University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

The Muft. Apartment.
Enter Muft. and Mustap.
Muft.
In vain you sooth me with these promises,
I'll tear my sacred Vestments; make bare
My hoary head, and of these Janizaries
My self beg present Aid,—was there but one
In all this mighty Empire, chast, and must
The Licentious Tyrant seize her?

Must.
I have not flatter'd ye—the Janizaries
As one man, are bent to right your wrongs
A moment's patience—before to morrow's Sun
The Seraglio's forc'd—the Villain Visier
Torn limb from limb, and the fair unfortunate restor'd
—Ha—see where the lovely Mourner comes.

Enter Morena led by Achmet, her hair down, and much disorder'd in her dress.
Ach.
The Emperour hath sent your Daughter back,
You must tutor her better, teach her
A more complying Nature, then
Perhaps he may again receive her.

Muft.
Hence Pandar! accurst by Heaven,
Hence! lest (tho' unarm'd) with
My hands I throttle thee, tell
Thy ungrateful Master, the saving
Of his life, is well rewarded—
—Tell him—I thank him
And he shall hear it loud!

Exit Achmet.
Mor.
Oh Sir!—

Muft.
My poor Girl!—

Must.
Cease Daughter, cease to mourn!
Here are your Friends—Friends
That will revenge ye.—

Mor.
O violated Honour!
Ruine, Despair, and Death's my Lot.

Must.
No Morena, No, thy Fame's secur'd!
And succeeding Ages shall as a Miracle
Relate thy Constancy,—yes, injur'd fair,
To the last Periods of recording Time,
Thy fragrant Name will bless the World!
Thou, the brightest Star, that
Ever grac'd the East!

Muft.
Answer me Prophet, Author of our Law,
What have I done, what horrid crimes committed,
That my aching Eyes are punish'd
With this doleful sight!

Mor.
The Grave will hide me, Sir!
Then you shall see this Wretch no more!

Muft.
Live, my belov'd unfortunate!
Let death and ruine fall upon
Those Feinds that thus have wrong'd thee.

Mor.
The Visier, (my Father).
The Devil-Visier—when my piercing prayers,
Seem'd to stop the lustful Sultan:
He blew again the hellish fire—
And with his poisonous breath
Urged the fatal act.—

Muft.
We'll drag the Infernal Dog thro' the City
While, in Howling, he surrender his hated life,
Amidst the Injuries and Curses of the People.
—Dear Friend, haste and encourage
Thy willing Janizaries! lead 'em
To force the Palace
For this accursed; I Authoriz'd
By Heaven will send a Summons to the cruel Emperour;
That he appear before our great Divan
And give account for this unexampl'd
Breach of our holy Law, the forcing of my Daughter.
Amurat, I know will instantly be here—
Come in, my Dear, and I will instruct
Thee to receive him—

Mor.
Oh!—

Must.
Why dost thou sigh? my Son knows
The Heroick virtue of thy spotless Soul,
And will, I'm sure, to death adore thee.

Mor.
Lend me your hands, for I am weak
And want support: let me look up
And thank remorsless Heaven
That I again behold the face of
Reverend goodness! for I,
(Alas) have been in Hell!

Exit led.
Enter Amurat, Solyman, Attendants.
Soly.
A Bridegroom's haste is in your steps,
And in your Eyes a Bridegroom's joy.
Now—we've reach'd the happy place!

Amur.
Enter Mufti.

Muft.
Oh! wondrous well!
—Young man—I think th'Ambition
That fills thy veins, is only
How to serve thy Master well,
Nor wou'd offer'd Crowns tempt thee
To a Disloyal act—

Am.
My Father! to merit this discourse,
What have I done? by all my hopes
I swear—shou'd Sultan Ibrahim
Send the Bow-string, Now, Now, when
Pleasure beats thick upon my heart,
And the transporting Joys of yielding Love
Are in my view; yet on my obedient knees
I'd fall; and whilst my breath cou'd form
It self to words; Dying bless the Emperour,
Oh! I know not whether I, the Sultan
Most Revere, or my Morena Love?

Muft.
'Tis well:—suppose then
This lov'd Morena torn from her
Helpless aged Father's Arms—dragg'd to
The presence of your honour'd Emperour,
Whilst his Cheeks glow with Lust—
His fiery Eyes dart on the frighted Maid
His fatal resolution—suppose
Her prayers, her tears, her cryes,
Her wounding supplications all in vain,
Her dear hands in the Conflict cut and mangled,
Dying her white Arms in Crimson Gore,
The savage Ravisher twisting his
In the lovely Tresses of her hair,
Tearing it by the smarting Root,
Fixing her by that upon the ground:
Then—(horrour on horrour!)
On her breathless body perpetrate the fact.

Am.
What alteration's here?
Chilling Tremblings seize throughout,
And leave my heart as cold as Death:
Oh! Sir! why have you spoke this
Horrid supposition, with such an Emphasis?
—Suppose it true—
Not burning Bulls, not breaking Wheels,
Not all the Cruelties, Witty Tormentors
Cou'd practise with Fire, Water, Steel, or
Poison, wou'd equal half my Wracks.

The Scene draws, and discovers Morena upon the ground disorder'd as before.
Muft.
Cast thy Eyes that way, and there behold
Thy wretched Fate and mine!

Am.
Oh! Friend! Is this the sight
I promis'd—are these my
Expected Joys—my Eyes!
Fix on the Object you have lov'd
Thus tenderly, and weep till you are blind!
Oh! cruel Emperour! have I for this
Thought toil a pleasure? watching
A delight? Held it a crime to groan
When hundred Aching Wounds were dress'd,
Because I had 'em in thy service?
—And am I thus rewarded?—

Soly.
At this Scene the Souldier leaves my heart
And I feel the Woman in my Eyes!

Am.
Compassion is a grief of little note,
But I have Woes that tear my Lion heart,
And drink the gushing Blood!
—Speak lovely Mourner, speak
To thy kneeling Slave; Hath Nature
Form'd a Monster, who durst with violence
Approach thy Snowy vertue? which
I with a Devotion pure as that we pay
To Heaven, have ever worship'd?

Mor.
Oh Prince! No Tongue, no Language,
Not severest sorrow, whose broken accents
Were all made up of sighs, that rend the trembling
Heart which form'd 'em, can express Morena's sufferings,
Forc'd from my Heaven of Peace and Innocence,
Thro' what various Scenes of Woe I have passed:
Raging Seas, devouring Flames, and Pestilential Fires,
May be the work of chance; and Nobly born:
But mine's a Fate strips me of all Patience,
Even of the last, and dearest Comfort, Hope.
Oh! 'tis my Curse that sense remains,
The Dire Vision is ever present with me
On this side ghastly Murder, on that
Rapine dress'd in Pomp, and Power,
Ruinous resistless Power! my head
Grows giddy with the Loath'd Reflection,
Lead me, my Zaida, to Darkness, solid,
Thick, substantial Darkness, where
Not one Ray of the all-cheering Light
May peep upon me, prepare an Opiate Draught
To lull my sorrows, or some desperate compound
That may turn my brain—

Zaida.
Heaven calm these sad disquiets, and give
The Best of Women Peace—

Mor.
Your Pardon, Reverend Sir, and thine I ask
Thou illustrious Figure of unfeign'd Despair,
I am not used to rage, my Nature ever gentle,
At but the reading of a dismal story,
My Eyes wou'd flow, my Heart wou'd rise,
And sympathetick sorrow reign.
But now I am by wrongs a Fury grown
Holy Prophet, is it a sin to heave these
Bleeding hands to thee, and Amurat, for Justice?
Yes, yes, it is, for Justice leads to sharp revenge
That to horrid Mischiefs—away—away—
Give me Death, Distraction, any thing, but Thought.

Exit.
The Scene shuts upon her.
Am.
Revenge thee! yes—we'll set
This Royal City in a blaze, till its bright
Flames mount high as thy Chastity,
And reach at Heaven!—tear up
The Foundation of this Imperial Nest
Of Luxury; and in its Ruines overwhelm
The World!—wilt
Thou not assist me, Friend?

Soly.
Whilst I wear this—Nor
Shall I fear to purge the contagious
Veins of Majesty in such a cause.

Muft.
'Tis not by Raving we accomplish
Our Designs; if, for my constant
Friendship, I have ought deserv'd,
In our honourable proceedings you will joyn:
Come with me to your Father, who is now consulting
With the Officers—there I'll inform ye
Who were the hateful Wretches, that set
The Sultan on to do this fatal mischief.

Am.
I go—Solyman, fly to the Camp,
And bring from thence my select Troops,
I'll take care at Night to give you safe admittance;
Oh World! uncertain always, false, and vain,
Thro' mighty Toils our wishes we obtain.
And hard we struggle for the expected gain:
But when in view o'th' end of all our care,
Some awkard Fate hurls back to deep Despair
Thus to th'Abyss, in sight of Heaven, I fall,
And lose my Love, my Honour, Life and all.

Exeunt.
Enter Ibrahim, the Visier, Sheker Para, Achmet, who seems talking to the Sultan.
Ach.
He threatned me with Death,
And said, he'd tell his Wrongs aloud,
Till Neighbouring Nations heard 'em.

Ib.
Saucy—and Arrogant!

Skek.
How long shall the Imperial Race,
Whilst the mistaken World deems them
Absolute, be subject to the crafty
Priesthood?—Do at once,
A just bold act, and set by
Your Example the great Successors free,
Send the Executing Mutes, and
Strangle this Ambitious Mufti.

Vis.
Strangle the Mufti! Oh horrour!

Ibr.
Why thou Viper, whom my breast
Has foster'd, till the rank poyson—
Hath made me all Infectious—
VVas it not you that urged
The cruel Rape I last committed?
By Heaven! The only deed that
Ever moved my Soul to a Repentance!
And dost thou now shrink back?
Thou whose face is stamp'd so plain
VVith Villain, every child may read it,
Canst thou draw thy Distorted features,
Into a look of pitty? and, as if Murder
VVere News, cry out, Oh Horror!
I tell thee, Visier, and mark it well,
Watch the first rising of Rebellion,
For should it grow too high; thou art
The fittest Sacrifice to attone the Popular Fury.

Vis.
Sacred Sir, you cannot mean the
Cruel things you say—must
My Life pay for my sincere Obedience
To your Royal Will?

Enter one of the Guard.
Guard.
A Messenger from the Divan
Rudely presses to your Presence.

Ibr.
Admit him—

Enter Messenger.
Mess.
Sultan!—the Mufti and the
Whole Divan Assembled, have sent me
To thee with the Mufti's Fatfa.
That you instantly appear to answer
The breach our Holy Law has suffered,
In violating Morena, A Free-born Maid.

Ibr.
Is then the Mufti the Dervises, and
All the canting Tribe together met
Hatching Treason, and brooding in
Their lov'd Element Rebellion?
Now every petty Priest struts,
Looks big; tells a long tale
Of grievances, Models Governments,
and Censures Kings—let your
Ring leader know, that I despise
His Trayterous Summons, and
Trample it beneath my feet—
Yet, Hold—thou art not fit
To bear a Message back from
Ibrahim, who darest to bring him
Such a one; take hence the Villain,
And strangle him immediately.

Mess.
Oh! Mercy! Mercy!

Ibr.
Away with him!—
Visier, Double our Guards, and
From the Army draw all, whose Loyalty
You think untainted—be Vigilant—
For on thy Life depends thy care—
Weep not, my Sheker Para—
We yet shall brave this Storm—
By Heaven!—
I to the Last my glory will maintain,
Or, absolute I'll be, or, cease to Reign!
That easie King, whose People gives him Law,
Flatters himself with Majesty and awe;
The Royal Slave the daring rout commands,
And force his Scepter from his feeble Hands.

Exeunt.