University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

SCENE, the Inside of the Royal Tent.
Enter Axalla, Selima, and Women Attendants.
Ax.
Can there be ought in Love, beyond this Proof,
This wond'rous Proof, I give thee of my Faith?
To tear thee from my bleeding Bosom thus?
To rend the Strings of Life, to set thee free,
And yield thee to a cruel Father's Power,
Foe to my Hopes? what can'st thou pay me back,
What but thy self (thou Angel) for this Fondness?

Sel.
Thou dost upbraid me, Beggar as I am,
And urge me with my Poverty of Love.
Perhaps thou think'st, 'tis nothing for a Maid
To struggle thro' the Niceness of her Sex,
The Blushes, and the Fears, and own she loves:
Thou think'st, 'tis nothing for my artless Heart
To own my Weakness, and confess thy Triumph.

Ax.
Oh! yes, I own it; my charm'd Ears ne'er knew
A Sound of so much Rapture, so much Joy.
Not Voices, Instruments, not warbling Birds,
Not Winds, not murmuring Waters join'd in consort,
Not tuneful Nature, not th'according Spheres
Utter such Harmony, as when my Selima
With down cast Looks, and Blushes said,—I love—

Sel.
And yet thou say'st, I am a Niggard to thee:
I swear the Balance shall be held between us,
And Love be Judge, if after all the Tenderness,
Tears, and Confusion of my Virgin Soul,
Thou should'st complain of ought, Unjust Axalla!

Ax.
Why was I ever blest?—Why is Remembrance
Rich with a thousand pleasing Images
Of past Enjoyments, since 'tis but to plague me?
When thou art mine no more, what will it ease me
To think of all the Golden Minutes past,
To think, that thou wert kind, and I was happy:
But like an Angel fall'n from Bliss, to curse
My present State, and mourn the Heav'n I've lost.

Sel.
Hope better for us both; nor let thy Fears,
Like an unlucky Omen, cross my way.
My Father rough, and stormy in his Nature,
To me was always gentle, and, with Fondness
Paternal, ever met me with a Blessing.
Oft when Offence had stir'd him to such Fury,
That not grave Counsellors for Wisdom fam'd,
Nor hardy Captains that had fought his Battles,
Presum'd to speak, but struck with awful Dread,
Were hush'd as Death; yet has he smil'd on me,
Kis'd me, and bad me utter all my purpose;
Till, with my idle Prattle I had sooth'd him,
And won him from his Anger.

Ax.
Oh! I know,
Thou hast a Tongue to charm the wildest Tempers.
Herds would forget to graze, and Savage Beasts
Stand still, and lose their Fierceness, but to hear thee,
As if they had Reflection, and by Reason
Forsook a less Enjoyment for a greater.
But oh! when I revolve each Circumstance,
My Christian Faith, my Service closely bound
To Tamerlane my Master, and my Friend:
Tell me (my Charmer) if my Fears are vain.
Think what remains for me, if the fierce Sultan
Should doom thy Beauties to another's Bed.

Sel.
'Tis a sad Thought, but to appease thy Doubts,
Here, in the awful Sight of Heav'n, I vow,
No Pow'r shall e'er divide me from thy Love,
Ev'n Duty shall not force me to be false.
My cruel Stars may tear thee from my Arms,
But never from my Heart; and when the Maids
Shall yearly come with Garlands of fresh Flow'rs,
To mourn with pious Office o'er my Grave,
They shall sit sadly down, and weeping tell,
How well I lov'd, how much I suffer'd for thee,
And while they grieve my Fate, shall praise my Constancy.

Ax.
But see! the Sultan comes!—my beating Heart
Bounds with exulting Motion, Hope, and Fear,
Fight with alternate conquest in my Breast.
Oh! Can I give her from me? Yield her up?
Now mourn thou God of Love, since Honour triumphs,
And crowns his cruel Altars with thy Spoils.

Enter Bajazet.
Baj.
To have a nauseous Courtesy forc'd on me
Spight of my Will, by an insulting Foe,—
Ha! they would break the Fierceness of my Temper,
And make me supple for their slavish purpose:
Curse on their fauning Arts; from Heav'n it self
'would not, on such Terms, receive a Benefit,
But spurn it back upon the Giver's hand.

Sel.
My Lord; my Royal Father.

Selima comes forward and kneels to Bajazet.
Baj.
Ha! what art thou?
What heavenly Innocence? that in a Form
So known, so lov'd hast left thy Paradise,
For joyless Prison, for this place of Woe?
Art thou my Selima?

Sel.
Have you forgot me?
Alas! my Piety is then in vain;
Your Selima, your Daughter whom you lov'd,
The fondling once of her dear Father's Arms,
Is come to claim her share in his Misfortunes;
To wait, and tend him with obsequious Duty;
To sit, and weep for every Care he feels;
To help, to wear the tedious Minutes out,
To soften Bondage, and the loss of Empire.

Baj.
Now by our Prophet! If my wounded Mind
Could know a Thought of Peace, it would be now;
Ev'n from thy prating Infancy, thou wert
My Joy, my little Angel; smiling Comfort
Came with thee still to glad me: Now I'm curs'd
Ev'n in thee too; Reproach and Infamy
Attend the Christian Dog, to whom thou wert trusted:
To see thee here!—'twere better see thee dead.

Ax.
Thus Tamerlane to Royal Bajazet
With Kingly Greeting sends: Since with the brave,
(The bloody Bus'ness of the Fight once ended)
Stern Hate, and Opposition ought to cease;
Thy Queen already to thy Arms restor'd,
Receive this second Gift, thy beateous Daughter:
And if there be ought farther in thy Wish,
Demand with Honour, and obtain it freely.

Baj.
Bear back thy fulsom Greeting to thy Master,
Tell him, I'll none on't: Had he been a God,
All his Omnipotence could not restore
My Fame diminish'd, loss of Sacred Honour,
The Radiancy of Majesty eclips'd.
For ought besides, it is not worth my Care;
Thy Giver, and his Gifts are both beneath me.

Ax.
Enough of War the wounded Earth has known;
Weary at length, and wasted with destruction,
Sadly she rears her ruin'd Head, to shew
Her Cities humbled, and her Countries spoil'd,
And to her mighty Masters sues for Peace.
Oh! Sultan! by the Power Divine I swear!
With Joy I would resign the savage Trophies
In Blood and Battle gain'd, could I attone
The fatal Breach 'twixt thy self and Tamerlane;
And think a Soldier's Glory well bestow'd,
To buy Mankind a Peace.

Baj.
And what art thou?
That dost presume to mediate 'twixt the Rage
Of angry Kings?

Ax.
A Prince, born of the noblest,
And of a Soul that answers to that Birth,
That dares not but do well. Thou dost put on
A forc'd Forgetfulness, thus not to know me,
A Guest so lately to thy Court, then meeting
On gentler Terms,—

Sel.
Could ought efface the Merit
Of brave Axalla's Name, yet when your Daughter
Shall tell, how well, how nobly she was us'd;
How light this gallant Prince made all her Bondage;
Most sure the Royal Bajazet will own,
That Honour stands indebted to such Goodness,
Nor can a Monarch's Friendship more than pay it.

Baj.
Ha! Know'st thou that fond Girl?—Go—'tis not well—
And when thou could'st descend to take a Benefit
From a vile Christian, and thy Father's Foe,
Thou did'st an Act dishonest to thy Race;
Henceforth, unless thou mean'st to cancell all
My Share in thee, and write thy self a Bastard:
Dye, Starve, know any Evil, any Pain,
Rather than taste a Mercy from these Dogs.

Sel.
Alas! Axalla!

[weeping.
Ax.
Weep not lovely Maid;
I swear, one pearly Drop from those fair Eyes
Would overpay the Service of my Life;
One Sigh from thee has made a large amends
For all thy angry Father's Frowns, and Fierceness.

Baj.
Oh! my curs'd Fortune!—am I fall'n thus low?
Dishonour'd to my Face? thou Earth born thing,
Thou Clod! how hast thou dar'd to lift thy Eyes
Up to the Sacred Race of mighty Ottoman?
Whom Kings, whom ev'n our Prophet's holy Offspring
At distance have beheld; and what art thou?
What glorious Titles blazon out thy Birth?
Thou vile Obscurity! Ha!—say—thou base one.

Ax.
Thus challeng'd Virtue modest as she is
Stands up to do her self a common Justice,
To answer, and assert that inborn Merit,
That worth, which conscious to her self she feels.
Were Honour to be scar'd by long Descent,
From Ancestors Illustrious, I could vaunt
A Lineage of the greatest, and recount
Among my Fathers, Names of antient Story,
Heroes, and God-like Patriots, who subdu'd
The World by Arms, and Virtue, and being Romans
Scorn'd to be Kings; but that be their own Praise:
Nor will I borrow Merit from the Dead,
My self an Undeserver. I could prove
My Friendship such, as thou might'st deign t'accept
With Honour, when it comes with friendly Office,
To render back thy Crown, and former Greatness:
And yet ev'n this, ev'n all is poor, when Selima
With matchless worth weighs down the adverse Scale.

Baj.
To give me back what yesterday took from me,
Would be to give like Heaven, when having finish'd
This World, (the goodly Work of his Creation)
He bid his Favourite, Man, be Lord of all.
But this—

Ax.
Nor is this Gift beyond my Power;
Oft has the mighty Master of my Arms
Urg'd me, with large Ambition to demand
Crowns, and Dominions from his bounteous Pow'r:
'Tis true, I wav'd the Proffer, and have held it
The worthier Choice, to wait upon his Virtues,
To be the Friend and Partner of his Wars,
Than to be Asia's Lord: Nor wonder then,
If, in the Confidence of such a Friendship,
I promise boldly for the Royal Giver,
Thy Crown, and Empire.

Baj.
For our Daughter thus
Mean'st thou to barter? ha! I tell thee, Christian,
There is but one, one Dowry, thou canst give,
And I can ask, worthy my Daughter's Love.

Ax.
Oh! name the mighty Ransom, task my Power,
Let there be Danger, Difficulty, Death,
T'enhance the Price.

Baj.
I take thee at thy Word,
Bring me the Tartar's Head.

Ax.
Ha!

Baj.
Tamerlane's,
That Death, that deadly Poison to my Glory.

Ax.
Prodigious! Horrid!

Sel.
Lost! for ever lost!

Baj.
And could'st thou hope to bribe me with ought else?
With a vile Peace patch'd up on slavish Terms?
With tributary Kingship?—No—to merit
A Recompence from me, sate my Revenge.
The Tartar is my Bane, I cannot bear him;
One Heav'n and Earth can never hold us both;
Still shall we hate, and with defiance deadly
Keep Rage alive, till one be lost for ever;
As if two Suns should meet in the Meridian,
And strive in fiery Combat for the passage.
Weep'st thou fond Girl? Now as thy King, and Father,
I charge thee, drive this Slave from thy remembrance:
Hate shall be pious in thee; [Laying hold on her Hand.]
come, and join
To curse thy Father's Foes.

Sel.
Undone for ever!
Now Tyrant, Duty, art thou yet obey'd,
There is no more to give thee, O, Axalla.

[Bajazet leads out Selima, she looking back on Axalla.
Ax.
'Tis what I fear'd, Fool that I was t'obey:
The Coward Love, that could not bear her Frown,
Has wrought his own Undoing. Perhaps, ev'n now,
The Tyrant's Rage prevails upon her Fears.
Fiercely he storms, she weeps, and sighs, and trembles,
But swears at length, to think on me no more.
He bad me take her.—But oh! gracious Honour!
Upon what Terms? My Soul yet shudders at it,
And stands, but half recover'd of her Fright.
The Head of Tamerlane! monstrous Impiety!
Bleed, bleed to Death, my Heart, be Virtue's Martyr.
Oh, Emperor, I own I ought to give thee
Some nobler Mark, than dying, of my Faith.
Then let the Pains I feel my Friendship prove,
'Tis easier far to die, than cease to love.

[Exit Axalla.

SCENE II.

Tamerlane's Camp.
Enter severally Moneses, and Prince of Tanais,
Mon.
If I not press untimely on his leisure,
You would much bind a Stranger to your Service,
To give me means of Audience from the Emperor.

Pr.
Most willingly, tho' for the present Moment
We must entreat your stay; he holds him private.

Mon.
His Council, I presume,—

Pr.
No; the Affair
Is not of Earth, but Heav'n—a Holy Man,
(One whom our Prophet's Law calls such) a Dervise
Keeps him in Conference.

Mon.
Hours of Religion,
Especially of Prince's, claim a Reverence,
Nor will be interrupted.

Pr.
What his Business
Imports, we know not; but with earnest Sute
This Morn he begg'd admittance. Our great Master
(Than whom none bows more lowly to high Heaven)
In reverend regard holds all that bear
Relation to Religion, and, on notice
Of his Request, receiv'd him on the instant.

Mon.
We will attend his Pleasure.

[Exeunt.
Enter Tamerlane, and a Dervise.
Tam.
Thou bring'st me thy Credentials from the Highest,
From Alha, and our Prophet: Speak thy Message,
It must import the best and noblest Ends.

Der.
Thus speaks our Holy Mahomet, who has giv'n thee
To reign, and conquer: Ill do'st thou repay
The Bounties of his Hand, unmindful of
The Fountain, whence thy Streams of Greatness flow,
Thou hast forgot high Heav'n, hast beaten down,
And trampled on Religion's Sanctity.

Tam.
Now, as I am a Soldier, and a King
(The greatest Names of Honour) do but make
Thy Imputation out, and Tamerlane
Shall do thee ample Justice on himself;
So much the Sacred Name of Heav'n awes me.
Could I suspect my Soul of harbouring ought
To its Dishonour, I would search it strictly,
And drive th'offending Thought with Fury forth.

Der.
Yes, thou hast hurt our Holy Prophet's Honour,
By fost'ring the pernicious Christian Sect:
Those, whom his Sword pursu'd with fell Destruction,
Thou tak'st into thy Bosom, to thy Councils;
They are thy only Friends: The true Believers
Mourn to behold thee favour this Axalla.

Tam.
I fear me, thou out-go'st the Prophet's Order;
And bring's his venerable Name, to shelter
A Rudeness ill becoming thee to use,
Or me to suffer. When thou nam'st my Friend,
Thou nam'st a Man beyond a Monk's discerning,
Vertuous, and Great, a Warriour, and a Prince.

Der.
He is a Christian; there our Law condemns him,
Altho' he were ev'n all thou speak'st, and more.

Tam.
'Tis false; no Law Divine condemns the Virtuous,
For differing from the Rules your Schools devise.
Look round, how Providence bestows alike
Sunshine and Rain, to bless the fruitful Year,
On different Nations, all of different Faiths;
And (tho' by several Names and Titles worshipp'd)
Heav'n takes the various Tribute of their Praise;
Since all agree to own, at least to mean,
One best, one greatest, only Lord of All.
Thus when he view'd the many Forms of Nature,
He found that all was good, and blest the fair Variety.

Der.
Most Impious, and Profane!—nay, frown not, Prince,
Full of the Prophet, I despise the Danger
Thy angry Power may threaten: I command thee
To hear, and to obey; since, thus says Mahomet,
Why have I made thee dreadful to the Nations?
Why have I giv'n thee Conquest? but to spread
My sacred Law ev'n to the utmost Earth,
And make my Holy Mecca the World's Worship?
Go on, and wheresoe'er thy Arms shall prosper,
Plant there the Prophet's Name: with Sword and Fire,
Drive out all other Faiths, and let the World
Confess him only.

Tam.
Had he but commanded
My Sword to conquer all, to make the World
Know but one Lord, the Task were not so hard;
'Twere but to do what has been done already;
And Philip's Son, and Cæsar did as much:
But to subdue th'unconquerable Mind,
To make one Reason have the same Effect
Upon all Apprehensions; to force this,
Or this Man, just to think, as thou and I do;
Impossible! Unless Souls were alike
In all, which differ now like Humane Faces.

Der.
Well might the Holy Cause be carry'd on,
If Mussulmen did not make war on Mussulmen.
VVhy hold'st thou Captive a believing Monarch?
Now, as thou hop'st to 'scape the Prophet's Curse,
Release the Royal Bajazet, and join
VVith Force united, to destroy the Christians.

Tam.
'Tis well—I have found the Cause that mov'd thy Zeal
VVhat shallow Politician set thee on,
In hopes to fright me this way to compliance?

Der.
Our Prophet only.—

Tam.
No—thou do'st bely him,
Thou Maker of new Faiths! that dar'st to build
Thy fond Inventions on Religion's Name.
Religion's Lustre is by native Innocence
Divinely pure, and simple from all Arts;
You daub and dress her like a common Mistress,
The Harlot of your Fancies; and by adding
False Beauties, which she wants not, makes the VVorld
Suspect, her Angel's Face is foul beneath,
And wo'not bear all Lights. Hence! I have found thee.

Der.
I have but one resort. Now aid me, Prophet.
[aside.
Yet have I somewhat further to unfold;
Our Prophet speaks to thee in Thunder— [The Dervise draws a conceal'd Dagger, and offers to stab Tamerlane.]
thus—

Tam.
No, Villain, Heav'n is watchful o'er its VVorshippers,
[Wresting the Dagger from him.
And blasts the Murderer's Purpose. Think thou, VVretch,
Think on the Pains that wait thy Crime, and tremble
VVhen I shall doom thee—

Der.
'Tis but Death at last,
And I will suffer greatly for the Cause
That urg'd me first to the bold Deed.

Tam.
Oh, impious!
Enthusiasm thus makes Villains, Martyrs.
[Pausing.]
It shall be so.—To die! 'twere a Reward—
Now learn the difference 'twixt thy Faith and mine:
Thine bids thee lift thy Dagger to my Throat,
Mine can forgive the VVrong, and bid thee live.
Keep thy own wicked Secret, and be safe:
If thou continu'st still to be the same,
'Tis Punishment enough to be a Villain:
If thou repent'st, I have gain'd one to Vertue,
And am, in that, rewarded for my Mercy.
Hence! from my sight!—It shocks my Soul, to think
That there is such a Monster in my Kind.
[Exit Dervise.
VVhither will Man's Impiety extend?
Oh gracious Heav'n! do'st thou with-hold thy Thunder,
VVhen bold Assassines take thy Name upon 'em,
And swear, they are the Champions of thy Cause?

Enter Moneses.
Mon.
Oh, Emperor! before whose awful Throne
kneeling to Tam.
Th'afflicted never kneel in vain for Justice,
Undone, and ruin'd, blasted in my Hopes,
Here let me fall before your sacred Feet,
And groan out my Misfortunes, till your Pity,
(The last Support and Refuge that is left me)
Shall raise me from the Ground, and bid me live.

Tam.
Rise, Prince, nor let me reckon up thy VVorth,
And tell, how boldly That might bid thee ask,
Lest I should make a Merit of my Justice,
The common Debt I owe to thee, to All,
Ev'n to the meanest of Mankind, the Charter
By which I claim my Crown, and Heav'ns Protection:
Speak then as to a King, the Sacred Name
Where Pow'r is lodg'd, for Righteous Ends alone.

Mon.
One only Joy, one Blessing, my fond Heart
Had fix'd its Wishes on, and that is lost;
That Sister, for whose safety my sad Soul
Endur'd a thousand Fears.—

Tam.
I well remember,
When e're the Battles join'd, I saw thee first,
With Grief uncommon to a Brother's Love,
Thou told'st a moving Tale of her Misfortunes,
Such as bespoke my Pity. Is there ought
Thou canst demand from Friendship? ask, and have it.

Mon.
First, Oh! let me entreat your Royal Goodness!
Forgive the Folly of a Lover's Caution,
That forg'd a Tale of Falshood to deceive you:
Said I, she was my Sister?—Oh! 'tis false,
She holds a dearer Interest in my Soul,
Such as the closest ties of Blood ne'er knew?
An Int'rest, such as Pow'r, Wealth and Honour
Can't buy, but Love, Love only can bestow;
She was the Mistress of my Vows, my Bride,
By Contract mine; and long e're this, the Priest
Had ty'd the Knot for ever, had not Bajazet—

Tam.
Ha! Bajazet!—If yet his Pow'r with-holds
The Cause of all thy Sorrows, all thy Fears,
Ev'n Gratitude for once shall gain upon him,
Spite of his Savage Temper, to restore her.
This Morn a Soldier brought a Captive Beauty,
Sad, tho' she seem'd yet of a Form most rare,
By much the noblest Spoil of all the Field:
Ev'n Scipio, or a Victor yet more cold,
Might have forgot his Vertue, at her sight.
Struck with a pleasing Wonder, I beheld her,
Till by a Slave that waited near her Person,
I learnt she was the Captive Sultan's Wife;
Strait I forbid my Eyes the dangerous Joy
Of gazing long, and sent her to her Lord.

Mon.
There was Moneses lost.—Too sure my Heart
(From the first mention of her wond'rous Charms)
Presag'd it could be only my Arpasia.

Tam.
Arpasia! didst thou say?

Mon.
Yes, my Arpasia.

Tam.
Sure I mistake, or fain I would mistake thee.
I nam'd the Queen of Bajazet, his Wife.

Mon.
His Queen! His Wife! he brings that Holy Title,
To varnish o'er the monstrous VVrongs he has done me.

Tam.
Alas! I fear me, Prince, thy Griefs are just;
Thou art indeed unhappy.—

Mon.
Can you pity me.
And not redress? [Kneeling.]
Oh, Royal Tamerlane!
Thou Succour of the VVretched, reach thy Mercy,
To save me from the Grave, and from Oblivion;
Be gracious to the Hopes that wait my Youth.
Oh! let not Sorrow blast me, lest I wither,
And fall in vile Dishonour. Let thy Justice
Restore me my Arpasia; give her back,
Back to my VVishes, to my Transports give her,
To my fond, restless, bleeding, dying Bosom:
Oh! give her to me yet while I have Life
To bless thee for the Bounty. Oh, Arpasia!

Tam.
Unhappy Royal Youth, why do'st thou ask
VVhat Honour must deny? Ha! Is she not
His VVife, whom he has wedded, whom enjoy'd?
And would'st thou have my partial Friendship break
That Holy Knot which ty'd once, all Mankind
Agree to hold Sacred, and undissolvable:
The Brutal Violence would stain my Justice,
And brand me with a Tyrant's hated Name
To late Posterity.

Mon.
Are then the Vows,
The Holy Vows we registred in Heav'n,
But common Air?

Tam.
Could thy fond Love forget
The Violation of a first Enjoyment?—
But Sorrow has disturb'd and hurt thy Mind.

Mon.
Perhaps it has, and like an idle Madman,
That wanders with a Train of hooting Boys,
I do a thousand things to shame my Reason.
Then let me fly, and bear my Follies with me
Far, far from the World's Sight;—Honour, and Fame,
Arms, and the glorious War shall be forgotten:
No noble Sound of Greatness, or Ambition,
Shall wake my drowsy Soul from her dead Sleep,
Till the last Trump do summon.

Tam.
Let thy Virtue
Stand up, and answer to these warring Passions,
That vex thy manly Temper. From the moment
When first I saw thee, something wondrous noble
Shone thro' thy Form, and won my Friendship for thee,
Without the tedious Form of long Acquaintance;
Nor will I lose thee poorly for a Woman
Come, droop no more, thou shalt with me pursue
True Greatness, till we rise to Immortality;
Thou shalt forget these lesser Cares, Moneses,
Thou shalt, and help me to reform the World.

Mon.
So the good Genius warns his mortal Charge,
To fly the evil Fate, that still pursues him,
Till it have wrought his Ruin. Sacred Tamerlane,
Thy Words are as the Breath of Angels to me:
But oh! too deep the wounding Grief is fixt
For any hand to heal.

Tam.
This dull Despair.
Is the Souls Lazyness: Rouse to the Combat,
And thou art sure to conquer. War shall restore thee;
The Sound of Arms shall wake thy martial Ardour,
And cure this amorous Sickness of thy Soul,
Begun by sloth, and nurs'd by too much ease;
The idle God of Love supinely dreams,
Amidst inglorious Shades and purling Streams;
In rosie Fetters, and fantastick Chains,
Ae binds deluded Maids and simple Swains,
With soft Enjoyments, woes 'em to forget
The hardy Toils, and Labours of the great.
But if the warlike Trumpet's loud Alarms
To virtuous Acts excite, and manly Arms;
The Coward Boy avows his abject Fear,
On silken Wings sublime he cuts the Air,
Scar'd at the noble Noise, and Thunder of the War.

Exeunt.