University of Virginia Library

ACT. II.

SCENE. I.

A Garden, Zoradia lying a Sleep upon a Repose of Flowers. Song and Musick; Almyna assisting by, rises after the Song, and speaks.
Alm.
Oh, Zoradia, may all thy Griefs in sleep be drown'd.
O sleep, thou Elder Brother to pale Death;
Born 'er he once was thought on, if we may
Guess at him by thee; Death is not sure,
So terrible to Man, as Men believe:
Since Sleep is not without a rest from Cares,
May some delightfulness! for see she Smiles
The Fancy loos'd abroad from racking sense,
With incoherent Pleasures, dance in Dreams;
And treats us better than our waking Reason.
Reason too weak in Youth, too vainly strong in Age:
For then the Ebbing-Blood, needs no Restraint;
But glides uninterrupted in its Channel,
The Spirits fail, that furnish Hope and Joy;
And Reason, well may without Rivals reign.
But when the Passions rage, and Youth beats high!
Why does the Coward, not sustain his Ground?
Why Rally not, to the important Charge,
When Dangers eminent and Glory calls?
Why nam'd the Guide, and Guardian of our Lives,
Yet tamely gives us up to each Invader?
See, she wakes; how fares my Mourning Sister?

Zor.
Ye Powers! might I for ever, ever Sleep!
Why do I wake, or waking think again?
Madness may Break this Link, unloose this Chain,
And Thought without Coherence be no torment.
To think unknowing what I think, or am
That is the State I mean, for not to be,
Is better far, than to be Miserable.
Almyna, pray dismiss thy tender Cares,
Waste not those precious Tears, for Grief like mine,
On whom the irrimediable hand of Death,
Strikes with unerring force.

Alm.
To see thee thus, and yet not know the Cause
Is double, double sorrow to thy Sister,
Dost thou distrust my Secresy or Love?
Oh, no! too well thou know'st my friendship's height,
That thou, without a Rival, hold'st my Heart.
The Mold is thine, thy Image there imprest,
And I to thee are fram'd of yielding Softness.

Zor.
Oh never! never! let me dare to name it.
But in Dispair, and Silence, shrink to Earth.
That still the wretched comfort of my Woes;
That I can dye, and not report the Cause.

Alm.
Is this the Vertue that thou hast profest?
This the Return to all thy Sister's Love?
To give thy Youth and Beauties up to Death,
To the destroyer, who attacks thy Bloom,
Sends foul Dispair, to seize thy coward-heart,
And reconcile thee, to that foe Self-murther,
That most detested Enemy of Life,
That Sin unpardonable, since we dye in it,
And have no room to ask of Heaven forgiveness.

Zor.
Preach to the raging Winds, or Mountain Seas,
When they in Loudest Tempests, brave each other;
As soon they'le hear, as soon be reconcil'd,
Those who like me, are deafen'd by Despair;
Find Arguments but vain, Perswasion vain,
And Life a double Burthen, from you Persecution.

Alm.
Twice has the Glorious Sun, perform'd its Course;
Twice our pale Crescent, beautify'd the Night.
Since thou obdurate Wretch, has once receiv'd
The least supply, or nourishment to Nature.
But obst'nate, and Deaf to all our kind Efforts,
Hast purpos'd to Destroy the best of Fathers:
When he shall hear thy stubborn, curs'd Resolves,
'Twill bring his Age in Mourning to the Grave,
And send thy drooping Sister quickly after,

Zor.
Hear me not, Heaven, unjustly thus accus'd!
I cou'd for ever Live, nay, Live in Torments;
In this Excess, these ragings of the Mind;
Oh, I cou'd more than Dye, to please my Father!
And by Almyna, what have I not suffer'd?
How is my Life, of consequence to either?
Oh, 'tis impossible, is not he gone,
This very Morning to the grand Seraglio,
To beg the Sultan; wed thee to the Prince?
Are happy Nuptials then, the Signs of Woe?
Grieves he for me, when he prepares thy Joys?
Or thou, when waiting Hymen stands in Call,
And all the little Train of laughing Loves,
What fears my Death, shou'd make impressions on thee,
When Circled in thy doating Bridegroom's Arms?
A Prince so young, so Noble, and so Charming!
To whom the rest of Mankind seem but Foyls;
Tho' his are Charms, cannot be said to need 'em.

Alm.
Is he so charming then, Zoradia?

Zor.
Or rather, is he not? What rays his Eyes?
What Beauty? Yet, what Majesty his Person?
His Words how soft, yet strike with such a force,
That sure no listning Virgin can resist 'em!
But, oh, alas! these are those happy Objects,
With which the lost Zoradia, must not mingle.
Cou'd I but force the Barriers of thy Love,
But scape thy vigilance, and fly this Palace,
Soon our Arabian Desarts shou'd be fill'd,
With the distracted Mournings, of Zoradia,

Alm.
Where's then the Friendship thou hast vow'd to me?
Woud'st thou forgo my Love, and weep in shades?
To wander all alone in Desart Wilds,
Or join Society with Cruel Beasts:
The houling Wolf, or the devouring Tyger.
Woud'st thou to them, bequeath thy precious Life?
Thy Beauteous Limbs, torn by their Savage fierceness:
Wou'd wander a pale Ghost a thousand Years?
E're thou maist Cross, to the blest happy Plains,
'Cause thy devoted Bones, lye scatter'd here,
And cannot gain, the sacred Rites of Burial.

Zor.
Those Images you raise, to me want Tertor.
What Ills in future, can be like the present?
Oh, Lead me quickly to the Verge of Life.
Some lofty Precipice, or raging Torrent;
Thrust me amidst a thousand savage Monsters!
Let 'em devour me all upon the Instant!
No matter what insues, so Thought but Dyes:
And the distracted labo'ring Mind find rest.

Alm.
Turn thee, and seek that Ease within my Breast:
Unbosom here the cause of thy Despair,
Thy dearest Sister's arms, are open to thee:
Her truth, her Secrecy, her Love is thine;
Faithful, and kind, and silent, as thy Wishes!
Groan here thy Griefs, I will partake in all:
And if not sind a Cure, at least Dye with thee.

Zor.
Oh, no!
I tell thee Sister, I'de not trust the Grave,
Not whisper there, the Sorrows of Zoradia:
Least it no longer, shou'd its silence keep;
But eccho back to thee, my dreadful Secret.

Alm.
What can it be; What Mischiefs hast thou done?
What Crimes commited, in this Morn of Life?
Ha! thou hast not sure in thought, once wrong'd thy Honour?
Beware, 'twou'd not but suspect thy Virtue!
Thou wer't no Friend for me, with such a Stain,
Is it not Love? Is it not Guilty Love?
That racks thy Conscience, and presents Despair.
Speak Wretch, and in one word, strike fate to Both!
Thy ebbing Blood, forsakes thy guilty Cheeks,
Thy trembling Lips, and Looks, do more then speak!
Confusion, thou art sinking too, Zoradia.

Zor.
Well may I sink, if my supporter fail.
Thy Friendship, was my only prop of Life.
Cruel Almyna, what hast thou not done?
How many Racks dost thou at once imploy,
To rend thy doleful Sister's breaking Heart?
Did I not Love thee much, what Indignation?
What Rage, Revenge, and Fury shou'd succeed;
Thy rash, distrustful, Censure, of my Honour?

Alm.
Alas! I was to blame, can'st thou forgive?
With Tears, Zoradia, I will wash the Stain,
Do any Pennance, that thy Rage enjoins.
I will no more, suspect thee of such Weakness.
Thou doest not, can'st not Love, for if thou didst
What Lover, to such Charms, presents Despair?
Or if unlov'd again, to great remorse?

Zor.
Oh, all ye Powers! What has Almyna faid?
A Lover, and unlov'd, Remorse, Despair!
Yes, I have strong remorse, and dreadful Pains!
Beware thou touch not on that fatal string.
Confusion, Discord, Chaos, must ensue:
And I 'ore prest, shall fall amidst the ruin!

Alm.
Both sink together, with thee I will plunge,
I must, I will, to snatch this fatal Secret,
Give it me quick, I cannot dye without it.

Zor.
Both perish e're this Tongue reveal my shame,
Who shall be just to me, when to my self I'me false?
Or, what superior strength, hast thou, to keep a Secret?
Untold 'tis mine, when told, it is the World's;
The censuring World's, that Doubles all our Faults.
With no indulgent Eyes, invades our Steps.
But, like our shaddow, lengthens as we pass.

[A Slave enters and Whispers Almyna.
Alm.
The Vizier is return'd from the Scrrail,
And will immediately be with us here.
To him, I shall reveal thy fatal purpose,
Nor longer be concealer of thy Crime;
I'le tell him, thou hast done (to urge thy Fate)
What Nature most abhorrs: Forbore thy Food,
These two long Days, and Nights, refus'd relief:
That base remorse, and Coward Guilt does haunt thee,
For some notorious Deed, that shuns the light.
How then in lieu, of all his doatage to thee,
Conspir'st to break his tender Heart with Grief.
Tho' poor Almyna, has in vain Essay'd
(By all the means of Gentleness and Love)
To Draw this wicked Secret from thy Breast.

Zor.
Oh, spare my Father, I conjure you spare him!
Let him not hear, of poor Zoradia's Weakness.
I dare not stand the shock of his Commands.
Is it not terrible, to hear thee urge.
(With all thy Eloquence) my heart to tell
A Secret I had Sworn shou'd perish with me?
But thou must bring additional Oppression,
Lay on more Load, to one already sinking.
Cannot I rest within the silent Grave,
And he believe, it was the work of Nature?

Alm.
He comes, and I besure, will keep my purpose.

Zor.
Defer a little longer, but till he be gone,
And then my trembling Heart, shall beat it's Secret.
Oh, Sister! spare his Grief, and my Confusion,
Letting me only to thy conscious Ear.
Relate the wretched story of my Woe.
By all the Love, thou hast profest, Oh, stay!
I see thy eager Looks intent on ruin,
On the Confession, of thy cruel purpose.
Stay but a moment I will tell thee all:
And hide within thy breast, my guilty Blushes.

Alm.
Swear to do this, and I will not reveal thee.

Zor.
By our great Prophet; solemnly I swear.

Enter the Grand Vizier.
Viz.
How fares my Children? How does poor Zoradia?

Zor.
As one who by slow Hecticks hourly wastes,
Sees Death in view, a kind relieving Friend.
Yet he ungrateful, steps not forth to meet him.

Viz.
May Heaven prolong thy Days, and cure these Ills,
For shoud'st thou drop, thy Father's Joys were gone.
Almyna ravish'd from my Arms to Empire,
I had with thee, my Child, resolv'd to waste
The remnant of my Life, in Solitude.
Far from the guilty hurry of the Court,
Far from the cruel Ills, are practis'd there,
Th'inseparable Bus'ness of my Charge,
To see how Innocents are often strangled.
Dashes my Blood, with horror and Compassion.

Alm.
Are there no Remedies for these great Ills?
Our Sultan wise, and good in all things else;
Brave, Generous, and Just, wou'd sure desist:
Did he but hear the Murmurs of his People.
How they exclaim against this waste of Beauty:
This cruel ravage, of the fairest Lives.
Why does not some kind Tongue report the Cry,
The sad Complainings, of those wretched Parents?

Zor.
Oh Father, you are Vizier here, supream,
First Councellor, and Guide of Empire; 'tis your place
To represent the Wrongs of the Opprest.

Viz.
So absolute, alas! our Calipes are,
'Tis death to all, who dare to cross their Wills!
Tho' we his Councils, often have endeavour'd
By strongest Arguments, and fair Persuasion,
To root out this vast prejudice against your Sex.
Taught by our Prophet, he commits no Crime
(As he believes) 'cause Women have no Souls.
Cou'd we in that refute his seeming fixt Opinion,
The work were done, for goodness is his Nature:
And cruelty but by Wrongs, and Jealousy acquired.

Alm.
Oh, 'twere a noble Work, and full of Glory!
What tho' the path, seem dangerous, or hard?
Who wou'd not aim to tread it, to preserve
The Lives of the Distress'd and Innocent?

Viz.
Leave we the work to Heav'n, Almyna.
(For Heav'n in its own time, redresses VVrongs)
Remorse from thence, must touch his Royal Breast.
Our present business is a softer Theam,
(In which I do command you to obey)
Thy Prince, thy Lover, promis'd by the Sultan
That thou shalt live and Reign; comes on with hopes
T'Enjoy thy Beauties as his happy Bride.
And Alhador attends to join your hands.
This Moment we require thy kind Assent.
The Emperor, indulgent to his Heir,
Proves lavish to his Love, and thy Ambition!
I came before to warn thee of this Honour,
And must be ready, to receive the Prince.
[Exit Vizier.

Alm.
Why weeps Zoradia? why, dost thou tremble thus?
My Father's gone, but for a Moment gone.
Therefore employ the time (e're he return)
And to Almyna speak thy promis'd Griefs.

Zor.
Oh, 'tis confusion all! and I shall sink,
Bear me Almyna, lay me gently down.
I shudder, tremble, dye, at the Oppression!

Alm.
Call up thy Courage to thy aid, and think
Thou speakst but to thy self, when 'tis to me.

Zor.
Can'st thou not spare my words, and guess the cause?
Can'st thou not in my Eyes and Blushes read,
What passion use, to swell a Virgin's Soul?
They say 'tis gentle, but I'me all a Tempest?
Yet Whirlwinds cease, and raging Seas subside?
Mine only knows, no Intervals in Nature.

Alm.
Save me ye Spirits, Guardians of the Good:
From Loves most cruel, and Tyrannick Force.
Oh! may no Powers of his reveal my Mind!
May I not conquer'd be, as poor Zoradia.
Is it not so? my much unhappy Sister?

Zor.
Thou, not I, has said it, my shame reveal'd,
May I not now have leave, to Dye in Peace?

Alm.
Thou art not the first Virgin, that has Lov'd
And yet been happy; have hopes Zoradia.

Zor.
Oh never, never! I can n'ere be happy!
I was! but now 'tis past, I once was blest;
But oh! the Track is lost, and not to be recover'd.

Alm.
Has Death then siez'd, and rob'd thee of thy hopes?

Zor.
Yes, the most cruel Death, the Death of Love.
Superior Beauty, has debauch'd him from me.
False to his Promises, his Obligations:
When my fond heart, had own'd it's Doatage to him.
Then, then to be abandon'd, oh, 'tis ruin!
'Tis worse than any Death, to be forsaken!
After two Years in utmost Cares employ'd,
To find the soft Recesses of my Heart;
When it was yielding all; and all consenting:
And nothing but my Father's knowledge wanting,
To crown our seeming Joys. Then, then to lose him,
And have the Wretch to tell his Heart in scorn,
Zoradia Loves, and is by me forsaken,
Yet still to Death doats on, tho' I despise.
Are not these mighty Ills, relieve me Pride,
Relieve one Glory, and strike the Succours here!

Alm.
Help, oh, Heavens! I have the Dagger from thee!
Despairing Wretch, has not our Father power
To force thy Love, whosoe're he be,
To do a Justice worthy of thy Love?
He is not married to another sure?

Zor.
But soon he will, and I must tamely gaze,
On all the transports of the happy Pair!
How can'st thou wish me Life, at such a price?

Alm.
The Vizier can forbid these fatal Nuptials.

Zor.
And woud'st thou poorly have one seek redress
In Power, and beg a Husband from it.
I chuse to dye, and not complain of Wrong,
In silence dye, conceal my Grief, and Love,
Rather than have him know his Triumph.

Alm.
Who is this Lover? Who this happy Rival?

Zor.
Ay, there, Fate deals me its severest Wound;
Woud'st thou believe that Circumstance the worst?
Had fortune rais'd up any other Charms,
But laid my Ruin on another Woman;
My Passion might have been exchang'd to Hate,
Had that way hop'd Relief! but 'tis impossible!
Can'st thou not guess, the happy too Lov'd fair?

Alm.
Oh! what Scene is Fate disclosing to me?
And must the Prince appear in't, as a Villain?

Zor.
Alas! have I not now, thy Leave to Dye?
Can there in Life, be one forlorn as me;
Opprest by Friendship, and undone by Love?
My potent Rival, ever in my sight;
And never from my heart: Farewell! farewell!
Conceal the Cause, conceal my Griefs, my Weakness:
Let not my Father know, his Daughter's shame,
But save his Tears; and spare thy Husband's Triumph.

[Going.]
Alm.
Come back, Zoradia, Fate is in my Call:
I am mark't down a Sacrifice to Glory,
And had'st thou ne're been born, wou'd not have been
Abdalla's Bride my heart secure, amidst
His thousand Charms, remains untouch'd and cold.
I have a Nobler purpose far, which thou
My Lovely Mourner, soon shalt know: Mean time
Tell me the birth, of thy unhappy Love?

Zor.
Wou'd I wish thee, at Memphis had been bred,
Or thou at Court with me, thy stronger Vertue
Then had been my guide, and fortify'd this heart.
But, by report, I only knew my Sister.
'Tis two years since, the Prince pretended Love,
And gain'd no easy Conquest over mine;
I charg'd him keep the Secret from my Father.
(A Fault for which I have severely suffer'd)
Till over-come at length by his Persuasion,
I gave him Leave, to ask me of the Vizier,
Just in that fatal Moment, thou arrived'st
With thy Superior, and too dazling Charms!
Abdalla blinded by Excess of Light;
Forsook his Guide of Truth, to wander in false Darkness.
To thee he sacrific'd my hopes, his Vows,
And all the Love, he had profest before.
Secure my Pride wou'd not reveal his Guilt,
He openly to thee, avows his Passion.
Guess at the secret Torments of my Soul;
Or rather it's dispair! But see he comes!
Shield me ye Powers, and Tempests whirl me home!
I cannot bear the Exultings of his Joy;
He comes! the fatal, happy Bridegroom comes!
I fly! I yield, for Death, and he, must conquer.
[Exit Zoradia.

Enter Abdalla.
Abd.
Where is this Star, this shining Guide of Life:
Where is my Queen? oh, pardon fair Almyna,
The over-flowings of a Lover's transports.
I shou'd approach with Reverence to Awe,
But mine are Joys, permits not any form.
Methinks I tread the Air, or am sublim'd;
And by such Raptures, feel my self Immortal.
The Vizier waits; the God of Marriage waits
For thee, the brightest Votary e're kneel'd to Hymen.
When the slow Priest, shall have perform'd his part,
And join'd to thine, this ever faithful Heart.
Back to inchanting Bowers, my Love I'le bear,
Where fragrant Odours, sweetens all the Air.
There to explore that Bliss, as yet unknown,
And make thy world of Beauties, all my own:
VVhen to these Raptures, I my Soul resign,
And thou in all my Extasies shall join,
Our Prophet's Paradise, can never equal mine.

[Exeunt Omnes.