University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

At a distance: The Mufti and Mustapha appear.
Near the Audience Achmet and several Eunuchs Enter.
Ach.
Haste each Attendant to perform his several charge
With strictest diligence, and most observant care;
Burn the Sabæan Gums, and all those rich Perfumes
Where our great Master passes, till every Room
Smell sweet as Altars laden with Incense
To the Heathen Gods, spread the gay Persian Carpets
For his Royal Feet, and you to the Apartments fly
Of those Incloister'd Virgin Roses, the select and chosen
Beauties of the habitable World, bid 'em prepare,
Quick let 'em in all their brightest glories be array'd,
For their Sun, the Mighty Ibrahim approaches.

[Exit Achmet, the Eunuchs follow.
The Mufti and Mustapha come forward.
Mufti.
Now, by our Prophet, what's all this but gaudy Pageantry,
Ill acted Scenes of Pomp and show, instead of real greatness:
O my Friend it was not thus of old,
The great Forefathers of this degenerate Man,
Instead of treading on Persian Carpets,
Trod upon the Necks of Persian Kings:
Whilst now (curs'd reverse of time) softness and ease,
Flatterers and Women, fill alone our Monarch's Heart;
Women enough to undo the Universal World
Are here maintain'd, whole useless hundreds,
And with such a train of Pride and Luxury,
That Eyes before ne'er saw, nor can endless words describe:
Wou'd you believe it? the Vultures deckt in Painted Plumes,
So eager are for their vain trappings,
That soon as a Merchant Ship salutes the Port,
His Goods are seiz'd, and brought to the Seraglio
Without Account, Value, or Justice, yet at this
The Pander Visier winks, whilst the poor Owner
Waits in vain for Answer or Redress.

Must.
Most just Observer, as well as Teacher of our Laws,
By me in Friendship like a Brother lov'd,
In counsel like a Father honour'd,
That what you have said is most undoubted truth,
The Impartial World must own. But these complaints
Alas, avail not, our Lord hates us his faithful Servants,
And whatever we shou'd offer, wou'd certainly despise.

Muft.
You are too good, my Must. to be a Favourite here,
Though so long Married to the Royal Sister of our Emperour;
Nay, in this base Court, your Son, the God-like Amurat,
But coldly is receiv'd, because his wondrous Youth
Has so far out-strip'd their sloathful Age—
O! Pity! that the fairest branch of all the Ottoman Race,
Sprung from a Female Root; yet I swear
Were he Lord of all that our Tyrannick Master holds,
I cou'd not esteem him more, or love him better.
Few Kings his Courage e'er obtain'd, or Vertues;
O 'tis Nobler far a Crown to Merit, than a Crown
To wear.

Must.
Happy's my Son in such a Patron,
Who never ceases to oblige; I know your kind Attendance
Now is on his behalf, to speak his Actions
In the Sultans Ear, so as may obtain his Royal favour.

Muft.
It is indeed my chief design—
But oh! Manly Vertue, Courage unequall'd,
Fortitude, and all those Graces that adorn
The glorious Amurat, are truths displeasing
To our Ibrahim, whose soft Soul destructive
Beauty charms into a sleep too sound
For the Report of Noble Deeds to wake.

Must.
The Visier is the Minion
Hangs the darling of his heart,
And with ill Counsel poysons
Every design that tends towards Vertue.

Muft.
Then that vile Woman, to whom
He hath given the sweet Name
Of Sheker Para, she, with the Visier,
Joins to ruin Ibrahim—

Must.
Whilst he, contrary to our Countries Laws,
Exposes her to publick view, lets her converse
With Visier, Bashaws, or whom she pleases.

Muft.
But that I have a Daughter,
Whose early Vertue and sincere Obedience,
Ties my Soul to dote upon:
I for my Countries sake wou'd Curse the Sex.

Must.
That Daughter—

Muft.
No more, the Emperours Guards appear,
And see the Visier, and the Woman at his Elbow.

Enter Ibrahim, the Grand Visier, Sheker Para, Achmet, and several Attendants.
Ibrah.
I say the Bashaw's Treason is plain,
Therefore Morat, attend him with the Bow-string,
And my fatal Order—that without a murmur
He surrender Life for his Ill-gotten Wealth.
'Tis thine, my faithful, vigilant Azema.

Vis.
O sacred Sir, whose Justice is Divine,
And 'twould be Impious to affirm
The Bashaw of Damascus hath one Grain of Innocence;
Yet let me beg you wou'd hold that bounteous hand,
The only Wealth I covet is to be my Sultans Slave.
Besides, I have many Enemies, and these high favours
Will I fear create me more.

Ibrah.
Who dares to be thy Enemy? No, Visier,
Whilst I protect thee, Kings shall for thy Friendship sue;
And let thy Foes remember what I commanded last.

Vis.
O let me throw my self beneath your Royal Feet,
And kissing your honour'd Robes, disclose
The Adoration that my heart is full of.

Muft.
Fawning Sycophant!

[Aside.
Ibra.
Rise, good Azema! no more!

Muft.
Great Sir, I have a Suit to you.

Ibra.
What is't, my Religious Councellor?

Muft.
Not for my self, but one much more deserving,
Your Godlike General Amurat, who brings
Your Conquering Forces back from vanquisht Babylon,
Now lies Incamp'd near this Imperial City:
Next Spring, by your Commands, and his desires,
He goes to Candia, to punish that stubborn Town,
Which dares resist the Ottoman Armies that are Invincible.
By me he humbly prays your Royal License,
That this Winter he may remain
At his own Palace here in Constantinople.

Ibra.
I'll consider his desires—but at this time
Let all, except my Eunuchs, and my Sheker Para,
Leave me—
[Exit &c.
Come, my loved Sheker, what hast thou prepar'd
To calm and tune my Soul, which these affairs
Have ruffled from its own Sphere of
Ease and Pleasure—

Shek.
To charm my Monarch is the only study and
Business of your Slave, and to that end,
Twenty fair Virgins, whom yet your Eyes ne'er saw,
I have pick'd and chosen from a thousand,
And set in order for your view.

Ibra.
Thanks my good Girl, 'tis by these obliging turns
That thou secur'st the heart of Ibrahim.
Give me that grateful Mistress,
Who when her Lover, sated with that high
Luscious Feast, Enjoyment, she for his
Sickly Appetite
Generously prepares fresh Viands;
I but tast of them, my solid part,
My Friendship that remains with thee.

Ach.
Now let each Ambitious Maid disclose the Gifts.
Of Art and Nature, whether in Voice, or
Tuneful Motion the taking beauty lies;
With Emulation let it be practis'd o'er
To charm the Worlds great Lord.

The Scene draws and discovers the Ladies set in Order for the Sultans Choice, who takes out his Handkerchief, and walks round them; whilst Sheker Para talks to Achmet.
Sheker.
How different, Achmet, is this from the European stories;
I have read there, twenty Heroes for the Ladies
Burn and die, here twenty Ladies for the Hero.

Ach.
It shows that Mankind maintains his Charter
Better here, yet loses sure the sweetness
Of submissive love; see, he seems fixt.

Shek.
No—the Handkerchief is not dropt yet,
And she's left to use her own.

Ach.
Now 'tis resolved—

[The Sultan drops his Handkerchief, which the Lady falling prostrate, kisses, and takes up, and is led off by two Eunuchs; the Sultan following, the Scene shuts upon the rest.
Shek.
Oh Achmet! O my faithful Slave!
If e'er thou lov'st thy generous Mistress
Who has from nothing raised thee
And plac'd thee in the highest Orb that thou canst move
For wanting Manhood, though thy Soul's all God-like,
Yet thou canst not rise to greater honours,
Help me now; thou know'st my raging fires
How Passion like a Vultur preys upon my heart,
And the hot flames of love drink up my Spirits,
All this, I say, thou know'st, and yet bringst No
Remedy.

Ach.
True, when these Convulsive Fits are on ye,
I from your ravings learn you love the General Amurat,
Nor have I been unmindful, even of those—
Imperfect hints;
But the Physician that pretends to administer a Cure,
Must each particular of the Distemper know.

Shek.
O! I have told thee, o'er and o'er.
Repetition wrecks my Soul—
Yet thou shalt hear't again,
Full well thou know'st the Sultan gives me greater Privilege
Than ever Woman had in the Ottoman Court;
That has undone me, for there I have seen
This Robber of my rest, this cruel charming Amurat.

Ach.
Knows he his Happyness?

Sheck.
Yes, Yes, for I have stole a thousand burning Glances,
And sent them to his heart
Besides sweet herbs, and Amorous Flowers
(Those Hieroglyphicks, and Emblems of our Countrys love)
In Boxes wrought with gold and set in Jewels
Of unequall'd value, he hath oft received;
Yet still he Ignorance pretends, nor meets my Eyes
But turns his own another way—
Or else looks guilty down.

Ach.
What stoick vertue rules in his cold Icy Veins,
And gives him power to resist those Eyes?
Or has another gain'd his heart?

Shek.
Cou'd I find out that, revenge wou'd take the place
Of Injur'd Love, and I shou'd weep no more;
Revenge, sweet Revenge, Injuries, Antidote,
Wronged Womens darling Joy—
The Emperour thinks perhaps,
Because I share him with a hundred Rivals
My Nature's tame. No, No!
We easily give what we despise
But shou'd another be ador'd by my Amurat
Whilst neglected I despair,
How wou'd I wrack her, how glut me
With the ruine of their Loves, and them!

Ach.
This I have observ'd, that since his Incamping near
He often in disguise repairs to this great Town;
But whether Ambition or Love bring him, I know
Not, for I cou'd never learn his Counsels.

Shek.
That, dear Achmet, be thy future care,
And name thy own reward. But how canst thou effect it,
Hath thy prolifick brain yet laid a form?

Ach.
Yes, thus—
You know our Princes for State
Are still attended by their Mutes, who
Follow into all their Privacies
As being unable to divulge them; one of these
Is near my Stature.
Him will I draw aside, knock out his brains,
And in his habit watch the Princes Motions.

Shek.
Now! Amurat—Excellent!
The time draws near to quench these raging fires,
In full possession of my fierce desires;
Or else the ungrateful object I'll destroy,
Which rob'd my Nights of rest, my Days of Joy.