 | Aureng-Zebe |  |
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ACT IV.
Aureng-Zebesolus.
Distrust, and darkness, of a future state,
Make poor Mankind so fearful of their Fate.
Death, in it self, is nothing; but we fear
To be we know not what, we know not where.
[Soft Music.
This is the Ceremony of my Fate:
A parting Treat; and I'm to die in State.
They lodge me, as I were the Persian King:
And with luxurious Pomp my death they bring.
To him Nourmahal.
Nour.
I thought, before you drew your latest breath,
To smooth your passage, and to soften death;
For I would have you, when you upward move,
Speak kindly of me, to our Friends above:
Nor name me there th'occasion of your Fate;
Or what my Interest does, impute to Hate.
Aur.
I ask not for what end your Pomp's design'd;
Whether t'insult, or to compose my mind:
I mark'd it not;
But, knowing Death would soon th'Assault begin,
Stood firm collected in my Strength within:
To guard that breach did all my Forces guide,
And left unmann'd the quiet Senses side.
Nour.
Because Morat from me his being took,
All I can say will much suspected look:
'Tis little to confess your Fate I grieve;
Yet more than you would easily believe.
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Since my inevitable death you know,
You safely unavailing pity show:
'Tis Popular to mourn a dying Foe.
Nour.
You made my Liberty your late request:
Is no return due from a grateful breast?
I grow impatient, till I find some way
Great Offices, with greater, to repay.
Aur.
When I consider Life, 'tis all a cheat;
Yet, fool'd with hope, men favour the deceit;
Trust on, and think to morrow will repay:
To morrow's falser than the former day;
Lies worse; and while it says, We shall be blest
With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
Strange couzenage! none would live past years again,
Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;
And, from the dregs of Life, think to receive
What the first sprightly running could not give.
I'm tir'd with waiting for this Chymic Gold,
Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.
Nour.
'Tis not for nothing that we life pursue;
It pays our hopes with something still that's new:
Each day's a Mistris, unenjoy'd before;
Like Travellers, we're pleas'd with seeing more.
Did you but know what joys your way attend,
You would not hurry to your journeys end.
Aur.
I need not haste the end of Life to meet;
The precipice is just beneath my feet.
Nour.
Think not my sense of Virtue is so small:
I'll rather leap down first, and break your fall.
My Aureng-Zebe, (may I not call you so?)
Taking him by the hand.
Behold me now no longer as your Foe;
I am not, cannot be your Enemy:
Look, is there any malice in my eye?
Pray sit—
[Both sit.
That distance shows too much respect, or fear:
You'll find no danger in approaching near.
Aur.
Forgive th'amazement of my doubtful state:
This kindness from the Mother of Morat!
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Who takes that shape, to make my wonder more?
Nour.
Think me your better Genius in disguise;
Or any thing that more may charm your eyes.
Your Guardian Angel never could excel
In care, nor could he love his charge so well.
Aur.
Whence can proceed so wonderful a change?
Nour.
Can kindness to desert, like yours, be strange?
Kindness by secret Sympathy is ty'd;
For Noble Souls in Nature are alli'd.
I saw with what a brow you brav'd your Fate;
Yet with what mildness bore your Father's hate.
My Virtue, like a String wound up by Art,
To the same sound, when yours was touch'd, took part,
At distance shook, and trembled at my heart.
Aur.
I'll not complain my Father is unkind,
Since so much pity from a Foe I find.
Just Heav'n reward this act.
Nour.
'Tis well the debt no payment does demand,
You turn me over to another hand.
But happy, happy she,
And with the Bless'd above to be compar'd,
Whom you your self would, with your self, reward:
The greatest, nay, the fairest of her kind,
Would envy her that Bliss which you design'd.
Aur.
Great Princes thus, when Favourites they raise,
To justifie their Grace, their Creatures praise.
Nour.
As Love the Noblest Passion we account,
So to the highest Object it should mount.
It shows you brave when mean desires you shun.
An Eagle onely can behold the Sun:
And so must you; if yet, presage Divine
There be in Dreams, or was't a Vision mine?
Aur.
Of me?
Nour.
—And who could else employ my thought?
I dream'd, your Love was by Love's Goddess sought;
Officious Cupids, hov'ring o'r your head,
Held Myrtle wreaths: beneath your feet were spread
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Our Indian Jasmine, or the Syrian Rose:
The wanton Ministers arround you strove
For service, and inspir'd their Mother's Love:
Close by your side, and languishing, she lies,
With blushing cheeks, short breath, and wishing eyes;
Upon your breast supinely lay her head,
While, on your face, her famish'd sight she fed.
Then, with a sigh, into these words she broke,
(And gather'd humid kisses as she spoke.)
Dull, and ingrateful! must I offer love?
Desir'd of Gods, and envi'd ev'n by Jove:
And dost thou ignorance or fear pretend?
Mean Soul! and dar'st not gloriously offend?
Then, pressing thus his hand—
Aur.
—I'll hear no more.
[Rising up.
'Twas impious to have understood before;
And I, till now, endeavour'd to mistake
Th'incestuous meaning which too plain you make.
Nour.
And why this niceness to that pleasure shown,
Where Nature sums up all her joys in one;
Gives all she can, and labouring still to give,
Makes it so great, we can but taste and live:
So fills the Senses, that the Soul seems fled,
And thought it self-does, for the time, lie dead;
Till, like a String scru'd up with eager haste,
It breaks, and is too exquisite to last?
Aur.
Heav'ns! can you this, without just vengeance, hear?
When will you thunder, if it now be clear?
Yet her alone let not your Thunder seize:
I, too, deserve to die, because I please.
Nour.
Custom our Native Royalty does awe;
Promiscuous Love is Nature's general Law:
For whosoever the first Lovers were,
Brother and Sister made the second Pair,
And doubled, by their love, their piety.
Aur.
Hence, hence, and to some barbarous Climate fly,
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And Man grows wild in Nature's common Field.
Who eat their Parents, piety pretend;
Yet there no Sons their Sacred Bed ascend.
To vail great Sins, a greater Crime you chuse;
And, in your Incest, your Adult'ry lose.
Nour.
In vain this haughty fury you have shown.
How I adore a Soul so like my own!
You must be mine, that you may learn to live:
Know joys, which onely she who loves can give.
Nor think that action you upbraid, so ill:
I am not chang'd; I love my Husband still;
But love him as he was, when youthful grace,
And the first down began to shade his face:
That Image does my Virgin-flames renew,
And all your Father shines more bright in you.
Aur.
In me a horrour of my self you raise;
Curs'd by your love, and blasted by your praise.
You find new ways to prosecute my Fate;
And your least-guilty passion was your Hate.
Nour.
I beg my death, if you can Love deny.
Offering him a Dagger.
Aur.
I'll grant you nothing; no, not ev'n to die.
Nour.
Know then, you are not half so kind as I.
[Stamps with her foot.
Enter Mutes, some with Swords drawn, one with a Cup.
You've chosen, and may now repent too late.
Behold th'effect of what you wish'd, my Hate.
This Cup, a cure for both our ills has brought:
Taking the Cup to present him.
You need not fear a Philtre in the Draught.
Aur.
All must be poison which can come from thee;
Receiving it from her.
But this the least. T'immortal Liberty
This first I pour—like dying Socrates;
[Spilling a little of it.
Grim though he be, Death pleases when he frees.
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Mor.
Make not such haste, you must my leisure stay:
Your Fate's deferr'd, you shall not die to day.
Taking the Cup from him.
Nour.
What foolish pity has possess'd your mind,
To alter what your prudence once design'd?
Mor.
What if I please to lengthen out his date
A day, and take a pride to cozen Fate?
Nour.
'Twill not be safe to let him live an hour.
Mor.
I'll do't, to show my Arbitrary pow'r.
Nour.
Fortune may take him from your hands again,
And you repent th'occasion lost in vain.
Mor.
I smile at what your Female fear foresees:
I'm in Fate's place, and dictate her Decrees.
Let Arimant be call'd.
[Exit one of his Attendants.
Aur.
Give me the poison, and I'll end your strife:
I hate to keep a poor precarious life.
Would I my safety on base terms receive,
Know, Sir, I could have liv'd without your leave.
But those I could accuse, I can forgive:
By my disdainful silence, let 'em live.
Nour.
What am I, that you dare to bind my hand?
[To Mor.
So low, I've not a Murder at command!
Can you not one poor Life to her afford,
Her who gave up whole Nations to your Sword?
And from th'abundance of whose Soul and Heat,
Th'o'rflowing serv'd to make your mind so great.
Mor.
What did that greatness in a Woman's mind?
Ill lodg'd, and weak to act what it design'd.
Pleasure's your portion, and your slothful ease:
When Man's at leisure, study how to please.
Soften his angry hours with servile care,
And when he calls, the ready Feast prepare.
From Wars, and from affairs of State abstain:
Women Emasculate a Monarch's Reign;
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That pomp, as their own ravish'd Spoils behold.
Nour.
Rage choaks my words: 'tis Womanly to weep:
[Aside.
In my swoll'n breast my close revenge I'll keep;
I'll watch his tender'st part, and there strike deep.
[Exit.
Aur.
Your strange proceeding does my wonder move;
Yet seems not to express a Brother's love.
Say to what Cause my rescu'd life I owe.
Mor.
If what you ask would please, you should not know.
But since that knowledge, more than Death, will grieve,
Know, Indamora gain'd you this Reprieve.
Aur.
And whence had she the pow'r to work your change?
Mor.
The pow'r of Beauty is not new or strange.
Should she command me more, I could obey;
But her request was bounded with a day.
Take that; and, if you'll spare my farther crime,
Be kind, and grieve to death against your time.
Enter Arimant.
Remove this Pris'ner to some safer place:
He has, for Indamora's sake, found grace:
And, from my Mother's rage must guarded be,
Till you receive a new Command from me.
Arim.
Thus Love, and Fortune, persecute me still,
And make me Slave to every Rivals will.
[Aside.
Aur.
How I disdain a Life, which I must buy
With your contempt, and her inconstancy!
For a few hours, my whole content I pay:
You shall not force on me another day.
[Exit with Arimant.
Enter Melesinda.
Mel.
I have been seeking you this hour's long space,
And fear'd to find you in another place;
But, since you're here, my jealousie grows less:
You will be kind to my unworthiness.
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Each glance another way is robb'd from me.
Absence, and Prisons, I could bear again;
But sink, and die, beneath your least disdain.
Mor.
Why do you give your mind this needless care,
And, for your self, and me, new pains prepare?
I ne'r approv'd this passion in excess:
If you would show your love, distrust me less.
I hate to be pursu'd from place to place:
Meet, at each turn, a stale domestic face.
Th'approach of jealousie Love cannot bear,
He's wild, and soon on wing; if watchful eyes come near.
Mel.
From your lov'd presence, how can I depart?
My eyes pursue the object of my heart.
Mor.
You talk as if it were our Bridal night:
Fondness is still th'effect of new delight;
And Marriage but the pleasure of a day:
The Metall's base the Gilding worn away.
Mel.
I fear I'm guilty of some great offence,
And that has bred this cold indifference.
Mor.
The greatest in the world to flesh and bloud:
You fondly love much longer than you shou'd.
Mel.
If that be all which makes your discontent,
Of such a crime I never can repent.
Mor.
Would you force Love upon me, which I shun?
And bring course fare, when appetite is gone?
Mel.
Why did I not, in Prison, die before
My fatal freedom made me suffer more?
I had been pleas'd to think I dy'd for you,
And doubly pleas'd, because you then were true:
Then I had hope; but now, alas, have none.
Mor.
You say you love me; let that love be shown.
'Tis in your power to make my happiness.
Mel.
Speak quickly: to command me is to bless.
Mor.
To Indamora you my Suit must move:
You'll sure speak kindly of the man you love.
Mel.
Oh! rather let me perish by your hand,
Than break my heart, by this unkind command:
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And that 'tis harder to refuse than die.
Try, if you please, my Rival's heart to win:
I'll bear the pain, but not promote the sin.
You own what e'r perfections man can boast,
And if she view you with my eyes, she's lost.
Mor.
Here I renounce all love, all Nuptial ties:
Henceforward live a stranger to my eyes:
When I appear, see you avoid the place,
And haunt me not with that unlucky face.
Mel.
Hard, as it is, I this command obey,
And haste, while I have life, to go away:
In pity stay some hours, till I am dead,
That blameless you may court my Rival's Bed.
My hated face I'll not presume to show;
Yet I may watch your steps where e'r you go.
Unseen, I'll gaze; and with my latest breath,
Bless, while I die, the Author of my death.
[Weeping.
Enter Emperor.
Emp.
When your Triumphant Fortune high appears,
What cause can draw these unbecoming tears?
Let cheerfulness on happy Fortune wait,
And give not thus the Counter-time to Fate.
Mel.
Fortune long frown'd, and has but lately smil'd:
I doubt a Foe so newly reconcil'd.
You saw but sorrow in its waning form,
A working Sea remaining from a Storm;
When the now weary Waves roul o'r the Deep,
And faintly murmur ere they fall asleep.
Emp.
Your inward griefs you smother in your mind;
But Fame's loud voice proclaims your Lord unkind.
Mor.
Let Fame be busie where she has to do:
Tell of fought Fields, and every pompous Show.
Those Tales are fit to fill the Peoples ears;
Monarchs, unquestion'd, move in higher Spheres.
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Believe not Rumor, but your self; and see
The kindness 'twixt my plighted Lord and me.
[Kissing Morat.
This is our State; thus happily we live;
These are the quarrels which we take and give.
(Aside to Mor.)
I had no other way to force a Kiss.
Forgive my last Farewel to you, and Bliss.
[Exit.
Emp.
Your haughty carriage shows too much of scorn,
And love, like hers, deserves not that return.
Mor.
You'll please to leave me judge of what I do,
And not examine by the outward show.
Your usage of my Mother might be good:
I judg'd it not.
Emp.
—Nor was it fit you shou'd.
Mor.
Then, in as equal Ballance weigh my deeds.
Emp.
My Right, and my Authority, exceeds.
Suppose (what I'll not grant) Injustice done;
Is judging me the duty of a Son?
Mor.
Not of a Son, but of an Emperor:
You cancell'd Duty when you gave me pow'r.
If your own Actions on your Will you ground,
Mine shall hereafter know no other bound.
What meant you when you call'd me to a Throne?
Was it to please me with a Name alone?
Emp.
'Twas that I thought your gratitude would know
What to my partial kindness you did owe:
That what your Birth did to your Claim deny,
Your merit of Obedience might supply.
Mor.
To your own thoughts such hopes you might propose;
But I took Empire not on terms like those.
Of business you complain'd; now take your ease:
Enjoy what e're decrepid Age can please:
Eat, Sleep, and tell long Tales of what you were
In flow'r of Youth, if any one will hear,
Emp.
Pow'r like new Wine, does your weak Brain surprise,
And its mad fumes, in hot discourses, rise;
But time these giddy vapours will remove;
Mean while I'll taste the sober joys of Love.
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You cannot Love, nor pleasures take, or give;
But life begin, when 'tis too late to live.
On a tir'd Courser you pursue delight,
Let slip your morning and set out at night.
If you have liv'd, take thankfully the past:
Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.
If you have not enjoy'd what Youth could give,
But life sunk through you like a leaky Sieve,
Accuse yourself you liv'd not while you might;
But, in the Captive Queen resign your right.
I've now resolv'd to fill your useless place;
I'll take that Post to cover your disgrace,
And love her, for the honour of my Race.
Emp.
Thou dost but try how far I can forbear,
Nor art that Monster which thou wouldst appear:
But do not wantonly my passion move;
I pardon nothing that relates to Love.
My fury does, like jealous Forts, pursue
With death, ev'n Strangers who but come to view.
Mor.
I did not onely view, but will invade:
Could you shed venom from your reverend shade,
Like Trees, beneath whose arms 'tis death to sleep;
Did rouling Thunder your fenc'd Fortress keep,
Thence would I snatch my Semele, like Jove,
And midst the dreadful Rack enjoy my Love.
Emp.
Have I for this, ungrateful as thou art,
When Right, when Nature, struggl'd in my heart;
When Heav'n call'd on me for thy Brother's claim,
Broke all, and sulli'd my unspotted Fame?
Wert thou to Empire, by my baseness, brought,
And wouldst thou ravish what so dear I bought?
Dear! for my Conscience and its peace I gave:
Why was my Reason made my passion's slave?
I see Heav'ns Justice; thus the Pow'rs Divine,
Pay Crimes with Crimes and punish mine by thine.
Mor.
Crimes let them pay, and punish as they please:
What Pow'r makes mine, by Pow'r I mean to seize.
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Above, why should they question mine below?
[Exit.
Emp.
Prudence, thou vainly in our Youth art sought,
And with Age purchas'd art too dearly bought:
We're past the use of Wit, for which we toil;
Late Fruit, and planted in too cold a Soil.
My Stock of Fame is lavish'd and decay'd;
No profit of the vast profusion made.
Too late my folly I repent; I know
My Aureng-Zebe would ne'r have us'd me so.
But, by his ruine I prepar'd my own;
And, like a naked Tree, my shelter gone,
To Winds and Winter-storms must stand expos'd alone.
Exit.
Aureng-Zebe, Arimant.
Arim.
Give me not thanks, which I will ne'r deserve;
But know, 'tis for a Nobler Price I serve.
By Indamora's will you're hither brought:
All my reward, in her command I sought.
The rest your Letter tells you.—See, like Light,
She comes; and I must vanish, like the Night.
[Exit.
Enter Indamora.
Ind.
'Tis now that I begin to live again:
Heav'ns, I forgive you all my fear and pain:
Since I behold my Aureng-Zebe appear,
I could not buy him at a Price too dear.
His name alone afforded me relief,
Repeated as a charm to cure my grief.
I that lov'd name did, as some God, invoke,
And printed kisses on it while I spoke.
Aur.
Short ease; but long, long pains from you I find:
Health, to my eyes; but poison, to my mind.
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So much above what other Beauties are,
That, ev'n in cursing, you new form my breath;
And make me bless those Eyes which give me death?
Ind.
What reason for your curses can you find?
My Eyes your conquest, not your death, design'd.
If they offend, 'tis that they are too kind.
Aur.
The ruines they have wrought, you will not see:
Too kind they are, indeed, but not to me,
Ind.
Think you base Interest Souls, like mine, can sway?
Or that, for Greatness, I can Love betray?
No, Aureng-Zebe, you merit all my heart,
And I'm too Noble but to give a part.
Your Father, and an Empire! am I known
No more? or have so weak a judgment shown,
In chusing you, to change you for a Throne?
Aur.
How, with a Truth, you would a Falshood blind!
'Tis not my Father's love you have design'd;
Your choice is fix'd where Youth and Pow'r are joyn'd.
Ind.
Where Youth and Pow'r are joyn'd! has he a name?
Aur.
You would be told; you glory in your shame:
There's Music in the Sound; and, to provoke
Your pleasure more, by me it must be spoke.
Then, then it ravishes, when your pleas'd ear
The sound does from a wretched Rival hear.
Morat's the name your heart leaps up to meet,
While Aureng-Zebe lies dying at your feet.
Ind.
Who told you this?
Aur.
—Are you so lost to shame?
Morat, Morat, Morat: You love the name
So well, your e'ry question ends in that;
You force me still to answer you, Morat.
Morat, who best could tell what you reveal'd;
Morat, too proud to keep his joy conceal'd.
Ind.
Howe'r unjust your jealousie appear,
It shows the loss, of what you love, you fear;
And does my pity, not my anger move:
I'll fond it, as the froward Child of Love.
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Know, that your life was given at my request:
At least Repriev'd. When Heav'n deni'd you aid,
She brought it; she, whose falshood you upbraid.
Aur.
And 'tis by that you would your falshood hide;
Had you not ask'd, how happy had I dy'd!
Accurst Reprieve! not to prolong my breath,
It brought a ling'ring, and more painful death.
I have not liv'd since first I heard the news;
The gift the guilty giver does accuse.
You knew the price, and the request did move,
That you might pay the Ransome with your love.
Ind.
Your accusation must, I see, take place;
And I am guilty, infamous, and base!
Aur.
If you are false, those Epithets are small;
You're then the things, the abstract of 'em all.
And you are false: you promis'd him your love.
No other price a heart so hard could move.
Do not I know him? could his Brutal mind
Be wrought upon? could he be just, or kind?
Insultingly, he made your love his boast;
Gave me my life, and told me what it cost.
Speak; answer. I would fain yet think you true:
Lie; and I'll not believe my self, but you.
Tell me you love; I'll pardon the deceit,
And, to be fool'd, my self assist the cheat.
Ind.
No; 'tis too late: I have no more to say.
If you'll believe I have been false, you may.
Aur.
I would not; but your crimes too plain appear:
Nay, even that I should think you true, you fear.
Did I not tell you, I would be deceiv'd?
Ind.
I'm not concern'd to have my truth believ'd.
You would be cozin'd! would assist the cheat!
But I'm too plain to joyn in the deceit:
I'm pleas'd you think me false—
And, whatsoe'r my Letter did pretend,
I made this meeting for no other end.
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Kill me not quite, with this indifference:
When you are guiltless, boast not an offence.
I know you better than your self you know:
Your heart was true, but did some frailty show:
You promis'd him your Love, that I might live;
But promis'd what you never meant to give.
Speak, was't not so? confess; I can forgive.
Ind.
Forgive what dull excuses you prepare!
As if your thoughts of me were worth my care.
Aur.
Ah Traitress! Ah ingrate! Ah faithless mind!
Ah Sex, invented first to damn Mankind!
Nature took care to dress you up for sin:
Adorn'd, without; unfinish'd left, within.
Hence, by no judgment you your loves direct;
Talk much, ne'r think, and still the wrong affect.
So much self-love in your composures mix'd,
That love to others still remains unfix'd:
Greatness, and Noise, and Show, are your delight;
Yet wise men love you, in their own despight:
And, finding in their native Wit no ease.
Are forc'd to put your folly on to please.
Ind.
Now you shall know what cause you have to rage;
But to increase your fury, not asswage:
I found the way your Brother's heart to move,
Yet promis'd not the least return of Love.
His Pride, and Brutal fierceness I abhor;
But scorn your mean suspitions of me more.
I ow'd my Honour and my Fame this care:
Know what your folly lost you, and despair.
[Turning from him.
Aur.
Too cruelly your innocence you tell;
Show Heav'n, and damn me to the pit of Hell.
Now I believe you; tis not yet too late:
You may forgive, and put a stop to Fate:
Save me, just sinking, and no more to rise.
[She frowns.
How can you look with such relentless eyes?
Or let your mind by penitence be mov'd,
Or I'm resolv'd to think you never lov'd.
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I'll think you took th'occasion thus to break.
Ind.
Small jealousies, 'tis true, inflame desire;
Too great, not Fan, but quite blow out the Fire:
Yet I did love you, till such pains I bore,
That I dare trust my self and you no more.
Let me not love you; but here end my pain:
Distrust may make me wretched once again.
Now, with full Sails, into the Port I move,
And safely can unlade my breast of Love;
Quiet, and calm: why should I then go back,
To tempt the second hazard of a Wrack?
Aur.
Behold these dying eyes, see their submissive awe;
These tears, which fear of death could never draw:
Heard you that sigh? from my heav'd heart it past,
And said, If you forgive not, 'tis my last.
Love mounts, and rowls about my stormy mind,
Like Fire, that's born by a tempestuous Wind.
Oh, I could stifle you, with eager haste!
Devour your kisses with my hungry taste!
Rush on you! eat you! wander o'r each part,
Raving with pleasure, snatch you to my heart!
Then hold you off; and gaze! then, with new rage,
Invade you, till my conscious Limbs presage
Torrents of joy, which all their banks o'rflow!
So lost, so blest, as I but then could know!
Ind.
Be no more jealous.
[Giving him her hand.
Aur.
—Give me cause no more:
The danger's greater after, than before,
If I relapse; to cure my jealousie
Let me (for that's the easiest parting) die.
Ind.
My life!
Aur.
—My Soul!
Ind.
—My all that Heav'n can give!
Death's life with you; without you, death to live.
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Arim.
Oh, we are lost, beyond all humane aid!
The Citadel is to Morat betraid.
The Traitor, and the Treason, known too late;
The false Abas deliver'd up the Gate.
Ev'n, while I speak, we're compass'd round with Fate.
The Valiant cannot fight, or Coward flie;
But both in undistinguish'd Crouds must die.
Aur.
Then my Prophetic fears are come to pass:
Morat was always bloudy; now, he's base:
And has so far in Usurpation gone,
He will by Paricide secure the Throne.
To them the Emperor.
Emp.
Am I forsaken, and betray'd, by all?
Not one brave man dare, with a Monarch, fall?
Then, welcome death, to cover my disgrace;
I would not live to Reign o'r such a Race.
My Aureng-Zebe!
[Seeing Aureng-Zebe.
But thou no more art mine; my cruelty
Has quite destroy'd the right I had in thee.
I have been base,
Base ev'n to him from whom I did receive
All that a Son could to a Parent give:
Behold me punish'd in the self-same kind,
Th'ungrateful does a more ungrateful find.
Aur.
Accuse your self no more; you could not be
Ungrateful: could commit no crime to me:
I onely mourn my yet uncancell'd score:
You put me past the pow'r of paying more:
That, that's my grief, that I can onely grieve,
And bring but pity, where I would relieve;
For had I yet ten thousand lives to pay,
The mighty sum should go no other way.
65
Can you forgive me? 'tis not fit you shou'd.
Why will you be so excellently good?
'Twill stick too black a brand upon my name:
The Sword is needless; I shall die with shame.
What had my age to do with Love's delight,
Shut out from all enjoyments but the sight?
Arim.
Sir, you forget the danger's imminent:
This minute is not for excuses lent.
Emp.
Disturb me not—
How can my latest hour be better spent?
To reconcile my self to him is more,
Than to regain all I possess'd before.
Empire, and Life are now not worth a pray'r:
His love, alone, deserves my dying care.
Aur.
Fighting for you, my death will glorious be.
Ind.
Seek to preserve your self, and live for me.
Arim.
Lose then no farther time.
Heav'n has inspir'd me with a sudden thought,
Whence your unhop'd for safety may be wrought,
Though with the hazard of my bloud 'tis bought.
But, since my life can ne'r be fortunate,
'Tis so much sorrow well redeem'd from Fate.
You, Madam, must retire;
Your Beauty is its own security,
And leave the conduct of the rest to me.
Glory will crown my life, if I succeed;
If not, she may afford to love me dead.
[Aside.
Aur.
My Father's kind; and, Madam, you forgive:
Were Heav'n so pleas'd, I now could wish to live.
And, I shall live.
With Glory, and with Love, at once I burn:
I feel th'inspiring heat, and absent God return.
[Exeunt.
| Aureng-Zebe | |