University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

SCENE Tamerlane's Camp.
Enter Moneses.
Mon.
The dreadful Business of the War is over,
And Slaughter, that, from yester Morn till Even,
With Giant Steps, past striding o'er the Field,
Besmear'd, and horrid with the Blood of Nations,
Now weary sits among the mangled Heaps,
And slumbers o'er her Prey; while from this Camp
The chearful Sounds of Victory, and Tamerlane,
Beat the high Arch of Heav'n; deciding Fate,
That crowns him with the Spoils of such a Day,
Has given it as an Earnest of the World,
That shortly shall be his.
[Enter Stratocles.
My Stratocles!
Most happily return'd; might I believe,
Thou bring'st me any Joy?

Str.
With my best Diligence,
This Night, I have enquired of what concerns you.
Scarce was the Sun, who shone upon the Horror
Of the past Day, sunk to the western Ocean,
When by permission from the Prince Axalla,
I mixt among the Tumult of the Warriors,
Returning from the Battle: here a Troop
Of hardy Parthians red with honst Wounds,
Confest the Conquest, they had well deserv'd:
There a dejected Crew of wretched Captives
Sore with unprofitable Hurts, and groaning
Under new Bondage, follow'd sadly after
The haughty Victor's heels; but that, which fully
Crown'd the Success of Tamerlane, was Bajazet,
Fall'n like the proud Archangel from the heigth,
Where once (even next to Majesty Divine)
Enthron'd he sat, down to the vile descent
And lowness of a Slave; but oh! to speak
The Rage, the Fierceness, and the Indignation!—
It bars all Words, and cuts description short.

Mon.
Then he is fall'n! that Comet, which, on high,
Portended Ruin; he has spent his Blaze,
And shall distract the World with Fears no more:
Sure it must bode me well, for oft my Soul
Has started into Tumult at his Name,
As if my Guardian Angel took th'Alarm,
At the approach of somewhat mortal to me:
But say, my Friend, what hear'st thou of Arpasia?
For there my Thoughts, my every Care is center'd.

Str.
Tho' on that purpose still I bent my Search,
Yet nothing certain could I gain, but this,
That in the Pillage of the Sultan's Tent,
Some Women were made Pris'ners, who this morning
VVere to be offer'd to the Emperors View;
Their Names, and Qualities, tho' oft enquiring,
I could not learn.

Mon.
Then must my Soul still labour
Beneath Uncertainty, and anxious doubt,
The Mind's worst State. The Tyrant's Ruin gives me
But a half-ease.

Str.
'Twas said, not far from hence
The Captives were to wait the Emperor's passage.

Mon.
Hast me to find the place. Oh! my Arpasia!
Shall we not meet? VVhy hangs my Heart thus heavy
Like Death within my Bosom? Oh! 'tis well,
The Joy of meeting pays the pangs of Absence,
Else who could bear it?
VVhen thy lov'd Sight shall bless my Eyes again,
Then I will own, I ought not to complain,
Since that sweet Hour is worth whole Years of Pain.

[Exeunt Moneses, and Stratocles.

SCENE II.

The Inside of a Magnificent Tent.
Symphony of Warlike Musick.
Enter Tamerlane, Axalla, Prince of Tanais, Zama, Mirvan, Soldiers, and other Attendants.
Ax.
From this Auspicious Day the Parthian Name
Shall date its birth of Empire, and extend
Even from the dawning East to utmost Thulé
The Limits of its Sway.

Pr. of T.
Nations unknown,
VVhere yet the Roman Eagles never flew
Shall pay their Homage to Victorious Tamerlane,
Bend to his Valour, and Superior Virtue,
And own, that Conquest is not giv'n by Chance,
But, (bound by fatal and resistless Merit)
VVaits on his Arms.

Tam.
It is too much, you dress me
Like an Usurper in the borrow'd Attributes
Of Injur'd Heav'n: Can we call Conquest ours?
Shall Man this Pigmy with a Gyant's Pride
Vaunt of himself, and say, Thus have I done this?
Oh! vain Pretence to Greatness! Like the Moon,
VVe borrow all the brightness, which we boast,
Dark in our selves, and useless. If that Hand
That rules the fate of Battles strike for us,
Crown us with Fame, and gild our Clay with Honour;
'Twere most ungrateful to disown the Benefit,
And arrogate a Praise which is not ours.

Ax.
VVith such unshaken Temper of the Soul
To bear the swelling Tide of prosp'rous Fortune,
Is to deserve that Fortune: In Adversity
The Mind grows tough by buffeting the Tempest;
Which, in Success dissolving, sinks to Ease,
And loses all her Firmness.

Tam.
Oh! Axalla!
Could I forget I am a Man, as thou art,
Would not the Winter's Cold, or Summer's Heat,
Sickness, or Thirst, and Hunger, all the Train
Of Nature's clamorous Appetites (asserting
An equal Right in Kings, and common Men)
Reprove me daily?—No—If I boast of ought,
Be it, to have been Heaven's happy Instrument,
The means of Good to all my Fellow-Creatures;
This is a King's best Praise.

Enter Omar.
Om.
Honour and Fame
[Bowing to Tamerlane.
For ever wait the Emperor; may our Prophet
Give him ten thousand thousand Days of Life,
And every Day like this. The Captive Sultan
Fierce in his Bonds, and at his Fate repining,
Attends your Sacred Will.

Tam.
Let him approach.
Enter Bajazet and other Turkish Prisoners in Chains, with a Guard of Soldiers.
When I survey the Ruins of this Field,
The wild Destruction, which thy fierce Ambition
Has dealt among Mankind, (so many Widdows,
And helpless Orphans has thy Battle made,
That half our Eastern VVorld this Day are Mourners)
VVell may I in behalf of Heav'n and Earth
Demand from thee Atonement for this wrong.

Baj.
Make thy Demand to those that own thy Power,
Know I am still beyond it; and tho' Fortune
(Curse on that Changeling Deity of Fools!)
Has stript me of the Train, and Pomp of Greatness,
That Out-side of a King, yet still my Soul,
Fixt high, and of it self alone dependant,
Is ever free, and royal, and ev'n now,
As at the head of Battle does defy thee:
I know what Pow'r the Chance of VVar has giv'n,
And dare thee to the use on't. This vile Speeching,
This after-game of VVords is what most irks me;
Spare that, and for the rest 'tis equall all—
Be it as it may.

Tam.
VVell was it for the VVorld,
VVhen on their Borders Neighbouring Princes met,
Frequent in friendly Parle, by cool Debates,
Preventing wastful VVar; such should our Meeting
Have been, had'st thou but held in just regard
The Sanctity of Leagues so often sworn to.
Can'st thou believe thy Prophet (or what's more,
That Pow'r Supream, which made Thee, and thy Prophet)
VVill, with Impunity, let pass that breach
Of sacred Faith given to the Royal Greek?

Baj.
Thou pedant Talker! ha! art thou a King
Possest of Sacred Power Heav'n's darling Attribute,
And dost thou prate of Leagues, and Oaths, and Prophets?
I hate the Greek (Perdition on his Name!)
As I do thee, and would have met you both
(As Death does human Nature) for destruction.

Tam.
Causeless to hate is not of human kind;
The savage Brute, that haunts in VVoods remote,
And Desart-wilds, tears not the fearful Traveiler,
If Hunger, or some Injury provoke not.

Baj.
Can a King want a Cause when Empire bids
Go on? what is he born for but Ambition?
It is his Hunger, 'tis his Call of Nature,
The noble Appetite which will be satisfi'd,
And like the Food of Gods, makes him Immortal.

Tam.
Henceforth I will not wonder, we were Foes,
Since Souls that differ so, by Nature hate,
And strong Antipathy forbids their Union.

Baj.
The noble Fire that warms me does indeed
Transcend thy Coldness, I am pleas'd we differ,
Nor think alike.

Tam.
No—for I think like Man,
Thou like a Monster; from whose baleful Presence
Nature starts back; and tho she fix'd her Stamp
On thy rough Mass, and mark'd thee for a Man,
Now conscious of her Error, she disclaims thee,
As form'd for her Destruction.—
'Tis true, I am a King, as thou hast been:
Honour, and Glory too have been my Aim;
But tho I dare face Death, and all the Dangers,
Which furious War wears in its bloody Front,
Yet would I chuse to fix my Fame by Peace,
By Justice, and by Mercy; and to raise
My Trophies on the Blessings of Mankind;
Nor would I buy the Empire of the World
With ruin of the People whom I sway,
Or forfeit of my Honour.

Baj.
Prophet, I thank thee.—
Damnation!—Could'st thou rob me of my Glory,
To dress up this tame King, this preaching Dervise?
Unfit for War, thou should'st have liv'd secure
In lazy Peace, and with debating Senates
Shar'd a precarious Scepter, sate tamely still,
And let bold Factions canton out thy Power,
And wrangle for the Spoils they robb'd thee of;
Whilst I (curse on the Power that stops my Ardour!)
Would, like a Tempest, rush amidst the Nations,
Be greatly terrible, and deal, like Alha,
My angry Thunder on the frighted World.

Tam.
The World!—'twould be too little for thy Pride:
Thou would'st scale Heav'n.—

Baj.
I would:—Away: my Soul
Disdains thy Conference.

Tam.
Thou vain, rash Thing,
That, with gigantick Insolence, hast dar'd
To lift thy wretched self above the Stars,
And mate with Pow'r Almighty: Thou art fallen!—

Baj.
'Tis false! I am not fall'n from ought I have been;
At least my Soul resolves to keep her State,
And scorns to take acquaintance with ill Fortune.

Tam.
Almost beneath my Pity art thou fallen;
Since, while th'avenging Hand of Heav'n is on thee,
And presses to the Dust thy swelling Soul,
Fool-hardy, with the stronger thou contendest;
To what vast heights had thy tumultuous Temper
Been hurry'd, if Success had crown'd thy Wishes?
Say, What had I to expect, if thou had'st conquer'd?

Baj.
Oh, Glorious Thought! By Heav'n! I will enjoy it,
Tho' but in Fancy; Imagination shall
Make room to entertain the vast Idea.
Oh! had I been the Master but of Yesterday,
The World, the World had felt me; and for thee,
I had us'd thee, as thou art to me,—a Dog,
The Object of my Scorn, and mortal Hatred:
I would have taught thy Neck to know my weight,
And mounted from that Footstool to my Saddle:
Then, when thy daily servile Task was done,
I would have caged thee, for the Scorn of Slaves,
Till thou hadst begg'd to die; and ev'n that Mercy
I had deny'd Thee: Now thou know'st my Mind,
And question me no farther.

Tam.
Well dost thou teach me
What Justice should exact from thee: Mankind
With one consent cry out for Vengeance on thee;
Loudly they call, to cut off this League-breaker,
This wild Destroyer, from the Face of Earth.

Baj.
Do it, and rid thy shaking Soul at once
Of its worst Fear.

Tam.
Why slept the Thunder,
That should have arm'd thy Idol Deity,
And given thee Power, e're yester Sun was set,
To shake the Soul of Tamerlane: Hadst thou an Arm
To make thee fear'd, thou should'st have prov'd it on me,
Amidst the Sweat and Blood of yonder Field,
When, thro' the Tumult of the War, I sought thee,
Fenc'd in with Nations.

Baj.
Curse upon the Stars,
That fated us to different Scenes of Slaughter!
Oh! could my Sword have met thee!—

Tam.
Thou hadst then,
As now, been in my Power, and held thy Life
Dependant on my Gift.—Yes Bajazet,
I bid thee, Live.—So much my Soul disdains,
That thou should'st think, I can fear ought but Heav'n:
Nay more; could'st thou forget thy brutal fierceness,
And form thy self to Manhood, I would bid thee,
Live, and be still a King, that thou may'st learn
What Man should be to Man, in War remembring
The Common Tye, and Brotherhood of Kind.
This Royal Tent, with such of thy Domesticks,
As can be found, shall wait upon thy Service;
Nor will I use my Fortune, to demand
Hard Terms of Peace, but such as thou may'st offer
With Honour, I with Honour may receive,

[Tamerlane sings to an Officer, who unbinds Bajazet.
Baj.
Ha! say'st thou'—no!—our Prophets Vengeance blast me,
If thou shalt buy my Friendship with thy Empire.
Damnation on thee! thou smooth, fawning Talker!
Give me again my Chains, that I may curse thee,
And gratifie my Rage: Or, if thou wilt,
Be a vain Fool, and play with thy Perdition,
Remember I'm thy Foe, and hate thee deadly.
Thy Folly on thy Head!

Tam.
Be still my Foe;
Great Minds (like Heav'n) are pleas'd in doing good,
Tho' the ungrateful Subjects of their Favours
Are barren in return: Thy stubborn Pride
That spurns the gentle Office of Humanity,
Shall, in my Honour own, and thy despite,
I have done, as I ought. Vertue still does
With Scorn, the Mercenary World regard,
Where abject Souls do good, and hope Reward:
Above the worthless Trophies Men can raise,
She seeks not Honours, Wealth, nor airy Praise,
But with her self, Her self, the Goddess pays.

[Exeunt Tamerlane, Axalla, Prince of Tanais, Mirvan, Zama, and Attendants.
Manent Bajazet, Omar, guards.
Baj.
Come, lead me to my Dungeon; plunge me down,
Deep from the hated Sight of Man, and Day,
Where (under Covert of the friendly Darkness)
My Soul may brood, at leisure, o'er its Anguish.

Om.
Our Royal Master would, with noble Usage,
Make your Misfortunes light, he bids you hope.—

Baj.
I tell thee, Slave, I have shook hands with Hope,
And all my Thoughts are Rage, Despair, and Horror,
Enter Haly, Arpasia, and Women Attendants.
Ha! wherefore am I thus?—Perdition seize me!
But my cold Blood runs shiv'ring to my Heart,
As at some Fantom, that in dead of Night,
With dreadful Action stalks around our Beds.
The Rage, and fiercer Passions of my Breast
Are lost in new Confusion.—Arpasia!—Haly!

Ha.
Oh, Emperor! for whose hard Fate, our Prophet,
And all the Heroes of thy Sacred Race
Are sad in Paradise, thy faithful Haly
(The Slave of all thy Pleasures) in this Ruin
This universal Shipwrack of thy Fortunes
Has gather'd up this Treasure for thy Arms:
Nor ev'n the Victor, haughty Tamerlane,
(By whose Command, once more, thy Slave beholds thee)
Denies this Blessing to thee, but with Honour
Renders thee back thy Queen, thy beauteous Bride.

Baj.
Oh! had her Eyes, with pity, seen my Sorrows,
Had she the Softness of a tender Bride,
Heav'n could not have bestow'd a greater Blessing,
And Love had made amends for loss of Empire.
But see, what Fury dwells upon her Charms!
What Lightning flashes from her angry Eyes!
With a malignant Joy she views my Ruin:
Ev'n Beauteous in her Hatred, still she charms me,
And awes my fierce tumultuous Soul to Love.

Arp.
And dar'st thou hope, thou Tyrant! Ravisher!
That Heav'n has any Joy in store for thee?
Look back upon the Sum of thy past Life,
Where Tyranny, Oppression, and Injustice,
Perjury, Murders, swell the black Account,
Where lost Arpasia's Wrongs stand bleeding fresh,
Thy last recorded Crime; but Heav'n has found thee,
At length the tardy Vengeance has o'ertane thee.
My weary Soul shall bear a little longer
The pain of Life, to call for Justice on thee,
That once compleat, sink to the peaceful Grave,
And lose the memory of my Wrongs and thee.

Baj.
Thou rail'st! I thank thee for it.—Be perverse,
And muster all the Woman in thy Soul;
Goad me with Curses, be a very Wife,
That I may fling off this tame Love, and hate thee.
Enter Moneses.
Bajazet starting.]
Ha!—Keep thy temper Heart; nor take alarm
At a Slave's Presence.

Mon.
It is Arpasia!—Leave me, thou cold fear.
Sweet as the rosie Morn she breaks upon me,
And Sorrow, like the Night's unwholsome Shade,
Gives way before the Golden Dawn she brings.

Baj.
[Advancing towards him.
Ha, Christian! Is it well that we meet thus? Is this thy Faith?

Mon.
Why does thy frowning Brow
Put on this Form of Fury? Is it strange
We should meet here Companions in Misfortune,
The Captives of one common Chance of War?
Nor should'st thou wonder, that my Sword has fail'd
Before the Fortune of victorious Tamerlane,
When thou with Nations like the sanded Shore
With half the warring World upon thy side,
Could'st not stand up against his dreadful Battle,
That crush'd thee with its Shock. Thy Men can witness,
Those Cowards, that forsook me in the Combat
My Sword was not unactive.

Baj.
No,—'tis false.
Where is my Daughter, thou vile Greek? Thou hast
Betray'd her to the Tartar; or even worse,
Pale with thy Fears, didst lose her like a Coward;
And like a Coward now, would'st cast the blame
On Fortune, and ill Stars.

Mon.
Ha! said'st thou like a Coward?
What Sanctity, what Majesty Divine
Hast thou put on, to guard thee from my Rage?
That thus thou dar'st to wrong me.

Baj.
Out, thou Slave,
And know me for thy Lord—

Mon.
I tell thee, Tyrant,
When in the Pride of Pow'r thou sat'st on high,
When like an Idol thou wert vainly worshipp'd,
By prostrate Wretches, born with slavish Souls:
Ev'n when thou wert a King, thou wert not more,
Nor greater than Moneses; born of a Race
Royal, and Great as thine: What art thou now then?
The Fate of VVar has set thee with the Lowest;
And Captives (like the Subjects of the Grave)
Losing distinction, serve one common Lord.

Baj.
Brav'd by this Dog! now give a loose to Rage,
And curse thy self, curse thy false, cheating Prophet.
Ha! Yet there's some Revenge. Hear me, thou Christian;
Thou left'st that Sister with me:—Thou Impostor!
Thou Boaster of thy Honesty! Thou Lyar!
But take her to thee back.
Now to explore my Prison.—If it holds
Another Plague like this, the restless Damn'd
(If Mufty's lie not) wander thus in Hell?
From scorching Flames to chilling Frosts they run,
Then from their Frosts to Fires return again,
And only prove variety of Pain.

[Exeunt Bajazet and Haly.
Arp.
Stay, Bajazet, I charge thee by my VVrongs!
Stay, and unfold a Tale of so much Horrour,
As only fits thy telling.—Oh, Moneses!

Mon.
VVhy dost thou weep? why this tempestuous Passion,
That stops thy falt'ring Tongue short on my Name?
Oh, speak! unveil this Mystery of Sorrow,
And draw the dismal Scene, at once, to sight.

Arp.
Thou art undone, lost, ruin'd, and undone.

Mon.
I will not think 'tis so, while I have thee,
VVhile thus 'tis giv'n to fold thee in my Arms;
For while I sigh upon thy panting Bosom,
The sad remembrance of past VVoes is lost.

Arp.
Forbear to sooth thy Soul with flatt'ring Thoughts
Of Evils overpast, and Joys to come:
Our VVoes are like the genuine Shade beneath,
VVhere Fate cuts off the very hopes of Day,
And everlasting Night and Horror reign.

Mon.
By all the Tenderness, and chaste Endearments
Of our past Love, I charge thee, my Arpasia,
To ease my Soul of Doubts; give me to know
At once the utmost Malice of my Fate.

Arp.
Take then thy wretched Share in all I suffer,
Still Partner of my Heart. Scarce hadst thou left
The Sultan's Camp, when the Imperious Tyrant,
Softning the Pride and fierceness of his Temper,
VVith gentle Speech made offer of his Love.
Amaz'd, as at the shock of sudden Death,
I started into Tears, and often urg'd
(Tho still in vain) the difference of our Faiths:
At last, as flying to the utmost Refuge,
VVith lifted Hands, and streaming Eyes, I own'd
The Fraud; which when we first were made his Pris'ners,
Conscious of my unhappy Form, and fearing
For thy dear Life, I forc'd thee to put on,
Thy borrow'd Name of Brother, mine of Sister;
Hiding beneath that Veil the nearer tie,
Our mutual Vows had made before the Priest;
Kindling to Rage at hearing of my Story,
Then be it so, he cry'd. Think'st thou thy Vows
Giv'n to a Slave shall barr me from thy Beauties?
Then bad the Priest pronounce the Marriage Rites,
VVhich he perform'd, whilst shrieking with Despair,
I call'd in vain the Pow'rs of Heav'n to aid me.

Mon.
Villain! Imperial Villain!—Oh, the Coward!
Aw'd by his Guilt, tho' back'd by Force and Power,
He durst not to my Face avow his Purpose;
But in my absence like a lurking Thief
Stole on my Treasure, and at once undid me.

Arp.
Had they not kept me from the means of Death,
(Forgetting all the Rules of Christian Suffering)
I had done a desperate Murder on my Soul,
E're the rude Slaves, that waited on his VVill,
Had forc'd me to his.—

Mon.
Stop thee there, Arpasia,
And bar my Fancy from the guilty Scene;
Let not Thought enter, lest the busie Mind
Should muster such a train of monstrous Images,
As wou'd distract me. Oh! I cannot bear it.
Thou lovely Hoard of Sweets, where all my Joys
VVere treasur'd up, to have thee rifled thus!
Thus torn untasted from my eager VVishes!
But I will have thee from him. Tamerlane
(The Sovereign Judge of Equity on Earth)
Shall do me Justice on this mighty Robber,
And render back thy Beauties to Moneses.

Arp.
And who shall render back my Peace, my Honour,
The spotless VVhiteness of my Virgin Soul?
Ah! no, Moneses—think not I will ever
Bring a polluted Love to thy chaste Arms:
I am the Tyrant's Wife. Oh, fatal Title!
And, in the sight of all the Saints, have sworn,
By Honour, VVomanhood, and blushing Shame,
To know no second Bride bed, but my Grave.

Mon.
I swear, it must not be, since still my Eye
Finds thee as heavenly white, as Angel pure,
As in the earliest hours of Life, thou wert,
Nor art thou his, but mine; thy first Vows mine,
Thy Soul is mine,—

Arp.
Oh! think not, that the Power
Of most persuasive Eloquence can make me
Forget, I have been another's, been his Wife;
Now by my Blushes! by the strong Confusion,
And Anguish of my Heart! spare me Moneses,
Nor urge my trembling Virtue to the Precipice.
Shortly, (oh! very shortly) if my Sorrows
Divine aright, and Heav'n be gracious to me,
Death shall dissolve the fatal Obligation,
And give me up to Peace, to that blest Place
Where the Good rest from Care and anxious Life.

Mon.
Oh! teach me, thou fair Saint, like thee to suffer,
Teach me, with hardy Piety, to combat
The present Ills, instruct my Eyes to pass
The narrow bounds of Life, this Land of Sorrow,
And with bold Hopes, to view the Realms beyond,
Those distant Beauties of the future State.
Tell me Arpasia,—say, what Joys are those,
That wait to crown the Wretch who suffers here:
Oh! tell me, and sustain my failing Faith.

Arp.
Imagine somewhat exquisitly fine,
Which Fancy cannot paint, which the pleas'd Mind
Can barely know, unable to describe it;
Imagine, 'tis a Tract of endless Joys,
Without Satiety, or Interruption;
Imagine, 'tis to meet, and part no more.

Mon.
Grant, gentle Heaven, that such may be our Lot!
Let us be be blest together,—Oh! my Soul!
Build on that hope, and let it arm thy Courage,
To struggle with the Storm, that parts us now.

Arp.
Yes! my Moneses, now the Surges rise,
The swelling Sea breaks in between our Barks,
And drives us to our Fate on different Rocks,
Farewel!—my Soul lives with thee.—

Mon.
Death is parting,
'Tis the last sad adieu 'twixt Soul and Body,
But this is somewhat worse—my Joy, my Comfort
All that was left in life fleets after thee.
My aking Sight hangs on thy parting Beauties,
Thy lovely Eyes all drown'd in Floods of Sorrow!
So sinks the setting Sun beneath the Waves,
And leaves the Traveller in pathless Woods,
Benighted and forlorn,—Thus with sad Eyes
Westward he turns, to mark the Light's decay
Till having lost the last faint Glimpse of Day,
Chearless, in darkness, he pursues his way.

[Exeunt Moneses, and Arpasia severally.