Ay, ay. Well done!
Convert our high-walled prison to a fortress strong—
To Ceuta horse a courier—or all 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?

(1.) Now tell me, was I wrong 980
Speaking of hope?

_Ch._ Nay, nay.
We make thee leader.—Show the way
To bring this soon about.

(1.) 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, 990
May work upon her, that she yearn
To set us free. With step and voice I lead.
Follow.

_Ch._ 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; 1000
But why are ye taking
My soul to follow you after,
To awake with you, and be joyful in your delighting?
Ay me!

_Enter Zapel from the garden, with a basket of flowers._

_ZAPEL._

Here are thy lilies.

_Al._ ’Tis enough of these;
I thank thee, Zapel. Now there grows a flower
Wild 'neath the castle walls, a yellow rose
It seems, of stubborn habit, branching low;
When walking on the ramparts I have seen it,
And wondered whence it drew its sustenance, 1010
In scattered tufts upon the waste sea sand;
Go to the gate, and say I sent thee forth;
And pluck me blooms, and a young stem of it
That I may plant at home: if it should thrive,
It shall be proud I ever looked upon it.
Why dost thou laugh? Didst thou not hearken, girl?

_Za._ I heard thee well: Go forth, Zapel, thou saidst;
Go where thou wilt, so thou return not soon.
Now is the hour prince Ferdinand should come:
Lovers would be alone.

_Al._ Be sure of this; 1020
’Tis my sole comfort to be rid of thee;
And when we are back in Fez, I will bestow thee
Upon another mistress.

_Za._ If ’tis Fez,
I care not. I’ll commend me to the queen
That shall be of Morocco ... why, thou goest
The way to spoil thy fortunes, and dost shame
The suit of a most high and worthy prince
By favouring the Christian.

_Al._ Favouring
Dar’st thou to say?