The Mourning Bride.
13
So ill can brook Captivity;The common Chance of War?
Osm.Because Captivity has robb'd me of a just Revenge.
King.I understand not that.
Osm.I would not have you.
Zara.That Gallant Moor, in Battle lost a FriendWhom more than Life he lov'd; and the Regret,Of not revenging on his Foes, that Loss,Has caus'd this Melancholy and Despair.
King.She does excuse him; 'tis as I suspected. [To Gons.
Gons.That Friend may be her self; show no ResentmentOf his Arrogance yet; she looks concern'd.
King.I'll have Enquiry made; his Friend may beA Prisoner. His Name?
Zara.Heli.
King.Garcia, be it your Care to make that search.It shall be mine to pay Devotion here;At this Fair Shrine, to lay my Laurels down,And raise Love's Altar on the Spoils of War.Conquest and Triumph now, are mine no more;Nor will I Victory in Camps adore:For, ling'ring there, in long suspence she stands,Shifting the Prize in unresolving Hands:Unus'd to wait, I broke through her Delay,Fix'd her by Force, and snatch'd the doubtful Day.But late, I find, that War is but her Sport;In Love the Goddess keeps her awful Court:Fickle in Fields, unsteadily she flyes,But Rules with settled Sway in Zara's Eyes. [Ex. Omnes.
The End of the First Act.
ACT
