University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Enter Romanus.
Rom.
If I see right, Aleppo thou art mine—
If mine, I yield thee to the Saracens—
While Modes of foolish Faith divide the World,
And swarms of hungry Bigots cling to each,
I turn Opinion to Convenience—
For this I've sometime sworn to Mahomet;
And his Religion pays its Vot'ries well.
Mervan I've laden full with pois'nous Matter,
Which, when infus'd into old Manuel's Ear,
Will swell his peevish Humour, till it burst
Its Venom on the fiery Theodore;
My Friend, my Patron, and—my destin'd Tool.
Rage, Taunts, Reproaches, Discord, Broils ensue;
And Ruin sure is made of such Materials.
Off then Dependance!—Thou art burthensome;
A Soul like mine disdains to live on Alms.
'Tis well—And shall I pine with fond Desire?
I love Ormelia still—as Nature prompts—
Sophronius loves her too;—she slights my Vows
For the pert Lispings of that down-cheek'd Boy;
Should this—but hold—the Secretary's here.

Enter Mervan.
Mer.
What deep in Thought, Lieutenant? clear thy Brow;
Perhaps the wish'd-for Hour of Vengeance comes,
To clip the tow'ring Wing of Theodore.

Rom.
Give me thy Hand, my Mervan, my best Friend,
My Soul's true Counterpart—I knew the Bus'ness
Would thrive beneath thy Wisdom—Pr'ythee tell me,
How did the shallow Manuel take thy Tale?

Mer.
You'd laugh to see the old Man chafe, Romanus;
Sound but the Name of Theodore, he frets
Like a gall'd Jade; he blames his sightless Folly,
That ne'er discern'd how much th'officious Zeal
Of Yesterday, which cost us so much Blood,
Is puft with Pride, and scorns to own a Master.

Rom.
Well said—My Soul foresees much good from this.

Mer.
Soon as I found that Prejudice take Root,
I scatter'd Hints, as was agreed between us,
That Theodore in Letters to our Emp'rour,
Had oft complain'd of Manuel's Government,
And thrown much Blame upon his wayward Age.

Rom.
I hope you touch'd that Point but tenderly;
It surely was a Task for all thy Skill.

Mer.
Do I not practise Cunning under thee?
I spoke it not, my Friend, as fit Foundation
To raise a certain Proof upon, but what
Prudent Suspicion guess'd; and therefore wish'd him
Henceforth in Judgment to compare this Notice
With Theodore's Demeanour.

Rom.
Thanks, good Mervan:
Why what a ready Instrument is Manuel
For Knavery to work withal?

Merv.
Why Knavery?
We mean no Ill to him, or to our Country—
But, Sir, my Wrongs cry loudly for Revenge—
I've been abus'd by Theodore—Because
I deal not in his boist'rous Trade of War,
He deems me but a Beast that will be tame,
And patient of his Burthen—Curses on him—
Sure I can feel a Smart as well as he,
And Vengeance has more Shapes than one, Romanus.

Rom.
Which he shall prove: Shortly I hope to see
This fierce, this blust'ring, this all-conqu'ring Hero,
That has refus'd us both his bauble Daughter,
With vile Contempt, with Insolence refus'd her,
Hurl'd from his airy Pinacle of Pride,
Turn'd from his Post, disgrac'd, mark'd for a Traitor,
And hooted, like a Nusance, through Aleppo.

Mer.
Let me but see that Day, my Soul's at Ease.

Rom.
So is not mine—Thou know'st not Half my Purpose,
[Aside.
Then when the pinching Shame shall gripe him close,
And more than Madness festers at his Heart,
If thou should'st humbly ask him for his Daughter,
Let him contract his angry Brow, and tell thee,
He scorns Alliance with a paltry Scribe.

Mer.
It was his very Answer to my Suit.

Rom.
I found a like Repulse—at least 'tis fit
You think so [Aside]
—Yet, believe me, my Resentments
Burn not so strongly for myself, as thee:
Mine is a common Destiny—It seems,
We petty Men of War are Slaves by Office.

Mer.
But not by Nature.

Rom.
Thou art right, my Mervan;
And therefore to our Work. Is it not better,
Thus wisely to employ our active Pow'rs,
And set the secret Springs of Mischief going,
Than to bedew our Beards with childish Tears,
And whimper in a Corner for a Toy?

Mer.
Romanus, I must ever thank thy Goodness,
That saw me drooping with unmanly Sorrow,
Taught me Revenge, and wean'd me from my Follies.

Rom.
Thy Firmness charms me—Pr'ythee, honest Mervan,
When does the Council sit?

Mer.
I guess 'ere now.

Rom.
Then let us hence—this Morning may afford
Some kind Event, to bless our utmost Wishes.

[Ex.