SCENE III.--_The Alhambra.

BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, ALMAHIDE, _and Guards, &c. The Queen wearing a scarf._

_Aben._ My little journey has successful been, The fierce Almanzor will obey the queen. I found him, like Achilles on the shore, Pensive, complaining much, but threatening more; And, like that injured Greek, he heard our woes, Which, while I told, a gloomy smile arose From his bent brows: And still, the more he heard, A more severe and sullen joy appeared. But, when he knew we to despair were driven, Betwixt his teeth he muttered thanks to heaven.

_Boab._ How I disdain this aid! which I must take, Not for my own, but Almahide's sake.

_Aben._ But when he heard it was the queen who sent, That her command repealed his banishment, He took the summons with a greedy joy, And asked me how she would his sword employ: Then bid me say, her humblest slave would come, From her fair mouth with joy to take his doom.

_Boab._ Oh that I had not sent you! though it cost My crown! though I, and it, and all were lost!

_Aben._ While I, to bring this news, came on before, I met with Selin--

_Boab._ I can hear no more.

_Enter_ HAMET.

_Hamet._ Almanzor is already at the gate, And throngs of people on his entrance wait.

_Boab._ Thy news does all my faculties surprise; He bears two basilisks in those fierce eyes; And that tame dæmon, which should guard my throne, Shrinks at a genius greater than his own. [_Exit_ BOAB. _with_ ABEN. _and Guards._

_Enter_ ALMANZOR; _seeing_ ALMAHIDE _approach him, he speaks._

_Almanz._ So Venus moves, when to the Thunderer, In smiles or tears, she would some suit prefer; When with her cestus girt, And drawn by doves, she cuts the liquid skies, And kindles gentle fires where'er she flies: To every eye a goddess is confest, By all the heavenly nation she is blest, And each with secret joy admits her to his breast.-- Madam your new commands I come to know, If yet you can have any where I go. [_To her bowing._ If to the regions of the dead they be, You take the speediest course to send by me.

_Almah._ Heaven has not destined you so soon to rest: Heroes must live to succour the distrest.

_Almanz._ To serve such beauty all mankind should live; And, in our service, our reward you give. But stay me not in torture, to behold And ne'er enjoy. As from another's gold The miser hastens, in his own defence, And shuns the sight of tempting excellence; So, having seen you once so killing fair, A second sight were but to move despair. I take my eyes from what too much would please, As men in fevers famish their disease.

_Almah._ No; you may find your cure an easier way, If you are pleased to seek it,--in your stay. All objects lose by too familiar view, When that great charm is gone, of being new; By often seeing me, you soon will find Defects so many, in my face and mind, That to be freed from love you need not doubt; And, as you looked it in, you'll look it out.

_Almanz._ I rather, like weak armies, should retreat, And so prevent my more entire defeat. For your own sake in quiet let me go; Press not too far on a despairing foe: I may turn back, and armed against you move, With all the furious train of hopeless love.

_Almah._ Your honour cannot to ill thoughts give way, And mine can run no hazard by your stay.

_Almanz._ Do you then think I can with patience see That sovereign good possessed, and not by me? No; I all day shall languish at the sight, And rave on what I do not see all night; My quick imagination will present The scenes and images of your content.

_Almah._ These are the day-dreams which wild fancy yields, Empty as shadows are, that fly o'er fields. Oh, whither would this boundless fancy move! 'Tis but the raging calenture of love. Like a distracted passenger you stand, And see, in seas, imaginary land, Cool groves, and flowery meads; and while you think To walk, plunge in, and wonder that you sink.

_Almanz._ Love's calenture too well I understand; But sure your beauty is no fairy-land! Of your own form a judge you cannot be; For, glow-worm like, you shine, and do not see.

_Almah._ Can you think this, and would you go away?

_Almanz._ What recompence attends me, if I stay?

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

_Almanz._ I'll stop at nothing that appears so brave: I'll do't, and now I no reward will have. You've given my honour such an ample field, That I may die, but that shall never yield. Spite of myself I'll stay, fight, love, despair; And I can do all this, because I dare. Yet I may own one suit-- That scarf, which, since by you it has been borne, Is blessed, like relicks which by saints were worn.

_Almah._ Presents like this my virtue durst not make, But that 'tis given you for my husband's sake. [_Gives the scarf._

_Almanz._ This scarf to honourable rags I'll wear, As conquering soldiers tattered ensigns bear; But oh, how much my fortune I despise, Which gives me conquest, while she love denies! [_Exeunt._