University of Virginia Library

ACT the SECOND.

The SCENE, the Seraglio.
Enter Ibrahim, and Ulama,
Ibrah.
Has my refusal made no change at all?
Does she not yet her wandering sence recall?
Tell me, she hates; she does—she must: how can
Such goodness love so barbarous a Man?

Ulam.
Your Tyranny shakes not your Empire there;
The lost Asteria Loves you in despair:
With all her art and pow'r she strives t'asswage
The violence of her angry Fathers rage.
For your protection humbly on her knees,
The Eloquence of Tears and Pray'rs she tries:
And all for him, by whose disdain she Dies.
Not bleeding Saints for Martyrdom design'd,
Are to their Executioners more kind.

Ibrah.
Unhappy Maid, and more unhappy I,
The Author of such killing Cruelty:
Who see that Innocence such pains endure,
And make those wounds which I must never cure.

Ulama.
But whilst so long you Solymans heart possest,
Why was your Love a Stranger to his breast?
The knowledge of a former Mrs. claim,
Might have supprest Asteria's growing flame;
And so great pow'r as his might have prevail'd,
T'obtain that suit where your own interest fail'd.

Ibrah.
Even Solyman's pow'r had been a weak defence;
For know, she's Daughter to a Christian Prince:
Who by th'inveterate hate which long before
Our Warring Families for Ages bore;
Has with such furious rage, my Love persu'd,
As suffering Genova has felt in blood:
By the ill chance of War, 'twas our hard doom,
In three set Battails, to be overcome:
My Family destroy'd, my hopes undone,
The Field by her Insulting Father won;
I strait took Ship, and for new aids did flye
To our Allies, the States of Sicily.
And taken Prisoner by the Algereens,
I to that Voyage owed my Turkish chains.

Ulam.
Your Births being equal, 'twas unjustly done,
He did not then embrace you for his Son;
When th'happy tye had made your Families cease
Their hate, and reconcil'd a Nations peace.

Ibrah.
'Tis true, he might have been so just, but know,
Hate thinks none equals, much less makes 'em so.
So fierce his rage, so great was his disdain;
I durst not tell my Love to Solyman:
Least my just King concern'd at my ill Fate,
In kindness might have prov'd my Advocate.

Ulam.
What danger could that cause?

Ibrah.
I fear'd that He
Might for my sake have been deny'd like me.
Too well I knew that would provoke his rage,
And in revenge my angry King engage.
But false to th'Christians cause I ne're could prove,
Nor take such Vengeance, though for injur'd Love.
Far be't from me to shake her Fathers Throne,
Or touch his Life, whence she derives her own.
More I could bear, and greater wrongs o'recome,
To be the Champion-Friend of Christendom.

Ulam.
With this just Love, to Solyman I'le go,
And try what Reason, joyn'd with Pray'rs can do.
[Ex. Ulama.

Enter Dorea.
Dor.
Great Sir, a Bassa, newly come on shore,
In Rustans name admittance does implore;
By a command from him he humbly craves
Your kind acceptance of some Christian Slaves.

Ibrah.
From Rustan! Go admit him.
[Exit Dorea.
I've been by long and fawning Courtship prest,
To reconcile him to the Sultans Breast.
But were his flattering hopes on Reason built,
Were it in Ibrahims soul to side with guilt;
Did he but now behold my wretched state,
He'd find me there but a weak Advocate.
Enter Isabella, introduc'd by a Bassa, attended by Ladies.
My Isabella! What bless'd Vision's this?
Am I awake, or do I dream of Bliss?
Thus let me seal assurance to my sence,
[kisses her hand.
And free my lab'ring thoughts from their suspence.
This ravishing sight drives all my Clouds away;
From my long Night, breaks out eternal Day.
How, Madam, after three long mourning years,
Which I have languisht out in sighs and tears,
Have you escap'd your angry Fathers eye,
To bless this place with your Divinity?
How have you past the Mountains, Rocks, and Sea,
Which so long parted my fair World and me?

Isabel.
My Fate is in such mysteries involv'd,
The riddle is not easily resolv'd:
Stolne from my Court, forc'd almost from the Tomb
Of my dead Father—

Ibrah.
Her Father dead!

Isabel.
And after that become
A prey to one unknown, rob'd of my peace,
Freedom, and pow'r, expos'd to Winds and Seas;
And what more dreadful is than all those pains,
The hazard of my Honour in my Chains:
Through these rough paths I have been guided here;
But now I think my Sanctuary near,
My Ibrahims presence does dispel my fear.

Bassa.
Those actions her mistaken Innocence,
Has render'd such a Capital offence;
Kind Rustan, Sir, did boldly for your sake,
And for your preservation undertake.

Ibrah.
For mine!

Isabel.
For his! Oh let me hear no more.
If all this rudeness was on Ibrahim's score;
And by your order I th'Abuse receive,
I've heard much more than I can e're forgive.

Ibrah.
Can you believe me guilty but in thought
Of that black Crime the impious Rustan wrought?
Tho she's a Treasure I esteem Divine,
By Sacriledge I would not make her mine.

Bassa.
The Vizier may all these excuses spare,
For in this Rape, he, Madam, had no share.
This Plot was Rustans only, who by Spies
to Ibrah.
Employ'd t'observe you in your Privacies,
Found you a Captive were to those bright Eyes.
By some discourse 'twixt you and Dorea made,
The secret of your Love was first betray'd.
Rustan knew too, her Father was your Foe,
And that you'd ne're consent to use him so:
And fearing so much Love, Despair, and Grief,
Might rob the World without some quick Relief;
Unknown to you, he took this violent course,
T'obtain what kindness could not win, by force;
And hopes that act may not a Crime appear,
Which saves your Life, and cures a Kingdoms fear.

Isabel.
But since my Fate has brought me to this place,
Where I once more behold my Ibrahims Face;
And safe in Duty, and in Honour live,
Tell him a Crime so kind I can forgive.

Ibrah.
But say you saw your Ibrahim in Chains,
Bound, during Life, to bear the worst of pains;
Rifl'd of all his Honours, Pomp, and Pow'rs,
Could you in some dark Dungeon call him Yours?

Isabel.
Why Sir this cruel question? Can distress
And change of Fortune make my Passion less?
'Tis not true Love that ever can decrease.
But who dares load with Chains the Sultans Friend,
Can humain pow'r oppress what hee'l defend?

Ibrah.
Alas that friendship which once shin'd on me,
Is set for ever: Call't not Vanity;
When I must say 'twas my ill Fate to prove
The object of the fair Sultana's Love.
And Solyman o're-acting Friendships part,
Made me an offer of a Daughters heart.
Which Grace refus'd, too plainly I fore-see,
The dire effects of slighted Majesty.

Isabel.
And will my Ibrahim bear all this for me?
Will he for me provoke the Sultans frowns,
And for my sake neglect Life, Pow'r, and Crowns?

Ibrah.
I could for you the worst of Fates sustain
Death were my Pride, and if't had any pain,
'Twould be to part so long to meet so late again.

Isabel.
Kings are unlike their sacred pattern, Heav'n;
If their offenders cannot be forgiven.
Let him go on, his utmost rage fulfil:
And though he cannot frown, but he must kill;
Confirm this constancy and Fate contemn,
Suffer more boldly than He can condemn.
And as I doubt not, since the fault was mine,
But th'Author in th'Offenders doom shall joyn:
As your long Loves reward expect to see,
The Scene of Martyrdom fill'd up by me.
As in our Loves in Death together bound,
With greater pomp and state wee'l meet the wound,
Then Victims that were led to Altars crown'd.

Ibrah.
But see the mighty Solyman draws nigh.
Enter Solyman, Ulama, Morat. and Guards.
See there the trembling Worlds Idolatry,
And such a Prince, whose merit is so high,
That he who steals from Heav'n to make a gift
Of homage there, may justifie the theft.

Solym.
Do you not tremble when you see me here?

Ibrah.
No Sultan, I have reverence, but no fear.

Solym.
And does not shame your guilty Conscience touch?

Ibrah.
Though Solyman in Thunder should approach,
Still the same charming Majesty he wears;
But if so great and sacred he appears,
To those that meet his Frowns, and tread on Graves;
How God like is He when he Smiles and Saves?

Solym.
Ibrahim! What Guardian Angel have you here?
My Furies vanish when such charms appear:
What Lady's that?

Ibrah.
One, for whose sake I can
Meet Death, and stand the Frowns of Solyman.

Solym.
Thy Love is bold!
But in her cause I can't admire thy Pride.
What unknown Nation did that Beauty hide?

Ibrah.
Sir, to my torment she'has been hid too long;
Too fierce her Jaylor, and her Jayl too strong.
Till Fate at last clos'd up her Dragons Eyes,
And then by force brought the Illustrious Prize.
Heav'n this fair Mourner sent t'attend my Grave,
To see your bleeding Victim in her Slave.

Solym.
No Ibrahim; you could not dye before:
For Solyman, your Lifes protection swore.
And now you must not suffer if you cou'd:
Such Beauty can appease my injur'd blood.
Though you've wrong'd Friendship, Friendship must forgive:
Who cannot dye for her, can less deserve to live.
Beauteous unknown—
[to Isabel.
If thy fair hand the Sacred Contract Seal'd,
Which must not be by any Pow'r Repeal'd;
That Present from a Monarchs Hand accept,
[gives Ibrahim to her.
Which has for thee by Destiny been kept.
I should unjustly, in a Subject chide
That Constancy, which is a Monarchs Pride.

Ibrah.
By your surprizing goodness overcome,
Thus let his Duty speak, whom wonder has struck dumb.

[Kneels.
Solym.
Rise Ibrahim; is Justice in a King
So strange, and so astonishing a thing?

Isabel.
Is this the Dungeon? These the Chains? false fear,
That could suspect such Cruelty raign'd there!
Sure you mistook the Judge, or I the Doom,
[to Ibrah.
Who find such vertue out of Christendom.

Solym.
Justice and Nature here shall end their strife:
Rich in those Charms enjoy a happy Life.

Ibrah.
So vast a gift by so much mercy given!
If Monarchs in their actions coppy Heav'n,
Your glory in that List must be the chief:
Never was coppy yet so near the Life.

Solym.
Tho Fate for this commanding Beauty's sake,
Will not permit you should my blood partake,
I will not be by Destiny out-done:
I in a Friend will still possess a Son.

Ibrah.
What means my King?

Solym.
All kindness to that Name.
What ever envy'd Monarch does lay claim
To this fair Race; His glory I'le partake;
This Lady my Adopted Daughter make.
With all the Rites and Pomp due to my blood,
With all the Regal Ornaments endow'd,
That ever did or can attend my Race,
You shall in Her a Sultaness embrace.

Isabel.
Forgive me, sleeping Father, when I must
Thy Honours steal, and rob thy Sacred Dust,
To pay new homage here. Great Solyman!
Such matchless Vertues in your Bosom raign;
As without sin, Religion can controul,
And swell th'Ambition of a Christians soul.
Let me thus low the mighty Title meet,
And fall before a Royal Fathers feet.

[Kneels.
Solym.
Rise, and accept
Not on my Bounty, but your merits score
A Fathers Love.
[Raises her up.
(Aside...)
Pray Heav'n I've given no more.
I have approach'd her killing excellence
Too nigh, and feel in my transported sence,
Something that says I'm by my Eyes undone:
And yet the Lawless wandring lights gaze on. (...Aside.)


Isabel.
Those numerous Trophies you've in Battle wone,
Gain you less Fame than this one act has done.
Your Valour there but Nations overthrew;
Here Solyman does Solyman subdue.

(Aside.)Solym.
At first I thought I gaz'd without a sin:
Friendship and Honour kept the Traytor in.
Now 'tis resistless; whilst such pains she takes
To praise my Conquests, she a greater makes.

Isabel.
How faintly Fame does Solyman present
In those weak names, Great and Magnificent.
Those Attributes the Christian World does give,
And those from Fear and Envy you receive.
If who but hear your goodness give no less,
What must she pay whom it vouchsafes to bless?

Solym.
What must you pay?
(Aside...)
O that strange word! might I prescribe the way,
How those fair Eyes their Gratitude should pay;
I Miser-like, shou'd for such payment sue,
As would t'enrich my self the World undoe.
But Shame and Friendship interpose between
My wand'ring wishes, and that splendid Scene. (...Aside.)

Fair Creature—

Isabel.
Generous Sir—

Solym.
No more!
Think I've oblig'd you less, or if I had done
What might deserve applause, yet pay me none.
(Aside...)
For since her Eyes have done too much before,
Why should her Wit advance the Conquerour?
Since, I have the Mortal stroke already found,
'Tis torturing of me to enlarge the wound. (...Aside.)


Isabel.
Then what I must not, my whole Sex shall pay.
For the strange wonders of our Nuptial day;
Lovers shall in their Temples sing your praise,
And add their Mirtle Chaplets to your Bayes.

Solym.
Fair excellence, no more: Here Ibrahim, haste,
[Gives her to Ibrahim.
Begone, and hold that Beautious Treasure fast.
Be gone, whilst I have power to bid you goe.

Ibrah.
We have receiv'd his Royal Grace too slow.
His Daughters struggling wrongs resume their pow'rs:
[To Isabel.
Let us retire whilst the blest minute's ours.

Solym.
Quick, flye with your rich prize, lest you delay,
Till that storm rise, will drown you if you stay.
[Ex. Ibrahim and Isab.
And is she given into a Rivals hand?
Seiz'd and possess'd, and all by my command?
He from my bleeding heart tears that fair prey;
And in that Rape forces my life away.
[Ex. Attendants to Ibrahim and Isabella.
Stay Prince, to you, and to Morat, I dare
The nearest secrets of my Soul declare.
I'm grown so alter'd, and deform'd a thing;
In Solyman you'l scarce find out your King.
An impious and devouring flame has raiz'd
All in me that was good, all that was great defac'd:
That like the World in its last Funeral fires,
After that infinite Mass consum'd, expires;
Where once so bright an Orbe of glory was;
Torments and Hell fill up the empty space.

Ulam.
Those thoughts, whence this disorder'd language grew,
Have some great cause:

Solym.
Yes, and a strange one too.
I'm practising the Gyants War agen:
I've seen that Heav'n I wou'd unjustly Win.
In one mean act, my Honour I Dethrone:
From Ibrahim's Friend, I am his Rival grown.

Ulam.
For his, for hers, for your own glories sake,
Some care of your declining Friendship take.
Her, by your Kingly promise, you have made
Your Daughter, him your Son; Rights which t'invade,
Will so much stain your worth, ecclipse your light,
That your own Mirrour will your soul affright:
That he who once made trembling Nations shake,
Will at his own surprizing Image quake.

Solym.
These reasons my Conversion might have wrought,
Were I not too much harden'd in my fault.
But Ulama I Love, and must Enjoy;
No Argument can that Resolve destroy.
In this extream my desp'rate cause defend,
Not as my Reasons, but my Passions Friend.
O tell me how
I may my Love without a Crime pursue;
Sooth me, and flatter me, deceive me, do:
Hide all those stains that make it an offence,
And cheat me with a glimpse of Innocence.

Morat.
What need of Cheats? Is there a happiness
That the Worlds Lord should wish, and not possess?
You wrong your self, and our great Prophet too,
To yield to grief, and not your joys pursue:
Kings are his care, nor are their passions fir'd
by common heat of blood, but things inspir'd.
'Tis the Eternal Will that does ordain
Your Love or Hate; nor can that act in vain.
If your Bliss only by her Love's attain'd,
For you then she's by providence ordain'd.
Why to your self then, are you so unkind,
To feed your own despair; why, to man-kind,
To let their Monarch languish; why to Heav'n,
Thus to refuse what th'High decrees have giv'n?

Solym.
No, kind Morat; our Prophet does ordain,
Monarchs with Honour should their Joys obtain:
And when that Rock stops our forbidden way,
Pow'r must not climb where Vertue bids us stay.

Mor.
Honour and Friendship safe, with all her charms,
That Beauty shall be lodg'd within your armes.
Put his Allegiance to this glorious test;
Tell him your Love, and make her your request.
When he shall know such ador'd greatness dies,
If not recover'd by that Ladies eyes;
What will not so much Loyalty perform,
To guard his King from such a threat'ning storm?
By Heav'n he will present her on his knees.

Solym.
Love ne're makes guifts so Prodigal as these.

Mor.
Be not deceiv'd, your pow'rful influence try.

Solym.
How, not deceiv'd! Yes, you deceive me.

Mor.
I!

Solym.
Yes! and I thank you for the Courtesie.
Though all that you have said in my defence,
Are Reasons as remov'd from Truth and Sence,
As I'm from Peace: Yet such my passion is;
I'm charm'd ev'n with imaginary bliss.
Love, when thy pow'rs distracted fancies seize,
Hope in all formes, tho ne're so false can please.

Ulam.
Recall your wandering thoughts from such false dreams,
And free your self from all these wil'd extreams:
This low desire and humble thought surmount,
And your own happier Scenes of Love recount:
Think of that dazling form, so far above
Natures less lights, your Roxolana's Love.

Solym.
There! Oh 'tis there I'm lost! that only Name,
Brands my inconstancy with guilt and shame.
Her right I, irreligious I, have stole;
She, who so long has singly sway'd my soul;
To whom I've sworne that Faith should ne're remove,
And dedicated an immortal Love;
A Love so sacred, as should neither have
An end of this side, nor beyond the Grave:
Down go her Altars, and her pow'r decays;
To a new Saint I a new Temple raise.

Ex. Sol. & Mor.
Ulam.
This secret must to Roxolana; she
Must hear her faithless Lords Apostacy.
The early knowledge of this dang'rous Love,
May give her means her dangers to remove.
I'le waken all the forces of her heart,
Rowze all her charms, her policy and art,
To re-establish her declining power:
I to my Trust was never false before.
But am I false t'oppose his Crimes! to serve
Such excellence, such greatness to preserve!
To be his Vertues and her Honours guard!
Friendship's a Tyrant, if't has Laws so hard.
But why did I see Roxolana last?
Why was that Jewel in the Turkish Diadem plac'd,
To shine so bright, and yet be priz'd no higher?
Can he, whom such Raies warm,
Be led astray by any wand'ring fire?
Well are thy Ensigns, the inconstant Moon;
Had she been destin'd to adorn my Throne,
She had met a kinder Clime under a Persian Sun.
Yet though I Love, and Love too late—
Enter Roxolana and Asteria.
She's here!
The story is not for Asteria's ear.
I'le watch the favour of a private hour.

[Exit.
Rox.
There was a time when my commands had pow'r.

Aster.
Have they not still?

Roxol.
Then Love that Traytor less;
And your obedience in your scorn express.

Aster.
Love, once by your consent my Breast did rule;
And can your Councels change, and not my Soul?
No, sure; like Oracles such goodness spoke,
Pronounced what it meant never to revoke.
Hate, that rough Passion, Natures worst disease,
Should be learnt only amongst Savages.
Thoughts more refin'd, and words of gentler sence,
Should be the Precepts of such Excellence.

Roxol.
Poor Innocence, abuse your self no more;
Think of Revenge, and those fond tears give o're.

Aster.
Has Ibrahim deserv'd so ill of me?

Roxol.
Can such apparent Crimes disputed be?
Such injuries, though by th'Offenders Fate,
You may Revenge, you ne're can expiate.

Aster.
Talk not of punishing so brave a Man.
Though hopeless I, his Love must never gain;
Call it his Fate, not Cruelty, when I
Must for some more deserving Beauty dye.

Roxol.
Your anger and disdain should swell the more,
For being injur'd on a Rivals score.
Who can t'a meaner choice his thoughts debase,
And wrong his lifes Protectress, and the Race
Of Solyman; a man so base and rude,
You ought to scorn for his ingratitude.

Aster.
Ah Royal Madam, do not lay a Crime
Upon the just and guiltless Ibrahim.
No doubt my Love came in too late an hour,
When his lost heart was gone beyond his power;
Seal'd by some Vows which I must ne're recall.
And should I be so guilty in my fall,
As against Heav'n and Nature to repine,
Because they have made Eyes more bright than mine?

Roxol.
If Love, the payment of his heart withstood,
His Honour should have paid you with his blood.
But since he guilty lives, abhor his Name;
If justice can't convert you, then let shame.

Aster.
No more; already you too much have said,
When your commands can never be obey'd:
I ne're can hate him; though his Loss must kill;
My Murderer is my Lov'd Ibrahim still.
The world has not that man, whose worth should buy
My life, when I for Ibrahim can dye.
Yet me-thinks Death I would not wish too near;
I would not go to Heav'n till he comes there.

Roxol.
Leave me Asteria; how can I endure
To hear those ills, my Councel cannot cure?

[Ex. Asteria.
Enter Ulama.
Ulam.
Pride of the World, in Beauty, Power, and Love,
Great here below, and no less great above:
To Solyman's Throne by Divine Justice led,
Which gave such merit to adorn that head.
Love, which in Turkish Kings no limits knew,
But wide and spreading like their Ensigns flew;
By the new Miracle your Beauty wrought,
Its first and only constancy was taught.
Whilst th'Emperors wishes in a prize so rare,
Met all the Worlds delight, and center'd there.

Roxol.
How Ulama! Is Roxolana's power
Disputed, that it wants an Orator?

Ulam.
No, Madam, there, where Empire's absolute,
Your pow'r all should obey, and none dispute.
But when some black Tempestuous Vapours rise,
And with an envious darkness shade the skies;
We see the Sun behind a Cloud retire:
Great lights may be Eclips'd, though ne're expire.
Pardon that tongue which must offend your Ear:
And say
There's a storm rise in Roxolana's Sphear.
There is a Christian Beauty hither come,
That has out-done the Arms of Christendom.
The Turkish Crescents were Triumphant there;
But their great Leader is a Captive here.

Roxol.
Go on—

Ulam.
And that which does his pains increase,
Is, that this fair Invader of his peace
Calls Ibrahim Lord; by a long-kindled fire,
In mutual wishes their twin-souls conspire.
Yet not the pow'r of Friendship, nor the sence
Of infinite charms, th'Almighty influence
Of Roxolana; not this glorious piece,
Enricht by nature at so vast a price,
That 'tis undone; a workmanship so great,
As Bankrupt Nature never can repeat:
Not all this dazling object can restrain
Your wand'ring Solyman from thoughts too mean.
Such thoughts that He, that's blest by your fair eyes,
And Lord of such a Treasure, should despise.

Rox.
And are your Conquer'd fortunes sunk so far,
That to revenge the injuries of War,
Wanting the pow'r t'oppose his arms, you dare
Invade the Sultans breast, t'assault him there?
When by so insolent a Treachery,
You would raise storms betwixt my King and Me?
He who dares breath
Against th'unblemisht Honour of my Lord,
That honour which has been so long ador'd
By th'World and Me, not pray'rs nor off'rings shou'd
From my just rage protect the bold Basphemers blood.
But thy rude Arrogance shall boast no more
Th'indulgence of a gen'rous Conqueror.
My Guards there!
[Enter Guards.
Seize that Traytor.

[Guards, seize Ulama.
Ulam.
A command
From you, I should not ev'n in Death withstand:
But for some minutes grant him a Reprieve,
Who only for your service beggs to live.

Rox.
Serv'd by such Treachery! Yes thy Canker'd heart
Deserves that glory, Traytor as thou art.

Ulam.
He who dares falsly stain your Sultans Fame,
And impiously profane that Mighty Name;
Deserves more Tortures than the rage of Fate
Or Hell can give; for he deserves your hate:
But if your alter'd Solyman lays by,
Once in a Life his bright Divinity,
For a frail thought; must he that knows, and he
That tells the Miracle, Truths Martyr be?
If such I must be, let your pow'r dispence,
With life enough to prove my Innocence.
It is enough my Sentence came from you,
I would not willingly seem guilty too:
He who from your displeasure meets his Doom,
Needs no more weight to crush him to his Tomb.

Rox.
Call Solyman perjur'd, and have a pretence,
After that word to talk of Innocence:

Ulam.
But Madam—

Roxol.
Falsehood in Solyman! were't writ i'th' Stars,
I'd not believe it: Through those Characters
Of Night, I should Heaven's spite and malice see,
And call their twinkling lights as false as thee.

Ulam.
Would all I've said were false, and I that black
And monstrous thing your anger does mistake:
So much I Roxolana's bliss prefer
Before Life, Fame, and all that men call dear:
That to unite her wandering Lord and her;
I wish by Death I could her troubles cease,
And be that Traytor to secure her peace.

Roxol.
Your forfeit Head—but live—for should you dye
By Death you would but end your Infamy.
Your blood by me would be too nobly spilt:
Live branded with my hate, and your own guilt.

Enter Asteria.
Aster.
Madam, my happy Rival is arriv'd,
And with such pomp by Solyman receiv'd;
With so much joy, as if the smiles he gave,
Shou'd build a Monument o're a Daughters Grave.

Roxol.
What do I hear? half he has said is true.
Release him.
[Guards release him.
What if all shou'd be so too?
'Tis something strange, that Solyman shou'd treat
His injur'd Daughters Rival in such state:
I faign would ask her—but a sudden chill
Has seiz'd my blood; something me-thinks I feel
Like a cold damp came from that killing breath.
What will the truth be then; if but the fear be death?

[Ex. all but Ulama.
Ulam.
Are scorn and hate my Services reward?
Death with my Love compar'd's a task less hard.
Men dye with hopes of bliss, I Love with none:
Yet still I must adore where I'm undone.
Though by your pow'r unworthy Solyman,
Vain are my hopes, and endless is my pain,
My Pride shall be, I will my Love pursue
For less reward, with greater Faith than you.

[Exit.