University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

SCENE Bajazet's Tent.
Enter Haly and the Dervise.
Ha.
To scape with Life from an Attempt like this,
Demands my Wonder justly.

Der.
True it may;
But 'tis a Principle of his new Faith;
'Tis what his Christian Favourites have inspir'd,
Who fondly make a Merit of Forgiveness,
And give their Foes a second Opportunity,
If the first Blow should miss:—Failing to serve
The Sultan to my wish, and ev'n despairing
Of further means, t'effect his Liberty,
A lucky Accident retriev'd my Hopes.

Ha.
The Prophet, and our Master will reward
Thy Zeal in their behalf; but speak thy Purpose.

Der.
Just ent'ring here I met the Tartar General,
Fierce Omar.

Ha.
He commands (if I mistake not)
This Quarter of the Army, and our Guards.

Der.
The same; by his stern Aspect, and the Fires
That kindled in his Eyes, I guess'd the Tumult
Some wrong had rais'd in his tempestuous Soul;
A Friendship of old Date had giv'n me Priviledge,
To ask of his Concerns; In short I learn'd,
That burning for the Sultan's beaueous Daughter,
He had beg'd her, as a Captive of the War,
From Tamerlane; but meeting with denial
Of what he thought, his Services might claim;
Loudly he storms, and curses the Italian
As cause of this Affront: I join'd his Rage,
And added to his Injuries, the Wrongs
Our Prophet daily meets from this Axalla.
But see, he comes, Improve what I shall tell,
And all we wish is ours,—

They seem to talk together aside.
Enter Omar.
Om.
No—if I forgive it,
Dishonour blast my Name; was it for this
That I directed his first Steps to Greatness?
Taught him to climb, and made him what he is?
When our great Can first bent his Eyes towards him,
(Then petty Prince of Parthia) and by me
Perswaded, rais'd him to his Daughter's Bed,
Call'd him his Son, and Successor of Empire:
Was it for this, that like a Rock I stood,
And stemm'd the Torrent of our Tartar Lords,
Who scorn'd his upstart Sway? When Calibes
In bold Rebellion drew ev'n half the Provinces
To own his Cause, I, like his better Angel,
Stood by his shaking Throne, and fixt it fast;
And am I now so lost to his remembrance?
That when I ask a Captive, he shall tell me,
She is Axalla's Right, his Christian Minion.

Der.
Allow me, valiant Omar, to demand,
Since injur'd thus, why right you not your self?
The Prize you ask is in your Power.

Om.
It is,
And I will seize it, in despight of Tamerlane,
And that Italian Dog.

Ha.
VVhat need of Force?
VVhen every thing concurs to meet your VVishes
Our mighty Master would not wish a Son
Nobler than Omar; from a Father's hand
Receive that Daughter, which ungrateful Tamerlane
Has to your worth deny'd.

Om.
Now by my Arms,
It will be great Revenge. VVhat will your Sultan
Give to the Man that shall restore his Liberty,
His Crown? and give him Pow'r to wreck his Hatred
Upon his greatest Foe?

Ha.
All he can ask,
And far beyond his VVish.—

[Trumpets.
Om.
These Trumpets speak
The Emperor's approach; he comes, once more,
To offer Terms of Peace; retire—within
I will know farther,—he grows deadly to me,
And curse me, Prophet, if I not repay
His Hate, with retribution full as mortal.

Exeunt.
Scene draws, discovers Arpasia lying on a Couch.
A SONG to Sleep. By a Lady.

Arp.
Oh! Death! thou gentle end of human Sorrows,
Still must my weary Eye-lids vainly wake
In tedious Expectation of thy Peace:
VVhy stand thy thousand thousand Doors still open,
To take the VVretched in? If stern Religion
Guards every Passage, and forbids my Entrance?—
Lucrece could bleed, and Porcia swallow Fire,
VVhen urg'd with Griefs beyond a mortal Sufferance;
But here it must not be. Think then, Arpasia,
Think on the Sacred Dictates of thy Faith,
And let that arm thy Virtue, to perform
VVhat Cato's Daughter durst not,—Live Arpasia,
And dare to be unhappy.

Enter Tamerlane, and Attendants.
Tam.
VVhen Fortune smiles upon the Soldier's Arms,
And adds ev'n Beauty to adorn his Conquest,
Yet she ordains, the fair should know no Fears,
No Sorrows, to pollute their lovely Eyes;
But should be us'd ev'n nobly, as her self,
The Queen and Goddess of the Warrior's Vows,—
Such VVelcome, as a Camp can give, fair Sultaness,
We hope you have receiv'd, It shall be larger,
And better, as it may

Arp.
Since I have born
That miserable Mark of fatal Greatness,
I have forgot all difference of Conditions,
Scepters and Fetters are grown equall to me,
And the best Change, my Fate can bring, is Death.

Tam.
VVhen Sorrow dwells in such an Angel Form,
VVell may we guess, that those above are Mourners;
Virtue is wrong'd, and bleeding Innocence
Suffers some wondrous Violation here,
To make the Saints look sad. Oh! teach my Power
To cure those Ills, which you unjustly suffer,
Lest Heav'n should wrest it from my idle Hand,
If I look on, and see you weep in vain.

Arp.
Not that my Soul disdains the generous Aid,
Thy Royal Goodness proffers; but oh! Emperor,
It is not now in my Fate to be made happy:
Nor will I listen to the Cos'ner, Hope;
But stand resolv'd, to bear the beating Storm,
That roars around me; safe in this alone,
That I am not Immortal.—Tho' 'tis hard,
'Tis wond'rous hard, when I remember thee
(Dear Native Greece) and you, ye weeping Maids,
That were Companions of my Virgin Youth:
My noble Parents! Oh! the grief of Heart!
The Pangs, that, for unhappy me, brings down
Their reverend Ages to the Grave with Sorrow:
And yet, there is a Woe surpassing all,
Ye Saints and Angels, give me of your Constancy,
If you expect I shall endure it long.

Tam.
Why is my Pity all, that I can give
To Tears like yours? And yet I fear 'tis all,
Nor dare I ask, what mighty Loss you mourn,
Lest Honour should forbid to give it back.

Arp.
No, Tamerlane, nor did I mean Thou shouldst.
But know (tho' to the weakness of my Sex
I yield these Tears) my Soul is more than Man.
Think I am born a Greek, nor doubt my Virtue:
A Greek! from whose fam'd Ancestors of old,
Rome drew the Patterns of her boasted Heroes:
They must be mighty Evils, that can vanquish
A Spartan Courage, and a Christian Faith.

Enter Bajazet.
Baj.
To know no thought of Rest! to have the Mind
Still ministring fresh Plagues! as in a Circle,
Where one Dishonour treads upon another;
What know the Fiends beyond it?— [Seeing Arp. and Tam.]
Ha! by Hell!
There wanted only this, to make me mad.
Comes he to triumph here? to rob my Love?
And violate the last retreat of Happiness?

Tam.
But that I read upon thy frowning Brow,
That War yet lives, and rages in thy Breast;
Once more (in pity to the suff'ring World)
I meant to offer Peace—

Baj.
And mean'st Thou too,
To treat it with our Empress? And to barter
The Spoils, which Fortune gave thee, for her Favours?

Arp.
What would the Tyrant?—

[Aside.
Baj.
Seek'st thou thus our Friendship?
Is this the Royal Usage, thou did'st boast?

Tam.
The boiling Passion that disturbs thy Soul,
Spreads Clouds around, and make thy purpose dark.—
Unriddle what thy mystick Fury aims at.

Baj.
Is it a Riddle?—Read it there explain'd,
There in my Shame. Now judge me thou, O Prophet,
And equal Heav'n, if this demand not Rage!
The Peasant-Hind begot, and born to Slavery,
Yet dares assert a Husband's sacred Right,
And guard his homely Couch from Violation.
And shall a Monarch tamely bear the Wrong
Without complaining?

Tam.
If I could have wrong'd thee,
If conscious Virtue, and all-judging Heaven
Stood not between, to bar ungovern'd Appetite;
What hindred, but in spite of thee, my Captive,
I might have us'd a Victor's boundless Power,
And sated every Wish my Soul could form.
But to secure thy Fears, know, Bajazet,
This is among the Things I dare not do.

Baj.
By Hell! 'tis false; else, wherefore art thou present?
What cam'st thou for, but to undo my Honour?
I found thee holding amorous Parley with her,
Gazing, and gloting on her wanton Eyes,
And bargaining for Pleasures yet to come;
My Life, I know, is the devoted Price,
But take it, I am weary of the Pain.

Tam.
Yet e'er thou rashly urge my Rage too far,
I warn thee to take heed; I am a Man,
And have the Frailties common to Man's Nature;
The fiery Seeds of Wrath are in my Temper,
And may be blown up to so fierce a Blaze,
As Wisdom cannot rule. Know, thou has toucht me
Ev'n in the nicest, tenderest part, my Honour.
My Honour! which, like Pow'r, disdains being question'd;
Thy Breath has blasted my fair Virtue's Fame,
And mark'd me for a Villain, and a Tyrant.

Arp.
And stand I here an idle Looker on?
To see my Innocence murder'd and mangled
By barbarous Hands? Nor can revenge the Wrong.
Art thou a Man, and dar'st thou use me thus?
[To Baj.
Hast thou not torn me from my native Country?
From the dear Arms of my lamenting Friends?
From my Soul's Peace, and from my injur'd Love?
Hast thou not ruin'd, blotted me for ever,
And driv'n me to the brink of black Despair?
And is it in thy Malice yet, to add
A Wound more deep, to sully my white Name,
My Virtue?—

Baj.
Yes, thou hast thy Sexes Virtues,
Their Affectation, Pride, Ill Nature, Noise,
Proneness to change, ev'n from the Joy, that pleas'd 'em:
So gracious is your Idol, dear Variety,
That for another Love you would forgo
An Angel's Form, to mingle with a Devil's;
Through every State, and Rank of Men you wander;
Till ev'n your large Experience takes in all
The different Nations of the Peopled Earth.

Arp.
Why sought'st thou not from thy own Impious Tribe
A Wife, like one of these; for such, thy Race
(If human Nature brings forth such) affords.
Greece, for chast Virgins fam'd, and pious Matrons,
Teems not with Monsters, like your Turkish Wives;
Whom guardian Eunuchs, haggard and deform'd,
Whom Walls and Bars make honest by constraint.
Know, I detest, like Hell, the Crime thou mention'st:
Not that I fear, or reverence thee, thou Tyrant:
But that my Soul, conscious of whence it sprung,
Sits unpolluted in its sacred Temple,
And scorns to mingle with a Thought so mean.

Tam.
Oh Pity! that a Greatness so divine
Should meet a Fate so wretched, so unequal.—
Thou blind and wilful, to the Good that courts thee;
[To Baj.
With open-handed Bounty Heaven pursues thee,
And bids thee (undeserving as thou art,
And monstrous in thy Crimes) be happy yet:
Whilst thou, in Fury, do'st avert the Blessings,
And art an evil Genius to thy Self.

Baj.
No—Thou! thou art my greatest Curse on Earth.
Thou, who hast robb'd me of my Crown and Glory,
And now pursu'st me to the Verge of Life,
To spoil me of my Honour. Thou! thou Hypocrite!
That wear'st a Pageant out-side shew of Virtue,
To cover the hot Thoughts, that glow within,
Thou rank Adulterer!

Tam.
Oh! That thou wert
The Lord of all those Thousands, that lie breathless
On yonder Field of Blood: That I again
Might hunt thee in the Face of Death and Danger,
Through the tumultuous Battle, and there force thee
Vanquisht and sinking underneath my Arm,
To own, thou hast traduc'd me, like a Villain.

Baj.
Ha! does it gall thee, Tartar? By Revenge!
It Joys me much, to find, thou feel'st my Fury.
Yes! I will Eccho to thee, thou Adulterer!
Thou do'st profane the Name of King and Soldier,
And like a Ruffian-Bravo cam'st with Force
To violate the Holy Marriage-Bed.

Tam.
Wer't thou not shelter'd by thy abject State,
The Captive of my Sword; by my just Anger!
My Breath, like Thunder, should confound thy Pride,
And doom thee dead, this instant, with a Word.

Baj.
'Tis false! my Fate's above thee, and thou dar'st not.

Tam.
Ha! dare not? Thou hast rais'd my pond'rous Rage,
And now it falls to crush thee at a Blow.
A Guard there.— [Enter a Guard, they seize Bajazet.]
Seize and drag him to his Fate.
Tyrant, I'll do a double Justice on thee,
At once revenge my self, and all Mankind.

Baj.
Well do'st thou, e'er thy Violence and Lust
Invade my Bed, thus to begin with Murder;
Drown all thy Fears in Blood, and Sin securely.

Tam.
Away!—

Arp.
kneeling.]
Oh stay! I charge thee, by Renown;
By that bright Glory, thy great Soul pursues!
Call back the doom of Death.

Tam.
Fair injur'd Excellence,
Why dost thou kneel, and waste such precious Pray'rs,
(As might e'vn bribe the Saints to partial Justice)
For one to Goodness lost? who first undid thee,
Who still pursues, and aggravates the Wrong.

Baj.
By Alha! no—I will not wear a Life
Bought with such vile Dishonour.—Death shall free me
At once from Infamy, and thee, thou Traytress!

Arp.
No matter, tho' the whistling Winds grow loud,
And the rude Tempest roars, 'tis idle Rage,
Oh! mark it not. But let thy steady Virtue
Be constant to its Temper; save his Life,
And save Arpasia from the sport of Talkers.
Think, how the busy, medling World shall toss
Thy mighty Name about, in scurril Mirth;
Shall brand thy Vengeance, as a foul Design,
And make such monstrous Legends of our Lives,
As late Posterity shall blush in reading.

Tam.
Oh matchless Virtue! Yes I will obey;
Tho' Laggard in the Race, admiring yet,
I will pursue the shining Path thou tread'st.
Sultan, be safe. Reason resumes her Empire,
[The Guards release Bajazet.
And I am cool again.—Here break we off,
Lest further Speech should minister new Rage.
Wisely from dangerous Passions I retreat,
To keep a Conquest, which was hard to get:
And oh! 'tis time I should for Flight prepare,
A War more fatal seems to threaten there,
And all my Rebel-blood assists the Fair:
One moment more, and I too late shall find,
That Love's the strongest Pow'r that Lords it o'er the Mind.

[Exit Tamerlane followed by the Guards.
Baj.
To what new Shame, what Plague am I reserv'd?
Why did my Stars refuse me to die warm?
While yet my Regal State stood unimpeach'd,
Nor knew the Curse of having One above me;
Then too (altho' by force I graspt the Joy)
My Love was safe, nor felt the rack of doubt:
Why hast thou forc'd this nauseous Life upon me?
Is it to triumph over me?—But I will,
I will be free, I will forget thee all;
The Bitter and the Sweet, the Joy and Pain,
Death shall expunge at once, and ease my Soul.
Prophet, take notice, I disclaim thy Paradice,
Thy fragrant Bow'rs, and everlasting Shades,
Thou hast plac'd Woman there, and all thy Joys are tainted.

[Exit Bajazet.
Arp.
A little longer yet, be strong, my Heart,
A little longer let the busy Spirits
Keep on their chearful round.—It won'ot be:
Love, Sorrow, and the Sting of vile Reproach,
Succeeding one another in their Course,
Like Drops of Eating Water on the Marble,
At length have worn my boasted Courage down.
I will indulge the Woman in my Soul,
And give a loose to Tears, and to Impatience;
Death is at last my due, and I will have it.—
And see, the poor Moneses comes to take
One sad Adieu, and then we part for ever.

Enter Moneses.
Mon.
Already am I onward of my way;
Thy tuneful Voice comes like a hollow Sound
At distance to my Ears. My Eyes grow heavy,
And all the glorious Lights of Heav'n look dim;
'Tis the last Office they shall ever do me,
To view thee once, and then to close and die.

Arp.
Alas! how happy have we been, Moneses?
Ye gentle Days, that once were ours; what Joys
Did every chearful Morning bring along?
No Fears, no Jealousies, no angry Parents,
That for unequal Births, or Fortunes frown'd;
But Love, that kindly join'd our Hearts, to bless us,
Made us a Blessing too to all besides.

Mon.
Oh! Cast not thy remembrance back, Arpasia,
'Tis Grief unutterable, 'tis Distraction!
But let this last of hours be peaceful Sorrow;
Here let me kneel, and pay my latest Vows;
Be witness, all ye Saints, thou Heav'n and Nature,
Be witness of my Truth, for you have known it;
Be witness, that I never knew a Pleasure
In all the World, could offer like Arpasia;
Be witness, that I liv'd but in Arpasia;
And oh! be witness, that her Loss has kill'd me.

Arp.
While thou art speaking, Life begins to fail,
And every tender Accent chills like Death.
Oh! let me haste then yet, e'er Day declines,
And the long Night prevail, once more, to tell thee
What, and how dear Moneses has been to me.
What has he not been?—All the Names of Love,
Brothers, or Fathers, Husbands, all are poor:
Moneses is my self, in my fond Heart,
Ev'n in my vital Blood he lives and reigns;
The last dear Object of my parting Soul
Will be Moneses; the last Breath that lingers
Within my panting Breast, shall sigh Moneses.

Mon.
It is enough! Now to thy Rest, my Soul,
The World, and thou have made an end at once.

Arp.
Fain would I still detain thee, hold thee still;
Nor Honour can forbid, that we together
Should share the poor few Minutes that remain;
I swear, methinks this sad Society
Has somewhat pleasing in it.—Death's dark Shades
Seem, as we Journy on, to lose their Horror:
At near approach the Monsters form'd by fear
Are vanisht all, and leave the Prospect clear:
Amidst the gloomy Vale, a pleasing Scene
With Flow'rs adorn'd, and never-fading Green,
Inviting stands to take the Wretched in.
No Wars, no Wrongs, no Tyrants, no Despair,
Disturb the Quiet of a Place so fair,
But injur'd Lovers find Elizium there.

[Exeunt.
Enter Bajazet, Omar, Haly, and the Dervise.
Baj.
Now by the glorious Tomb that shrines our Prophet,
By Mecca's sacred Temple! here I swear!
Our Daughter is thy Bride; and to that Gift
Such Wealth, such Pow'r, such Honours will I add,
That Monarchs shall with Envy view thy State,
And own, Thou art a Demy-God to Them.
Thou hast given me what I wish'd, Power of Revenge,
And when a King rewards, 'tis ample Retribution.

Om.
Twelve Tartar Lords, each potent in his Tribe,
Have sworn to own my Cause, and draw their Thousands
To Morrow, from th'ungrateful Parthian's side;
The Day declining seems to yield to Night,
E'er little more than half her Course be ended,
In an auspicious Hour prepare for Flight;
The Leaders of the Troops thro' which we pass,
Rais'd by my Pow'r, devoted to my Service,
Shall make our Passage secret, and secure.

Der.
Already, mighty Sultan, art thou safe,
Since by yon passing Torches Light, I guess
To his Pavilion Tamerlane retires,
Attended by a Train of waiting Courtiers.
All, who remain within these Tents, are thine,
And hail thee, as their Lord.
Ha, th'Italian Prince,
With sad Moneses are not yet gone forth.

Baj.
Ha! With our Queen and Daughter?

Om.
They are ours;
I mark't the Slaves, who waited on Axalla;
They, when the Emperor past out, prest on,
And mingled with the Crowd, nor mist their Lord:
He is your Pris'ner, Sir, I go this moment,
To seize, and bring him, to receive his Doom.

[Exit Omar.
Baj.
Haste, Haly, follow, and secure the Greek,
Him too I wish to keep within in my Power.

[Exit Haly.
Der.
If my dread Lord permit his Slave to speak,
I would advise to spare Axalla's Life,
Till we are safe beyond the Parthian's Power:
Him, as our Pledge of Safety, may we hold;
And, could you gain him to assist your Flight,
It might import you much.

Baj.
Thou Counsell'st well;
And tho' I hate him, for he is a Christian,
And to my mortal Enemy devoted,
Yet to secure my Liberty, and Vengeance,
I wish he now were ours.

Der.
And see! they come!
Fortune repents, again she courts your Side,
And, with this first fair Offering of Success,
She woes you, to forget her Crime of yesterday.

Enter Omar with Axalla Prisoner, Selima following weeping.
Ax.
I wo'not call thee Villain, 'tis a Name
Too holy for thy Crime; to break thy Faith,
And turn a Rebel to so good a Master,
Is an Ingratitude unmatch'd on Earth;
The first revolting Angel's Pride could only
Do more, than thou hast done. Thou Copy'st well,
And keep'st the black Original in view.

Om.
Do, Rage, and vainly call upon thy Master,
To save his Minion; my Revenge has caught thee,
And I will make thee Curse that fond Presumption,
That set thee on, to rival me in ought.

Baj.
Christian, I hold thy Fate at my Disposal.
One only way remains to Mercy open,
Be Partner of my Flight, and my Revenge,
And thou art safe. Thy other Choice is Death.

Om.
What means the Sultan?

Der.
I Conjure you, hold—
Your Rival is devoted to Destruction,
[Aside to Omar.
Nor would the Sultan now defer his Fate
But for our common Safety— [Whispers.]
Listen further.

Ax.
Then briefly thus. Death is the Choice, I make;
Since, next to Heav'n, my Master, and my Friend
Has Interest in my Life, and still shall claim it.

Baj.
Then take thy Wish.—Call in our Mutes.

Sel.
My Father,
If yet you have not sworn to cast me off,
And turn me out, to wander in Misfortune;
If yet my Voice be gracious in your Ears;
If yet my Duty and my Love offend not,
Oh! call your Sentence back, and save Axalla.

Baj.
Rise, Selima, the Slave deserves to die,
Who durst, with sullen Pride, refuse my Mercy:
Yet, for thy Sake, once more I offer Life.

Sel.
Some Angel whisper to my anxious Soul
What I shall do to save him.—Oh! Axalla!
Is it so easy to thee, to forsake me?
Can'st thou resolve, with all this cold Indifference,
Never to see me more? To leave me here
The miserable Mourner of thy Fate,
Condemn'd, to waste my Widow'd Virgin Youth,
My tedious Days and Nights in lonely Weeping,
And never know the Voice of Comfort more.

Ax.
Search not too deep the Sorrows of my Breast;
Thou say'st, I am Indifferent, and Cold.
Oh! is it possible, my Eyes should tell
So little of the fighting Storm within.
Oh! turn thee from me, save me from thy Beauties,
Falshood and Ruin all look lovely there.
Oh! let my lab'ring Soul yet struggle thro'—
I will—I would resolve to die, and leave thee.

Baj.
Then let him die.—He trifles with my Favour;
I have too long attended his Resolves.

Sel.
to Baj.
Oh! stay a Minute, yet a Minute longer;
A Minute is a little space in Life:
There is a kind Consenting in his Eyes,
And I shall win him to your Royal Will.
Oh! my Axalla, seem but to Consent—
[To Axalla aside.
Unkind and Cruel, will you then do nothing?
I find, I am not worth thy least of Cares.

Ax.
Oh! labour not to hang Dishonour on me:
I could bear Sickness, Pain, and Poverty,
Those mortal Evils worse than Death, for thee.
But this.—It has the force of Fate against us,
And cannot be.

Sel.
See, see, Sir, he relents,
[To Bajazet.
Already he inclines to own your Cause:
A little longer, and he is all yours.

Baj.
Then mark how far a Father's fondness yields:
Till Midnight I defer the Death he merits,
And give him up till then to thy Persuasion.
If by that time he meets my Will, he lives;
If not, thy self shalt own, he dies with Justice.

Ax.
'Tis but to lengthen Life upon the Rack.
I am resolv'd already.

Sel.
Oh! be still
Nor rashly urge a Ruin on us both,
'Tis but a moment more I have to save thee.
Be kind, auspicious Alha, to my Pray'r,
More for my Love, than for my Self I fear,
Neglect Mankind awhile, and make him all thy Care.

[Exeunt Axalla and Selima.
Baj.
Moneses!—Is that Dog secur'd?

Om.
He is.

Baj.
'Tis well—My Soul perceives returning Greatness,
As Nature feels the Spring. Lightly she bounds,
And shakes Dishonour, like a Burden, from her,
Once more Imperial, awful, and her self.
So when of old Jove from the Titans fled,
Ammon's rude Front his radiant Face bely'd,
And all the Majesty of Heaven lay hid.
At length by Fate to Pow'r Divine restor'd,
His Thunder taught the World, to know it's Lord,
The God grew terrible again, and was again ador'd.

[Exeunt.