University of Virginia Library

Act I.

Scene I.

Acomat, Osmyn.
Acom.
Here, Osmyn, we may reason unobserv'd.
The Sultaness, from yonder highrais'd Terras,
Views the wide Euxine, and enjoys the Breeze.

Osm.
Where am I, Vizier! Whither do you lead me?
'Tis Death to breathe within these Walls; this Place
Our earthly Gods hold Sacred: The Seraglio
Is fenc'd by Mahomet's severest Laws:
'Tis Sacrilege, 'tis Height of Prophanation,
For vulgar Feet to tread where the dread Race
Of Ottoman is form'd.—But tell me, General,
How durst those tongueless Slaves, who guard this Palace
In dreadful Silence, open to your Signal?
I dare no farther press.

Acom.
Yet check a while
Thy curious Fears: I am thy Guide. Say, Osmyn,
Why didst thou suffer Acomat thus long
To wait thy needful Presence in Bysantium?
What Seas, what Sands, what Dangers hast thou cross'd
To serve thy Friend? What Tidings of Importance?
What Secret dost thou bring? What of our Army?
What of our Sultan knowest thou? Open all.
Speak, Osmyn: Ease my impatient Heart: Thy own,
Thy Vizier's Fate, the Fate of a whole Empire
Lyes in thy Breast, and hangs upon thy Words.

Osm.
Still Babylon stands faithful to her Prince:
Unshaken yet, she sees our turban'd Hosts
Surround her Walls. Mean Time, the Persians arm:
From every Side their num'rous Bands advancing,
Move to her Aid; and each succeeding Morn,
Gain on the Sight, and thicken to the View.
The Sultan, weary'd with a fruitless Siege,
No more renews his vain Assaults; resolv'd
To wait their Arms before those lofty Bulwarks;
In one decisive Hour to try his Fate,
And fix at once the Empire of the East.

Acom.
Go on, my Soldier: I am all Attention.

Osm.
Since that, I little know. Long tedious Leagues
Divide this City from the Camp; each Day
New Obstacles have cross'd my speedy Course,
And intercepted all my Diligence.

Acom.
How do our Gallant Janizaries bear
Their great Imperial Master's jealous Eye?
Or is the Homage which they pay, Sincere?

Osm.
Proud Amurat puts on a pleasing Look,
And seems secure of Conquest; but in vain
He smooths his troubl'd Brow; the thin Disguise
Serves but to render him yet more suspected,
In vain he courts his hardy Janizaries:
Their Hearts are inaccessible: They think,
And think with secret Malice, on the Attempt
The Sultan made to break their Gallant Troops.
They fear him, Sir; and whom they fear, they hate.
I know they murmur at their Vizier's Absence;
And oftentimes regret those Days of Glory,
When you conducted them to certain Conquest.

Acom.
Dost thou then think, dear Osmyn, those bless'd Days
Still swell their Hearts, and make them full of me?
Think'st thou they still will follow where I lead,
And recognize once more their Vizier's Voice?

Osm.

Acom.
The Slave arriv'd, produc'd his fatal Orders:
But all in vain.—

Osm.
What! were they not obey'd?
How will he dare to lift his guilty Eyes
To his dread Master's Face? How will he dare
To tell him his Commands were disobey'd?

Acom.
That Slave is now no more: In the deep Euxine
Plung'd, he rests beneath the Waves.

Osm.
—Hah, Vizier!
'Twas rashly done. Stern Amurat impatient,
Will search the Cause, and soon chastise the Insult.
How will you answer this?

Acom.
I have not Time
To think on such a Trifle. Cares more weighty,
Of more Importance, fill each busy Moment.
I know fierce Amurat has sworn my Ruin:
Osmyn, when he returns, I die. The Sultan
Has labour'd to estrange the Soldiers Hearts
From their old Leader.—Yes, he seeks the Field,
The bloody Field, without his Vizier's Aid,
And leaves me here to drone away my Days
In Idleness and Ease, the fat Lieutenant
Of Luxury and Wealth, this City's Ruler.
But I more worthily employ'd my Leisure;
Have wrought him weighty Toils; a thousand Cares,
A thousand Fears, as wany jealous Doubts
Shall break at once upon his Quiet, Osmyn.
The glorious Treason soon will reach his Ears,
And sting him to the Soul.

Osm.
What have you done?
My Soul's alarm'd!

Acom.
This Day, this very Day,
Roxana will declare for Bajazet,
And place him on her absent Sultan's Throne.

Osm.
Roxana, Sir, whom Amurat has chose,
And singled from the Beauties of the Earth?
The brightest Virgins of the female World
Shine in his Court; yet he prefers Roxana:
Her Charms alone prevail'd to fix his Love;
Therefore he stil'd her Sultaness and Queen,
E're yet she paid the wonted Pledge, an Heir
To prop the Throne, and lengthen out his Race,
The Race of Ottoman, our Prophet's Lineage.

Acom.

Os.
Oh, that his Virtues grac'd our Prophet's Throne!

Acom.

Osm.
How durst she break at once thro' all those Guards,
Whose watchful Eyes observe this awful Palace?

Acom.

Osm.
What! Does the whole Seraglio know their Loves?

Acom.
Not the most watchful Mute suspects their Passion.
The fair, the soft Atalida receives
His ardent Vows, and bears them to Roxana:
That Virgin, to our Prophet's House ally'd,
Bred with the Prince, and Nurs'd within these Walls,
Assists the Lovers to conceal their Flame,
And feigns that Tenderness Roxana feels;
While Bajazet and the Sultana Queen
Both promise the young Princess to my Vows.

Osm.
How, Vizier! are you grown a Lover then?

Acom.
Canst thou believe, dear Osmyn, at this Age
I'll serve a vile Apprenticeship to Love,
And to a Woman's Will inthral my Manhood?
Think'st thou this Heart, steel'd with Fatigue and Years,
Harden'd in thirty Winters Camps, can stoop
To sigh and whine, and dote upon a Face?
No, no, thy Vizier rises in his Views,
A more exalted Passion fires my Breast.
I love in her the Blood from whence she springs;
Atalida will, by her Name, secure
My tow'ring Hopes; from these old Loins may rise
An Heir, to mount the Throne of Mahomet!

Os.
Oh, my lov'd General, greatly have you laid
The glorious Scheme, it animates my Soul.

Acom.
Thou know'st our Sultans of their Viziers jealous,
Thro' Fear or Avarice, cut short their Days.
Tho' Bajazet now courts me as his Friend,
(For Danger wakens Love) yet he, this Bajazet,
Once fix'd upon the Throne, may lay me by,
An idle Instrument of no Regard.
And shou'd my Councils thwart his Sovereign Will,
Or some untoward Humour stir his Choler,
And he demand my Head—I say no more.
I wou'd not fail in Duty to my Prince,
Nor forfeit the great Trust I hold beneath him:
But if, in some capricious Mood, his Power
Commands me not to Be—I boldly own,
I am not of that slavish vulgar Make,
To kneel and bow my Head, and bless the Bowstring.

Osm.
Bravely resolv'd—but wherefore wait we here?

Acom.
Behold this Place, that private Portal opens
On the Sultana's Bath; hither a Slave,
Thro' those dark winding Labyrinths that we pass'd,
Conducted first my Steps: and here Roxana,
Free from importunate and busy Spies,
Unfolds her secret Soul, and hears my Thoughts
Without restraint: Behold, ev'n now she comes;
Your Empress comes; and with her Fair Atalida,
Her faithful Friend. Stay Soldier, and support
My Speech, while I relate the News you bring.

SCENE II.

Acomat, Osmyn, Roxana, Atalida, Zatima and Zara.
Acomat
to Roxana.
Truth does at last accord with publick Fame:
Osmyn has seen the Sultan and his Army.
Proud Amurat, dissatisfy'd and cruel,
Has lost the Soldiers Hearts; they loudly call
For Bajazet to Reign. The Persian Armies
Are on their March, the Battles soon must join.
Perhaps ev'n now, on Babylon's wide Plain,
The mingling Squadrons bleed. Let us declare
For Bajazet, and save our sinking Nation.
The People idolize his very Name;
They know his Virtue is his only Crime:
I have inflam'd their giddy Minds with Rumours,
That Amurat disdains this antient City,
And will remove his Presence and his Throne
Far from Bysantium. Now, Roxana, now,
Produce the Sultan's Bloody Orders. Haste,
Show to the Peoples longing Eyes a Prince,
Whose Godlike Form intitles him to Empire.

Rox.
'Tis well! I will perform what I have promis'd
Brave Acomat, assemble all your Friends;
And let me know their final Resolutions.
I'll see the Prince once more. I know not yet,
But he disdains that Empire which I offer:
For his cold Heart seems not to court my Bounty.
Go, and return with Speed.

SCENE III.

Roxana, Atalida, Zatima, Zara.
Rox.
Atalida!
This Moment shall decide my Destiny.
My Mind has long been rack'd with doubtful Hope.
The Prince this Moment shall declare his Love;
To me declare.

Ata.
Roxana can you doubt it?
Haste and atchieve your glorious Work; oh raise
The godlike Youth to Liberty and Empire,
Now while the Day yet lives, to Morrow's Sun
His Liberty, his Life, may not be yours,
If haughty Amurat returns victorious,
Your Bajazet must bleed. Oh think on that.
Do not suspect his Heart; your eager Love
Is full of groundless Fears, I'll answer for him.

Roxa.
You then shall answer for him. Speak, Atalida,
Thinkst thou his Love sincere?

Ata.
Your generous Care,
What you have done, what you have Power to do,
His Danger and his Duty, all conspire
To fix his grateful Heart. Oh can you think,
Your bounteous Love will ever die within him?

Roxa.
Wou'd Heaven, for my Repose, I cou'd not think it!
Has Love once touch'd his Heart? How oft, my Friend,
Have I receiv'd from thee his tender Vows?
But when, assur'd and pleas'd, I saw the Prince
In secret; say, my dear Atalida,
Did he not seem all frozen? Cold Esteem
And distant Homage were the only Pledges
Of promis'd Love.—Where was that youthful Ardor,
With which you flatter'd my believing Heart?
I tell thee, e're I give him Life and Empire,
I shall require more ample Proofs of Love.

Ata.
What more can you require?

Roxa.
He shall espouse me.
This very Day I'll be his Queen, his Wife.

Ata.
His Wife!—Good Heav'n, how desperate is your Purpose!

Roxa.
I know our Empire's Laws are strong against me.
Proudly they speak, the Race of Ottoman
Shall ne'er be subject to the Bonds of Wedlock.
Tho' midst that Blaze of Beauty that attends him,
Our Sultan sometimes stoops to chuse a Fav'rite;
Yet still no Royal Honours grace her Bed:
The Slave receives a Master in her Arms.
And when her Youth hath strengthen'd with an Heir
The Throne of Mahomet, this empty Name
Of Sultaness is added.

Atal.
—Amurat
Disdain'd that you shou'd owe to ought but Love,
Your Titles. He has cloath'd them too with Power,
And made you Mistress of his Brother's Life.

Roxa.
Yet Amurat, bound down by Forms of Law,
Durst not crown all his Benefits with Marriage;
The only Blessing my Ambition courted.
This I expect from Bajazet: for him
My Heart, my Friends, my Soldiers, People, Mutes,
The Vizier, all are Traytors.

Ata.
Can you think
To save distressful Virtue is a Crime?

Roxa.
Will he refuse to break this odious Law?
Will he not join his Hand with mine in Wedlock?
Shou'd he once pause or trifle with my Passion,
That Moment, without thinking how I love,
Tho' Death, Despair attend me, I'll shake off
These fond Desires; and plunge him headlong down
The deep Abyss, that Dungeon of Distress,
From whence my Love has rais'd him. Go, Atalida,
Tell him, his Fate depends on his Compliance.

Ata.
I'll bring you his Resolves.

Roxa.
No, no, your Tongue
Expounds what he ne'er means. I'll see the Prince:
Tell him that Interview, that Point of Time,
Shall make us bless'd or wretched both for ever.

SCENE IV.

Atalida and Zara.
Ata.
Zara, 'Tis done, Atalida is lost.

Zara.
Yet think,—

Ata.
Alas, my Ruin lies before me:
And now my only Hope is my Despair.

Zara.
But recollect.

Ata.
Didst thou not hear Roxana?
How hard the Terms on which his Life depends!
She says the Prince shall perish or espouse her.
If he submits to wed her, (Killing Thought!)
How can I bear his Loss? Shou'd he refuse,
He dyes—Alas, how can I bear his Death?

Zara.
My Princess, you must still employ your Art
To feed Roxana's Passion with false Hopes.

Ata.
The Queen till now rely'd upon my Faith;
Contented by my Eyes to see the Prince,
And hear him by my Speech—Oh Zara! Friend!
I am to blame (tho' Love and Bajazet
Shou'd both excuse me) to betray Roxana.

Zara.
Think on your Rival's Power, and act with Caution.

Ata.

Zara.
Yet Bajazet, possess'd of Life and Empire,
May find a Time—

Ata.
I must avow my Weakness:
A thousand Jealousies disturb my Rest:
My Rival courts him with a Train of Honours;
Opposes Empire to my feeble Charms;
And tempts his Youth with all the Pomp of Glory.
—My only Bribes—are Sighs, and silent Tears.
Yet, Zara, 'twill be nobler to controul
These Sighs and Tears, and join to crown my Hero.
—It shall be so;—I'll counterfeit no more;
I'll plead his Cause in earnest. But Roxana
Will soon be undeceiv'd: That gallant Prince
Knows not to feign—Her disappointed Heart
Will ravage all, and turn to Hatred, Murther:
—Ah! whither will this wild Disorder drive me?
He must not die—Can'st thou deserve, fond Maid,
That he shou'd perish for thee?—

Zara.
—Oh! Conceal
These Tears, these jealous Pangs. They'll shew your Love.
Roxana's Interview with Bajazet
Will settle all your Doubts. Look up to Heav'n:
The Virtues of your Prince will still protect him.

Ata.
Oh! thou, who do'st thy righteous Justice prove
On Crimes of Falshood; if the Frauds of Love
Merit thy Wrath, yet soften the Decree;
Save him, and aim the vengeful Bolt at me.