University of Virginia Library

SCENE the Second.

Enter the Sultan, attended by Morat.
Sult.
Urge us no more Morat upon our Vow.
So might our charming Empress be displeas'd,
If we on other Merit than her own,
Bestow'd so fair, so much esteem'd a Life.
Her self the Potent's Advocate to me,
Pleads with the powerful Sound, and force of Love.
Are not her dazling Beauties, still in view?
Our faithful Memory, retains the Charmer.
I see, I feel, I taste her every Grace.
The dear Impression dwells upon our Breast,
And glows within our Heart.
We have her here, all lively warm and panting.
She carries Nature to the utmost height,
And almost pains her, with excess of Rapture.

Mor.
And must she dye, who gives such high delight,
Beauty is found in almost ev'ry youthful Face.
But such a Soul, no Age has e're produc'd.
Oh, had thy Mightiness beheld the Fair,
When I the Robe of Fate presented to her.
With what a god-like Fortitude unmov'd she said.
Her's was no Title to receive it,
That she shou'd more be envy'd, than lamented
Falling in such a noble worthy Cause,
As gave her not the least pretence to mourn.
But when I urg'd it as thy dread Command,
She lowly bowing, said, whilst she had Life,
Her god-like, much-lov'd Lord shou'd be obey'd.

Sult.
Our Self's determin'd to behold her death,
Unseen, and from above, we will observe
Whether this frame of Mind be inborn to her.
Whether to the Extreams it will extend,
Or by the Horrors of pale Death alarm'd,
If fly not off, and leave the lovely Dwelling.

Mor.
My Lord, the gracious Sultan
[kneeling.
My Head thus humbl'd in the Dust.

Sult.
Upon thy Life no more.
What doom, has Disobedience in our Court?

Mor.
And yet she must not Dye
[Ascend to the Window.
Haste thee Abdalla to the Garden Gate:
Where I attend to give the wish'd for Entrance.
[Exit Morat.

Enter Almyna, and the Grand Vizier,
Proceeded by a Train of Mutes, Eunuchs, and Ladies in Mourning, who, Weeping, rank themselves on each side the Stage; Almyna in a black Velvet Robe, and Cypress Veil.
Alm.
My noble Father, this is high Ingratitude,
To those Superior Pow'rs that gave me to you.
If I'm esteem'd a good be thankful for it?
And praise 'em that you have so long possess'd
The Right is theirs, at pleasure to recal,
Shall only we receive the Sweets of Life,
Must all the bitter be reserv'd for others?
Unequal thus, th'eternal Lot wou'd be,
And we tho' happy, might have cause to mourn,
(If ought of Human, be conspicious in us,)
At viewing the sad Destiny of others.

Viz.
Oh, Nature! Nature! loudly dost thou cry,
Nor has my Courage, any help to offer.
Philosophy and Reason, are no more,
Art thou not my child? And I thy Father?
Hast thou an hour of Breath, or I of Hope?
And yet I must not Mourn! Impossible!
This wretched Remnant of a Woful Life,
Shall all be thus employ'd, in Grief and Tears.

Alm.
How are great Deeds perform'd, by Men so weak?
Is thine the second Name, on Earth renown'd?
How often has he Death in Battle faced
With lavish waste, bestowing it on others.
Unmov'd in thousand Dangers,
Awfully Glorious, shewing all thee here.

Viz.
In Battle more than Man; In sorrow less.
A thousand Deaths, were not so dreadful there.
As this one loss of thine it strikes me thro'
My very Soul is bleeding, with the Wound;
'Tis inexpressible, 'tis torture all,
Too exquisite for any difinition.
Alas! I'm darted thro' and thro' with Woe.
The galling Anguish wrenches here, here stings;
Curse on the fury that did lead me on.
Curse on my Ill tim'd Vengeance on the Prince;
Revenge stills turns on the Avenger's head,
Oh! better were it much to suffer Wrong,
Leaving to Heav'n, the time and means of Vengeance.
What have I got, buth is Imprisonment,
For such a loss as thine, shou'd Death succeed
'Twere a poor Recompence, for my Almyna.

Alm.
My Lord, I beg you not to melt me thus.
Your tears are far more dreadfuller than Death;
Consider what I dye for, and the Cause.
My Gracious Lord, the Sultan has assur'd
My Life shall be the last; think but on that.
How glorious, and how dear to Fame it makes me;
Am I not Ransom for so many Lives?
Was I not born to an exalted End?
I kneel with thanks to the Almighty Pow'rs,
Am proud, and pleas'd, that I'm become so useful!
What must I comfort you, is Death then nothing,
Am I to Combat in your Tears more pains,
Than that destroyer brings, or is not all,
My Constancy of use to face him,
That you Anticipate it here.

Viz.
Oh! Daughter! Daughter! sure my heart will break.

Alm.
Alas! wou'd I had ne're been born to see it.
Did not Virginus stab his only Child,
His beautious meritorious Daughter,
With his own hand, the Poynard gave her Death:
But to prevent one Ill, I dye for many.
In such a Cause, you rather shou'd rejoice.
My tender too lov'd Father, here I beg,
Thus on my knees, your last and dearest Blessing,
And that bestowed, that you wou'd please to leave
Me here; to recollect alone; what your
Ill-tim'd Tears, and Sorrow has disorder'd.

Viz.
Leave thee, my Child, what leave thee to thy Death.
Its not the voice of Fate that drives me hence?
Yes, I will fly, where Nature is most barren:
Niggard of any Joys, there sigh to bursting:
There weep, till drown'd in floods of Tears,
The floating Seal; shall force its passage to thee.

Alm.
Oh, did I not, by Reason rein the Passions:
Wou'd they not whirl me, as the Winds about.
Durst I indulge my Griefs, shou'd I not rage.
To an extremity of raving Rage.
Think not I am insensible to Nature.
I sink this Minute under its oppression!
Have I not more to suffer, more to Mourn,
Much more to lose, you only weep a Child,
But I an Uncle! Sister! Father! Husband!
Can any Sorrows be compar'd to mine!
To part with all that can in Life be precious.
Ev'n then to part when each is dearest to me.
Now that my flow'r of Life is in the bloom:
When my dear Lord has blest me with his Love,
Let none presume, to weigh their little Woes,
When my superior Griefs, are in the Ballance.

Viz.
Thou can'st not think how hard 'tis to resign thee,
One last embrace, and thou art mine no more.
Farwel, prepare thee, for another Father.
Think not of me, think not of Earth again;
Raise up thy Hopes, to those bright Joys above.
How weak is Nature, how certain the return
Of Human frailty. Alas, I weep again,
My boasted constancy in such a Cause
Is but excelling weakness; oh, my Heart.
Thus let me fold thee in thy Father's Arms.
The last, last sad Embrace, thou 'ere shalt take,
What, never to behold my Child again?
Oh! 'tis most true, my Blessings crown thee.
Stern Death, be gentle to so fair a Mistriss:
Take her into thy Arms with utmost Softness.
Farewel! my much lov'd, much Distress'd Almyna!
Farewel! farewel! Heavens Joys receive thee.
I shall not long be absent: now I go,
To taste for thee; the bitterness of Woe.

[Exeunt.
Alm.
Farewel! these Mournings make our Fate so dreadful.
I'le dye (to lose the torment of Reflection)
Before my Sister brings new Sorrows to me.
Where are the Mutes? Prepare your Bow-strings,
When I veil my Face, perform your Office.
What in a moment, shall I be? How chang'd?
What must I lose, my Husband, and his Love:
My tender Father, and his care! my Sister too!
It wonnot bear to be reflected on.
Thus lowly then, I humbly do resign
[kneels
All-seeing gracious Heav'n, dart mercy on me.
Pardon the Errors of Humanity!
And let thy failing Creature taste forgiveness.
Oh! holy Prophet! take me to thy care,
And be my loss of Life, the last of our
Great Emperor's wilful Crimes.
Comfort my Father, for his Daughter's loss.
And take Almyna's Soul to thy protection.

As the Mutes are going to strangle her, the Sultan speaks from above.
Sult.
Mutes, on your Lives forbear, till I descend.

Alm.
What Mercy does the op'ning Heav'ns foreshew?
It was my Husband's Voice, am I still living?
Or crost to those blest happy Plains, where Angels
Do in Mercy speak, like my Almanzor?
Do I once more, receive my Lord so near?

[The Sultan enters, and runs to embrace her.
Sult.
Live, immortal as thy Merit makes thee,
Thou can'st not think, how much at heart I'm pain'd,
At but imagining thy death, Almyna:
Tho' it was ne're design'd but as a Tryal,
How far thy bravery of Soul cou'd reach.
Quite vanquish'd, by thy heroick Deeds
We gain in losing of so false a Cause.
Henceforth be it not once imagin'd
That Women have not Souls, divine as we.
Who doubts, let 'em look here, for Confutation,
And reverence with us Almyna's Vertue.
(Omnes.) Long live the fair Sultana.

Alm.
Accept, my gracious Lord, the Life you give.
Thus let me at your Feet bestow my Thanks.
Bestow my self in Gratitude and Love.
To rescue me from hov'ring Death, just at
The fatal Instant, to give me Life and Pow'r.
To give me Love, to give me my Almanzor,
Is an extravagance of Gift, so vast a Joy,
That the Excess as dangerous to Life
As Death it self, does almost rob me of it.

Sult.
Look up, my fainting Dear, I am all thine:
For ever thine we're thus to part no more.

Enter the Grand Vizier.
A great noise below.
Viz.
My Lord, you are surpriz'd, th'ambitious Prince
By Muca aided, with a band of Soldiers,
Favour'd by false Morat, with all the Eunuchs.
Has gain'd the Ascent, of this Appartment.
Disperst your Guards, that waited there in Duty.
And like a torrent, rouls upon us here.
The Cry is all; Almyna must not Dye.
That's their pretence, what ever the Design.
This from the Gallery, wherein despair
I wandred, I have seen, and heard.

Sult.
Vizier thy much lov'd Daughter lives.
Draw all your Seymeters, and let us meet 'em.
Call up the Guards, that wait behind.
And let 'em back us to repel the Traytors.

Abdalla within.
Abd.
Lay down your Arms, and safety be to all;
Break thorough to preserve Almyna.

Sult.
This day be sacred, to our lovely Empress.
Almyna lives, yield Brother to her fortune.

Viz.
Thy Friends revolt, unhappy Youth.
Yield Prince, thou comest upon my Sword.

Enter Zoradia hastily.
Zor.
Alas! I heard Abdalla was in danger.
Oh, Gracious Sultan! spare the God-like Prince.
Almyna plead for thy Deliverer.
For thee he fights, to rescue thee from Death,
He fatally has arm'd against his Brother.
I led him on, to this rash Enterprize
Father, Vizier, deaf as Rage, or Jealousy.
Oh Heavens! the Prince is wounded, cruel Father,
Thy Murthering steel has done its worst;
Support him all—Oh! I've his Sword within my breast.

Abdalla supposed to be wounded behind. The Scene's fighting with the Vizier, staggers in: His Sword's held upwards, resting upon his Arm. Zoradia goes to support him, and is accidently wounded by it. Almyna leads Zoradia, the Sultan his Brother, to two Chairs.
Alm.
What hast thou done, Barbarian, kill'd my Sister?

Abd.
Such was my fatal Chance I wanted this
To crown the Errors; of my angry Fate.

Sult.
Oh Brother! Vizier, thou hast gone too far.
Oh, poor Zoradia! What dost thou not suffer?

Alm.
Alas! my Sister, and my Friend!

Zor.
Oh, rather all for me rejoice, than mourn!
Am I not, at the end of all my Sorrows?
Did I not drag a wretched Life before?
Mine was a Fate, made bankrupt by Misfortune,
Devoted as I was by strong Dispair,
I only cou'd expect from Death relief.

Alm.
Live, my dear Maid, to be the Prince's Bride.
My Lord has granted, that he shall be thine.

Zor.
'Tis Gracious, like my Sister, and the Sultan,
But tho' he be on Earth Omnipotent,
The God to us below, of Life or Death,
He cannot give me back, a Heart estrang'd,
There, there, he is no more an Emperor:
He has no Monarchy, where I wou'd reign.
Say lovely Youth, what does the Fates do with thee?
They're busy at my heart, how is't with thine?

Abd.
Oh! Speak not to a Wretch so Curst as me.
So much undone, so utterly forlorn!
Death makes not half the speed that I cou'd wish.
How can I look on one, whom I have Murther'd?
That only one; to whom I was a Debtor.
By strongest Favours, and high gratitude Oblig'd.
Beyond what frail Mortality cou'd merit.
And have I thus requited thee for all?
Thus with thy Life, repay'd my Debt of Love.
O Destiny! it was thy hand that did it.
Why was I made the fatal Instrument?
I, who to her had tend'rest Obligations,
Thou can'st not think Zoradia, I did design it.
Had not before, thy Father's Sword been sure:
My own, (e're this,) had done thee Justice here.

Zor.
Repine not at the favour, thou hast done me,
Thy Love cou'd be no more than happiness,
Which not depending on thee, to bestow:
This way is found, to make me blest for ever.

Abd.
My Wounds bleed faste, and hov'ring Death is near,
Yet are not all his Pangs so terrible;
As what I suffer, from remorse for thee.
I dare not ask thee, to forgive my Crime,
Thou can'st not be so excellently good;
'Tis just my Soul, clog'd with its weight of Sin,
Shou'd sink beneath thy mighty Wrongs for ever.

Zor.
Alas! thou coud'st not injure poor Zoradia.
I lov'd too well, t'admit the sense of Wrong,
In love like mine, there can be no reproach.
Thou coud'st not do the thing, I cou'd not Love
Hadst thou some Faults? they all to me were Beauties.

Viz.
Grief stops my Words; alas Zoradia, Child!

Zor.
Father, farewel, Heav'n! pardon you the Prince's Death
I beg the gracious Sultan, to forgive you.

Alm.
I feel more Pangs in thy approaching Fate,
Than when my own was nearest.

Zor.
Come to my Arms, and take a Sister's leave:
I clasp thee like a Lover, not a Rival!
(A Name which Love and Nature most abhors)
Nearer! nearer! we shall do thus no more.
A thousand Kisses, and as many Tears,
On our divided Fates—I am where I wou'd wish,
Thus dying on my lovely Prince's breast.
Grasp me, as if thou hadst for ever lov'd
Since I thus charm'd, can feel no Pains of Death.
Think'st thou above, we shall not meet again?
May I not reign without a Rival there,
I go, to try—oh, Heav'ns—farewel to all.

[Dies.
Alm.
Oh, horror! the fair Soul, is fled for ever.

Abd.
My turn is next, pardon me, gracious Sultan,
Excess of Love, occasion'd my Ingratitude.
Empress to see the safe, was all my Wish.
My poor tormented Heart, was doom'd thy Slave,
I'm to the last, thy faithful suffering Lover.
Be ever Happy; I must meet Zoradia.

[Dies.
Sult.

Exeunt Omnes.