Mustapha A Tragedy |
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| 4. | SCENE IV. |
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 | Mustapha |  |
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SCENE IV.
Emira, Roxolana.Emira.
Fly not, Madam:
For misery has sure a mournful right
To pity, even to reverence. If your soul
Is truly royal, and adorns the height
Of your imperial fortune, you will weep
The woes you have not known. If mercy lives,
If gentleness yet holds her softest seat,
Where once she joy'd to dwell, a woman's breast;—
O Roxolana—by these melting eyes!
By this imploring posture! now exert
Your thousand ways of charming him you love!
Wake nature, reason, in his heart; to save
A hero who supports his throne, a son
Who fears no death but from a father's frown.
Think, for this noble act, how fair your name,
How bright with praise, to nations yet unborn
All-lovely will descend!—You hear me not.
Ah, Madam, this way bend your sight: in me
No common suppliant kneels. I once believ'd—
O groundless pride!—that but to heaven alone
I could have bow'd me thus!
Roxolana.
My wonder, Princess,
Has kept me silent: let it plead my pardon
That you have knelt so long. Nay, dry your tears:
My self will send the Prince to your embrace,
And end for ever all your doubts and fears.
| Mustapha | |