But from the rest we hope a better Fate.

To please and move has been our Poet's Theme,

Art may direct, but Nature is his aim;

And Nature miss'd, in vain he boasts his Art,

For only Nature can affect the Heart.

Then freely judge the Scenes that shall ensue,

But as with Freedom, judge with Candour too.

He wou'd not lose thro Prejudice his Cause;

Nor wou'd obtain precariously Applause.

Impartial Censure he requests from all,

Prepar'd, by just Decrees to stand, or fall.

Personae Dramatis -

MANUEL, the King of Granada.

GONSALEZ, his Favourite.

GARCIA, Son to Gonsalez.

PEREZ, Captain of the Guards.

ALONZO, an Officer, Creature to Gonsalez.

OSMYN, a Noble Prisoner.

HELI, a Prisoner, his Friend.

SELIM, an Eunuch -

WOMEN -

ALMERIA, the Princess of Granada.

ZARA, a Captive Queen.

LEONORA, chief Attendant on the Princess.

Women, Eunuchs, and Mutes attending Zara. Guards, &c. -

The Scene GRANADA.

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Room of State. -

The Curtain rising slowly to soft Musick, discovers ALMERIA in Mourning, LEONORA waiting in Mourning. -

After the Musick ALMERIA rises from her Chair, and comes forward. -

ALM. Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast,

To soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak.

I've read, that things inanimate have mov'd,

And, as with living Souls, have been inform'd,

By Magick Numbers and persuasive Sound.

What then am I? Am I more senseless grown

Than Trees, or Flint? O force of constant Woe!

'Tis not in Harmony to calm my Griefs.

Anselmo sleeps, and is at Peace; last Night

The silent Tomb receiv'd the good Old King;

He and his Sorrows now are safely lodg'd

Within its cold, but hospitable Bosom.

Why am not I at Peace? [Weeps.

LEO. For Heaven's sake, dear Madam, moderate

Your Griefs, there is no Cause-

ALM. Peace- No Cause! yes, there is Eternal Cause,

And Misery Eternal will succeed.

Thou canst not tell- thou hast indeed no Cause.

LEO. Believe me, Madam, I lament Anselmo,

And always did compassionate his Fortune;

Have often wept, to see how cruelly

Your Father kept in Chains, his Fellow-King:

And oft at Night, when all have been retir'd,

Have stoln from Bed, and to his Prison crept;

Where, while his Goaler slept, I thro' the Grate

Have softly whisper'd, and enquir'd his Health;

Sent in my Sighs and Pray'rs for his Deliv'rance;

For Sighs and Pray'rs were all that I could offer.

ALM. Indeed thou hast a soft and gentle Nature,

That thus couldst melt to see a Stranger's Wrongs.

O Leonora, hadst thou known Anselmo,

How would thy Heart have bled to see his Suff'rings.

Thou hadst no Cause, but general Compassion.

LEO. My Love of you, my Royal Mistress, gave me Cause,

My Love of you begot my Grief for him;

For I had heard, that when the Chance of War

Had bless'd Anselmo's Arms with Victory,

And the rich Spoil of all the Field, and you,

The Glory of the Whole, were made the Prey

Of his Success; that then, in spite of Hate,

Revenge, and that Hereditary Feud

Entail'd between Valentia's and Granada'a Kings,

He did endear himself to your Affection,

By all the worthy and indulgent Ways

His most industrious Goodness cou'd invent;

Proposing by a Match between Alphonso

His Son, the brave Valentia Prince, and you,

To end the long Dissention, and unite

The Jarring Crowns.

ALM. O Alphonso! Alphonso! thou art too

At Peace; Father and Son are now no more-

Then why am I? O when shall I have Rest?

Why do I live to say you are no more?

Why are all these things thus?-

Is there necessity I must be miserable?

Is it of moment to the Peace of Heav'n

That I should be afflicted thus?- If not,

Why is it thus contriv'd? Why are all things laid

By some unseen Hand, so, as of consequence

They must to me bring Curses, Grief of Heart,

The last Distress of Life, and sure Despair.

LEO. Alas, you search too far, and think too deeply.

ALM. Why was I carried to Anselmo's Court?

Or, when there, why was I us'd so tenderly?

Why did he not use me like an Enemy?

For so my Father would have us'd his Child.

O Alphonso, Alphonso!

Devouring Seas have wash'd thee from my sight,

But there's no time shall rase thee from my Memory.

No, I will live to be thy Monument;

The cruel Ocean would deprive thee of a Tomb,

But in my Heart thou art interr'd; there, there,

Thy dear Resemblance is for ever fix'd;

My Love, my Lord, my Husband still, though lost.

LEO. Husband! O Heav'ns!

ALM. What have I said?

My Grief has hurry'd me beyond all Thought.

I would have kept that secret; though I know

Thy Love and Faith to me deserve all Confidence.

But 'tis the Wretches Comfort still to have