LEONISA, a Spanish Captive. HALYMA, Daughter to Mustapha.

Several Spanish Captives.

SCENE TANGIER.

THE

GENEROUS MOOR.

ACT I.

SCENE,

The Ruins of the Chriftian Church, at Tangier.

Enter Ricardo and Egmond.

EGMOND.

WITHIN the ruins of this facred dome

(By impious men now suffer'd to decay,) We meet fecure. And now relate; why thus I find my friend a captive like myself.

RICARDO.

Egmond 'tis near nine months I've been a slave,
But, O! to tell thee al-'tis fuch a tale

Of woe, 'twould wound thy heart to hear, what I
Have fuffer'd. Daily I pray to heaven
To end this wretched being-but heav'n is deaf
To ev'ry pray'r of mine. Elfe wherefore am
I forc'd to drag this gauling chain of life.

EGMOND.

Despair not, brave Ricardo-Time yet may come And bring us great revenge. Elfe doft thou think My foul could brook thefe vile, thefe curfed bonds, In fupple patience? No, I fcorn a life

Held in dependance of a tyrant's will;

I watch the moment that may give me pow'r
To thank them for my chains. And then I'll die
Or be (transporting thought!) no more a slave.
RICARDO.

Egmond has hopes. Alas, for me! I've none.
EGMOND.

How art thou chang'd from what I knew thee once!
There was a time, when told, the meanest wretch
Our country bred was by these villains dragg'd
To flavery, each joint has fhook, thy foul has
Been on fire, to rescue them to liberty,

And ease. And canft thou now fupport these chains,
This vile flavish life? O curfed ftate! And

Dar'ft not venture for delightful freedom?
RICARDO.

O Egmond! what is life or liberty

To one, that never can have pleasure more?
I am cut off from ev'ry hope, but what

The kind-the friendly hand of death fhall bring.
EGMOND.

What is thy Leonifa quite forgot?

RICARDO.

Forgot? O! Egmond, my Leonifa

Is no more! She's gone, fhe's fnatch'd for ever

From

From these widow'd arms! Tell me then, Egmond,
Is there ought left to bribe Ricardo's ftay?
EGMOND.

What was she forc'd at laft to take the veil ?
RICARDO.

O no, my friend; her parents, won at length,
Our mutual vows approv'd and made us one.
And I was bleft, beyond a mortal blest!
No joy this earth can yield, that was not mine.
Words cannot fpeak the happiness I felt.
(Cruel remembrance !) virtue and truth and
Matchlefs beauty all were mine. To make our
Joys compleat, heav'n crown'd our wishes with a
Lovely boy. When, O! my friend, one fatal
Dreadful hour tore both these comforts from me!
O! Egmond, I am left the inoft forlorn,

Forfaken wretch that breathes. Had heav'n been pleas'd

To've loaded me with complicated ills,
Driven to beggary to fupport my dear,

My fmiling family, at night when I had
Held them to my breaft, I gratefully would
Have thank'd my Maker for fuch his bleffings,
Nor ever pin'd at poverty and want.

EGMOND.

What, are they dead?.

RICARDO.

Both fuffer'd in my fight!

I'll ftrive to stop my tears whilst I unfold,
What chance has brought me here. The birth day of

Our

Our Royal Mafter call'd me to Madrid;
I left my Leonifa, and my child,

(I little thought for ever) at my blest
Retreat. She, the nurfe, and tender infant,,
As airing on the terrace, that opens

To the fea, were by a band of pirates
Seiz'd and forced into a bark, that lay
Conceal'd under th' impending rocks. Their cries
Alarm'd my people; who fallied forth, but
E'er they reach'd the place, the villains launch'd
from

Shore, and laugh'd at all their promifes

And threats. A faithful fervant mounted my
Fleeteft horfe, and overtook me with the
Killing news! Diftracted, wild, I haften'd
To a neighb'ring port; and fortune fav'ring
Offer'd me a ship juft ready for the fea.
Fortune, my friend, propitious finil'd again.
I told my tale, and offer'd fuch reward,
That every man appear'd tranfported:
The favouring wind blew freshly from the fhore,
And in a moment all our fails were full.

Soon we faw the Moors (for fuch these robbers
Were) and gain'd upon them faft, and doubted
Not, but long e'er night to have them in our pow'r.
But at the moment we infur'd fuccefs,

Heaven (to finish what it had begun)

Dafh'd ev'ry hope at once, and fix'd me here
A living monument of woe, for time

To look upon! Excule thefe tears my friend!

EGMOND.