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12
The Mourning Bride.
Zara.If I on any Terms could condescendTo like Captivity, or think those Honours,Which Conquerors in Courtesie bestow,Of equal Value, with unborrow'd Rule,And Native Right to Arbitrary Sway;I might be pleas'd, when I behold this TrainWith usual Homage wait. But when I feelThese Bonds, I look with Loathing on my self;And scorn vile Slavery, tho' doubly hidBeneath Mock-Praises, and dissembled State.
King.Those Bonds! 'Twas my Command you should be free.How durst you, Perez, disobey me?
Perez.Great Sir,Your Order was, she should not wait your Triumph;But at some distance follow, thus attended.
King.'Tis false; 'twas more; I bad she should be free:If not in Words, I bad it by my Eyes.Her Eyes did more than bid- Free her and hersWith speed- yet stay- my Hands alone can makeFit Restitution here- Thus I release you,And by releasing you enslave my self.
Zara.Favours conferr'd, tho' when unsought, deserveAcknowledgement from Noble Minds. Such ThanksAs one hating to be oblig'd-Yet hating more, Ingratitude, can pay,I offer.
King.Born to excel, and to command!As by transcendent Beauty to attractAll Eyes, so by Preheminence of SoulTo rule all Hearts.Garcia, what's he, who with contracted Brow,
[Beholding OSMYN, as they unbind him.]
And sullen Port, glooms downward with his Eyes;At once regardless of his Chains, or Liberty?
Gar.That, Sir, is Osmyn.
King.He answers well, the Character you gave him.Whence comes it, Valiant Osmyn, that a ManSo great in Arms, as thou art said to be,
So
