University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Cali, Abdalla.
Cali enters with a discontented Air; to him enters Abdalla.
Cali.
Is this the fierce Conspirator Abdalla?
Is this the restless Diligence of Treason?
Where hast thou linger'd while th' encumber'd Hours
Fly lab'ring with the Fate of future Nations,
And hungry Slaughter scents Imperial Blood?

Abdalla.
Important Cares detain'd me from your Counsels.

Cali.
Some petty Passion! some domestick Trifle!
Some vain Amusement of a vacant Soul!
A weeping Wife perhaps, or dying Friend,
Hung on your Neck, and hinder'd your Departure.
Is this a Time for Softness or for Sorrow?
Unprofitable, peaceful, female Virtues!
When eager Vengeance shows a naked Foe,
And kind Ambition points the Way to Greatness.

Abdalla.
Must then Ambition's Votaries infringe
The Laws of Kindness, break the Bonds of Nature?
And quit the Names of Brother, Friend, and Father?

Cali.
This sov'reign Passion, scornful of Restraint,
Ev'n from the Birth affects supreme Command,
Swells in the Breast, and with resistless Force,
O'erbears each gentler Motion of the Mind.
As when a Deluge overspreads the Plains,
The wand'ring Rivulet, and silver Lake,
Mix undistinguish'd with the gen'ral Roar.

Abdalla.
Yet can Ambition in Abdalla's Breast
Claim but the second Place: there mighty Love
Has fix'd his Hopes, Inquietudes, and Fears,
His glowing Wishes, and his jealous Pangs.

Cali.
Love is indeed the Privilege of Youth;
Yet, on a Day like this, when Expectation
Pants for the dread Event—But let us reason—

Abdalla.
Hast thou grown old amidst the Croud of Courts,
And turn'd th' instructive Page of Human Life,
To cant, at last, of Reason to a Lover?
Such ill-tim'd Gravity, such serious Folly,
Might well befit the solitary Student,
Th' unpractis'd Dervise, or sequester'd Faquir.
Know'st thou not yet, when Love invades the Soul,
That all her Faculties receive his Chains?
That Reason gives her Scepter to his Hand,
Or only struggles to be more enslav'd?
Aspasia! who can look upon thy Beauties?
Who hear thee speak, and not abandon Reason?
Reason! the hoary Dotard's dull Directress,
That loses all because she hazards nothing:
Reason! the tim'rous Pilot, that to shun
The Rocks of Life, for ever flies the Port.

Cali.
But why this sudden Warmth?

Abdalla.
Because I love:
Because my slighted Passion burns in vain!
Why roars the Lioness distress'd by Hunger?
Why foam the swelling Waves when Tempests rise?
Why shakes the Ground, when subterraneous Fires
Fierce through the bursting Caverns rend their Way?

Cali.
Not till this Day thou saw'st this fatal Fair;
Did ever Passion make so swift a Progress?
Once more reflect, suppress this infant Folly.

Abdalla.
Gross Fires, enkindled by a Mortal Hand,
Spread by Degrees, and dread th' oppressing Stream;
The subtler Flames emitted from the Sky,
Flash out at once, with Strength above Resistance.

Cali.
How did Aspasia welcome your Address?
Did you proclaim this unexpected Conquest?
Or pay with speaking Eyes a Lover's Homage?

Abdalla.
Confounded, aw'd, and lost in Admiration,
I gaz'd, I trembled; but I could not speak:
When ev'n as Love was breaking off from Wonder,
And tender Accents quiver'd on my Lips,
She mark'd my sparkling Eyes, and heaving Breast,
And smiling, conscious of her Charms, withdrew.

Enter Demetrius and Leontius.
Cali.
Now be some Moments Master of thyself,
Nor let Demetrius know thee for a Rival.
Hence! or be calm—To disagree is Ruin.

SCENE II.

Cali, Demetrius, Leontius, Abdalla.
Demetrius.
When will Occasion smile upon our Wishes,
And give the Tortures of Suspence a Period?
Still must we linger in uncertain Hope?
Still languish in our Chains, and dream of Freedom
Like thirsty Sailors gazing on the Clouds,
Till burning Death shoots through their wither'd Limbs?

Cali.
Deliverance is at Hand; for Turkey's Tyrant
Sunk in his Pleasures, confident and gay,
With all the Heroe's dull Security,
Trusts to my Care his Mistress and his Life,
And laughs and wantons in the Jaws of Death.

Leontius.
So weak is Man, when destin'd to Destruction,
The Watchful slumber, and the Crafty trust.

Cali.
At my Command yon' Iron Gates unfold;
At my Command the Sentinels retire;
With all the Licence of Authority,
Through bowing Slaves, I range the private Rooms,
And of To-morrow's Action fix the Scene.

Demetrius.
To-morrow's Action? Can that hoary Wisdom
Born down with Years, still doat upon To-morrow?
That fatal Mistress of the Young, the Lazy,
The Coward, and the Fool, condemn'd to lose
An useless Life in waiting for To-morrow,
To gaze with longing Eyes upon To-morrow,
Till interposing Death destroys the Prospect!
Strange! that this gen'ral Fraud from Day to Day
Should fill the World with Wretches undetected.
The Soldier lab'ring through a Winter's March,
Still sees To-morrow drest in Robes of Triumph;
Still to the Lover's long-expecting Arms,
To-morrow brings the visionary Bride.
But thou, too old to bear another Cheat,
Learn, that the present Hour alone is Man's.

Leontius.
The present Hour with open Arms invites,
Seize the kind Fair, and press her to thy Bosom.

Demetrius.
Who knows, ere this important Morrow rise,
But Fear, or Mutiny may taint the Greeks?
Who knows if Mahomet's awaking Anger
May spare the fatal Bow-string till To-morrow?

Abdalla.
Had our first Asian Foes but known this Ardour,
We still had wander'd on Tartarian Hills.
Rouse, Cali, shall the Sons of conquer'd Greece,
Lead us to Danger, and abash their Victors?
This Night with all her conscious Stars be witness,
Who merits most, Demetrius or Abdalla.

Demetrius.
Who merits most!—I knew not we were Rivals.

Cali.
Young Man, forbear—The Heat of Youth, no more—
Well,—'tis decreed—This Night shall fix our Fate.
Soon as the Veil of Evening clouds the Sky,
With cautious Secrecy, Leontius steer
Th' appointed Vessel to yon' shaded Bay,
Form'd by this Garden jutting on the Deep;
There, with your Soldiers arm'd, and Sails expanded,
Await our coming, equally prepar'd
For speedy Flight, or obstinate Defence.

[Exit Leont.

SCENE III.

Cali, Abdalla, Demetrius.
Demetrius.
Now pause, great Bassa, from the Thoughts of Blood,
And kindly grant an Ear to gentler Sounds,
If e'er thy Youth has known the Pangs of Absence,
Or felt th' impatience of obstructed Love,
Give me, before th' approaching Hour of Fate,
Once to behold the Charms of bright Aspasia,
And draw new Virtue from her heav'nly Tongue.

Cali.
Let Prudence, ere the Suit be farther urg'd,
Impartial weigh the Pleasure with the Danger.
A little longer, and she's thine for ever.

Demetrius.
Prudence and Love conspire in this Request,
Lest unacquainted with our bold Attempt,
Surprize o'erwhelm her, and retard our Flight.

Cali.
What I can grant, you cannot ask in vain—

Demetrius.
I go to wait thy Call, this kind Consent
Completes the Gift of Freedom and of Life.
[Exit Dem.

SCENE IV.

Cali, Abdalla.
Abdalla.
And this is my Reward—to burn, to languish,
To rave unheeded, while the happy Greek,
The Refuse of our Swords, the Dross of Conquest,
Throws his fond Arms about Aspasia's Neck,
Dwells on her Lips, and sighs upon her Breast;
Is't not enough, he lives by our Indulgence,
But he must live to make his Master's wretched?

Cali.
What Claim hast thou to plead?

Abdalla.
The Claim of Pow'r,
Th' unquestion'd Claim of Conquerors, and Kings!

Cali.
Yet in the Use of Pow'r remember Justice.

Abdalla.
Can then th' Assassin lift his treach'rous Hand
Against his King, and cry, Remember Justice?
Justice demands the forfeit Life of Cali;
Justice demands that I reveal your Crimes;
Justice demands—But see th' approaching Sultan.
Oppose my Wishes, and—Remember Justice.

Cali.
Disorder sits upon thy Face—retire.

[Exit Abdalla, Enter Mahomet.

SCENE V.

Cali, Mahomet.
Cali.
Long be the Sultan bless'd with happy Love!
My Zeal marks Gladness dawning on thy Cheek,
With Raptures such as fire the Pagan Crouds,
When pale, and anxious for their Years to come,
They see the Sun surmount the dark Eclipse,
And hail unanimous their conqu'ring God.

Mahomet.
My Vows, 'tis true, she hears with less Aversion,
She sighs, she blushes, but she still denies.

Cali.
With warmer Courtship press the yielding Fair,
Call to your Aid with boundless Promises
Each rebel Wish, each traitor Inclination
That raises Tumults in the female Breast,
The love of Pow'r, of Pleasure, and of Show.

Mahomet.
These Arts I try'd, and to inflame her more,
By hateful Business hurried from her sight,
I bad a hundred Virgins wait around her,
Sooth her with all the Pleasures of Command,
Applaud her Charms, and court her to be Great.

Exit Mahomet.

SCENE VI.

Cali
solus.
He's gone—Here rest, my Soul, thy fainting Wing,
Here recollect thy dissipated Pow'rs.—
Our distant Int'rests, and our different Passions
Now haste to mingle in one common Center,
And Fate lies crouded in a narrow Space.
Yet in that narrow Space what Dangers rise?—
Far more I dread Abdalla's fiery Folly,
Than all the Wisdom of the grave Divan.
Reason with Reason fights on equal Terms,
The raging Madman's unconnected Schemes
We cannot obviate, for we cannot guess.
Deep in my Breast be treasured this Resolve,
When Cali mounts the Throne Abdalla dies
Too fierce, too faithless for Neglect or Trust.

[Enter Irene with Attendants.

SCENE VII.

Cali, Irene, Aspasia, &c.
Cali.
Amidst the Splendor of encircling Beauty,
Superiour Majesty proclaims the Queen,
And Nature justifies our Monarch's Choice.

Irene.
Reserve this Homage for some other Fair,
Urge me not on to glittering Guilt, nor pour
In my weak Ear th' intoxicating sounds.

Cali.
Make haste, bright Maid, to rule the willing World;
Aw'd by the Rigour of the Sultan's Justice,
We court thy gentleness.

Aspasia.
Can Cali's Voice
Concur to press a hapless Captive's Ruin?

Cali.
Long would my Zeal for Mahomet and Thee
Detain me here. But Nations call upon me,
And Duty bids me chuse a distant Walk,
Nor taint with Care the Privacies of Love.

SCENE VIII.

Irene, Aspasia, Attendants.
Aspasia.
If yet this shining Pomp, these sudden Honours,
Swell not thy Soul beyond Advice or Friendship,
Not yet inspire the Follies of a Queen,
Or tune thine Ear to soothing Adulation,
Suspend awhile the Privilege of Pow'r
To hear the Voice of Truth; dismiss thy Train,
Shake off th' Incumbrances of State a moment,
And lay the tow'ring Sultaness aside,
[Irene signs to her Attendants to retire.
While I foretell thy Fate; that Office done,—
No more I boast th' ambitious Name of Friend,
But sink among thy Slaves without a Murmur.

Irene.
Did regal Diadems invest my Brow,
Yet should my Soul, still faithful to her Choice,
Esteem Aspasia's Breast, the noblest Kingdom.

Aspasia.
The Soul once tainted with so foul a Crime,
No more shall glow with Friendship's hallow'd Ardour:
Those holy Beings, whose superiour Care
Guides erring Mortals to the Paths of Virtue,
Affrighted at Impiety like thine,
Resign their Charge to Baseness and to Ruin.

Irene.
Upbraid me not with fancy'd Wickedness,
I am not yet a Queen, or an Apostate.
But should I sin beyond the hope of Mercy,
If when Religion prompts me to refuse,
The dread of instant Death restrains my Tongue?

Aspasia.
Reflect that Life and Death, affecting sounds,
Are only varied Modes of endless Being;
Reflect that Life, like ev'ry other Blessing,
Derives its Value from its Use alone;
Not for itself but for a nobler End
Th'Eternal gave it, and that End is Virtue.
When inconsistent with a greater Good,
Reason commands to cast the less away;
Thus Life, with loss of Wealth, is well preserv'd,
And Virtue cheaply sav'd with loss of Life.

Irene.
If built on settled Thought, this Constancy
Not idly flutters on a boastful Tongue,
Why, when Destruction rag'd around our Walls,
Why fled this haughty Heroine from the Battle?
Why then did not this warlike Amazon
Mix in the War, and shine among the Heroes?

Aspasia.
Heav'n, when its Hand pour'd softness on our Limbs
Unfit for Toil, and polish'd into Weakness;
Made passive Fortitude the Praise of Woman:
Our only Arms are Innocence and Meekness.
Not then with raving Cries I fill'd the City,
But while Demetrius, dear lamented Name!
Pour'd storms of Fire upon our fierce Invaders,
Implor'd th' eternal Power to shield my Country,
With silent Sorrows, and with calm Devotion.

Irene.
O! did Irene shine the Queen of Turkey,
No more should Greece lament those Prayers rejected.
Again should golden Splendour grace her Cities,
Again her prostrate Palaces should rise,
Again her Temples sound with holy Musick:
No more should Danger fright, or Want distress
The smiling Widows, and protected Orphans.

Aspasia.
Be virtuous Ends pursued by virtuous Means,
Nor think th' Intention sanctifies the Deed:
That Maxim publish'd in an impious Age,
Would loose the wild Enthusiast to destroy,
And fix the fierce Usurper's bloody Title.
Then Bigottry might send her Slaves to War,
And bid Success become the Test of Truth?
Unpitying Massacre might waste the World,
And Persecution boast the Call of Heav'n.

Irene.
Shall I not wish to chear afflicted Kings,
And plan the Happiness of mourning Millions?

Aspasia.
Dream not of Pow'r thou never can'st attain:
When social Laws first harmonis'd the World,
Superiour Man possess'd the Charge of Rule,
The Scale of Justice, and the Sword of Pow'r,
Nor left us aught but Flattery and State.

Irene.
To me my Lover's Fondness will restore,
Whate'er Man's Pride has ravish'd from our Sex.

Aspasia.
When soft Security shall prompt the Sultan,
Freed from the Tumults of unsettled Conquest,
To fix his Court, and regulate his Pleasures,
Soon shall the dire Seraglio's horrid Gates
Close like th' eternal Bars of Death upon thee,
Immur'd, and buried in perpetual Sloth,
That gloomy Slumber of the stagnant Soul;
There shalt thou view from far the quiet Cottage,
And sigh for chearful Poverty in vain:
There wear the tedious Hours of Life away,
Beneath each Curse of unrelenting Heav'n,
Despair, and Slav'ry, Solitude, and Guilt.

Irene.
There shall we find the yet untasted Bliss
Of Grandeur and Tranquillity combin'd.

Aspasia.
Tranquillity and Guilt, disjoin'd by Heav'n,
Still stretch in vain their longing Arms afar;
Nor dare to pass th' insuperable Bound,
Ah! let me rather seek the Convent's Cell;
There when my Thoughts, at interval of Pray'r,
Descend to range these Mansions of Misfortune,
Oft' shall I dwell on our disastrous Friendship,
And shed the pitying Tear for lost Irene.

Irene.
Go, languish on in dull Obscurity;
Thy dazzled Soul with all its boasted Greatness,
Shrinks at th' o'erpow'ring Gleams of regal State,
Stoops from the Blaze like a degenerate Eagle,
And flies for Shelter to the Shades of Life.

Aspasia.
On me, should Providence, without a Crime,
The weighty Charge of Royalty confer;
Call me to civilize the Russian Wilds,
Or bid soft Science polish Briton's Heroes:
Soon shouldst thou see, how false thy weak Reproach.
My Bosom feels, enkindled from the Sky,
The lambent Flames of mild Benevolence,
Untouch'd by fierce Ambition's raging Fires.

Irene.
Ambition is the Stamp, impress'd by Heav'n
To mark the noblest Minds, with active Heat
Inform'd they mount the Precipice of Pow'r,
Grasp at Command, and tow'r in quest of Empire;
While vulgar Souls compassionate their Cares,
Gaze at their Height and tremble at their Danger:
Thus meaner Spirits with Amazement mark
The varying Seasons, and revolving Skies,
And ask, what guilty Pow'rs rebellious Hand
Rolls with eternal Toil the pond'rous Orbs;
While some Archangel nearer to Perfection,
In easy State presides o'er all their Motions,
Directs the Planets with a careless Nod,
Conducts the Sun, and regulates the Spheres.

Aspasia.
Well may'st thou hide in Labyrinths of Sound
The Cause that shrinks from Reason's powerful Voice.
Stoop from thy Flight, trace back th'entangled Thought,
And set the glitt'ring Fallacy to view.
Not Pow'r I blame, but Pow'r obtain'd by Crime,
Angelic Greatness is Angelic Virtue.
Amidst the Glare of Courts, the Shout of Armies,
Will not th' Apostate feel the Pangs of Guilt,
And wish too late for Innocence and Peace?
Curst as the Tyrant of th' infernal Realms,
With gloomy State and agonizing Pomp.

SCENE IX.

Irene, Aspasia, Maid.
Maid.
A Turkish Stranger of majestick Mien,
Asks at the Gate Admission to Aspasia,
Commission'd, as he says, by Cali Bassa.

Irene.
Whoe'er thou art, or whatso'er thy Message,
[Aside
Thanks for this kind Relief—with Speed admit him.

Aspasia.
He comes, perhaps, to separate us for ever;
When I am gone remember, O! remember,
That none are great, or happy, but the Virtuous.

[Exit Irene, Enter Demetrius.

SCENE X.

Aspasia, Demetrius.
Demetrius.
'Tis she—My Hope, my Happiness, my Love!
Aspasia! do I once again behold thee?
Still, still the same—unclouded by Misfortune!
Let my blest Eyes, for ever gaze—

Aspasia.
Demetrius!

Demetrius.
Why does the Blood forsake thy lovely Cheek?
Why shoots this Chilness through thy shaking Nerves?
Why does thy Soul retire into herself?
Recline upon my Breast thy sinking Beauties:
Revive—Revive to Freedom and to Love.

Aspasia.
What well known Voice pronounc'd the grateful Sounds
Freedom and Love? Alas! I'm all Confusion,
A sudden Mist o'ercasts my darken'd Soul,
The Present, Past, and Future swim before me,
Lost in a wild Perplexity of Joy.

Demetrius.
Such Ecstacy of Love! such pure Affection,
What Worth can merit? or what Faith reward?

Aspasia.
A thousand Thoughts imperfect and distracted,
Demand a Voice, and struggle into Birth;
A thousand Questions press upon my Tongue,
But all give way to Rapture and Demetrius.

Demetrius.
O say, bright Being, in this Age of Absence,
What Fears, what Griefs, what Dangers hast thou known?
Say, how the Tyrant threaten'd, flatter'd, sigh'd,
Say, how he threaten'd, flatter'd, sigh'd in vain!
Say, how the Hand of Violence was rais'd,
Say, how thou call'dst in Tears upon Demetrius!

Aspasia.
Inform me rather, how thy happy Courage
Stem'd in the Breach the Deluge of Destruction,
And pass'd uninjur'd through the Walks of Death?
Did savage Anger, and licentious Conquest
Behold the Hero with Aspasia's Eyes?
And thus protected in the gen'ral Ruin,
O say, what guardian Pow'r convey'd thee hither.

Demetrius,
Such strange Events, such unexpected Chances,
Beyond my warmest Hope, or wildest Wishes,
Concur'd to give me to Aspasia's Arms,
I stand amaz'd, and ask, if yet I clasp thee.

Aspasia.
Sure Heav'n, for Wonders are not wrought in vain,
That joins us thus, will never part us more.

SCENE XI.

Demetrius, Aspasia, Abdalla.
Abdalla.
It parts you now—The hasty Sultan sign'd
The Laws unread, and flies to his Irene.

Demetrius.
Fix'd and intent on his Irene's Charms,
He envies none the Converse of Aspasia.

Abdalla.
Aspasia's Absence will inflame Suspicion;
She cannot, must not, shall not linger here,
Prudence and Friendship bid me force her from you.

Demetrius.
Force her! profane her with a Touch, and die.

Abdalla.
'Tis Greece, 'tis Freedom calls Aspasia hence,
Your careless Love betrays your Country's Cause.

Demetrius.
If we must part—

Aspasia.
No! let us die together.

Demetrius.
If we must part—

Abdalla.
Dispatch; th' encreasing Danger
Will not admit a Lover's long Farewell,
The long-drawn Intercourse of Sighs and Kisses.

Demetrius.
Then—O my Fair, I cannot bid thee goe;
Receive her, and protect her, gracious Heav'n!
Yet let me watch her dear departing Steps,
If Fate persues me, let it find me here.
Reproach not Greece, a Lover's fond Delays,
Nor think thy Cause neglected while I gaze,
New Force, new Courage, from each Glance I gain,
And find our Passions not infus'd in vain.