University of Virginia Library

ACT the FIFTH.

The SCENE, a Chamber.
Enter Ibrahim meeting Isabella and Morat.
Morat.
Sir, from the Sultan I am hither sent,
To Councel you your ruin to prevent.
If by consent you can for ever part,
And make a present of a Mrs. Heart,
You have your Life; else, when he sleeps, you dye.
You have an hour allow'd for your reply.
[Ex. Morat.

Isabel.
'Tis a hard choyce, you must be false, or dye!
To save your Life, what is't I would not give?

Ibrah.
What would you have me quit your Love, & Live!

Isabel.
No; though I value you so high, above
My Ibrahims Life, I prize my Ibrahims Love.
If nothing but Inconstancy can give
You Life, dye mine, since mine you cannot live.
But do not think when you are gone, I shall
Have pow'r long to out-live your Funeral.
There's a Contagion in a Lovers fall.
Weak are his Threats, and vain his subtlest Art;
His Tyranny may all but Lovers part.

Ibrah.
Do I not dye to seal my Faith to you?
What juster act, what braver can I do?
Then do not murmur at my glorious Fall.
Is this his Cruelty? Is dying all?
What's Death! The meanest Slaves dye every day;
Even Infancy and Age that Debt to Nature pay.
A Feavourish fit can stop our fleeting breath;
Our Tast, Smell, Touch, each Sence, can let in Death.
And we who Beauties infinite pow'r adore,
For great Almighty Love can do no more.

Isabel.
But can I say I love, and bid you dye?
No! for your safety this one Art I'le try;
I'le strait to Solyman, and Summon all
Those angry pow'rs that injur'd Love can call.
Not depos'd Kings shall rage so much as I.
With so much scorn his baseness I'le defie;
Till I've incenst his rage to that degree,
That he shall spare your Life, and Murder me.
In me, he can but Isabella Doom;
In you he takes a prop from Christendom.
Live Ibrahim then, Religion to defend:
His Favourit live, to be the Christians Friend.
Leave Death to me, and think my Life well given,
At once in saving you, and serving Heav'n.

Ibrah.
These melting sounds all sence of Death destroy;
Who wou'd not choose my Fate, for half my Joy?
But do not hope to dye for me—
Think not your charms so little, nor my King
So Savage, though unkind, that any thing
Will make him dare to shed your precious blood;
No; my best life, he must not, if he cou'd.

Isabel.
Must I so tamely then behold your Fall?
No, 'gainst your Murderer I'le muster all
My Rage, Despair, Revenge—what is't I will not do?
I'le treat him so—but why this passion now?
Since 'tis decreed we must so soon divide,
My parting looks shou'd all their fierceness hide.
Furies, till then lay all your Scorpions by;
Our last dear minutes shou'd more gently flye:
Kind Heav'n, let but this span of Life be blest,
Love reign this hour, and horror all the rest.

Ibrah.
Best of thy Sex!
[Embracing her.
But I in vain shall this short Tryumph boast,
Gazing on what must be for ever lost.

Isabel.
For ever? why! can death destroy our Love?
Shall we not meet, and be as blest above?
Cease Sir, oh cease this too unkind despair,
Are there all Joys in Heav'n, and Love not there?

Ibrahim.
Fill'd with that hope, I'le my short time improve,
And sum an Ages bliss in one hours Love.
Low at your Feet, your humble Vassal bows;
[Kneels.
And here on this fair hand, seals his last Vows.
[kisses her hand.
Turn, turn your eyes this way, look all Divine,
In your full Lustre let your kindness shine.
Oh Love! I am all Extasie, delight,
Soaring in joys, I'm giddy with my height.
[kissing her hand often.
But hide those eyes; take this soft Magick hence:
[lets go her hand.
My happiness so much transports my sence,
That such another look will make me grow
Too fond of Life ever to let you go.

Isabel.
Great blessings like swift torrents always run
Too rapid to stay long.

Ibrah.
What have I done?
Restore those pleasing looks, give me your hand agen,
My Light, Day, Sun, shut not your glories in.
Spight of his pow'r, in this soft knot I'le fold,
[She gives him her Hand agen.
And when I dye, let him cut off my hold.
I'le twine so fast, that when he gives the blow,
And cuts me by the Roots up from below;
These dying branches still shall grasp you all,
And grasp, and grasp, and wither e're they fall.

Enter Asteria, Mirva, and Morat.
Aster.
So close, so kind! how happy should I be.
[aside entring.
Were half this dear Devotion paid to me?

Mor.
Madam, the Sultans orders were severe,
to Asteria.
But Solymans command admits you here,
to Asteria.
And I dare take your word—
to Asteria.
No doubt she's come,
By th'offer of her Love t'avert his Doom.
[aside.
Grant Her success; let Ibrahim live, and may
The Sultans hopes be Crown'd the gentler way.

[Exit.
Aster.
Though life and happiness must ne're be mine,
Yet I'le take care that I'le secure 'em thine.
Accept that!

[Mirva gives him a Sword.
Mirv.
Sent from Roxolana's hand.
This Princess Love conspires with her command.
They've both design'd your freedom to redeem.

Aster.
Which to effect, we've found this Stratagem.
Though of your Fate, this is th'appointed Scene,
Yet in respect to that which you have been,
His Friend and Vizier, you're allow'd this Grace;
None but Morat has entrance to this place.

Mirv.
The Mutes, th'intended Murderers, wait all
Without, at distance, and beyond his call;
And but approach that minute when you fall.

Aster.
When False Morat returns to take her hence;
Produce this Weapon as your last defence.
Disarm him, bind him, leave him in your room;
Change habits with him, and his form assume.
Lead hence your Princess, and by th'help of Night,
Pass undiscover'd, and secure your flight:
The Guards too, not suspecting an escape,
Will let you pass deluded by that shape.

Ibrah.
Alas! I was before a Bankrupt made,
And owed too much where I'had so little paid:
But now your goodness swells the Debt so high,
That I with shame must Live—

Aster.
Shame! Dear Sir, why?
You owe me nothing: By Religious tyes,
When Vertue in distress and danger lyes,
Its rescue and defence should be the care
Of all Man kind; and that's my bus'ness here.

Isabel.
Thou art so excellently good, thou best
Of Rivals, so much Heav'n dwells in thy Breast.
In Duty to perfections so Divine,
All my best thoughts, and half my prayers are thine.

Enter Morat.
Mor.
I come to tell you that your hour is past! ha

[starts.
Ibrah.
Keep in thy tongue, or speaking speak thy last.

Morat.
How came you by that Sword?

[Ibrah. gets between him and the Door.
Ibrah.
No matter how;
Jaylor, my Flight must be contriv'd by you.

Morat.
Your Flight!

Ibrah.
'Tis a proposal may seem strange:
But Sir, we two our habits must exchange,
And you must yield to stay here gag'd and bound,
Till by your shape we move t'a safer ground.
If at this price you'l buy your Life, you may.

Morat.
What do you think to frighten me to play
The Traytor?

Ibrah.
Know, 'tis Death to disobey—

Morat.
Subbmit to save my Life for one hours time,
To dye the next by tortures for my Crime!
No; though your Arm is so renown'd, I'le try
My chance for Life—

Ibrah.
Then take thy choyce and dye.

[they fight.
Aster.
Hold Villain, hold! how dare you lift an arm
Against his Life.

[Interposing.
Ibrah.
Dear Madam! fear no harm.

Mor.
How dare you Save what Solyman Condemnes?

[to Aster.
Ibrah.
Do not dispute her goodness, nor my Crimes,
But yield and Live—

Mor.
Yield! no, at thy false heart;
[fights agen.
Hold! thou hast kill'd me, Traytor as thou art.
[Bears himself up, reeling upon his Sword.
In all my hopes, all my Ambition crost!
By a fond foolish Girl betray'd and lost.

Aster.
You are not wounded?

Ibrah.
No! your Genius was my guard.

Mor.
Thou Treacherous Fool, take that for thy reward.

[Kills Aster. and falls.
Ibrah.
Down to thy Hell, and there in torments howl:
[Sticking him to the ground.
Oh speak dear Madam, ease my tortur'd soul;
The Gods their charge must better understand,
Then to ordain your Fate from such a hand.
Say you're not hurt?

Aster.
No! let your trouble cease!
He has only sent a wretched thing to peace.

Isabel.
She bleeds, she bleeds!

Ibrah.
Oh! this detested hour!

Aster.
Alas Sir! I was dying long before.
Deaths cold hand strook me when I first lost you,
A lingering Fate the slow Consumption drew.
Then do not Sir this happy stroke deplore,
That ends a tedious Journey in an hour.

Isabel.
A Lovers absence, and a Fathers hate,
My three years pains were easie to this weight.
Horror ne're seiz'd me in this dismal shape.

Ibrah.
Infernal Dog!

Aster.
Think, think of your escape.

Ibrah.
Is an escape a fit reward for him,
Who bears the weight of my accursed Crime?

Aster.
My Death is not your Crime. Kind dear Sir, flye;
Oh do not stay! leave me alone to dye.

Ibrah.
Desert you!

Aster.
I conjure you do not stay.
I'th path to Heav'n the Good can never stray;
I need no help to guide me in my way.

Ibrah.
How can I flye?

Aster.
This unkind language cease;
Fly as you'd have my Soul in Heav'n find peace.

Ibrah.
How can I promise you?

Aster.
Oh Sir! you must.
Will you deny me Rest when I am Dust?
Is saving of your Life so hard?

Ibrah.
Is leaving you
So easie? basely to desert you now:
And guard my forfeit blood when I have been
A fatal instrument in shedding thine?

Aster.
Nay, then I'm destin'd to dye wretched; all
I beg'd of Heaven, was to divert your fall.
My saving Ibrahim's Life was all my pride:
And must that only blessing be deny'd?

Ibrah.
Well Madam! I'le submit to any thing.

Aster.
Now with an Angels voyce I hear you speak;
And at that word my heart-strings gently break.
My well-pleas'd Ghost will find eternal rest,
To think that I have made my Ibrahim blest.
And must I dye in my dear Ibrahim's Arms?
Now you transport me with too mighty charms.
In this dear Heav'n, like a blest Star I'm plac'd:
But, oh, my Joy's too violent to last.

[dies.
Ibrah.
She's gone! Yes, generous Saint, I'le do thee right,
But if I flye, my Death must be my flight.
I'm too much loaded with my shame and grief,
To leave this killing sight to save a life.

Isabel.
Farewell unhappy Maid, sure there must be
No common joys above reserv'd for thee;
Thou had'st so little happiness below.
Heav'ns debts are certain, though the payment's slow.

Enter a Bassa, as sent from Solyman.
Bassa.
Morat stays long: What's here! Guards, Guards.

[Exit Bassa retreating at the same door he enterd.
Ibrah.
Stay! stay!
I am your Prisoner, and your pow'r obey:
Alas! there needs no Crowds to take me now.

Re-enter the Bassa with Guards.
Bassa.
Seize him.

[Guards seize him.
Ibrah.
It is the kindest office you can do.

Bassa.
Remove the Bodys hence,
And keep those Prisoners safe till my return;
Till from the Sultan's will their Fates I learn.

[Exit Ibrahim and Isabel. led in by Guards; part of the Guards carry off Morat and Asteria, and the Bassa returns at the same door he entred at. Manet, Mirva.
Mirv.
How dismally to Roxolana's ear
Will this strange story sound. But see, she's here.

Enter Roxolana.
Roxol.
Have I success? Is Isabella fled?
Has that dire Planet hid its threatning head?
I fear thy Answer will not be so kind:
An Ominous load hangs on my burden'd mind.

Mirv.
Let me in silence my Allegiance pay.

Roxol.
No, Mirva: speak the worst thou hast to say.

Mirv.
The fair Asteria's dead, kill'd by Morat:
But in revenge of her unhappy Fate;
By Ibrahim's just hand the Traytor fell.
The Lovers grief wou'd be too sad to tell:
Let it suffice, they're kept in stricter chains;
And now no hope of liberty remains.

Roxol.
Poor Innocence!
What Tears would thy unhappy Mother pay,
Were she alive to have beheld this day.
But thou to share her Joys doest upwards go;
And leavest thy sorrows to thy Friends below.
Wretched Asteria! but more wretched I!
This will but raise the Sultan's rage more high.
Now Ibrahim's life for hers too sure must pay,
And then the Christian is his certain prey.
Then Roxolana lays her greatness down;
And this new Love is courted with my Crown.
But that's a sight I must not live to see.
Enter an Attendant of Roxolana's with a bowl of Poyson.
Zarma, the Cup.
This, this my Guard shall be.

Mirv.
Oh Madam, what do you design?

Roxol.
To dye!
From scorn and shame, to peace and Heav'n I'le flye.
No perjur'd Kings, no ruin, no despair
Come near that place—pow'r is immortal there.

Drinks the Poyson.
Enter Ulama.
Ulam.
I'le try what Vengeance joyn'd with Love can do;
'Tis th'only glorious path that's left me now.
Since my successless Zeal in your defence,
[to Rox.
And Solyman's rage has Banisht me from hence:
To morrow I tow'rds Persia must return,
And make the Eastern World your sufferings mourn:
Where, if I breath my sorrow in that strain,
As makes an Empire eccho to my pain;
Oh pardon what my duty does create,
A Tribute due to Roxolana's Fate.

Roxol.
You are my Friend, and, Sir, to treat you so,
Take my last secret with you when you go.
All my long frightful danger disappears,
I am secure from injuries and fears.
No wicked hand shall snatch my Diadem now,
My Guardian Angel hovers round my brow.

Ulam.
Oh Madam, speak agen;
Say, has your Beauty his Conversion wrought?
Is his new Love that Meteor-light put out?
And have your brighter looks restor'd the day?

Roxol.
No, my protection comes a safer way.
A draught of Poyson I have took: I scorn
To have my glories from my Temples torne,
And Roman-like do my own Fate command.

Ulam.
Poyson'd! and by that fair, but fatal hand!

Roxol.
Yet though my death's so sure determin'd, I
Have still one hour of Life before I dye.
Which little blast of life I'le use so well,
To my false King that parting story tell,
Shall sting his Soul!

Ulam.
What has your fury done?
Through those soft Veins must th'impious Poyson run?

Roxol.
Impious! no, Sacred was the word you meant;
An act so pious might become a Saint.
Honour and safety this brave work perform.
I like a Pilot see the rising storm;
And wisely take my threaten'd glorys in.

Ulam.
Must all Man kind be punisht for his sin?
The World's a sufferer in your Tragick Fate;
When you are dead, where's that Majestick state!
Where's Natures Pride? their Soveraign Leader slain;
Dull Beauties then like petty States will reign.
Why to such rage was so much Beauty driven?
Was it the spight or over-sight of Heaven
Which that bright frame of Warring Elements built?
Such goodness in your eyes, and in your hand such guilt.

Roxol.
How! is't a torment to you, to behold
My greatness unconfin'd and uncontroll'd;
To be new form'd in an Ætherial mould?
Art thou an Heir t'a Crown, and hast so mean
A sence of Honour? weret thou born to reign?
And can thy narrow Soul this Councel give,
That Roxolana should her pow'r out-live?

Ulam.
Madam, no more.

Roxol.
When for an act so great
The crowding Gods their Royal Guest shall meet;
And lay their brightest glorys at my feet.
If thou shalt dare profane my memory,
And basely say I did not bravely dye:
From my bright Constellation I'le look down,
And all my Stars shall blast thee when I frown.

Ulam.
Oh cease your Anger, rather then I'le bring
That Curse upon me, I'le say any thing.

Roxol.
Have I no more applause! mistaken Prince,
For once I'le stoop, thy Error to convince.
Know it has been my Honour to command
The Worlds great Lord! I have both lov'd and reign'd;
And when I see my Vassals disobey,
My long-kept train of Honours shrink away;
Know, 'tis the noblest refuge of the great,
To make their lives before their glories set.
Since Solyman's short favours fade so soon,
I'le mount where 'tis all Summer, always Noon.
All Earthly glory does perfection want:
Here 'tis but glass; in Heaven 'tis Adamant.

Ulam.
Hold Madam! I'm a Convert, and must own
Th'impoverish'd World so bravely you've undone,
That it must mourn, and yet admire you too.
You've done what greatness in despair shou'd do.
You'l leave your Fame immortal when you go.
A Saint above, and Heroine below.
This glorious deed, not all th'Angellick Quire
You'l meet, can praise enough, enough admire.
But tho your Death I can your Tryumph call,
I can applaud but not survive your fall.
[Stabs himself.
Hide not those Eyes! do not my Heav'n remove:
Now I with Innocence may own I Love.

Roxol.
Because my Death's so near,
Dare you thus rudely Roxolana treat;
No, guilty Prince, I'm not so little yet;
I've still the Pride to scorn a Slave so bold,
In my last spark of life I still my lightning hold.

Ulam.
Oh do not think that I durst ever frame
One thought or wish against your Sacred Name.
Not one Rebellious thought durst ever rise;
Your Vertue was as God-like as your Eyes.
My secret pain I did with silence bear,
And my Devotion paid without a pray'r:
And do you think because your Death's so nigh,
I fear you less? No, now you stand more high;
Your greatness points like Mountains tow'rds the sky.

Roxol.
If with such silence you your pains receiv'd,
How dare you dye more guilty than you liv'd?
How came you now to find a Tongue?

Ulam.
Oh now
My love runs pure when my last blood streams too.
To own a passion for that Face and live,
Was more than so much Vertue could forgive.
All this I knew, and to have pow'r to speak,
This only way could my long silence break.
And now I speak, I do not ask your Love;
Curst be th'Impiety that dares remove
That sacred Bond your solemn Vows have seal'd,
Or ask one look your Honour cannot yield.
Yet as I'm dying, and shall beg no more,
One blessing let my parting sighs implore.
That little step let my Ambition climb.

Roxol.
Well Sir, you have my pardon for your Crime.

Ulam.
And is my Pardon all? a little higher
Let your poor humble dying Slave aspire.

Roxol.
Then Prince—

Ulam.
Oh speak!

Roxol.
You have my pitty too.

Ulam.
Dear divine Excellence, you've rais'd me now
To all the joyes e're fill'd a Lovers breast;
You cannot be more kind, nor I more blest!
My life did but my happiness retard:
Who would not dye when Death has this reward?
Enter Solyman and the former Bassa.
Her Tyrant here!

Solym.
My Daughter kill'd in Ibrahim's defence;
How strangely am I crost by Providence!
Yet no ill Fate can drive my Princess Image hence.
My Vizier still must dye, and Love will have it so.

Ulam.
Turn Tyrant, turn; see what your guilt dares do.
That Beauteous form has not an hour of Life,
She has drank a draught of Poyson; a relief
Against thy rage, Behold that setting light:
And may her ruin blast thee with the sight.
I loved her without hopes of a return,
Yet I in tears of blood her Fate cou'd mourn.
Thou envy'd Rival, did'st her Conquest boast,
In that fair prize all Natures wealth engrost.
Yet prodigally that curst stroke hast given,
As looses thee thy Fame, thy Soul, thy Heav'n:
I'le tell that story of thee in the skyes,
Till at thy head all their just thunder flies.
There Beauteous Martyr, when we meet above,
I will pursue my never dying Love.

[dyes.
Roxol.
Oh Sultan! what reward does falsehood bring;
What judgments persecute a Perjur'd King?
Your Empress dyes; your Friend and Daughter bleed,
To pull down Vengeance on your guilty head.
Of th'unjust torments I have undergone,
Heav'n has a sence, though Solyman has none.

Solym.
Why foolish Woman, have you vext the Gods,
And set your Prophet and your King at odds?
Why have you wilfully sought this rash Fate,
To ruin yours, and to disturb my State:
You might have liv'd, and liv'd uninjur'd still;
Your greatness safe, and unconfin'd your will.

Roxol.
Yes Sir, I might have liv'd, and liv'd t'have been
An humble Vassal to your Christian Queen.

Solym.
Why will your Frenzy still thus blindly erre?
What if t'a Throne the Christian I prefer,
Must I impoverish you to enrich her?
You make us Monarchs very abject things,
If greatness is but once the gift of Kings.
I should not lessen you; but give her pow'r,
As your Companion, not your Successor.

Roxol.
Do not these wild and vain excuses feign,
Seek not such Coverts when your guilt's too plain.
But could you make two Suns together shine,
And her new Greatness, not diminish mine;
Hers were the true, Mine but a Pageant Crown:
I've lost my Sultans heart, my dearest Throne.
Could we in Crowns, in that we cannot share,
There's no dividing of an Empire there.

Solym.
What-ever Charms I in her Eyes descry,
I love you still too well to see you dye.

Roxol.
You loved me not enough t'avert my Fate,
Your Kindness and my Life have but one Date:
When I lost you, I rather chose to cease
To be at all, than ever to be less.
I Lived so glorious, and I Lov'd so well,
That all beneath my Paradice was Hell.

Sultan.
No more! If I am guilty, you have been
My Punisher, rash and unhappy Queen!
But as some kind requital of your strange
And passionate resentment of my change,
I have this sence of Roxolana's Fate,
I will in tears deplore her wretched state.

Roxol.
'Twill to my Sufferings be some relief,
If Roxolana's Fall can cause your grief.
So much, dear Sir, does this kind promise ease
My torments, and my drooping Spirits raise;
That of your Cruelty I'le not complain,
But tune my dying voyce to that soft strain,
That not one groan shall pass; my parting breath
Shall stifle all the horrors of my Death;
And treat you with the pleasures of my life.

Solym.
Oh how she sets my Crimes before my sight,
And holds the mirrour at too fierce a light.

Roxol.
When I was made the Mighty Sultan's Bride,
Led to the Temple in my Royal pride,
My Coronation did so splendid shine,
I charm'd a Nations Eyes, and you charm'd mine.
I bow'd under the Glorys which you gave;
You crown'd my Head, but made my Heart your Slave.
Then, then my infinite happiness began,
Monarch was the lest part of Solyman:
Pow'r held the Reins, 'tis true, whilst the great Chariot ran;
But Love, the Soul of Empire sat above;
Reigning was but an Interval to Love.
Then from your Voyce I could this Musick hear:
My Roxolana! Oh my charming Fair
Angellick Sweetness, Miracle of Light;
Pride of both Worlds, Mine, and the Gods delight!
And whilst your Love these tender sounds exprest,
You claspt me thus, and leaning on my Breast
Your languishing soft looks spoke out the rest.

Solym.
If she proceeds at this bewitching rate,
By Heav'n she'l make me grow Effeminate.
Such Eloquence have Lovers when they dye;
And thus we value Treasures when they flye.

Roxol.
Nor had I passion less than Solyman,
Through every Vein the pleasing Feavour ran;
I shar'd your thoughts, your pains, your extasies;
Love melted in my heart, and dazl'd in my eyes,
My Raptures were so great, my Joys so high,
That I've liv'd happy, though I wretched dye.
My hopes, my tears, my prayers were all for you;
You will scarce find a second Love so true.

Solym.
What suddain alteration do I find?
Vertue returns that Stranger to my mind.
Once more its long lost right has repossest:
Keep, keep thy seat, thou dear Celestial guest.

Roxol.
Your Christian Favourite sees not with my Eyes:
She hates you, and your kind embraces flyes.
But if at last Time, Force, or Empires charms
Prevail to lodge her in my Sultans Armes:
If 'tis her Destiny to live to see
You false to Her, as you have been to Me,
Her grief will never my despair pursue;
She will not dye to loose you as I do.

Solym.
Kind Roxolana, thou hast made me good,
Thou hast wrought a Cure in my distemper'd blood:
Shall this great Persian Rival bleed? Shall He
Who only saw, but ne're possest like Me,
Plung'd in his blood, a floating Victim swim?
Shall not your Loss move me, that Murders him?
And shall not Heav'n my wandering sence recall,
Warn'd by a Daughters, and an Empress fall?

Roxol.
And do I live once more to call you mine?
What Divine change is this?

Solym.
Yes; 'tis Divine:
My long benighted Soul is with new light array'd.
A change more Heav'nly the great Gods ne're made;
Since the contending Elements they appeas'd,
And a fair World from a wild Chaos rais'd.
But cruel Roxolana, could you bring
No gentler Reasons to confute an impious King?
What though you saw my Crimes, and knew me false?
All Frenzy has some lucid Intervals.
You might have liv'd till my enlighten'd sence,
Had made me just, without this violence.
Wou'd you had try'd.

Roxol.
All gentler means, you know, I try'd before,
But Tears and Prayers had both too little pow'r.

Solym.
Yes, they'd too little; oh my torturing pain,
Now I remember how you wept in vain;
Begg'd, Threaten'd, Courted, with such eloquence,
As ought t'have vanquish'd my too Brutal sence.
Such tender words you spoke, as might inspire
More softness than the famous Thracian Lyre:
Whose harmony the Lyons rage subdu'd,
Tamed the wild Herds, and charm'd th'Infernal God.
But my more Hellish rage obdurate prov'd,
By Tears unmelted, and by Pray'rs unmov'd.

Roxol.
Be not disturb'd; what though I wonted pow'r
To make you just, till in this latest hour,
I'm pleas'd in Death to have your Conquest wrought.

Solym.
It is a Victory too dearly bought.
Bid that Inchantress and her Favourite,
Strait leave my Court; my Empire from my sight
For ever be remov'd: Bid 'em make hast,
They cannot flye too far, nor move too fast:
So distant may she be, that not the sound
Of Isabella my just ears may wound.
[Exit Bassa.
I'd not converse so much as with her Fame,
Nor live within the hearing of her Name.

Roxol.
Oh I'm all fire.
The raging Poyson does my heart-strings seize,
And on a burning Throne the Tyrant plays.
Within, within I bear my Funeral flame;
Yet since my Fall does Solyman reclaim;
Since dying, I my Sultans heart regain,
This dear Conversion takes off all my pain:
Wing'd with that Bliss, my Soul Triumphant flyes:
Prepare ye Gods, for Roxolana Dyes.

[Dyes.
Solym.
Prepare ye Gods! To grace your Stars, she's gone.
A brighter Saint ne're fill'd a Heav'nly Throne.

Enter Ibrahim and Isabella.
Ibrah.
Great Sir, though you've restor'd my Princess, given
Me all the wealth I cou'd have beg'd of Heav'n.
The dismal story of your sufferings
So damps my frighted soul, such horror brings,
That from great Solyman I cannot part,
Till at his feet I lay a bleeding heart.

Solym.
Draw nearer Ibrahim, and blast thine eyes.

Ibrah.
Here cruel Fate, the mighty Victim lyes.
My happy Love can little Tryumph boast,
Gaining so much when you so much have lost.

Solym.
For this kind loyal pitty thou hast shown,
In all my Kingdoms choose thy self a Throne.

Ibrah.
Sir! for that proffer'd Throne thus low I bow,
But must refuse the Royal gift; For now
A Christian Coronet best fits my brow.
There I'le be happy, if I can be so,
Leaving my King a Mourner when I go.

Isabel.
Is this great Roxolana! was so fair
A Pallace built to entertain despair?
Is there that Man that could that God-like Creature wrong;
Withdraw that heart such charms had seal'd so long?
Had you a thousand Crimes, and every sin
More horrid than your broken Vows have been;
By what you've lost in this unhappy stroke,
Heav'n at one blow a full revenge has took.

Solym.
Speak not a word, nor cast one look this way,
I wou'd not have thee lead one thought astray.
Thou fatal Cause—but ev'n to speak's a sin,
Thine Roxolana, now I'le be all Thine.

Ibrah.
Success at last our mutual wishes win,
But by such Scenes of horror usher'd in.
The way to Love's like that to Paradice,
The roughest path leads to the greatest bliss.

[Exeunt Ibrahim and Isabella.
Solym.
Since Loves soft pleasures in thy Fall must end,
In Wars my last remains of life I'le spend:
Vertue, thy gift, I'le to the World proclaim,
And dedicate my Trophies to thy Name.

[Exit omnes.