University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Mirza's Palace.
Enter Mirza, Magas, and Attendants with Lights.
Mirz.
Pho! You o're rate the Danger.

Mag.
If I do
We err in the Extreams, since you Esteem it
As much too lightly; think you then 'tis nothing.
This horrid Jar of Tumult and Confusion?
Heads white with Years, and vers'd in long Experience,
Who yet remember all the different Changes
A Rolling Age produces, cannot call
To mind one Instance dreadful as this Night.
Infernal Discord hideous to behold,
Hangs like it's evil Genius o're the City,
And sends a Snake to every vulgar Breast.
From several Quarters the mad Rabble swarm
Arm'd with the Instruments of hasty Rage,
And in confus'd disorderly Array
Most formidable March; their differing Clamours,
Together joyn'd compose the deafning Sound;
Arm! Arm! they Cry, Religion is no more,
Our Gods are slighted, whom if we revenge not
War, Pestilence and Famine will ensue,
And Universal ruin swallows all.

Mirz.
A Crew of mean unthinking heartless Slaves,
With ease stirr'd up to mutiny, and quell'd
With the same ease, with like Expressions shew
Their Joy or Anger both are noise and tumult.
And still when Holydays make Labour cease,
They meet and Shout; do these deserve our Fears?

Mag.
Most certainly they may; if we consider
Each Circumstance of Peril that Concurrs;
Tigranes with the rest that 'scap'd the Temple,
Are mix'd amongst this Herd, and urge the Wrongs
Which with the Gods their Prince and Memnon suffer.

Mirz.
Nor need we fear ev'n that, safe in the Aid
And Number of our Friends, who treble theirs,
For this mad Rout that hum and swarm together
For want of somewhat to employ their Folly;
Indulge 'em in their Fancy for Religion.
Thou and thy holy Brotherhood of Priests,
Shall in Procession bear the sacred Fire,
And all our Golden Gods, Let their Friends judge
If still they look not kindly as of Old;
'Tis a most apt Amusement for a Crowd,
They'll gaze, and gather round the gaudy Shew,
And quite forget the Thoughts of Mutiny;
A Guard shall wait you.

Mag.
Why go not you too with us?
They hold your Wisdom in most high regard,
And will be greatly sway'd by your Perswasion,
Th'occasion is well worth your Care and Presence.

Mirz.
O! you'll not need my Aid: Besides, my Friend,
My Hours this Night are destin'd to a Task
Of more import, than are the Fates of Millions
Such grovelling Souls as theirs. As yet the Secret
Is Immature, nor worth you present knowledge:
To Morrow that and all my Breast is yours,
(Aside ...)
I must not, dare not trust him with my weakness,
'Twill mark me for his scorn, 'tis yet some Wisdom
If we must needs be fools to hide our Folly. (... Aside)


Mag.
He means the Pris'ners death, let him engross
The Peoples hate, Monopolize Damnation,
I will be safely Ignorant of Mischief
Hereafter when your Wisdom shall think fit
To share those thoughts, and trust 'em with your Friend,
I shall be pleas'd to know; This instant Hour,
My Cares are all employ'd on my own Province,
Which hasts me hence.

Mirz
May all your Gods assist you.

Exeunt.