University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Arimant, with a Letter in his hand: Indamora.
Arim.
And I the Messenger to him from you?
Your Empire you to Tyranny pursue:
You lay commands, both cruel and unjust,
To serve my Rival, and betray my trust.

Ind.
You first betray'd your trust in loving me,
And should not I my own advantage see?
Serving my Love, you may my Friendship gain,
You know the rest of your pretences vain.
You must, my Arimant, you must be kind:
'Tis in your Nature, and your Noble Mind.

Arim.
I'll to the King, and streight my trust resign.

Ind.
His trust you may, but you shall never mine.
Heav'n made you love me for no other end,
But to become my Confident and Friend:
As such, I keep no Secret from your sight,
And therefore make you judge how ill I write:
Read it, and tell me freely then your mind:
If 'tis indited as I meant it, kind.

Arim.
(reading,)
I ask not Heav'n my freedom to restore,
But onely for your sake—I'll read no more:
And yet I must—
(Reading.)
Less for my own, than for your sorrow, sad—
Another line, like this, would make me mad—
(As reading)
Heav'n! she goes on—yet more—and yet more kind!
Each Sentence is a Dagger to my mind.
(Reading)
See me this night—
Thank Fortune, who did such a Friend provide,
For faithful Arimant shall be your Guide.
Not onely to be made an Instrument,
But preingag'd without my own consent!

Ind.
Unknown t'ingage you still augments my score,
And gives you scope of meriting the more.

Arim.
The best of men
Some int'rest in their actions must confess;
None merit but in hope they may possess.
The fatal Paper rather let me tear,
Than, like Bellerophon, my own Sentence bear.

Ind.
You may; but 'twill not be your best advice:
'Twill onely give me pains of writing twice.
You know you must obey me, soon or late:
Why should you vainly struggle with your Fate?

Arim.
I thank thee, Heav'n, thou hast been wondrous kind!
Why am I thus to slavery design'd,
And yet am cheated with a free-born mind?
Or make thy Orders with my reason sute,
Or let me live by Sense a glorious Brute—
[She frowns.
You frown, and I obey with speed, before
That dreadful Sentence comes, See me no more:
See me no more! that sound, methinks, I hear
Like the last Trumpet thund'ring in my ear.

Enter Solyman.
Solym.
The Princess Melesinda, bath'd in tears,
And toss'd alternately with hopes and fears,
If your affairs such leisure can afford,
Would learn from you the fortunes of her Lord.

Arim.
Tell her, that I some certainty may bring;
I go this minute to attend the King.

Ind.
This lonely Turtle I desire to see:
Grief, though not cur'd, is eas'd by Company.

Arim.
(to Solym.)
Say, if she please, she hither may repair,
And breathe the freshness of the open Air.

[Exit Solym.
Ind.
Poor Princess! how I pity her estate,
Wrapt in the ruines of her Husbands Fate!
She mourn'd Morat should in Rebellion rise;
Yet he offends, and she's the Sacrifice.

Arim.
Not knowing his design, at Court she staid;
Till, by command, close pris'ner she was made.
Since when,
Her Chains with Roman Constancy she bore;
But that, perhaps, an Indian Wife's is more.

Ind.
Go, bring her comfort; leave me here alone.

Arim.
My love must still be in obedience shown.
[Exit Arim.

Enter Melesinda, led by Solyman, who retires afterwards.
Ind.
When graceful sorrow in her pomp appears,
Sure she is dress'd in Melesinda's tears.
Your head reclin'd, (as hiding grief from view,)
Droops, like a Rose surcharg'd with morning Dew.

Mel.
Can Flow'rs but droop in absence of the Sun,
Which wak'd their sweets? and mine, alas! is gone.
But you the noblest Charity express:
For they who shine in Courts still shun distress.

Ind.
Distress'd my self, like you, confin'd I live:
And therefore can compassion take, and give.
We're both Love's Captives, but with Fate so cross,
One must be happy by the others loss.
Morat, or Aureng-Zebe must fall this day.

Mel.
Too truly Tamerlain's Successors they,
Each thinks a World too little for his sway.
Could you and I the same pretences bring,
Mankind should with more ease receive a King:
I would to you the narrow World resign,
And want no Empire while Morat was mine.

Ind.
Wish'd freedom I presage you soon will find;
If Heav'n be just, and be to Virtue kind.

Mel.
Quite otherwise my mind foretels my Fate:
Short is my life, and that unfortunate.
Yet should I not complain, would Heav'n afford
Some little time, ere death, to see my Lord.

Ind.
These thoughts are but your melancholy's food;
Rais'd from a lonely life, and dark abode:
But whatsoe'r our jarring fortunes prove,
Though our Lords hate, me-thinks we two may love.

Mel.
Such be our Loves as may not yield to Fate:
I bring a heart more true than fortunate.

[Giving their hands.
To them Arimant.
Arim.
I come with haste suprising news to bring:
In two hours time, since last I saw the King,
Th'affairs of Court have wholely chang'd their face:
Unhappy Aureng-Zebe is in disgrace:
And your Morat, (proclaim'd the Successor)
Is call'd, to awe the City with his power.
Those Trumpets his triumphant Entry tell.
And now the Shouts waft near the Cittadel.

Ind.
See, Madam, see th'event by me foreshown:
I envy not your chance, but grieve my own.

Mel.
A change so unexpected must surprise:
And more, because I am unus'd to joys.

Ind.
May all your wishes ever prosp'rous be,
But I'm too much concern'd th'event to see.
My eyes too tender are—
To view my Lord become the publick scorn.
I came to comfort, and I go to mourn.

[Taking her leave.
Mel.
Stay, I'll not see my Lord,
Before I give your sorrow some relief;
And pay the charity you lent my grief.
Here he shall see me first with you confin'd:
And, if your virtue fail to move his mind,
I'll use my int'rest that he may be kind.
Fear not, I never mov'd him yet in vain.

Ind.
So fair a Pleader any Cause may gain.

Mel.
I have no taste, me-thinks, of coming joy;
For black presages all my hopes destroy.
Die, something whispers, Melesinda, die;
Fulfil, fulfil thy mournful Destiny.
Mine is a gleam of bliss, too hot to last,
Watry it shines, and will be soon o'r-cast.

Indamora and Melesinda re-enter, as into the Chamber:
Arim.
Fortune seems weary grown of Aureng-Zebe,
While to her new-made Favourite, Morat,
Her lavish hand is wastefully profuse:
With Fame and flowing Honours tided in,
Born on a swelling Current smooth beneath him.
The King and haughty Empress, to our wonder,
If not atton'd, yet seemingly at peace.
As Fate for him that Miracle reserv'd.

Enter in Triumph, Emperor, Morat, and Train.
Emp.
I have confess'd I love.
As I interpret fairly your design,
So look not with severer eyes on mine.
Your Fate has call'd you to th'Imperial Seat:
In duty be, as you in Arms are, great.
For Aureng-Zebe a hated name is grown,
And Love less bears a Rival than the Throne.

Mor.
To me, the cries of fighting Fields are Charms:
Keen be my Sable, and of proof my Arms.
I ask no other blessing of my Stars:
No prize but Fame, nor Mistris but the Wars.
I scarce am pleas'd I tamely mount the Throne:
Would Aureng-Zebe had all their Souls in one:
With all my elder Brothers I would fight,
And so from partial Nature force my right.

Emp.
Had we but lasting Youth, and time to spare,
Some might be thrown away on Fame and War:
But Youth, the perishing good, runs on too fast:
And unenjoy'd will spend it self to waste;
Few know the use of life before 'tis past.
Had I once more thy vigour to command,
I would not let it die upon my hand:
No hour of pleasure should pass empty by,
Youth should watch joys, and shoot 'em as they flie.

Mor.
Me-thinks all pleasure is in greatness found.
Kings, like Heav'ns Eye, should spread their beams around.
Pleas'd to be seen while Glory's race they run:
Rest is not for the Chariot of the Sun.
Subjects are stiff-neck'd Animals, they soon
Feel slacken'd Reins, and pitch their Rider down.

Emp.
To thee that drudgery of Pow'r I give:
Cares be thy lot: Reign thou, and let me live.
The Fort I'll keep for my security,
Bus'ness, and public State resign to thee.

Mor.
Luxurious Kings are to their People lost;
They live, like Drones, upon the public cost.
My Arms, from Pole to Pole, the World shall shake:
And, with my self, keep all Mankind awake.

Emp.
Believe me, Son, and needless trouble spare;
'Tis a base World, and is not worth our care.
The Vulgar, a scarce animated Clod,
Ne'r pleas'd with ought 'em, above Prince or God.
Were I a God, the drunken Globe should roul:
The little Emmets with the humane Soul
Care for themselves, while at my ease I sat,
And second Causes did the work of Fate.
Or, if I would take care, that care should be
For Wit that scorn'd the World, and liv'd like me.

To them, Nourmahal, Zayda, and Attendants.
Nour.
My dear Morat,
[Embracing her Son.
This day propitious to us all has been:
You're now a Monarch's Heir, and I a Queen.
Your youthful Father now may quit the State,
And finds the ease he sought, indulg'd by Fate.
Cares shall not keep him on the Throne awake,
Nor break the golden Slumbers he would take.

Emp.
In vain I struggl'd to the Goal of Life,
While Rebel-Sons, and an imperious Wife
Still dragg'd me backward into noise and strife.

Mor.
Be that remembrance lost; and be't my pride
To be your pledge of peace on either side.

To them, Aureng-Zebe.
Aur.
With all th'assurance Innocence can bring,
Fearless without, because secure within,
Arm'd with my courage, unconcern'd I see
This pomp; a shame to you, a pride to me.
Shame is but where with wickedness 'tis joyn'd;
And, while no baseness in this breast I find,
I have not lost the birth-right of my mind.

Emp.
Children (the blind effect of Love and Chance,
Form'd by their sportive Parents ignorance)
Bear from their birth th'impressions of a Slave:
Whom Heav'n for play-games first, and then for service gave.
One then may be displac'd, and one may Reign:
And want of Merit, render Birth-right vain.

Mor.
Comes he t'upbraid us with his innocence?
Seize him, and take the preaching Brachman hence.

Aur.
Stay, Sir; I, from my years, no merit plead:
To his Father.
All my designs and acts to duty lend.
Your Life and Glory are my onely end;
And for that Prize I with Morat contend.

Mor.
Not him alone; I all Mankind defie.
Who dares adventure more for both than I?

Aur.
I know you brave, and take you at your word:
That present service which you vaunt, afford.
Our two Rebellious Brothers are not dead:
Though vanquish'd, yet again they gather head.
I dare you, as your Rival in renown,
March out your Army from th'Imperial Town:
Chuse whom you please, the other leave to me:
And set our Father absolutely free.
This, if you do, to end all future strife,
I am content to lead a private life:
Disband my Army to secure the State,
Nor aim at more, but leave the rest to Fate.

Morat.
I'll do't. Draw out my Army on the Plain:
War is to me a pastime, Peace a pain.

Emp.
(to Mor.)
Think better first.
(To Aur.)
You see your self inclos'd beyond escape,
And therefore, Proteus-like, you change your shape.
Of promise prodigal, while pow'r you want,
And preaching in the Self-denying Cant.

Morat.
Plot better; for these Arts too obvious are,
Of gaining time, the Masterpiece of War:
Is Aureng-Zebe so known?

Aur.
—If Acts like mine,
So far from int'rest, profit, or design,
Can show my heart, by those I would be known:
I wish you could as well defend your own.
My absent Army for my Father fought:
Yours, in these Walls, is to inslave him brought.
If I come singly, you an armed guest,
The World with ease may judge whose Cause is best.

Mor.
My Father saw you ill designs pursue:
And my admission show'd his fear of you.

Aut.
Himself best knows why he his Love withdraws:
I owe him more than to declare the cause.
But still I press our duty may be shown
By Arms.

Mor.
—I'll vanquish all his foes alone.

Aur.
You speak as if you could the Fates command,
And had no need of any other hand.
But, since my Honour you so far suspect,
'Tis just I should on your designs reflect.
To prove your self a Loyal Son, declare
You'll lay down Arms when you conclude the War.

Mor.
No present answer your demand requires;
The War once done, I'll do what Heav'n inspires.
And while the Sword this Monarchy secures,
'Tis manag'd by an abler Arm than yours.

Emp.
Morat's design a doubtful meaning bears:
[Apart.
In Aureng-Zebe true Loyalty appears.
He, for my safety, does his own despise;
Still, with his wrongs, I find his duty rise.
I feel my Virtue strugling in my Soul,
But stronger Passion does its pow'r controul.
Yet be advis'd your ruine to prevent.
[To Aur. apart.
You might be safe, if you would give consent.

Aur.
So to your welfare I of use may be,
My life or death are equal both to me.

Emp.
The Peoples hearts are yours; the Fort yet mine:
Be wise, and Indamora's love resign.
I am observ'd: remember that I give
This my last proof of kindness, die, or live.

Aur.
Life, with my Indamora, I would chuse;
But, losing her, the end of living lose.
I had consider'd all I ought before;
And fear of death can make me change no more.
The Peoples love so little I esteem,
Condemn'd by you, I would not live by them.
May he who must your favour now possess,
Much better serve you, and not love you less.

Emp.
I've heard you; and, to finish the debate,
[Aloud.
Commit that Rebel pris'ner to the State.

Mor.
The deadly draught he shall begin this day:
And languish with insensible decay.

Aur.
I hate the lingring summons to attend,
Death all at once would be the nobler end.
Fate is unkind! me-thinks a General
Should warm, and at the head of Armies fall.
And my ambition did that hope pursue,
That so I might have di'd in fight for you.

[To his Father.
Mor.
Would I had been disposer of thy Stars;
Thou shouldst have had thy wish, and di'd in Wars.
'Tis I, not thou, have reason to repine,
That thou shouldst fall by any hand, but mine.

Aur.
When thou wert form'd, Heav'n did a Man begin;
But the brute Soul, by chance, was shuffl'd in.
In Woods and Wilds thy Monarchy maintain:
Where valiant Beasts, by force and rapine, reign.
In Life's next Scene, if Transmigration be,
Some Bear or Lion is reserv'd for thee.

Mor.
Take heed thou com'st not in that Lion's way:
I prophecy thou wilt thy Soul convey
Into a Lamb, and be again my Prey.
Hence with that dreaming Priest.

Nour.
—Let me prepare
The pois'nous draught: his death shall be my care.
Near my Apartment let him pris'ner be:
That I his hourly ebbs of life may see.

Aur.
My life I would not ransome with a pray'r:
'Tis vile, since 'tis not worth my Father's care.
I go not, Sir, indebted to my grave:
You pai'd your self, and took the life you gave.

[Exit.
Emp.
O that I had more sense of vertue left,
[Aside.
Or were of that, which yet remains, bereft.
I've just enough to know how I offend,
And, to my shame, have not enough to mend.
Lead to the Mosque—

Mor.
Love's pleasures why should dull devotion stay?
Heav'n to my Melesinda's but the way.

[Exeunt Emperor, Morat, and Train.
Zayd.
Sure Aureng-Zebe has somewhat of Divine,
Whose virtue through so dark a clowd can shine.
Fortune has from Morat this day remov'd
The greatest Rival, and the best belov'd.

Nour.
He is not yet remov'd.

Zayd.
—He lives, 'tis true;
But soon must die, and, what I mourn, by you.

Nour.
My Zayda, may thy words prophetic be:
Embracing her eagerly.
I take the Omen, let him die by me.
He stifl'd in my arms shall lose his breath:
And Life it self shall envious be of Death.

Zay.
Bless me, you Pow'rs above!

Nour.
—Why dost thou start?
Is Love so strange? or have not I a heart?
Could Aureng-Zebe so lovely seem to thee,
And I want eyes that noble worth to see?
Thy little Soul was but to wonder mov'd:
My sense of it was higher, and I lov'd.
That Man, that God-like Man, so brave, so great;
But these are thy small praises I repeat.
I'm carri'd by a Tide of Love away:
He's somewhat more than I my self can say.

Zay.
Though all th'Idea's you can form be true,
He must not, cannot be possess'd by you.
If contradicting int'rests could be mixt,
Nature herself hast cast a bar betwixt.
And, ere you reach to this incestuous Love,
You must Divine and Humane Rights remove,

Nour.
Count this among the Wonders Love has done:
I had forgot he was my Husband's Sone!

Zay.
Nay, more; you have forgot who is your own:
For whom your care so long design'd the Throne.
Morat must fall, if Aureng-Zebe should rise.

Nour.
'Tis true; but who was ere in love, and wise?
Why was that fatal knot of Marriage ti'd,
Which did, by making us too near, divide?
Divides me from my Sex! for Heav'n, I find
Excludes but me alone of Woman-kind.
I stand with guilt confounded, lost with shame,
And yet made wretched onely by a name.
If names have such command on humane Life,
Love sure's a name that's more Divine than Wife.
That Sovereign power all guilt from action takes,
At least the stains are beautiful it makes.

Zay.
Th'incroaching ill you early should oppose:
Flatter'd 'tis worse, and by indulgence grows.

Nour.
Alas! and what have I not said or done?
I fought it to the last: and Love has wonn.
A bloudy Conquest; which destruction brought,
And ruin'd all the Countrey where he fought.
Whether this Passion from above was sent
The Fate of him Heav'n favours to prevent,
Or as the curse of Fortune in excess;
That, stretching, would beyond its reach possess:
And, with a taste which plenty does deprave,
Loaths lawful good and lawless ill does crave?

Zay.
But yet consider—

Nour.
—No, 'tis loss of time:
Think how to farther, not divert my crime.
My artful Engines instantly I'll move:
And chuse the soft and gentlest hour of Love.
The Under-Provost of the Fort is mine.
But see, Morat! I'll whisper my design.

Enter Morat with Arimant, as talking: Attendants.
Arim.
And for that cause was not in public seen:
But stays in Prison with the captive Queen.

Mor.
Let my Attendants wait; I'll be alone:
Where least of State, there most of Love is shown.

Nour.
My Son, your bus'ness is not hard to ghess;
[To Mor.
Long absence makes you eager to possess:
I will not importune you by my stay;
She merits all the Love which you can pay.

[Exit with Zayda.
Re-enter Arimant, with Melesinda; then Exit. Morat runs to Melecinda, and embraces her.
Mor.
Should I not chide you, that you chose to stay
In gloomy shades, and lost a glorious day?
Lost the first fruits of joy you should possess
In my return, and made my Triumph less?

Mel.
Should I not chide, that you could stay and see
Those joys, preferring public Pomp to me?
Through my dark Cell your shouts of Triumph rung:
I heard with pleasure; but I thought 'em long.

Mor.
The Public will in Triumphs rudely share.
And Kings the rudeness of their joys must bear:
But I made haste to set my Captive free:
And thought that work was onely worthy me.
The Fame of antient Matrons you pursue;
And stand a blameless pattern to the new.
I have not words to praise such Acts as these:
But take my Heart, and mold it as you please.

Mel.
A trial of your kindness I must make,
Though not for mine so much as Virtue's sake.
The Queen of Cassimeer—

Mor.
—No more, my love;
That onely suit I beg you not to move.
That she's in Bonds for Aureng-Zebe I know,
And should, by my consent, continue so.
The good old man, I fear, will pity show.
My Father dotes, and let him still dote on;
He buys his Mistris dearly with his Throne.

Mel.
See her; and then be cruel if you can.

Mor.
'Tis not with me as with a private Man.
Such may be sway'd by Honour, or by Love;
But Monarchs, onely by their int'rest move.

Mel.
Heav'n does a Tribute for your pow'r demand:
He leaves th'opprest and poor upon your hand.
And those who Stuards of his pity prove,
He blesses, in return, with public Love.
In his distress, some Miracle is shown:
If exil'd, Heav'n restores him to his Throne.
He needs no Guard while any Subjects near:
Nor, like his Tyrant Neighbours, lives in fear:
No Plots th'Alarm to his retirements give:
'Tis all Mankinds concern that he should live.

Mor.
You promis'd friendship in your low estate;
And should forget it in your better Fate;
Such Maxims are more plausible than true;
But somewhat must be given to Love and you.
I'll view this Captive Queen; to let her see,
Pray'rs and complaints are lost on such as me.

Mel.
I'll bear the news: Heav'n knows how much I'm pleas'd,
That, by my care, th'afflicted may be eas'd.

As she is going off, Enter Indamora.
Ind.
I'll spare your pains, and venture out alone,
Since you, fair Princess, my protection own.
But you, brave Prince, a harder task must find;
To Morat kneeling, who takes her up.
In saving me, you would but half be kind.
An humble Suppliant at your feet I lie;
You have condemn'd my better part to die.
Without my Aureng-Zebe I cannot live;
Revoke his Doom, or else my Sentence give.

Mel.
If Melesinda in your love have part,
Which, to suspect, would break my tender heart:
If Love, like mine, may for a Lover plead,
By the chaste pleasures of our Nuptial Bed,
By all the int'rest my past suff'rings make,
And all I yet would suffer for your sake;
By you your self, the last and dearest tie—

Mor.
You move in vain; for Aureng-Zebe must die.

Ind.
Could that Decree from any Brother come?
Nature her self is sentenc'd in your doom.
Piety is no more, she sees her place
Usurp'd by Monsters, and a savage Race.
From her soft Eastern Climes you drive her forth,
To the cold Mansions of the utmost North.
How can our Prophet suffer you to Reign,
When he looks down, and sees your Brother slain?
Avenging Furies will your life pursue:
Think there's a Heav'n, Morat, though not for you.

Mel.
Her words imprint a terror on my mind.
What if this death, which is for him design'd,
Had been your Doom, (far be that Augury!)
And you, not Aureng-Zebe, condemn'd to die?
Weigh well the various turns of Humane Fate,
And seek, by Mercy, to secure your State.

Ind.
Had Heav'n the Crown for Aureng-Zebe design'd,
Pity, for you, had pierc'd his generous mind.
Pity does with a Noble Nature suit:
A Brother's life had suffer'd no dispute.
All things have right in life, our Prophet's care
Commands the beings eve'n of Brutes to spare.
Though int'rest his restraint has justifi'd,
Can life, and to a Brother, be deni'd?

Mor.
All Reasons for his safety urg'd, are weak:
And yet, me-thinks, 'tis Heav'n to hear you speak.

Mel.
'Tis part of your own being to invade—

Mor.
Nay, if she fail to move, would you perswade?
Turning to Inda.
My Brother does a glorious Fate pursue.
I envy him, that he must fall for you.
He had been base had he releas'd his right:
For such an Empire none but Kings should fight.
If with a Father, he disputes this prize,
My wonder ceases when I see these Eyes.

Mel.
And can you then deny those Eyes you praise?
Can Beauty wonder, and not pity raise?

Mor.
Your intercession now is needless grown:
Retire, and let me speak with her alone.
[Melesinda retires, weeping, to the side of the Theatre.
Queen, that you may not fruitless tears employ,
Taking Indamora's hand.
I bring you news to fill your heart with joy:
Your Lover King of all the East shall Reign:
For Aureng-Zebe to morrow shall be slain.

Ind.
The hopes you rais'd y'ave blasted with a breath:
Starting back.
With Triumphs you began, but end with Death.
Did you not say, my Lover should be King?

Mor.
I, in Morat, the best of Lovers bring?
For one forsaken both of Earth and Heav'n,
Your kinder Stars a nobler choice have given:
My Father, while I please, a King appears;
His Pow'r is more declining than his Years.
An Emperor and Lover, but in show:
But you, in me, have Youth and Fortune too.
As Heav'n did to your eyes and form Divine,
Submit the Fate of all th'Imperial Line;
So was it order'd by its wise Decree,
That you should find 'em all compris'd in me.

Ind.
If, Sir, I seem not discompos'd with rage,
Feed not your fancy with a false presage.
Farther to press your Courtship is but vain:
A cold refusal carries more disdain,
Unsetled Virtue stormy may appear;
Honour, like mine, serenely is severe.
To scorn your person, and reject your Crown,
Disorder not my face into a frown.

[Turns from him.
Mor.
Your Fortune you should rev'rently have us'd:
Such offers are not twice to be refus'd.
I go to Aureng-Zebe, and am in haste:
For your Commands, they're like to be the last.

Ind.
Tell him,
With my own death I would his life redeem;
But, less than Honour, both our Lives esteem.

Mor.
Have you no more?

Ind.
—What shall I do or say?
[Aside.
He must not in this fury go away.
Tell him, I did in vain his Brother move;
And yet he falsly said, he was in love.
Falsly; for had he truly lov'd, at least,
He would have giv'n one day to my request.

Mor.
A little yielding may my love advance:
She darted from her eyes a sidelong glance,
Just as she spoke; and, like her words, it flew:
Seem'd not to beg, what yet she bid me do.
A Brother, Madam, cannot give a day;
[To her.
A Servant, and who hopes to merit, may.

Mel.
If, Sir—

[coming to him.
Mor.
No more—set speeches, and a formal tale,
With none but States-men and grave Fools prevail.
Dry up your tears, and practise every Grace,
That fits the Pageant of your Royal place.

[Exit.
Mel.
Madam, the strange reverse of Fate you see:
[To Ind.
I piti'd you, now you may pity me.

[Exit after him.
Ind.
Poor Princess! thy hard Fate I could bemoan,
Had I not nearer sorrows of my own.
Beauty is seldom fortunate, when great:
A vast Estate, but overcharg'd with Debt.
Like those whom want to baseness does betray:
I'm forc'd to flatter him I cannot pay.
O would he be content to seize the Throne:
I beg the life of Aureng-Zebe alone.
Whom Heav'n would bless, from Pomp it will remove,
And make their wealth in privacy and Love.

[Exit.