The Sultaness A Tragedy |
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| 6. | SCENE VI. |
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 | The Sultaness |  |
SCENE VI.
Roxana, Atalida.Ata.
Madam, I come not now to counterfeit,
To act the Friend, and to abuse your Goodness:
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I come to speak the Secret of my Heart,
To own my Crime, and yield to your Resentments.
Yes, Madam, I confess I have deceiv'd you.
Urg'd by my Love, when e're I saw the Prince,
Far from obeying you, in all I said,
In all I did, I study'd to betray you;
I lov'd him young, and won his Heart betimes,
E're yet we knew, alass, what 'twas to love!
The Sultaness, his Mother, joyn'd us both,
And, dying, ratify'd the fatal Union.
Roxa.
Do'st thou then hope to move me by this Tale?
Deceitful Woman!
Ata.
Yet vouchsafe to hear me;
You lov'd him since,—and happy had it been
Both for your Peace and mine, had you but known
My Heart, or I been ignorant of yours.
I cannot, Madam, disavow my Guilt;
I swear by Heaven, that sees my just Confusion,
By all the immortal Race of Ottoman,
My God-like Ancestors, who now in me
Lye prostrate at your Feet; by them I swear
That Bajazet stands clear of all my Falshood.
His Eyes at last were open to your Charms;
His Heart was sensible to all your Bounties:
My Jealousy was busy to pervert
His generous Purpose, and to injure you.
I practis'd every Art to sap his Virtue;
By turns I try'd Reproaches, Tears and Rage;
Accus'd him with my Death; gave him no Rest,
Till I this Day, this most ill-fated Day,
Wrested fresh Pledges from him of his Love;
Made him retract his Faith, his Vows to you,
And drove, him headlong to our mutual Ruin.
Roxa.
How! then—I thought—No, no! it cannot be;
I see your Drift, your little Arts are vain;
No longer I believe; no longer you deceive.
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You may believe me, I resign the Prince;
Impute his past Indifference all to me,
And think he will at last repay your Ardor.
When I am gone, the cause of his Unkindness;
No jealous Fears will interrupt your Loves.
Impute his past Indifference all to me,
And think he will at last repay your Ardor.
When I am gone, the cause of his Unkindness;
No jealous Fears will interrupt your Loves.
Yet, Madam, though my Crime does merit Death,
Let not my Sentence be pronounc'd by you.
Remember he once lov'd me, and who knows,
Shou'd you approach him crimson'd with my Blood,
But it may wound his yet too tender Heart;
Give him Distaste, and fill his Soul with Horror.
You may intrust your Vengeance to my Hands;
For I am grown impatient after Death,
And shall be speedy to perform your Will.
Let not my Sentence be pronounc'd by you.
Remember he once lov'd me, and who knows,
Shou'd you approach him crimson'd with my Blood,
But it may wound his yet too tender Heart;
Give him Distaste, and fill his Soul with Horror.
You may intrust your Vengeance to my Hands;
For I am grown impatient after Death,
And shall be speedy to perform your Will.
Go, Madam, go, and reign with Bajazet,
Crown the young Hero, and confirm him yours;
Secure his Life, I'll answer for my Death.
Go, Madam: I shall Rival you no more,
So shall your Happiness be undisturb'd,
And I, at least, be past all Sense of Sorrow.
Crown the young Hero, and confirm him yours;
Secure his Life, I'll answer for my Death.
Go, Madam: I shall Rival you no more,
So shall your Happiness be undisturb'd,
And I, at least, be past all Sense of Sorrow.
Roxa.
I merit not this mighty Sacrifice:
I shall be just to you and to my self.
Far from dividing you from Bajazet,
I mean this Day to join you both for ever.
Rise, Madam, you shall see once more your Prince.
Shouting and a confus'd Noise without.
But—hah—What means this unexpected Tumult?
| The Sultaness | |