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Mustapha

A Tragedy
  
  
  
  
  
  

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SCENE X.
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SCENE X.

Solyman.
[Rustan enters at a distance.
Why does my straining eye pursue his steps?
Out, foolish nature; leave me to the thoughts
That suit a monarch. He, or I must fall.
'Tis rage no more: 'tis reason's deep alarm,
Abruptly waken'd o'er the startling view
Of precipice and ruin full before her:
May I believe my senses? How! a son
Aspiring, popular, belov'd and brave,
His very virtues formidably great,
Combin'd, confederate with my mortal foe?
Even wedded to his daughter? young and fair,
And mighty o'er a husband's ductile heart!
To drive his passions, and inflame his will
With each curst purpose of her father's hate.
And shall a tale by smooth-tongu'd cunning fram'd
Stagger my heart, or soothe me to false peace?
No, rouse thee, Solyman, and shew mankind,
Imperial justice knows no ties of blood.

157

Rustan, approach. Prepare thy band of mutes;
The sternest of the tribe. The night is dismal,
And dreadful deeds shall close it.