University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

To Sopheian, Zaphna.
Zaph.
Thus Heaven's interpreter, to great Sopheian,
Sends peace, forerunning peace.

Soph.
I see his policy—
Where such angelic envoys lead his mission,
He would insinuate that a god must follow.
What would this new divinity?

Zaph.
My lord,
Spare mockery!—To any, save Sopheian,
We should reply in thunder—but, to you,
Soft as the southern breeze!—To you, great Mahomet
Sends invitation, unity of souls,
And greeting, given as to a second son
Of high appointing Heaven!—He bids you share
Dominion, and the glorious toils that wait
The reformation of the world, the fellowship
Of faith, and heavenly mission—

Soph.
Faith, what faith?—
Mission from whom?—

Zaph.
From that Omnipotence,
Whose power invests him to the darken'd world.
As when some comet, with portentous blaze,
Springs from the west, and flames around the globe;
So moves the sword of our illustrious Prophet,
Suspended o'er the nations!

Soph.
Is terror then the only attribute
That cloaths your Prophet?—Speak, what wonders wait him?
Will the dead hear his voice, will nature bend
Obsequious to his bidding? By what seal
Doth Heaven attest his embassy?

Zaph.
By conquest!

Soph.
So earthquakes yawn, to swallow nations up;
Volcanos rage, and wasting plagues advance,
Commission'd to destruction!

Zaph.
Mahomet
Will best resolve those doubts—but, for the present,
He bids your gates unfold to his approach,
And that Sopheian meet his terms of love
With answering amity.

Soph.
Bear back his greeting;
And tell the robber, that Sopheian's answer
Lies in his sword.

Zaph.
You have a captive.

Soph.
True.

Zaph.
A fair one.

Soph.
So I think her.

Zaph.
What's her ransom?

Soph.
I weigh not worth with gold—to me she seems
Above all price; and Mahomet must find
New worlds to conquer, 'ere he can redeem her.

Zaph.
That reverend form—patience!—thou canst not mean—
Say, by what right thou darest to detain her?

Soph.
Even by that right, young man, by which your Prophet
Claims universal monarchy—by conquest!—

Zaph.
Know you her birth?—know you her merits?

Soph.
Yes—
She is your Sultan's daughter, and my slave—
[Zaphna puts his hand to his sword.
What wouldst thou, boy? Shall I not use my slave?
Hath not your pious Mahomet his Haram,
Where, while on earth, he antedates his heaven,
In all the lusts of his luxuriant riots?

Zaph.
You would not—durst not!—But I'm cool again—
Did not the law of nations—

Soph.
O, 'tis well—
I like thy spirit, child; and, though I hold her
Prized as my realm, I do approve thee yet
A mate to her best worth.

Zaph.
You mock your servant.

Soph.
No, by my life!

Zaph.
O sir, how low, how humbled,
The frail, rash, heady thing, this toy of youth,
When shown, and shrunk in your superior presence!
But, by that awful virtue, I conjure you,
Which guards your form, and opens in your aspect,
Do not despise my tears—Is she not?—O—

Soph.
Yes, by my honour, I do think her pure,
Even as the rose of spring, whose folded bloom
Ne'er open'd to the breeze.

Zaph.
When time will serve,
My life shall thank you for it—O Sopheian!
Let me, now, step a minister of peace,
Between your virtue and our conquering Prophet;
Before whose power, the kingdoms of the earth
Bend like the bladed harvest!—At his touch,
Your walls must crumble, and your palaces
Sink to the pavement—Grant him but a conference.

Soph.
Never.

Zaph.
Then thus he speaks his last decree—
If not the peaceful terms of pious friendship,
Nor yet the dread of our impending arm,
Can bend the flinty temper of Sopheian;
If not the wealth of rifled provinces,
Can bribe him to resign Palmyra—then,

Soph.
Then—what must follow?

Zaph.
Bid him, then, beware
The fate of his own children!

Soph.
Amazement!
What children, sayst thou?

Zaph.
Trust me, sir,
He vows, by all the sanctities of Heaven,
They both are living.

Soph.
Living?—said you, living?
My children!—both my children!—where?—O miracle!—
Indulgent powers!—What country?—have you seen them?
My son and daughter too?—Alas—perhaps
Exposed to wretchedness, opprest with bondage!—
Inform me, youth—my children, my dear infants!—

Zaph.
Ye powers, how kindred are the soft delights,
That flow from nature's feelings!—Sacred sir,
'Tis sure your children are most safe—the rest
Will be declared at meeting.

Soph.
Haste, kind youth—
Yes, we may meet—the safety of my little ones
Hath whiten'd half his crimes—But mark me well,
For yet I trust not to your Prophet's faith,
Or his high boasted fable—bid his army
Repose beyond the plain; he may, in person,
Enter with due attendance, and my honour
With equal hostages shall be impawn'd,
For his return in safety.

Zaph.
Well, I trust,
Your terms shall meet acceptance.

Soph.
Further yet—
To shew, brave youth, the passion thou'st betray'd
For our fair captive, moves no jealous bearing;
Palmyra shall prepare for thy return,
And in my palace wait a private hearing.

Zaph.
All thanks are poor—O, may your eyes, with joy,
From those, your lost and found, your twice born infants,
Behold a line of princes! May you live
Till honour can admit of no increase,
And years dismiss you to the grave in peace!

[Exeunt.