 | Ibrahim the Illustrious Bassa |  |
ACT the FOURTH.
The SCENE, the Seraglio.Enter Isabella Guarded by Morat and other Attendants.
Morat.
Pardon an act of Violence from his Hand,
Who only Executes his Kings Command.
Enter Solyman.
Solym.
Fair Cruelty! how cou'd you flye from him,
Whose only fault was Love, and that's a Crime,
The Gods must pardon, for they practise it.
Love ev'n in Paradice does Tryumphant sit.
Isabel.
How can you thus the name of Love profane?
Give no more breath to words of such a strain,
42
Solym.
Can you make wounds so deep you start to see?
And wilfully be deaf to all my pain:
To Sighs sent from the heart, in which you reign?
Some pitty of your Captives tortures take,
That breathe but like Confessions from a Wrack.
The Gods are only to the Damn'd so strict,
To shut their Ears 'gainst Torments they inflict.
Isabel.
Is this a Fathers Voyce? Is this a Friend
To Ibrahim? Can Majesty descend
T'a Crime so low, the meanest Slaves have scorn'd?
Were we for this with splendid names adorn'd?
He call'd your Son, and I your Daughter made,
Only to be more cruelly betray'd!
Solym.
'Tis true, I gave him all I had pow'r to give,
I bid him happy in your favour live:
And ignorantly past that blind Decree,
Till in your Loss I did my Ruin see.
Your pow'rful form prest nearer to my soul,
And thence my Peace and Soveraign freedom stole:
My fancy painted all the joyes of life in you;
And in your loss ten thousand horrors drew.
Isabel.
Oh Cruel King! how can you wound my ear,
With those dire sounds I scarce have life to hear:
When the most sacred Vows you dare invade,
That Heav'n e're heard, or Lovers ever made!
Solym.
How Merciless can you your pow'r disguise,
Can you that question ask, and wear those Eyes?
Isabel.
If from their Influence your guilt arise:
Wou'd'I had been born of some black Æthiop-race,
Wor'n a dark Veile of Nature o're my Face:
And for the want
Of outward force which Ibrahims heart should bind,
Had caught him only with a beautious mind.
Thus free from dang'rous eyes, and fading charms,
My peace secur'd from a Wild King's Alarmes;
You had not then my Persecutor turn'd,
Nor the fair Injur'd Roxolana mourn'd.
We had lived safe from Tortures and despair,
Not wrong'd by th'Great, nor envy'd by the Fair.
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Are you so faithful then to Ibrahim,
That you would rob the World in Love to him;
To wish those eyes obscure? yet if they were,
Had those eyes been, those twins of light, less fair;
Then Crowns and Empires might my peace have bought,
And a wide World had fill'd my bounded thought.
Isabel.
Oh hold! this too unkind discourse give o're—
My Ibrahim's dear, but my bright Honour more.
Think how you do not only injure him,
Conspire against your once Lov'd Ibrahim:
But whilst I'm forc'd to hear the frightful name,
Of Impious Love, you wound my tender Fame.
Solym.
If of your Honour you so tender prove,
Express it by your scorn of Ibrahim's Love.
You only wrong your Fame in loving him,
(Unworthy as he is)—but end that Crime.
Isabel.
Oh Heav'n! what do I hear?
Solym.
He is a Thief!
A Traytor! for a mean and base reliefe,
Against my dang'rous Love, he stole you hence.
Isabel.
If that's a Crime, 'Twas mine, not his offence.
Your black designs had made me dread your sight
So much, I used not only Prayers t'invite,
But my Commands to make him aid my flight.
Solym.
Fair Torturer of my soul, since you could be
So kind to him, and so severe to me;
Expiate that sin, of which you are the cause:
His head is forfeit by the Turkish Laws.
Now if you love him, reconcile our strife:
Your heart's the only Ransom of his Life.
'Tis true, I'm led by passion to disclaim
My Vertue, wrong my Friendship, stain my Fame:
I see the Precipice, but cannot stay:
Love runs me down, and drives my soul away.
My Passion for that Beauty is so high,
This I resolve, this I must do, or dye.
Isabel.
In vain you threaten me with Ibrahims Death.
Think not my long inviolable Faith,
Poorly at last will be o'recome by Fear.
No Sir! there's no such weak Dominion here.
44
To persecute Me in the tenderest part:
Tho Ibrahims Life I prize above my own,
Think as much worth lodg'd in that Breast alone,
As Man-kind e're possest, or Heav'n e're gave;
Yet even his Life I wou'd not basely save.
Solym.
Gods! must I find
A Heart so fixt, and Vertue so sublime:
Has my bold Love such craggy way to climbe?
Isabel.
Hope not t'assault me there, rather than he
Should live to see me perjur'd, I would see
Him bleed; see him in purple horror dy'd;
See the dear Lord of all my hopes destroy'd:
Nor think this Doom in cruelty design'd;
No; His just Love wou'd rather call it kind.
Solym.
Oh my distraction!
Isabel.
But whilst I stay
To prove my Vertue, I my Vertue wrong,
And my chaste ear has guilty been too long.
Here Jailour, to my Prison take me hence,
[to Mor.
Now you may act a welcome violence.
Solym.
Stay Madam!
Isabel.
I can hear no more, in vain—
Solym.
Oh Madam! stay one minute, and t'obtain
That favour, Ibrahim shall live, and live
To see me wretched, till he sees you give
My mortal wound; as but too soon you will:
For so much scorn can do no less than kill.
When those fair Eyes shall like a winter-Sun,
Give only light, not life; whose influence gone,
All things below, decay'd and wither'd turn,
And drooping Nature does his distance mourn.
When thus my blasted greatness shall decay,
And by your frowns my life shall droop away;
My pains, my griefs, my horrors shall be such,
As shall so near my generous Vizier touch,
Till my sad state his soften'd pitty move,
And pitty grant what is deny'd by Love.
Till his compassion does my life defend,
And quit a Mistress to preserve a Friend.
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Do not his Constancy so much mistake;
Yet if for you he could my Love forsake:
That heart which justly as his falsehoods due,
I took from him, I could not give to you.
Though you such Irreligious thoughts admit,
Your Honour and your Nuptial Vows forget,
I cannot—
Solym.
Is Religion then my Foe?
And does my Marry'd state my hopes o'rethrow?
That shall not cloud the glories of your life.
You shall be mine, a Christian, and a Wife.
Isabel.
Defend me Heav'n! what's this?
Solym.
You shall in state be to a Temple led;
I'le take the Crown from Roxolana's Head.
Thus, you shall meet my Love—
Isabel.
'Twas too much crime alone
T'oppose my Vows: wou'd you deface your own?
Break your long Faith to Roxolana given,
And by your rage thus doubly injure Heav'n?
Solym.
I injure Heav'n; no, you mistake me now;
I am pious, not profane in what I doe.
What greater homage can to heav'n be paid
Then with Imperial Crowns t'adorn the Head
Of the Divinest Creature it e're made.
Isabel.
Oh! let me go! this place of horror flye,
Send me t'a dungeon, to a Grave, to dye,
Rather then stay to heighten your impiety.
Solym.
Retire then, since my presence is a sin,
But Cruel, Fair, when we shall meet agen,
Assume a mercy that befits that brow.
Isabel.
If I must find you as I leave you now,
Meet me no more; nor time, nor force employ,
Against that Faith no pow'r can e'r destroy.
And for those Tales of Death you seem to fear,
Attend my frowns, there's no such danger near.
Despair in guilty Loves ne're soares so high:
None but just Lovers, love enough to dye.
[Exit Guarded.
Solym.
Was ever scorn so high? or King, so low?
Mor.
To Constancy you all this rudeness owe.
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The causes of this scorn must be remov'd.
Ibrahim must dye; and though 'twill seem severe,
To take that life which once you held so dear:
Yet since his Life has th'hopes of yours debarr'd,
His Destiny can be your only Guard.
This is the way will take: Her Lover dead,
And the Crown taken from your Empress head:
Though some few tears may fall at Ibrahim's death,
Marriage and Crowns will tempt her Christian Faith.
This only course your desperate Love secures—
Solym.
And this dark course I'le take.
Mor.
Do: and She's yours.
Solym.
For Love o'recomes, and I must kill or dye.
Let it be done e're I think how, or why.
Haste; Let the news of Ibrahim's Death be brought,
[Exit Morat.
And whilst he's dying I'le divert the thought:
With a forc'd Lethargy I'le damp my soul,
Friendship may else return, and my resolves controul.
O Love! what is thy power—Morat return,
He must not dye.
[Morat Re-enters.
I have by Alla sworne
That he shall never bleed whilst Solyman lives.
Mor.
Is it the voyce of Majesty Reprieves
An Enemy, a destroyer of your peace?
Can humble penitence great Spirits seize?
Solym.
No: I would have him still destroy'd, but if
I must be Perjur'd when I take his Life,
I must protect his Life, though against mine.
Though Love can yield to any lesser sin:
That Oath I must not; no, I cannot break.
Mor.
Your Oath is strong, when your resolves are weak.
Solym.
Had I by Alla sworne to quit my Crown,
So bound, I ought to lay my Scepter down;
And yield a Throne without a sigh—
Mor.
But Sir—
Even Kings themselves sometimes may chance to erre;
And you would impute Cruelty to Heav'n,
If sins of Ignorance can't be forgiven.
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Send for the Mufti, Sir, consult with him:
He may repeal that Vow your rashness past;
And find your promise does not bind so fast:
Or shew at least some safe, though distant means,
To gain your quiet, and remove your pains.
Solym.
Send for him, though I fear 'tis all in vain;
Do any thing to bring my peace again.
[Ex. Morat.
Enter at another Door, Ibrahim.
After your mean suspition, with what face,
False Ibrahim, dare you approach this place.
Ibrah.
Sir, I approach you as I ought to do;
As one who'has lost all hopes in loosing you,
Approach you with those looks he ought to bring,
Who hears this language from an alter'd King.
My happiness in this Tempest sinks and drowns,
I knew your smiles too well to bear your frowns.
Solym.
How can I think you priz'd my smiles so high,
When you could forfeit them so wilfully?
Ibrah.
If the protection of my Love's a sin,
Then condemn'd Ibrahim has guilty been.
But when I Councell'd my fair Saint to flye,
I was your Champion, not your Enemy.
I knew her Faith so well, that when from hence,
I stole her, 'twas in Solyman's defence.
Since her firm Vows no force could e're destroy,
I rob'd you of a Torment, not a Joy.
Solym.
Was ever Arrogance so high, to dare
Thus insolently brave me with Despair!
What though, my Pow'r's so weak, and hope so vain
That Hate and Scorn is all I must obtain.
Though you can think so meanly of my State,
It is unkind t'upbraid me with my Fate.
Ibrah.
No, Sultan, call it by another Name,
A subjects Zeal to Guard his Soveraignes Fame.
More worthy and more Kingly Thoughts persue:
How little does this change appear in You?
VVhen Solyman, who lately took Delight
In Thoughts that soar'd above an Eagles Flight,
Now humbly stoops t'invade his Vassals right.
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Is it so humble to adore that Face?
A favor'd Lover and have thoughts so base?
Since of her Pow'r you have a Sence no higher,
And see so little there for Kings t'Admire.
I will convert your infidelity:
Take her more glorious Character from me:
By Nature she's ordeyn'd to be Obey'd:
All Beauteous things for Soveraignty were made.
Is not Love Kingly then, when thus my Breast it fils?
Ibrah.
So Thunder's heavenly, but that Thunder Kills.
Solym.
Why should you think Il'e take so rough a Course;
Il'e vanquish by Entreaty not by Force.
My Warlike Visier has in Camps been Nurst:
In Laurells it was I that drest you first.
Desert not then that Aire, where you were Bred:
Fame, so long Courted, now be Kind, and VVed.
That glorious Race so well begun persue.
Ibrha.
But Sir, cannot I Conquer, and Love too?
Solym.
Can nothing but my ruin satisfie?
Are there not charms enow in Victory?
Take all my Forces, half my World be thine:
And in exchange, let that one Prize be mine.
Ibrah.
Oh, now you ask what I can ne're resign.
Loves that can cease, are Feavourish desires,
A Thirst, which the Disease once cured, expires.
My heart unchangeably her Image weares;
Meteors may be extinguisht, but not Stars.
Solym.
Of Roxolana, I was once as fond,
And loved as much; yet time has broke that Bond.
Is Love in Me more mortal than in You?
No, 'tis your Pride denys, because I stoop to sue.
Were you for this Ungrateful Man, by me,
From Death, and from inglorious chains set free;
From below Pitty above Envy rais'd?
Was it not I your sullen Fate appeas'd;
From your rude Ore refin'd you into Gold,
And stampt you in my own Imperial Mould?
And what my nobler Nature ought to shun,
You force me to repeat what I have done?
49
Those favours, Sir, your Vassal blushing took;
Admir'd your Bounteous hand, and wonder-strook,
With humble Veneration did adore
Great Jove descending in a Royal showre.
Solym.
And now that Veneration is her due.
Ibrah.
To worship her, I'le never steal from you;
No, to acknowledge what your smiles have done,
Send me to Nations, yet t'your Arms unknown,
I'le fetch you glories from the rich Peru;
Nature her Treasures shall unlock for you.
But if of rougher spoiles you would be Lord,
By Valiant more than shining Kings ador'd,
The Savage Tartar in his frozen Zone,
Scorcht by your light'ning, shall your greatness own.
New Toiles, new Labours for my Arm decree:
Try me like Hercules, and I shall be,
If not as great, as little tir'd as He.
Solym.
My stock of fame already is so large,
That Victories would be a mean discharge.
Her heart would th'only pleasing payment make.
Ibrah.
And can I yield my Princess to forsake?
Since I want power to pay that vast demand,
Arrest your Honours in a Bankrupts hand.
Make me that wretched thing I was before:
Resume your glories, and my Chains restore:
And by my Death let all your Troubles cease;
I've liv'd too long, when I disturb your Peace.
Solym.
And that long life 'tis I can shorter make.
Ibrah.
Oh, take it Sir: I wear it for your sake:
Though I can never yield to quit my Love;
Yet I can dye, a Rival to remove.
And when to Death I go, hear my last pray'r;
May Solymans Life, Heav'n, take up all your care.
Solym.
Can Ibrahim so patiently receive
His Doom, and with such ease his Judge forgive?
Ibrah.
Forgive you? where's your sin? Alas your hand
Takes but that Life you justly may demand.
Should abject Creatures in their dying hour,
Repine and Murmour at th'Almighty pow'r?
50
Not one ill thought should touch my parting soul.
Solym.
Hold, generous Prince! Know what great Love can do;
And hear a Resolution Strange, but True.
I have no hopes that Beauty to o'recome,
But by your Death to make my Passion room.
Yet in such Loyalty such pow'r I find,
That goodness in your face, and lustre in your mind;
That if one look, one kind word more you give,
'Twill soften me till I shall let you live.
But to enable me to give the blow;
Ibrahim, your last, but fatal Duty show
With haste, and silence from my presence flye,
That absent I may'have power to bid you dye.
[Ex. Ibrah.
He's gone, and has my black command obey'd;
Yet not such Loyalty can save his head:
To what ill deeds is desperate passion led?
Enter Morat and Mufti.
Mor.
The Mufti, Sir, your pleasure does attend.
Solym.
Priest, for thy Councel, and thy Aid I send.
A Ravisher has rob'd me of my Peace,
And I want power to make my torment cease.
Muft.
Who is that Ravisher, and what that Chain
Which binds your Arm, and does your pow'r restrain?
Can ought rebate the Sword of Solyman?
Solym.
My Faith, my Vows, and my Religion can:
By Alla bound, I've made this solemn tye,
Whilst Solyman Lives, my Vizier shall not dye.
And by his Death, I must my Peace retrieve.
Muft.
Sir, he may dye when Solyman does not live.
Solym.
Did I for this thy Wise advice request,
For satisfaction in my Grave? dull Priest,
I'd live to be reveng'd.
Muft.
Yes Sir, you shall—think not my Councels bring
Such tardy Vengeance to an Injur'd King.
Death should flye quick as Light'ning from your frown.
Sir, he may set before to morrow's Sun.
Solym.
How! may he dye to morrow?
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Yes; to Night.
Solym.
My Faith unstain'd?
Muft.
Unsully'd, as the Light—
You are not by this promise bound to give
Him immortality. T'is whilst you live,
Yo've sworne he shall not meet his destiny;
But there are hours each day in which you dye.
Sir! whilst you sleep you are not living.
Solym.
How?
Muft.
To Sence and Reason man his Life does owe;
And when Sleep dams them up, they cease to flow.
The soul deserts the body when it dyes,
What does it less in sleep? it useless lyes.
Death's its retreat, and sleep is its disguise.
Sleep equals Kings, and Shepheards; Rich and Poor;
Nor can the pow'r of Death it self do more.
And where's their difference?
Both give one stroke, only one strikes more deep;
Sleep's a short Death—Death an Eternal sleep:
If then whilst you are sleeping, he receives
The blow, he does not dye whilst Solyman lives.
Solym.
And will our Prophet this Revenge maintain,
And the Immortal Name take off all stain?
Muft.
So just a cause he does, and must defend.
Solym.
Then dear Religion, thou'rt a Lovers Friend:
Kind Priest, my judgment does with thine conspire:
'Tis easie to believe what we desire.
But if his Death's a sin; the Crime be yours:
When our Guides stray, the Errour is not ours.
Send him the Mourning Robe: He dies to Night.
Exit Morat.
Enter Asteria.
Ibrahim, fare well; and may thy soul take flight
To Paradice. There be as blest above,
As thou wer't here in Isabella's Love.
Aster.
Oh Cruelty! who's he that in one breath
Can talk of Paradice and Ibrahim's Death?
Mor.
I do not like her presence—
[Aside.
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Royal Sir,
Forgive me, if my fears have made me err:
Perhaps I have not rightly understood;
For you were always just, and God like good.
Is it your pleasure Ibrahim should dye?
Solym.
My Injuries give him his Death, not I.
Aster.
Can you speak Death agen? a Crime so great,
Twice in one day, one hour, one voyce repeat?
The sound of so much horror, and such rage,
Had singly been enough to brand an Age.
Oh say, that you deceiv'd me, and to try
My Courage, told me Ibrahim should dye.
I would my reason and my sence distrust;
Rather than think that you can be unjust.
Solym.
False to thy blood, thus to oppose my will;
Whence comes that heat that does these tears distill,
Which fall when I a Criminals doom decree?
Aster.
Your Passion is that Criminal, not he.
Oh Sultan! call your glories to your aide;
Summon those Vertues which the World obey'd:
Stains in your brightness will too monstrous shew.
You were not rais'd so high, to fall so low.
Solym.
Heavens! Have I Crimes a Daughter dares impeach.
Obey that will, you are too bold to teach.
Aster.
Save Ibrahim; and be as far obey'd
As the Sun sees, and Natures limits spread.
Repeal his Doom, speak but that one dear word,
And be by all obey'd; by all ador'd.
Solym.
Can you that mercy for his Life implore,
Whom his Ingratitude bids you abhor?
Aster.
O calm the rage of your Tempestuous will,
And be a good and gracious Father still.
Solym.
Stand from my Arm, fond Girl; expect no more
T'obtain his life than you can life restore.
But hence—know my displeasure and retire.
Aster.
If you are Angry, raise your anger higher:
For if my dearest Ibrahim must not live,
Load me with all the sufferings you can give.
Let me your Frowns, your Hate, your Curses have,
All helps are kind that bring me near my Grave.
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Hence with thy Pitty from my Anger flye:
This wandring fire shall out; for he shall dye.
Aster.
Since I with Tears and Prayers in vain implore;
Hear me but once, and I will speak no more.
If He must dye, when the dire wound is given,
And Ibrahim shuts out Life to take in Heav'n:
When the enamour'd Saints with greedy Arms embrace
The brightest Guest in all the shining space;
To follow him, I'le leave lifes joys below,
And dying to my Rival Stars I'le go.
Your poor Asteria in his Fate must joyn;
For know, that man that wounds his heart, breaks mine.
Must Ibrahim dye then—
Oh that dire word comes heavy from my tongue;
My breath grows short, and I have talk'd too long.
Oh, Sultan, do not vanish from my sight:
Where are you? stay! why have you made it Night?
[Swounds away.
Solym.
Fond Girl, thou hast my pitty—But—
Remove her! and her stragling sence recall.
This object cannot stop my Rivals fall.
Attendants carry her off.
Before Love rais'd this Torrent in my Blood,
Close to my heart, firm as a Rock, he stood:
But by some mighty Deluge over-borne,
Mountains unloose, and Rocks from Rocks are torne.
Thro' their strong Veins, the stronger flood pours in,
And the vast Fractures never close agen.
[Is going.
Enter Roxolana.
Roxol.
Stay Sultan, stay. If Perjury you think,
Is a mean crime at which the Gods can wink;
Be bold false King, and sin in open day,
To the wide world your harden'd soul display.
Th'unmanly dread of th'other world out-wear;
And brave that Vengeance which you scorn to fear.
To make you yet more Barbarously great,
At once my Ruin and your Pride compleat:
Since on the Christian you my Crown bestow:
I come to give the head that wore it too.
Solym.
Since the fair Christian then has been so kind,
To tell you what my pleasure has design'd;
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To make her Voyce less than an Oracle.
Roxol.
Your falsehood is not whisper'd at that rate,
That I need learn your Crimes from her I hate.
But has your Rage so impiously decreed?
Yet why this wonder—furious Lord, proceed.
The prospect of my fall so open lyes,
That I'm too well prepar'd for a surprize.
Solym.
Do not so highly, and so ill resent
The loss of that which was not given, but lent.
And when I take that which I lent before,
I but my glories to their sourse restore.
Roxol.
Can you plead reason for your Guilts defence?
And thus Usurp the name of Innocence?
No, Sultan, speak like what you are, and call
Your self a Tyrant, Monster, Savage, all
The blackest names from injur'd Tongues can fall.
Since you prove false, 'twould be more just t'express
Your Perjury in the most hateful dress:
Then I could bear my loss, and love you less.
weeps
Solym.
How tiresome does unwelcome kindness prove?
Is there a Blessing, or a Plague like Love?
Roxol.
Oh Treacherous eyes! what has your weakness done?
Can an Effiminate soft Tear run down
From her fond Eyes that lives to loose a Crown!
A deposed Queen! and have so little gall!
Did Cleopatra weep before her fall?
No, at her Breast her dearest Vipers hung;
Whose pointed Tongues her angry bosom stung:
Swell'd with their Poyson, and her blood all fir'd,
In nobler rage her Roman-pride expir'd.
Her great despair such glorious fury felt,
As burst that heart which was too proud to melt.
Solym.
Hence from my sight: Take your vain Threats away:
Know my fixt Resolution, and obey.
Roxol.
Threaten'd to silence, and commanded hence!
Ye Gods, must I be taught Obedience?
Whose Empire did so lately spread so wide,
At once my Sexes Envy and their Pride?
55
Are the mean gifts which from thy bounty flow!
Glory a fairy Treasure, pow'r a Toy,
An Airy Scene of Visionary Joy.
Since empty greatness has this fading state,
Why have I dreamt so long, or wak'd so late?
Solym.
What though you've rul'd an Age? The Sun and Stars,
Tho' they have shin'd so many thousand years,
Can plead no right to an Immortal state.
I made you, as Heav'n did the World Create.
In your each part, pow'r and perfection raign'd;
Each look Dominion had, each word Command.
But as th'Eternal Will ordains a Day,
When this bright Frame its Debt to Fate must pay;
So when this Universe in Dust shall lye,
The Gods will be no more unjust than I.
Roxol.
In that great day, Heav'n its Revenge will take;
The World must burn for wicked Man-kind's sake:
And Nature dye for what her Race has done;
The Gods will at that Day put out their Sun;
Because't has shined too long on such as You.
Then Perjury will meet it's last just due.
Solym.
This growing storm no longer I'le endure:
Her Violent Rage must have a Violent Cure.
Roxol.
But since the faithful Roxolana must
Be Sacrific'd to please a Tyrants Lust:
May my quick Fall like some fierce Earth-quake come,
When th'opening ground is some tall Pyramids Tomb.
Whose Ravenous Jawes once gorg'd, and clos'd again,
No reliques of the ruin'd pile remain,
To keep its memory alive.
Since my loud fall must bring eternal shame,
Oh that you could but kill my very Name;
And give my memory and me one Grave.
Then with what scorn should I my wrongs out-brave.
But when to my Immortal shame, they'l say,
I lost an Ages Tryumph in a Day;
There, there's my Forture—
In all the mortal stroaks great Hearts sustain,
Honour's the only part that bleeds with pain.
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Take her away—I'le hear no more—
[to Morat.
Roxol.
Bold Slave.
[to Morat.
Solym.
Begon! I will no longer hear her Rave.
Roxol.
Villain! forbear.
[to Morat. Draws a Dagger.
How wretched base art thou! by thy Command
Forc'd like thy Slave! Seiz'd by thy Vassals hand!
I've so much Pride for that which I have been,
No common hands shall touch the Worlds once Sacred Queen.
Stand off, officious Traytor: Come not nigh,
Approach me but with one bold look, and dye.
Enter Ulama.
Ulam.
Hold Irreligious Slave.
[to Morat.
Touch her no more than you wou'd forfeit Heav'n.
To what wilde rage is Impious passion driven?
And Madam, stay your hand: give not that blow
For him too glorious, and for you too low.
Roxol.
I thank you for the favour you have done;
[Gives Ulama the Dagger, which he takes on his Knees.
You've Reason, but my Griefs have left me none.
Ulam.
Sultan, I am unwilling to believe
'Tis in Fates pow'r to make such Beauty grieve.
But take her, take her, and be blind no more;
To Her your heart; t'your self your Wits restore:
Be Great, Proud, Glorious, Blest; Live, Love, and Reign
In Happiness above the State of Man.
Consider but how much of Heav'n dwells there,
And call your self our Prophets Son and Heir.
Solym.
How Ulama!
Ulam.
I am your Vertues Friend;
And with my Blood that Vertue wou'd defend:
Hither I come by Friendship's Sacred tye,
To rowze you from your mortal Lethargy.
Your sleeping Reason wake, and Re-enthrone
What Nature made most worthy of a Crown:
Repair her Injuries, and your lost Fame.
Such influence lodges in that Heav'nly Frame,
Her Smiles can deifie, and her Wrongs can damne.
Solym.
Persian! the World had never yet so bold
A Man, as durst my pleasure have controul'd?
57
To win thy Persian Crown, that durst have said
Half this, their Lives for th'Insolence had paid.
Ulam.
If all should dye that do abhor your Sin,
The Massacre would make your Empire thin:
Tho only I dare tell you—
How much the best of Wives, & best of Queens you wrong;
All Man-kind has my Sence, though not my Tongue.
When I your fury from that Saint divert,
I but a suffering Kingdoms cause assert.
Be just to her, that Heav'n may be appeas'd,
And the afflicted groaning World be eas'd.
Solym.
Rash, desperate Sir, though you dare rage so high,
My Charity's too great to let you dye.
But Captive, do not tempt your Fate; that hour
You make a forfeit of your head once more,
Your petulant Frenzy with your Chains I'le tame,
And shrink you to that shade from whence you came.
Roxol.
Hold generous Persian, you presume too high,
If in my Cause, first ask my leave to dye.
Forbear t'encrease the violence of his Hate,
Least you're involv'd in Roxolana's Fate:
Tho 'twould become the greatness of a Queen,
T'have Crowds in Death to fill her Funeral Scene:
Sultan, no guiltless soul with mine shall flye:
I'le quit my state, and singly glorious dye.
Ulam.
Do not oppose me in so just a Cause:
When he breaks Nature, Heav'n and Honours Laws
In wronging you; let his fierce rage proceed;
Let Justice suffer, Truth's Defender bleed.
Tame me with Chains!
[to Solym.
A Prison is too weak: Send me t'a Grave:
And if that pow'r o're Souls, as Lives you have,
Send me—
Where that loud Guilt, by which her greatness fell,
Is writ in Sulphur on Records of Hell.
And when the blackest of their Hellish train,
Shall tell the story of her Tragick Scene,
Attended by a fierce and fiery throng,
I'le bring the Furies, and all Hell along,
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That thou hast made th'infernal Fiends asham'd.
Solym.
Bold man, thy blood—but 'tis too base to shed—
Thy baseness from my arm protects thy head.
But to deserve thy ruin from my hand,
I give thee leave my Rebels to command:
Or once again thy rallyed Persians lead.
If thou hast Honour, meet me in their head.
When all thy glorys do thy brow adorn,
And on the Wings of Fame I see thee born;
Be worth my Anger then; till then, my Scorn.
Ulam.
I'le meet thee, and thy power Undaunted stand;
Though thy Victorious Arms the World command,
Thy Sword's grown weak, plac'd in a guilty hand.
Solym.
T'increase your Courage, think it weaker yet,
And to chastise thy rudeness when we meet:
When in an Armys Head thy Face I see,
I'le tell thee then thou art fit to fall by Me.
[Exit Solym.
Roxol.
When Empress of the World, I stood on hallow'd ground,
With all my pomp and greatness circl'd round;
Then what a train of Worshippers, what crowd
Of Vassals at my Feet all prostrate bow'd.
On humble Mertals I in state look'd down,
Who gaz'd on glorys sparkling from my Crown
Life waited on my Smiles, Death on my Frown.
Fear'd and ador'd, on their bow'd Necks I trod,
Whilst to my Throne I mounted like a God.
But in my Fall, where's that Devotion gone?
Of all those thousands, Fate has left but one.
Ulam.
So great your Merit, and your Slaves so few?
Those thousands lost, be God-like, and raise new:
Permit me but to meet this Threatning King,
And see what force so just a Cause can bring.
To right your Honour, and rebuild your Throne;
Vouchsafe to call my Sword, and Life your own.
Rather than your lowd wrongs shall go unpaid,
I will exhaust an Empire in your aid.
Here at his Gates I will his Guilt defie:
I, and my Persia, nay, the Gods and I—
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Hold Angry Prince; your Zeal in my just Cause,
Whilst it was Innocent, had my applause.
Forbear then to pull down my hate; tho He
Has lost his Vertue, broke his Faith to Me;
I have not lost the Duty of a Wife:
Tho I abhor his Crimes, I prize his Life.
Who holds a Sword against his Breast, wounds me;
His Foe is Roxolana's Enemy.
[Exit Roxol.
Ulam.
Fool that I was to ask her, her consent;
Without her leave, her ruin I'le prevent.
Her pious Vengeance points me out the way;
'Twas but her superstition bad me stay.
To morrow I'le towards Persia go, and bring
My utmost pow'r against this Perjur'd King.
If time enough, I'le stop her Fall; if late,
Revenge it; if I fail, I'le share her Fate:
Lost though I am, and in despair; I'le try
To wast an Empire in her Cause, and dye.
[Exit Ulam.
The End of the Fourth Act.
| Ibrahim the Illustrious Bassa | |