University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

ZARA, SELIMA.
SELIMA.
Ah! Madam, how, at once, I grieve your Fate,
And, how admire your Vertue!—Heaven permits,
And Heaven will give you Strength, to bear, Misfortune;
To break these Chains, so strong, and, yet, so dear.

ZARA.
Oh! that I cou'd support the fatal Struggle!

SELIMA.
Th'Eternal aids your Weakness, sees your Will;
Directs your Purpose, and rewards your Sorrows.

ZARA.
Never had Wretch more Cause, to hope, he does.

SELIMA.
What! tho' you, here, no more, behold your Father
There is a Father to be found, above,
Who can restore That Father to his Daughter.

ZARA.
But, I have planted Pain, in Osman's Bosom;
He loves me, ev'n to Death—and I reward him,
With Anguish, and Despair:—How base! how cruel!
But I deserv'd him not, I shou'd have been
Too happy, and the Hand of Heaven repell'd me.

SELIMA.
What! will you, then, regret the glorious Loss,
And hazard, thus, a Vict'ry, bravely won?

ZARA.
Inhuman Victory!—thou dost not know,
This Love, so pow'rful, this sole Joy of Life,
This first, best, Hope of earthly Happiness,
Is, yet, less pow'rful, in my Heart, than Heaven!
To him, who made that Heart, I offer it;
There, there, I sacrifice my bleeding Passion:
I pour, before him, ev'ry guilty Tear;
I beg him, to efface the fond Impression,
And fill, with his own Image, all my Soul:
But, while I weep, and sigh, repent, and pray,
Remembrance brings the Object of my Love,
And ev'ry light Illusion floats before him.
I see, I hear him, and, again, he charms!
Fills my glad Soul, and shines, 'twixt me, and Heav'n!
O! all ye Royal Ancestors! Oh, Father!
Mother! you Christians, and the Christian's God!
You, who deprive me of this gen'rous Lover!
If you permit me not to live for him,
Let me not live, at all, and I am bless'd:
Let me die, innocent; let his dear Hand
Close the sad Eyes of her, he stoop'd to love,
And I acquit my Fate, and ask no more.
But he forgives me not—regardless, now,
Whether, or how, I live, or, when I die,
He quits me, scorns me—and I, yet live on,
And talk of Death, as distant.—

SELIMA.
Ah! despair not,
Trust your Eternal Helper, and be happy.

ZARA.
Why—what has Osman done, that He, too, shou'd not?
Has Heaven, so nobly, form'd his Heart, to hate it?
Gen'rous, and Just, Beneficent, and Brave,
Were he but Christian—what can Man be, more?
I wish, methinks, this reverend Priest were come;
To free me from these Doubts, which shake my Soul:
Yet, know not, why I shou'd not dare to hope,
That Heaven, whose Mercy All confess, and feel,
Will pardon, and approve, th'Alliance wish'd:
Perhaps, it seats me on the Throne of Syria,
To tax my Pow'r, for these good Christians' Comfort.
Thou know'st, the mighty Saladine, who, first,
Conquer'd this Empire, from my Father's Race,
Who, like my Osman, charm'd th'admiring World,
Drew Birth, tho' Syrian, from a Christian Mother.

SELIMA.
What mean you, Madam! Ah! you do not see!

ZARA.
Yes, yes—I see it all; I am not blind:
I see, my Country, and my Race, condemn me;
I see, that, spite of all, I still, love Osman.—
What! if I, now, go throw me at his Feet,
And tell him, there, sincerely, what I am?

SELIMA.
Consider—That might cost your Brother's Life,
Expose the Christians, and betray you All:

ZARA.
You do not know the noble Heart of Osman;

SELIMA.
I know him the Protector of a Faith,
Sworn Enemy to ours;—The more he loves,
The less will he permit you, to profess
Opinions, which he hates: To Night, the Priest,
In private, introduc'd, attends you, here;
You promis'd him Admission—

ZARA.
Wou'd I had not!
I promis'd, too, to keep this fatal Secret:
My Father's urg'd Command requir'd it, twice;
I must obey, all dangerous, as it is:
Compell'd to Silence, Osman is enrag'd,
Suspicion follows, and I lose his Love.

Enter Osman.
OSMAN.
Madam! there was a Time, when my charm'd Heart
Made it a Virtue, to be lost, in Love;
When, without blushing, I indulg'd my Flame;
And ev'ry Day, still, made you dearer to me.
You taught me, Madam, to believe, my Love
Rewarded, and return'd—nor was that Hope,
Methinks, too bold for Reason: Emperors,
Who chuse to sigh, devoted, at the Feet
Of Beauties, whom the World conceive their Slaves,
Have Fortune's Claim, at least, to sure Success:
But, 'twere profane to think of Pow'r, in Love:
Dear, as my Passion makes you, I decline
Possession of her Charms, whose Heart's Another's;
You will not find me a weak, jealous, Lover,
By coarse Reproaches giving Pain to you,
And shaming my own Greatness—wounded deeply,
Yet shunning, and disdaining, low Complaint,
I come—to tell you—

ZARA.
Give my trembling Heart
A Moment's Respite—

OSMAN.
That unwilling Coldness,
Is the just Prize of your capricious Lightness;
Your ready Arts may spare the fruitless Pains,
Of colouring Deceit with fair Pretences;
I wou'd not wish to hear your slight Excuses;
I cherish Ignorance, to save my Blushes.
Osman, in ev'ry Trial, shall remember,
That he is Emperor—Whate'er I suffer,
'Tis due to Honour, that I give up You,
And, to my injur'd Bosom, take Despair,
Rather than, shamefully, possess you, sighing,
Convinc'd, those Sighs were, never, meant for Me.—
Go, Madam—you are free—From Osman's Pow'r
Expect no Wrongs, but see his Face no more.

ZARA.
At last, 'tis come—the fear'd, the murd'ring Moment
Is come—and I am curs'd by Earth, and Heaven!
[Throws herself on the Ground.
If it is true, that I am lov'd no more;—
If you—

OSMAN.
It is too true, my Fame requires it;
It is too true, that I, unwilling, leave you:
That I, at once, renounce you, and adore.—
Zara!—you weep!—

ZARA.
If I am doom'd to lose you,
If I must wander o'er an empty World,
Unloving, and unlov'd—Oh! yet, do Justice
To the Afflicted—do not wrong me, doubly:
Punish me, if 'tis needful to your Peace,
But say not, I deserv'd it—This, at least,
Believe—for, not the Greatness of your Soul
Is Truth, more pure, and sacred—no Regret
Can touch my bleeding Heart, for having lost
The Rank, of Her, you raise to share your Throne:
I know, I never ought to have been there;
My Fate, and my Defects require, I lose you:
But ah! my Heart was, never, known to Osman.
May Heaven, that punishes, for ever hate me,
If I regret the Loss of aught, but You.

OSMAN.
Rise—rise—This means not Love?

[Raises her.
ZARA.
Strike—Strike me, Heaven!

OSMAN.
What! is it Love, to force yourself to wound
The Heart, you wish to gladden?—But I find,
Lovers, least know Themselves, for, I believ'd,
That I had taken back the Power I gave you;
Yet, see!—you did but weep, and have resum'd me!
Proud, as I am—I must confess, one Wish
Evades my Power—the Blessing to forget you.
Zara—Thy Tears were form'd to teach Disdain,
That Softness can disarm it.—'Tis decreed,
I must, for ever, love—but, from what Cause,
If thy consenting Heart partakes my Fires,
Art thou reluctant to a Blessing, meant me?
Speak? Is it Levity—or, is it Fear?
Fear of a Power, that, but for blessing Thee,
Had, without Joy, been painful.—Is it Artifice?
Oh! spare the needless Pains—Art was not made
For Zara;—Art, however innocent,
Looks like Deceiving:—I abhorr'd it, ever.

ZARA.
Alas! I have no Art, not ev'n enough,
To hide this Love, and this Distress, you give me.

OSMAN.
New Riddles! speak, with Plainness, to my Soul;
What can'st thou mean?

ZARA.
I have no Power to speak it.

OSMAN.
Is it some Secret, dang'rous to my State?
Is it some Christian Plot, grown ripe, against me?

ZARA.
Lives there a Wretch, so vile, as to betray you!
Osman is bless'd, beyond the Reach of Fear;
Fears, and Misfortunes, threaten only Zara.

OSMAN.
Why threaten Zara?

ZARA.
Permit me, at your Feet,
Thus, trembling, to beseech a Favour from you.

OSMAN.
A Favour!—Oh! you guide the Will of Osman.

ZARA.
Ah! wou'd to Heaven, our Duties were united,
Firm, as our Thoughts and Wishes!—But This Day,
But This one sad, unhappy Day, permit me,
Alone, and far-divided, from your Eye,
To cover my Distress, lest you, too tender,
Shou'd see, and share it with me—from To-morrow,
I will not have a Thought, conceal'd from you.

OSMAN.
What strange Disquiet! from what stranger Cause?

ZARA.
If I am, really, bless'd with Osman's Love,
He will not, then, refuse this humble Prayer.

OSMAN.
If it must be, it must.—Be pleas'd—my Will
Takes Purpose, from your Wishes;—And, Consent
Depends, not on my Choice, but your Decree:
Go—but remember, how He loves, who thus,
Finds a Delight in Pain, because you give it.

ZARA.
It gives me more than Pain, to make you feel it.

OSMAN.
And—can you, Zara, leave me?

ZARA.
Alas! my Lord!
[Exit Zara.

OSMAN.
[Alone.]
It shou'd be, yet, methinks, too soon to fly me!
Too soon, as yet, to wrong my easy Faith;
The more I think, the less can I conceive,
What hidden Cause shou'd raise such strange Despair!
Now, when her Hopes have Wings, and ev'ry Wish
Is courted to be lively!—When I love,
And Joy, and Empire, press her to their Bosom;
When, not alone belov'd, but, ev'n, a Lover:
Professing, and accepting; bless'd, and blessing;
To see her Eyes, thro' Tears, shine mystick Love!
'Tis Madness! and I were unworthy Power,
To suffer, longer, the capricious Insult!
Yet, was I blameless?—No—I was too rash;
I have felt Jealousy, and spoke it, to her;
I have distrusted her—and, still, she loves:
Gen'rous Atonement, That! and 'tis my Duty
To expiate, by a Length of soft Indulgence,
The Transports of a Rage, which, still, was Love.
Henceforth, I, never, will suspect her false;
Nature's plain Power of Charming dwells about her,
And Innocence gives Force to ev'ry Word:
I owe full Confidence to All, she looks,
For, in her Eye, shines Truth, and ev'ry Beam
Shoots Confirmation round her:—I remark'd,
Ev'n, while she wept, her Soul, a thousand times,
Sprung to her Lips, and long'd to leap to mine,
With honest, ardent, Utt'rance of her Love.—
Who can possess a Heart, so low, so base,
To look such Tenderness, and, yet, have none?

Enter Melidor, with Orasmin.
MELIDOR.
This Letter, great Disposer of the World!
Address'd to Zara, and, in private, brought,
Your faithful Guards, this Moment, intercepted,
And, humbly, offer to your Sovereign Eye.

OSMAN.
Come nearer; give it me.—To Zara!—Rise!
Bring it, with Speed—Shame on your flatt'ring Distance—
[Advancing, and snatching the Letter.
Be honest—and approach me, like a Subject,
Who serves the Prince, yet, not forgets the Man.

MELIDOR.
One of the Christian Slaves, whom, late, your Bounty
Releas'd from Bondage, sought, with heedful Guile,
Unnotic'd, to deliver it—discover'd,
He waits, in Chains, his Doom; from your Decree.

OSMAN.
Leave me—I tremble, as if something fatal,
Were meant me, from this Letter—shou'd I read it?

ORASMIN.
Who knows, but it contains some happy Truth,
That may remove all Doubts, and calm your Heart?

OSMAN.
[Opens the Letter.

ORASMIN.
Wou'd, I had lost all Sense—for, what I heard;
Has cover'd my afflicted Heart with Horror!

OSMAN.
Thou see'st, how I am treated?

ORASMIN.
Monstrous Treason!
To an Affront, like This, you cannot—must not—
Remain, insensible—You, who, but now,
From the most slight Suspicion, felt such Pain,
Must, in the Horror of so black a Guilt,
Find an effectual Cure, and banish Love.

OSMAN.
Seek her, this Instant—go—Orasmin, fly—
Shew her this Letter—bid her read, and tremble:
Then, in the rising Horrors of her Guilt,
Stab her unfaithful Breast—and let her die.—
Say, while thou strik'st—Stay, stay—return, and pity me:
I will think, first, a Moment—Let that Christian
Be, strait, confronted with her—Stay—I will,
I will—I know not what;—Wou'd, I were dead!
Wou'd, I had dy'd, unconscious of this Shame!

ORASMIN.
Never did Prince receive so bold a Wrong.

OSMAN.
See! here, detected, this infernal Secret!
This Fountain of her Tears, which my weak Heart
Mistook, for Marks of Tenderness, and Pain!
Why! what a Reach has Woman, to deceive!
Under how fine a Veil, of Grief, and Fear,
Did she propose Retirement, till To-morrow!
And I, blind Dotard! gave the Fool's Consent,
Sooth'd her, and suffer'd her to go!—She parted,
Dissolv'd in Tears; and parted, to betray me!

ORASMIN.
Reflexion serves but to confirm her Guilt:
At length, resume Yourself; awaken Thought;
Assert your Greatness; and resolve, like Osman.

OSMAN.
Nerestan, too!—Was this the boasted Honour
Of that proud Christian? whom Jerusalem
Grew loud, in Praising! whose half-envy'd Virtue
I wonder'd at, myself! and felt Disdain,
To be but, equal, to a Christian's Greatness!
And does he thank me thus?—base Infidel!
Honest, pretending, pious; praying, Villain!
Yet, Zara is, a thousand times, more base,
More Hypocrite, than He!—a Slave! a Wretch!
So low, so lost, that, ev'n the vilest Labours,
In which he lay, condemn'd, cou'd never sink him,
Beneath his Native Infamy!—Did she not know,
What I have done, what suffer'd—for Her sake?

ORASMIN.
Cou'd you, my gracious Lord! forgive my Zeal!
You wou'd—

OSMAN.
I know it—Thou art right—I'll see her;
I'll tax her, in thy Presence;—I'll upbraid her—
I'll let her learn—go—find, and bring her, to me.

ORASMIN.
Alas! my Lord, disorder'd, as you are,
What can you wish to say?

OSMAN.
I know not, now:—
But I resolve to see her—lest she think,
Her Falshood has, perhaps, the Power to grieve me.

ORASMIN.
Believe me, Sir, your Threatnings, your Complaints,
What will they All produce, but Zara's Tears,
To quench this fansy'd Anger! your lost Heart,
Seduc'd, against itself, will search but Reasons,
To justify the Guilt, which gives it Pain:
Rather conceal, from Zara, this Discovery;
And let some trusty Slave convey the Letter,
Reclos'd, to her own Hand—then, shall you learn,
Spite of her Frauds, Disguise, and Artifice,
The Firmness, or Abasement, of her Soul.

OSMAN.
Thy Counsel charms me! We'll about it, now:
'Twill be some Recompence, at least, to see
Her Blushes, when detected.—

ORASMIN.
Oh! my Lord,
I doubt you, in the Trial—for, your Heart—

OSMAN.
Distrust me not—my Love, indeed, is weak,
But, Honour, and Disdain, more strong than Zara:
Here, take this fatal Letter—chuse a Slave,
Whom, yet, she never saw, and who retains
His try'd Fidelity—Dispatch—be gone—
[Exit Orasmin.
Now, whither shall I turn my Eyes, and Steps,
The surest way, to shun her; and give Time
For this discovering Trial?—Heav'n! she's here!
Enter Zara.
So, Madam! Fortune will befriend my Cause,
And free me from your Fetters:—You are met,
Most aptly, to dispell a new-ris'n Doubt,
That claims the finest of your Arts, to gloss it.
Unhappy, each, by other, it is Time,
To end our mutual Pain, that Both may rest:
You want not Generosity, but Love;
My Pride forgotten, my obtruded Throne,
My Favours, Cares, Respect, and Tenderness,
Touching your Gratitude, provok'd Regard;
Till, by a Length of Benefits, besieg'd,
Your Heart submitted, and you thought, 'twas Love;
But, you deceiv'd Yourself, and injur'd me.
There is, I'm told, an Object, more deserving
Your Love, than Osman—I wou'd know his Name?
Be just, nor trifle with my Anger: Tell me,
Now, while expiring Pity struggles, faint;
While I have yet, perhaps, the Pow'r to pardon:
Give up the bold Invader of my Claim,
And let him die, to save thee.—Thou art known;
Think, and resolve—While I yet speak, renounce him;
While yet the Thunder rolls, suspended, stop it;
Let thy Voice charm me, and recall my Soul,
That turns, averse, and dwells no more on Zara.

ZARA.
Can it be Osman, speaks? and speaks to Zara?
Learn, Cruel! learn, that this afflicted Heart,
This Heart, which Heaven delights to prove, by Tortures,
Did it not love, has Pride, and Pow'r, to shun you:
Alas! you will not know me! What have I
To fear, but that unhappy Love, you question?
That Love, which, only, cou'd outweigh the Shame,
I feel, while I descend, to weep my Wrongs:
I know not, whether Heaven, that frowns upon me,
Has destin'd my unhappy Days, for Yours;
But, be my Fate, or bless'd, or curs'd, I swear,
By Honour, dearer ev'n than Life, or Love,
Cou'd Zara be but Mistress of Herself,
She wou'd, with cold Regard, look down on Kings,
And, You alone excepted, fly 'em all:
Wou'd you learn more, and open all my Heart?
Know then, that, spite of this renew'd Injustice,
I do not—cannot—wish to love you less:
That, long before you look'd so low, as Zara,
She gave her Heart to Osman—Yours, before
Your Benefits had bought her, or your Eye
Had thrown Distinction round her; never had,
Nor ever will acknowledge, other Lover.—
And, to this sacred Truth, attesting Heaven!
I call thy dreadful Notice! If my Heart
Deserves Reproach, 'tis for, but not from, Osman.

OSMAN.
What! does she, yet, presume to swear Sincerity!
Oh! Boldness of unblushing Perjury!
Had I not seen, had I not read, such Proof,
Of her light Falshood, as extinguish'd Doubt,
I cou'd not be a Man, and not believe her.

ZARA.
Alas! my Lord, what cruel Fears have seiz'd you?
What harsh, mysterious Words were those, I heard?

OSMAN.
What Fears shou'd Osman feel, since Zara loves him!

ZARA.
I cannot live, and answer to your Voice,
In that reproachful Tone!—Your angry Eye
Trembles with Fury, while you talk of Love!

OSMAN.
Since Zara LOVES him!

ZARA.
Is it possible,
Osman should disbelieve it?—Again, again,
Your late-repented Violence returns;
Alas! what killing Frowns you dart against me!
Can it be kind? Can it be just, to doubt me?

OSMAN.
No—I can doubt no longer—You may retire.
[Exit Zara.
Re-enter Orasmin.
Orasmin! she's perfidious, ev'n beyond
Her Sex's undiscover'd Power of Seeming:
She's at the topmost Point of shameless Artifice;
An Empress, at Deceiving!—Soft, and easy,
Destroying, like a Plague, in calm Tranquillity:
She's innocent, she swears—So is the Fire;
It shines, in harmless Distance, bright, and pleasing,
Consuming nothing, till it, first, embraces.—
Say? Hast thou chos'n a Slave?—Is he instructed?
Haste, to detect her Vileness, and my Wrongs.

ORASMIN.
Punctual, I have obey'd your whole Command;
But, have you arm'd, my Lord, your injur'd Heart,
With Coldness, and Indiff'rence? Can you hear,
All painless, and unmov'd, the False One's Shame?

OSMAN.
Orasmin! I adore her, more than ever!

ORASMIN.
My Lord! my Emperor! forbid it, Heaven!

OSMAN.
I have discern'd a Gleam of distant Hope;
This hateful Christian, the light Growth of France,
Proud, young, vain, amorous, conceited, rash,
Has misconceiv'd some charitable Glance,
And judg'd it Love, in Zara:—He, alone,
Then, has offended me.—Is it her Fault,
If Those, she charms, are indiscreet, and daring?
Zara, perhaps, expected not this Letter;
And I, with Rashness, groundless, as its Writer's,
Took Fire, at my own Fancy, and have wrong'd her.
Now, hear me, with Attention—Soon as Night
Has thrown her welcome Shadows, o'er the Palace;
When this Nerestan, this ungrateful Christian,
Shall lurk, in Expectation, near our Walls,
Be watchful, that our Guards surprize, and seize him;
Then, bound in Fetters, and o'erwhelm'd, with Shame,
Conduct the daring Traitor, to my Presence;
But, above all, be sure, you hurt not Zara:
Mindful, to what supreme Excess, I love.
I feel, I must confess, a kind of Shame,
And blush, at my own Tenderness;—but, Faith,
Howe'er it seems deceiv'd, were weak, as I am,
Cou'd it admit Distrust, to blot its Face,
And give Appearance Way, till Proof takes Place.