University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Solyman, Rustan.
Solyman.
What a Scene
Of solemn mockery is all human grandeur!
Thus worship'd, thus exalted by the breath
Of adulation, are my passions sooth'd?
My secret pangs assuag'd? The peasant-hind,
Who drives his camel o'er the burning waste,
With heat and hunger smote, knows happier days,
And sounder nights than I.

Rustan.
He seems disturb'd.

Solyman.
My couch is grown a bed of thorns: my sleeps,
That should repair frail nature, weigh her down
With visionary terrors. This sad dream,
Not such as fancy in her shadowy workings
Amusive raises and destroys at will,
Was on my brain with deep impressure struck:
It seem'd the hand of some night-hovering power,
That meant to warn me—Rustan!

Rustan.
Health, my Lord,
And ever-growing honors! Dares your slave,
Your truest servant, ask what care invades
His Sovereign's peace of mind?

Solyman.
Vizir, I blush
To think illusions of the dark have power
To move me thus—Yet, wherefore, night by night,
Am I thus visited with horrid shapes
And omens of impending ill?

Rustan.
Grant, heaven,
That in such warnings be not shadow'd forth—
Pardon my zeal—th' unwelcome truths that oft
Alarm our ears, of dark and deep designs,
Thro' all those bounds where Mustapha presides.

Solyman.
Ha! Vizir—whither wouldst thou lead my thought?

Rustan.
I know the perilous niceness of this theme;
'Tis cloath'd with death: and I am as a man
Who walks the summit of a fearful cliff,
Each motion hazards falling: And that fall
Is fate inevitable.

Solyman.
Thou art safe.
When duty speaks, its very error claims
Not only pardon: it deserves applause.

Rustan.
What may not youth, my Lord, impetuous youth,
By factious armies heated and inflam'd,
By strong ambition feaver'd into phrenzy,
Presume to dare? Impatient of controul,
'Twould spurn at heav'n itself, would scale the throne
Of him, the Sacred Power, who gave it being.

Solyman.
Thou hast arrous'd my soul. And if I doubt
I will prevent.—That were a tyrant's baseness;
Who kills—because he fears.—Away such thoughts.
Nor can this be. I have approv'd him faithful.
He still reveres the monarch in the father:
And love of one preserves him just to both.

Rustan.
So may it ever be. And you deserve
His most devoted service. For his sake,
You broke thro' all the rules of royal custom,
That buries in the dark seraglio's round,
And keeps at cautious distance, son or brother,
From knowledge and employment.

Solyman.
True: my heart
Disdain'd those narrow forms which low suspicion,
Th' inglorious policy of mean-soul'd men,
Had render'd reverend to our barbarous world:
Beheld with scorn by wiser nations round us,
Whom reason and discernment have enlarg'd
With nobler views, and polish'd into honor.

Rustan.
A zeal well meant, tho' indiscreet, the King
Will sure forgive.—But does this son approve
The breach of ancient custom—in each instance?
There may be novelties—

Solyman.
What wouldst thou say?

Rustan.
E'er since the time inhuman Tamerlane,
In Bajazet's insulted Queen, dishonour'd
The majesty of empire, future Sultans
Have shunn'd the marriage-tie.

Solyman.
Solyman has not:
Superior to that cowardice of pride,
Which made it a state-maxim—But say, who,
What slave of mine so lightly holds his life
As but to murmur at it?

Rustan.
All good subjects
Applaud your act with duteous veneration.
Fair Roxolana even adorns the name,
The honor'd name she wears. The Prince too, Sir,
Is valiant, noble, rich in manly virtues,
And with these virtues, loyal—But his pride—

Solyman.
His pride!—away—he does not, dares not blame—
Confusion!—blame!—He must approve my act.
Reason inspir'd, and honor boasts it done.
She merits more than pomp and power can give:
Even all that love in his unbounded fondness,
Inventive to bestow with taste and grace,
Can find to crown the idol of his vow.—
I lose my self in fondness—Say, I wish
A moment's converse with her.—Stay. Thy letters,
What say they of my son: Will he obey
My order? Does he come to vindicate
His question'd loyalty?

Rustan.
To all but that
My letters speak at large, and high extoll
His gentle manners, popular behavior,
And equal use of delegated sway.

Solyman.
My mandate was express and absolute:
And I expect him here, ere yonder orb
Has measur'd half its course—But should he fail—
That popular behavior, priz'd so high,
May cost him dear!—My Roxolana comes.
I would be left alone.