_Jesu dulcis memoria,
Dans vera cordis gaudia;
Sed super mel et omnia
Ejus dulcis præsentia._
_ZAPEL._
How strange a moan!
_ALMEH._
Hush, Zapel, hush: go in.
Leave me. Stay, I will go with thee so far 420
That they shall think we both are gone. This way.
_Almeh and Zapel go aside. Exit Zapel. Almeh enters arbour._
CHORUS. _Jesu decus angelicum,
In aure dulce canticum,
In ore mel mirificum,
In corde nectar cælicum._
_Nil canitur suavius,
Nil auditur jucundius,
Nil cogitatur dulcius,
Quam Jesu Dei filius._
_Al._ (_aside_). They sing of Jesus, whom they make their god, 430
I understand no more: only their praise
Is sweeter than whatever I have heard
In mosque or sacred temple, or the chant
Of holy pilgrims, that beguile the road.
I’ll learn what they will tell me of their hymns,
And whence they have this music. Ah, they see me.
Sir, pray withdraw not thus. Step on this terrace;
Hence may you view the sea. Your helpless lot
I pity; and if indeed I have any power
To ease the pains of your captivity, 440
’Tis but a debt I owe you for the pleasure
Your music wakes within me. Come this way.
_Ch._ Lady, we thank thy grace and gentleness:
But yonder grove contents us, in the shade
Where if we walked retired, we shall not strain
The privilege we prize.
_Al._ Why, since I ask,
Take courage, come. There’s none will see but I.
_Ch._ We dare not disobey.
_Al._ Come forward, hither.
I bid you all for pleasure as my friends.
And ye could much delight me, would ye tell 450
What theme ye lately sang: for though sweet music
Needs no interpretation, yet the thought
That gives occasion to the smile of love
Is dear itself; and I am like a lover
Wondering what fancy ’twas, that bred a strain
Of such deliberate joy.
_Ch._ Forbid the thought,
Lady: the sea, with whose expansive sight
Thou thoughtest to rejoice our prisoned eyes,
Doth not dissever us from our lost homes
With wider deeper gulf, than that which lies 460
Betwixt our souls and thine. Thou mayst not know.
_Al._ I know ye sang of Jesus.
_Ch._ And knowing that,
Wouldst thou know more?
_Al._ Ay, tell me.
_Ch._ Praised be God!
_Al._ I envy you your skill. I prithee tell me
What was’t ye sang.
_Ch._ The praise of Jesus’name.
’Tis what all nature sings; the whole creation
Ceaseth not, nor is silent in his praise:
Neither God’s angels, nor the spirit of man
With speech directed unto him, nor things
Animate nor inanimate, by the mouth 470
Of them that meditate thereon: which praise
Music hath perfected, and that we use
Less for his glory, than that thence our souls
May from their weariness arise to him,
In whom is our refreshment and true strength.
_Al._ I pray you sing again.
_Ch._ If thou wilt hear,
We will sing more.
_O Jesu mi dulcissime,
O spes spirantis animæ,
Te quærunt piæ lacrymæ,
Et clamor mentis intimæ._
_Al._ Music ne’er found a better speech. I pray 482
Could I sing with you? Could I learn your art?
_Ch._ Thou hast the master-secret, loving it.
_Al._ Many have that: and I can sing alone,
But ne’er have learned your many-voicèd skill.
_Ch._ That is the maker’s art: the song being made,
’Tis to sing strictly, and to teach thy phrase
Confident rivalry, as if thou knewest
Thy passion was the deepest, and could blend 490
The wandering strains in closer harmony.
_Al._ Make me your pupil. How should I begin?
[_Drums and trumpets without._
_Ch._ The king!
_Al._ Break off, my father is returned;
Lest he should enter here, haste to your bounds,
And be not seen. There will I visit you,
Or bid you forth again.
_Ch._ We thank thee, lady.
_Re-enter Zapel, hurriedly._
_Za._ My lady, hast thou heard?
_Al._ What is it, Zapel?
_Za._ The infidels are routed, and the king
Is coming from the field with Tarudante,
Prince of Morocco, and between them ride 500
The two chief captains of the unbelievers,
Princes of Portugal: be Allah praised.
_Ch._ Alas! O woe, alas! Forgive us, lady,
That thus we weep before thee.
_Al._ Nay, be sure
I pity you myself, and could not blame
Your natural grief. But ’tis the vice of war,
That whatsoever side hath victory,
The misery is alike, nor in the advantage
Is aught to compensate the evil done.
May God give strength to right!
_Ch._ Amen, Amen! 510
(_To Z._) Pray, lady, didst thou say Prince Ferdinand
Was taken?
_Za._ Ye may question him himself;
Talk not with me.
_Al._ I beg you, friends, be gone:
Ye must not stay.
_Ch._ We will depart and mourn
Within our sultry pit. [_Exeunt._
_Al._ My father comes?
_Za._ He is at the gate.
_Al._ Whate’er thou’st seen or heard
Between me and these hapless prisoners,
See that thou tell not.
_Za._ ’Tis an accursed thing.
_Al._ ’Tis not for thee to judge, but do my bidding.
_Za._ And thou shouldst trust me better.
_Al._ I do trust thee,
And therefore bid thee thus.
_Za._ And I obey. 521
_Al._ Is not this Ferdinand they spoke of, he
Whose chivalry we thank for Sala’s life?
_Za._ That’s he.
_Al._ Then I shall see this red-crossed knight,
The noblest of them all. The general said
He was of angel fairness: then he is cousin
To the emperor of England.
_Za._ Thou shalt see
A Moor worth fifty Christian Portuguese,
His conqueror, thy lover Tarudante,
Heir of Morocco.
_Al._ Silence: see they come. 530
_Enter King with Tarudante and Ferdinand, followed by Enrique and Sala._
_Za._ (_to A._). There’s Tarudante.
_Al._ (_aside_). There is Ferdinand.
_KING_ (_to T._).
Now, noble prince, thou hast overcome our foes;
This is thy second battlefield, whereon
Thy love may win like conquest as thy sword.
Pitch here thy tent, and make thy war in peace.
Forget the reeking and gore-dappled plain
Mid scent of pinks and jasmin, and the flush
Of oleander and full-blooded rose.
See, I will lead thee to the virgin fortress
That thou mayst kneel to take. Come hither, Almeh:
Here is the prince thy lover. Tarudante, 541
Behold her whom I offer thee for queen.
_Al._ (_aside, coming forward_). Now of these two
might I but choose.
_K._ Come, daughter,
Put off this modesty.
_Al._ (_aside_). My eyes refuse him.
_TARUDANTE._
Lady, forgive my boldness in desiring
What I had never seen. Thy beauty’s fame,
The high nobility of this alliance
Led me so far; but now I have seen, I see
I must be bolder, or renounce my boldness,
That begged a grace so far beyond my thought. 550
_Al._ I should be much ashamed, prince, if thy suit,
Which seeks the honour of my father’s house,
Stumbled at my unworthiness: but praise
Of pictures,—and mere beauty is no more,—
Exalteth but the maker. May the days
Thou spendest here with us be rich in peace. [_Going._
_FERDINAND_ (_aside to En._).
By heaven, the devil is gentle to these Moors:
They match our folk in beauty as in arms.
_K._ Stay, Almeh, stay! [_Almeh turns._
_ENRIQUE_ (_to F._).
These be the Spanish Arab: such a race
Sprang never from the sooty loins of Ham. 560
_Al._ (_to K._). Excuse me, sire, I pray.
[_Exit with Zapel._
_Fer._ (_to En._). Devil or angel or Arab, she hath stolen my soul.
_Tar._ Such perfect grace, such speech and modesty
Outbid my fancy; I would fight thy battles
For twenty years to call thy treasure mine.
_K._ I say she is thine, and she is my only child.
_SALA_ (_aside_).
And I must hear this spoken, and hold my peace.
_K._ So now, prince Ferdinand, the chance of war
In making thee my captive gives me power
To dictate terms which shall content us all. 570
Thou shalt go free—that is my gift to thee:—
But in return for that,—my profit this,—
I will have Ceuta; ’tis an ancient town,
By name and people African, and held
By followers of the prophet from the day
When truth unconquerable like a flood
Of sunlight dawned on the benighted west.
Thy father robbed it from us, and I ask
That thou restore it. ’Tis thy ransom, prince.
The king, thy brother, will not grudge to yield 580
To me, a king, part of mine own, which he
Wrongfully came by; if so, he may buy thee,
His natural own, his flesh and blood, whom I
Conquered in self-defence. I’ll keep thee here,
Till I may know his will: and to learn that
I’ll send thy brother home, the prince Enrique,
To bear him, with what speed he may, the tidings
Of thy defeat, captivity, and the terms
Of thy release. Look not so sorrowful.
_Fer._ I thank your majesty for just rebuke 590
Of my discourtesy. By selfish gloom
I mar my entertainment, and belie
My gratitude for kindness to me shewn
Since I was prisoner.
_K._ No thanks for that:
Nor seek I to impose a countenance
Upon thy proper feeling. Yet if now
Thou’rt sad, I spake in vain.
_Fer._ ’Tis for my fault
And ill-success I am sad—to have lost my troop,
Or led them to the fate of those whose rescue
They thought to be—not for my private case, 600
Wherein your terms of ransom but make hope
Impossible: the cession of a town
Under the king’s protection, and therewith
The peril of so many Christian souls,
The desecration of our hallowed churches,
The abandonment of loyal loving subjects
Unto the heavy yoke which Islam lays
On true believers. No king would give ear
To such a compact: and your claim falls short;
For what you have urged doth not lay bare the root.
Ceuta is African, but not for that 611
Mahommedan: this thirsty continent
Had drunk the truth for full four hundred years
Before your prophet’s birth; and now we fight
To win back from Mahommet what he took
By force from Christ.
_K._ What matters it to me
What happened in the days of ignorance?
’Tis written in our book, that the whole world
Shall feel our sword.
_Fer._ ’Tis writ in ours, that they
Who take the sword, shall perish by the sword.
_K._ Surely ’twas truly spoken of yourselves. 621
Yet will I make no change, but my demand
Shall urge upon the king your brother; he
Will thank me for it.
_Sa._ Now, my gracious master,
Let me befriend our foe. ’Tis four days since
I was his prisoner, and he set me free.
This claim the prince most generously puts by;
Let us not pass it over: let him too
Go find another army: we meanwhile
Have ample force to march against the town. 630
_K._ And why should blood be spent where ink will serve?
’Twere thankless answer to our good ally
To put fresh pains upon him, and not use
His full sufficient victory.
_Tar._ My liege,
I’ll serve thee as a son, and to that title
Would prove my fitness.
_Sa._ (_aside_). By thine absence prove it.
_K._ And if thou, son, wouldst dally now with war,
Rather than grasp the hours of peace and love,
What shall I think?
_Tar._ That threat must stay me here.
_K._ Ay, stay; and I will solve thy scruple thus,
Good Sala. By the laws of chivalry 641
Thou wouldst do to thy foe as he to thee:
But Ferdinand is not thy prisoner,
Nor can be spared: his brother, prince Enrique,
Whom thou didst truly capture,—tho’my purpose
Was to require his promise to return,—
Him will I give his freedom for thy sake:
If he return he shall not be detained.
_En._ I thank your majesty: but for my part
I am but a traveller, that took occasion 650
Of this adventure to inspect your land.
I pray make me the hostage; I am content
With any treatment, might I come to see
Your city of Fez, and from your southward folk
Learn their opinion of the Libyan coast,
Which some aver is circled by one sea
From where we stand to Suez.
_K._ And so it were,
I care no more than doth a caterpillar: 658
What could that serve? If thou’rt a man of peace,
The fitter then for our ambassador.
_En._ ’Tis not for me to choose, and you may trust me
To urge the king to treat upon your terms.
I carry them most gladly.
_Fer._ (_to K._). Now, I pray,
Do as my brother begs: let him be hostage,
And make me messenger: I will return.
_K._ Nay, nay. I doubt thee not: but ’tis my will
Thee to keep, not thy brother.
_Fer._ Then, my Enrique,
I make appeal to thee. Urge not these terms
On Edward: tell him rather I am myself,
And could not live ashamed. 670
_K._ I swear thou wrongst me,
And temptest me to use thee ill. No more.
Begone, Enrique; I shall look to thee
For amicable settlement. Go therefore,
And tell thy king I hold your brother here
Till he surrender Ceuta. As for thee,
Prince Ferdinand; thy word shall be thy chain:
Give me but that, and thou shalt have the freedom
Of all this castle.
_Fer._ I give’t your majesty.
_K._ ’Tis well: so all are suited. And thou, Enrique,
Make thy best speed.
_En._ I go, your majesty. 680
_Fer._ (_to E._). Thou know’st my mind.—
_En._ (_to F._). In any case I will deliver thee.
_K._ No words. Begone, I pray.
_En._ So fare you well. [_Exit._
_K._ (_to T._). And now, Morocco, come within: I’ll show thee
Whatever preparation in thine honour
Is ordered; hoping it may so content thee,
That thou wilt reconsider of thy threat
To leave us with the moon.
_Tar._ What here I have seen,
Might I not take it with me when I go,
Would hold me fast until the day of doom. 690
_Sa._ (_aside_). And may the day of doom come ere thou take it!
[_Exeunt K. and T._
(_To F._) Most generous prince, forgive me.
_Fer._ I thank thee, Sala.
_Sa._ I pressed the king so far as I may dare.
He hath a temper to resent advice,
Which urged, will rather drive him from the matter
It looks to favour, than assist him towards it.
I must find other paths for my goodwill.
Deem me thy servant: and o’erlook the wrong
I seem to have done thee, being again constrained
To fight against thee.
_Fer._ Say no more, my friend. 700
We serve our kings. Thou didst defeat our people
By numbers, merely numbers. I prithee tell me
The name of your princess.
_Sa._ Almeh.
_Fer._ Betrothed
Already to the prince my conqueror?
_Sa._ The thing is new. Thou know’st as much as I.
_Fer._ The prince is fortunate.
_Sa._ So is the king
In his alliance.
_Fer._ Is the marriage then
Between the kingdoms rather than the parties?
_Sa._ If ’twas your war that hath determined it.
_Fer._ It were a strained ungentle consequence, 710
That I should sail from Portugal to force
A lover on this lady’s inclination.
_Sa._ I were like grieved.
_Fer._ Her beauty far exceeds
All that I thought to find. In my own country
Our court holds not her equal.
_Sa._ I believe it.
_Fer._ And if her mind be as her speech, endowed....
_Sa._ Thou owest her so much praise for kindnesses
Done to your prisoned countrymen.
_Fer._ Ah, Sala,
Where be these captives kept? if thou wouldst help me,
I pray thee bring me in time where I may see them.
I must speak with them.
_Sa._ That is easy, prince. 721
Behind these garden grounds is a deep pit,
Used as a quarry once; steep hanging sides
Of rock it hath, that hewn away below
Are inaccessible to any foot
Save the soft lizard, that hath made his home
Among the clefts with scorpions and snakes,
And on the scorching ledges basks all day.
’Tis there these Christians lie. One way there is
Climbing by solid steps of native stone, 730
That comes up to the ground. Between those rocks
Thou seest the iron gate, and by the gate
The sentinel that keeps it. I would guide thee
To see thy countrymen; but there’s no need
To make the hard descent; for once a day,
At prayer and pity of our good princess,
’Tis granted them to come and walk above
In shadow of yon balmy cypress grove,
That skirts the northern brink: and but for this,
Their sole refreshment, all were like to have died 740
Of woe, and scant food, and the daily stroke
Shelterless of the hot meridian sun.
_Fer._ Alas!
What fault of theirs deserved such punishment?
_Sa._ That they refused confession of the prophet.
_Fer._ To acknowledge him were to renounce their faith.
That is no wrong.
_Sa._ Whether it be wrong or no,
’Tis not my will they undergo these pains.
_Fer._ I pray thee lead me to them, if thou mayst.
_Sa._ Nay, bide thou here, I will throw back the gate,
And bid them forth: and for thy less constraint 750
Will then depart. [_Goes to back, and exit._
_Fer._ Such courtesy and cruelty in one
I never thought to have met, nor found on earth
So fair a prison, with an angel in it,
And no hope of deliverance. Now I see
Nature hath vainly lavished on these Moors
Bravery and beauty and all gifts of pride;
And left them barbarous for lack of thee,
Sweet Pity, of human sorrow born: ’tis thou
Dost raise man ’bove the brutes: ’tis thou dost make
His heart so singular, that he alone, 760
Himself commiserating, against heaven
Pushes complaint, and finds within his heart
Room for all creatures, that like him are born
To suffer and perish.
_Enter Captives from gate; they run to Ferdinand as they see him._
CHOR. Hail, mighty Ferdinand!—
Hail, generous prince!—Behold
Thy countrymen enslaved.—
What hope? what hope? O say—
Arm of our fatherland, 770
What mercy may be told?—
Com’st thou to set us free?—
Are we already saved?—
Or is it true, the boast
We hear, the triumph-song?—
And art thou too as we,—
(O miserable day)—
Faln into the enemy’s hand?—
And com’st thou thus alone?
Thine army slain and lost,— 780
The cause of Christ o’erthrown.—
What hope? what hope? O say.—
_Fer._ My friends, the worst is true. Trust still in God.
_Ch._ Alas! have all our prayers been made in vain?
_Fer._ Despair not yet.
_Ch._ What hope then dost thou bring?
_Fer._ I bring you courage, friends. I come to share
Your prison, since I cannot set you free.
_Ch._ Alas! thou too art captive. All is lost.—
But if thou share our prison, shall we share
Thy ransom also, when thou goest free? 790
_Fer._ I have no ransom, friends, that ye could share.
_Ch._ No ransom!
_Fer._ Nay, no ransom.
_Ch._ Not for thee?
_Fer._ But such a ransom as cannot be paid.
_Ch._ So great?
_Fer._ Ay, even so great, that ye yourselves
Would not consent to share.
_Ch._ Tell us the sum.
_Fer._ ’Tis to surrender Ceuta to the Moor.
Now are ye silent.
_Ch._ We are flesh and blood.
_Fer._ Say ye?
_Ch._ The stones of Ceuta cannot bleed,
The walls of Ceuta would not pine as we.
_Fer._ Then take them for example: be as they: 800
Lament not, pine not.
_Ch._ Rank we now as stones?
_Fer._ Stones, but not Ceuta’s stones; they if they bled
Would spout heroic blood: royally therewith
Were they baptised, ere they might wear the cross.
I was a babe then: but the nurse that rocked
My cradle sang it: How the youthful prince,
Edward my brother, led the assault and fought
With hundreds hand to hand: how in the ships,
Watching the combat, the old king himself
Could no more be restrained, but forth descending,
For envy of the fight, with agèd hands 811
Clambered upon the walls, and by his son
Dealt wary strokes of death: till o’er the heaps
Of his own slain, out of his robber nest
Sala ben Sala fled.
_Ch._ Long live the king!
_Fer._ Since that day hath the fame ceased? Hath not Ceuta
Been as Christ’s tourney, where the nations
Have clapped their hands to see a few brave knights
Hold Africa at bay, and in the field
Conquer whole armies of the unbelievers? 820
_Ch._ Praised be God!
_Fer._ I made an oath to match
My brother’s praise.
_Ch._ Alas! what fate withheld
God’s favour from our arms?—We who set out
To do him honour, and to plant the cross
On Tangiers’. as it stands on Ceuta’s walls?—
The foe lay watching for us, like a lion
Descended from the mountains.
_Fer._ On that day
I led your battle; and when ye were taken,
I fled but to retrieve the day. I found
A second army; I sought out the foe, 830
And overcame him: and the furious Sala,
Faln in my hands, I feared not to set free
As herald of my triumph. I was here: I had come
Even to this castle, when behold, swarming
Innumerable from the hills around,
The horsemen of Morocco!
_Ch._ What of the army?
_Fer._ Led off in captive gangs to serve the Moor.
_Ch._ Alas for us and them. Thou canst not save.
We are all enslavèd, all undone.
_Fer._ Be so,
Tame, cagèd wills, the off-scourings of fortune,
Mere counters of disaster! I will not yield. 841
_Ch._ Yield, prince, for us, who left our homes so far
To serve under thy banner; whom thine arm
Hath led to slavery—O prince, set them free,
Whom thou hast bound.—Restore us. Pay the price.
_Fer._ Can ye forget?
_Ch._ Nay, we remember well
Estremadura, we remember Tagus,
The banks of Guadiana, and our homes
Among the vineyards; Ezla we remember,
Obidos and Alenquer, where the trees 850
Shadow the village steps, and on the slopes
Our gardens bloom: where cold Montego laves
The fertile valleys ’mong the hills of Beira:
Our country we remember, and the voices
Of wives and children, by whose tears we pray,
Despise us not. See on our knees we bow,
And by God’s love pray thee deliver us.
[_They all kneel to Ferdinand._
_Fer._ Ah, wretched rebels! hath a little hardship
Melted the metal from you? I see ye are dross
Quite to the bottom. These hands that ye raise 860
Should have smote down the foe. Being as ye are,
How took ye upon you to defend the cross?
Doth not the shame of capture and defeat
Suffice, but ye must kneel to beg the addition
Of treason and betrayal, to deliver
Your worthless bodies from the pains that ye
Have thousandfold deserved? My brethren are ye?
Nay, I’ll not look upon you. [_Turns away._
_Re-enter Almeh and Zapel._
_Al._ Lo, what is this?
_Ch._ O gracious kind princess,
Plead for us now.
_Al._ What would ye?
_Fer._ Noble lady, 870
I have a title to thy heart’s compassion
Greater than these my countrymen, whose woes
Have moved thy spirit; and by that kindness in thee,
As by that beauty,—may I use the name
Of what I only worship,—I beseech thee
Hear them not speak, lest thou misjudge me much.
_Al._ Rise, friends: ere I can help you, I must know
What boon ye sue for.
_Fer._ Not so: lest thou add
To theirs thy prayer, too strong to be denied.
_Al._ What fear’st thou that my voice might win for them? 880
_Fer._ Ask not of them nor me.
_Al._ Thou must dissuade
My pity, or meet it where ’tis first engaged.
_Fer._ Then hear the truth from me. They vainly beg
Their liberty.
_Al._ From thee?
_Fer._ Ay, lady.
_Al._ How!
For this I too was lately on my knees;
But that was to the king. What power hast thou
To grant this; or, being able, why deniest?
_Fer._ They think at least that they would share my freedom,
If I went forth: wherefore they urge me do
For them the thing I will not for myself. 890
_Al._ And what is that?
_Fer._ Thy father hath appointed
The town of Ceuta for my ransom, lady.
_Al._ And that lies then within thy power to grant?
_Fer._ So far as ’tis within the power of him
Who scorns base actions to commit the basest.
_Al._ My sire, prince, hath a right and titled claim.
_Fer._ Christ hath erased all titles with his cross;
And by that sign reclaims the world he made.
_Al._ I know, prince, thou art generous; for thou gavest
Life to thine enemy: and for that gift 900
I am thy friend. ’Tis for thyself I plead.
The king hath nothing nearer to his heart
Than this possession: ’tis thy life’s condition.
Yield where thou must.
_Fer._ I hold my life as nought.
_Al._ Then, prince, tho’not for these, nor for thyself
Thou wilt be bent, nor to my sire wilt yield;
Yet for the sake of holy peace submit;
For pity of all our people and thine own,
Whom pride will slay: think of the myriad wounds
Softness may staunch; and how kings have no honour
Above the keeping of their folk in peace. 911
_Fer._ Is’t in thy creed man shall buy peace of heaven
By selling honour? O nay. Let the king
But take my life, and count my blood enough
To be one slave’s redemption; there were then
No cause to kneel. Yea, wouldst thou shew me kindness,
Make this thy prayer. Go back unto thy sire,
And sue that he will graciously, as the exchange
For these men’s freedom, kill me, or in their pit
Bury me alive.
_Al._ Alas, alas! 920
_Fer._ If now my words in pleading for myself
Have hurt thee, lady, forgive them: nay, weep not.
Until I saw thy pity for my sake,
I had no woe to bear.
_Al._ And woe it is
To see such suffering wrought by man on man,
And seek to heal it with a woman’s words.
_Fer._ Lady, I need not pity: there’s no fortune
I have not heart for.
_Al._ Now I see these men
Have gentler hearts than thou: they gave me comfort
Receiving my compassion; thou’rt too proud. 930
_Fer._ For I was shamed seeing a woman weep
Vainly for what I suffer without tears.
_Al._ I too am bred to shows.—Prince: I was sent
To fetch thee to the house. Attend the summons.
My father sits to dinner, and enquires
Wherefore thou tarriest. Of thy courtesy
Play our good guest with freedom; for the king
Will use no more constraint, than as thy health
And princely state require.
_Fer._ I will obey thee.
_Al._ And not my father?
_Fer._ Him, lady, perforce; 940
But thee most cheerfully. To thee no less
Am I a captive.
[_Exeunt Almeh and Ferdinand and Zapel._