University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Gengis, Idamè.
Idamè.
Are then my griefs your sport? and am I call'd
To be receiv'd with scorn? O spare a woman,
Nor add new anguish to a mother's woes!

Gengis.
Be not dismay'd. Your husband may atone
His past offence, and still receive our pardon.
I have already bid my vengeance sleep,
And you alone could move my heart to mercy.
Perhaps 'tis not without high Heav'n's decree,
That fortune has conducted me to you.
For surely Idamè was form'd by fate,
To make a conqu'ror stoop, enslave a master,
And melt in me that stubbornness of soul,
The rough distinction of my native clime.
Then be advis'd, and mark me well: I reign
Within these walls, yet you may reassume
Dominion o'er me, though perhaps your scorn
Might rather warrant fury and revenge.
Our law permits divorce; submit to that,
And make the conqu'ror of the world your slave.
If he is odious, yet a throne has charms,
And royal wreaths may wipe your tears away.
The int'rest of the State and of the City
Forbid you to refuse my proffer'd love.
Of love to parley now, may move your wonder:
The man, who overturn'd your Monarch's throne,
And all your Kings has mingled with the dust,
Was scarce expected, while his furious arm
Was dealing death, again to fall before you.
But you was robb'd of your too easy heart,
And a base rival has usurp'd my place.
You owe it to the conqu'ror of mankind,
Who now with twenty sceptres is return'd,
To claim that love, once due to Temugin.
You fix your eyes on earth, nor can I guess
What you resolve. Forget my pow'r, forget
My fierceness, well reflect, and freely speak.

Idamè.
Still to new changes ev'ry hour condemn'd,
Yet I confess that you have mov'd my wonder.
But if I can recal my scatter'd spirits
My answer shall amaze you more. That time
You may remember, and that humble life,
In which Heav'n once obscur'd your future fame.
You was not then the terror of the world,
But lowly Temugin: whole nations then
Bow'd not beneath your sovereign command.
Then, when your hand was pure, 'twas proffer'd to me,
And know, that then I would not have refus'd it.

Gengis.
What do I hear? O Heav'n! and did you love me?
Did you—

Idamè.
I own, against your sighs and vows
My subject soul would never have rebell'd,
Had not the virtuous pair, that gave me life,
Resign'd its duty to another Lord.
The pow'r of parents over us, you know:
They are the image of the God we serve,
And we for ever owe obedience to them,
This fallen Empire, on parental right
Was founded, on the solemn marriage faith,
On honour, justice, and respect of oaths:
On these 'twas built; and though beneath your arms
It sink for ever, yet the noble spirit
Which taught us these, shall never, never die.
Your fortunes are much chang'd, but mine remain
Unalter'd, and the same.

Gengis.
And did you love me?

Idamè.
What though I did? that very love were now
A threefold bar against our union,
Another reason I should now refuse you.
My marriage-bonds by Heav'n itself were form'd;
My husband sacred; to say more, I love him.
Before yourself, your throne, and all its greatness
I would prefer him. O forgive this warmth
That flows from honest love; nor think I boast
My conquest o'er your heart, or mean to brave
Your anger, or take pride in these denials,
Which rise alone from justice and my duty.
I sigh not for a throne; some other fair
Make happy with your sceptre and your love,
Withdrawn from me, who know not how to prize them:
And O let me beseech with earnest pray'r,
That Zamti know not of your proffer'd love,
He'll be less proud o'th' triumph, than enrag'd
At this new outrage offer'd to my faith.

Gengis.
Concerning him my firm resolve you know,
And he'll obey, if life is precious to him.

Idamè.
He will not do't, he never can obey:
And if the cruel agonies of torture
Could shake his soul from its integrity,
My faith and duty should sustain his weakness.
I would support his fainting heart, and plead
Those sacred bonds his baseness would dishonour.

Gengis.
What do I hear? can I believe it? Gods!
Can you thus love him after what has pass'd,
When the barbarian husband would have giv'n
Your child to certain death?

Idamè.
Barbarian husband!
'Twas virtue in him; I admire him for it;
Though I felt all the weakness of a mother.
And was I so unjust, to hate him for it,
My pride would not permit me to desert him.

Gengis.
Still all you say amazes, and distracts me;
Those virtues I adore, I wish to hate.
I love you more, the more you scorn my love,
At once you make my heart a slave, and rebel.
Fear me: for know, that spite of all my love,
My fury may outstrip my tenderness.

Idamè.
I know your pow'r, and that you my exact
Death, or obedience to your dread command.
Yet the Laws live, and are above you still.

Gengis.
The Laws! what Laws dare contradict my will?
Here are no Laws, but such as I impose:
I, a rough Scythian, your King, your Conqu'ror.
The Laws you follow have been fatal to me.
Yes, when e'er while our fortunes here were equal,
Our thoughts, our hearts were mutually inclin'd,
(For spite of all your scorn I now believe it)
When all united us, those Laws I hate
Ordain'd my shame, and your accursed marriage.
I make them void; I speak, and they're annull'd;
Thou, with the subject universe, obey.
Those manners, usages, and Laws you boast,
Are criminal, if they oppose my will.
I've order'd it; your husband must resign
Into my hands, your Emperor and You.
Their lives shall be the pledge of your obedience.
Think on't, you know how far I may revenge:
Think at what price you may appease a King,
Who loves you, and yet blushes at his passion.