University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

Zamti, Idamè, Asseli.
Idamè.
Am I then still, 'mid all our woes, your wife?
And are we still permitted thus to meet?

Zamti.
Permitted? 'tis the tyrant's sov'reign order;
And to his rage I owe this happy moment.

Idamè.
Have they inform'd you at what horrid price
The tyrant would grant your's and th'Orphan's life?

Zamti.
O mention not, consider not my life:
A single citizen's a trivial loss.
Forget it then: But O remember, Idamè,
That 'tis our duty to preserve our King.
To him our lives and services we owe,
And ev'n the blood of children born to serve him;
But owe him not the forfeit of our honour.
Yet certain death awaits the hapless Orphan
Whom I've secreted in that dark asylum,
Where all our ancient monarchs are intomb'd;
And where, unless we can afford him aid,
He'll with his fathers share the sleep of death.
In vain the generous Prince of Corea
Waits the dear charge, my zeal has promis'd him.
Etan, the faithful guardian of his life,
Loaded with chains, my cruel lot partakes.
You are the Orphan's only refuge left.
'Tis you alone that must his threaten'd life,
Your son, your glory, and my honour save.
We will obey our tyrant's dread commands:
I'll give them up my son: I'll give up more.
Freed by my death, go, soothe the ruffian Tartar:
Pass o'er my grave to this barbarian's arms.
Yet now I first behold grim death with horror,
Since it abandons you to this usurper.
But my King asks it, and I expiate
By my just death this impious sacrifice.
Wed, with these horrid auspices, the tyrant,
And with a mother's care still guard your King.
Reign, that your King may live, and husband die.
Reign at this price. It shall be so—

Idamè.
O hold!
Do you then know me? think you, I would buy
A throne with shame, my Zamti, and thy death?
Or do you think I'm less a wife than mother?
Alas! you dream, and your too rigid virtue
Twice in one day hath sinn'd against itself,
Scorning the cries of nature and of love.
Ah! cruel to your son, to me more cruel,
Do you forget that I'm your wife, and love you?
All-righteous Heav'n has better taught my soul;
I'll save my King, yet not dishonour you.
The tyrant, be it love, or be it scorn,
Constrains me not, nor watches my designs.
Within these walls, with bloody gore o'erflow'd,
I still am free, nor are my steps observ'd.
The Prince of Corea by the secret path
May reach the tombs, wherein this precious charge
From the destroyer's eye now lays conceal'd.
I know each winding passage of the place;
I fly to give him timely nourishment,
To render him to China's faithful friends,
Within my arms among their warlike ranks.
To carry him, a gift from Heav'n, their aid.
That you must die; I know but, full of glory,
Our memory shall ever be rever'd.
When equal to the noblest we shall rise,
O judge, if Idamè has stain'd your fame!

Zamti.
Heav'n! that inspirest, with thy arm sustain her!
O Idamè! thy virtues o'ertop mine.
Haply for thee from ruin Heav'n may save
Thy Country, and thy Monarch from the grave.