University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A Plain the whole Length of the Stage. One Side lined with Christian, the other with Turkish Soldiers.
Enter Visier and Paulinus.
Vis.
Already has the Trumpet's lofty Sound
From either Camp twice eccho'd thro' the Plain;
At the third Summons both the Kings appear.
May gracious Heav'n, in Pity to Mankind,
Incline their Breasts to sheath the Sword, to stop
The Tide of Blood, and give the World repose.

Paul.
What may we not expect from such a Treaty?
And yet the Caution us'd on either Side
To guard against Surprize, betrays Distrust.

Vis.
A thousand Injuries, suppos'd or real,
With keen Resentment whet each jealous Chief,
And seem to urge Suspicion.

Paul.
Scipio,
And the fierce African, whom he subdu'd,
With greater Ardor never strove t'attain
For Rome, or Carthage, universal Sway;
Than your great Sultan to impose the Yoke
Of Arbitrary Power and make Men Slaves;
Or our brave Prince to guard their Liberties,
Or break their Chains and purchase Freedom for 'em.

Vis.
Then their known Zeal for their respective Faith
Must yet much farther alienate their Minds.

Paul.
'Tis hardly to be thought a youthful Hero,
With Victories replete, will stoop to take
Abject Conditions from a beaten Foe.

Vis.
Or that an artful Prince will fail t'improve
Ev'ry Advantage to increase his Power.

Paul.
Fortune stands neuter, and impartial Heaven
Holds with an equal Hand the trembling Beam:
Superior Wisdom, Fortitude, and Courage
Must turn the Scale. (Trumpets.)
But see their Guards appear.
The great Intelligencies that inform
The Planetary Worlds, if such there be,
With all their vast Experience might attend
This Interview, and pass improv'd away.

Enter Amurath, Scanderbeg, Mahomet, Aranthes, Amasie, &c.
Am.
Doth it not swell thy fond, ambitious Heart?
Dost thou not burst with Pride, vain Boy, to see
The Majesty of hoary Amurath,
Whose numerous Years are fewer than his Conquests,
Reduc'd to Terms, and stoop to treat with thee?

Scan.
With Gratitude and Wonder I confess
Myself th' unworthy Instrument of Heaven,
To scourge thy Falshood, Cruelty and Pride,
And free a Virtuous People from thy Chains.
With Pity I behold your fierce Impatience,
Your Arrogance and Scorn; ev'n while the Hand
Of righteous Heaven is heavy on thy Crimes,
And deals thee forth a Portion of those Woes,
Which thy relentless Heart, with lawless Lust
And never sated Avarice of Power,
Has spread o'er half the habitable Earth.

Am.
And must I answer to thy bold Impeachment?
Thou Infidel relasp'd! thou very Christian!
Without Distinction and without a Name
But what implies thy Guilt. In vain thy Flatt'rers
Proclaim thee King of Macedon, Epirus,
Illyria, Albania and Dalmatia;
Gain'd by Surprize, by Treachery and Fraud;
What art thou but the more exalted Traytor?

Scan.
Let abject Minds, the Slaves of mean Ambition,
Affect vain Titles and external Pomp!
And take the Shadow for substantial Glory.
Superior Birth, unmerited Success,
The Name of Prince, of Conqueror and King,
Are Gifts of Fortune and of little Worth.
They may be, and too often are, possest
By sordid Souls, who know no Joy but Wealth;
By ri'tous Fools, or Tyrants drench'd in Blood;
A Cræsus, Alexander, or a Nero.
The Best are sure the greatest of Mankind.
Our Actions form our Characters. Let me
Approve myself a Christian and a Soldier,
And Flatt'ry cannot add, or Envy take
Ought that I wish to have, or fear to lose.

Am.
Canst thou behold unmov'd, thou steady Traytor,
Thy most munificent and loving Patron,
Prest with the Weight of more than fourscore Years,
With feeble Hands compell'd to reassume
The stubborn Reins of Power, and taste again,
When Appetite is pall'd, the bitter Sweets
Of Sovereign Command? Shou'd I descend
To reason with thee, what cou'dst thou reply?
Have I not been a Father to thy Youth?
Did I not early form thy Mind to Greatness,
And teach thy Infant Hands the Use of Arms?
Tho' the unerring Maxims of our State,
(The only Rule of Right and Wrong in Courts)
Had mark'd thee for Destruction; still I spar'd thee.
Trusted, belov'd, advanc'd thou hast betray'd me.
First seiz'd the Provinces you call'd your own,
Then join'd my Foes to rob me of my Fame;
The perjur'd Uladislaus, fierce Hunniades,
And the Venetians, who have since forsook thee.
Tho' to remote Magnesia I retir'd,
Quitting the Toils of Empire to my Son,
To seek for Rest and find a peaceful Grave;
Yet there the Cries and Clamours of my Slaves,
Who fled the Terrors of thy dreadful Name,
Forbad their old o'erlabour'd King Repose;
Forc'd me once more in hostile Steel to cloth
These weary Limbs, and rouse to their Defence.
But that thy Soul is lost to all Remorse
Thy black Ingratitude must fright thyself?

Scan.
Can all your Kingdoms bribe the Voice of Truth?
Which, while you speak, pleads for me in your Breast;
Or Rage efface the Mem'ry of your Guilt,
More than ten thousand Witnesses against thee?
But Slander, like the loathsome Leper's Breath,
Infects the Healthful with its poisonous Steams,
Unless repell'd, and bids me guard my Fame.
My Ancestors for Ages fill'd this Throne,
A brave, a virtuous, legal Race of Princes,
No arbitrary Tyrants; the same Laws,
That made them Kings, declar'd their People free
My Royal Father, fam'd for his Success
In War and Love of Peace, had govern'd long;
When with resistless Force your conquering Troops
Pour'd like a Deluge o'er the Realms of Greece:
To save his People from impending Ruin,
At your Request, the pious, gen'rous Prince
Gave up his Sons as Hostages of Peace.
He died—the best of Kings and Men. O Castriot?
I were unworthy of thy Race and Name
Cou'd I unmov'd remember thou'rt no more—
I wou'd have said, he died in firm Reliance
On your Promise given, your Faith and Honour;
But sure the Memory of such a Loss
May well o'er-bear, and drive me from my Purpose.
'Twas then in Scorn of ev'ry Obligation,
Of Truth and Justice, Gratitude and Honour,
Of noblest Trust and Confidence repos'd;
You like a lawless, most perfidious Tyrant,
Amidst her Griefs, seiz'd on his Widow'd Kingdom;
And to secure your lawless Acquisition.—
Oh! how shall I proceed!—My bleeding Heart
Is pierc'd anew, new Horrors wound my Soul
At every Pause; whenever I rehearse,
Whene'er I think upon thy monst'rous Crimes—
O Reposio! Stanissa! Constantine!
My slaughter'd Brothers, whose dear Blood still cries
Aloud to Heaven;—Your Wrongs shall find Redress.
Justice, defer'd, deals forth the heavier Blow.

Am.
Shall the great Monarchs of our sublime Race
Cut off their Brothers, when they mount the Throne,
Yet spare the Lives of Christians they suspect:
Their Death was wife, and I approve it yet,
But curse my Folly that preserv'd thy Life.

Scan.
What was then my Life? debarr'd of my Right,
And kept t'augment the Number of your Slaves.
The only Benefit you e'er confer'd,
Was that you train'd me to the Use of Arms:
You had my Service and was overpay'd;
Yet those whom I oppos'd were, like yourself,
Tyrants, who made a Merchandize of Men;
And propagate Religion by the Sword.
Ever determin'd not to stain my Hands
With Christian Blood, when you commanded me
To turn my Arms against th'Hungarian King
I purpos'd from that Hour, by Heaven's Assistance,
At once t'avoid the Guilt and free my Country.

Am.
O Traytor! dost thou glory in thy Shame?
Think not I have forgot thy vile Declension.
Yes on that fatal, that detested Day,
When deep Moravia's Waves, died with the Blood
Of forty Thousand of my faithful Slaves,
Losing their Azure, flow'd in purple Tides;
Too well I know, thou didst forsake thy Charge;
And e're the News of thy Revolt arriv'd,
Surpriz'd my Bassa that commanded here;
Drove out my Garrisons, and ravish'd from me
This fair and fertile Kingdom.

Scan.
False Aspersion!
The Charge impos'd was ne'er accepted by me.
I arm'd my Subjects for their common Rights.
The Love of Liberty, that fired their Souls,
That made them worthy, crown'd them with Success.
I did my Duty—'Twas but what I ow'd
To Heaven, an injur'd People and myself.

Am.
You will be justified in all that's past:
But I shall bend thy stubborn Temper yet—
I know the Worth of those dear Pledges now
Within my Power. Thou know'st me too—Then think
And yield in Time, while Mercy may be had.

Scan.
I know your Mercy by my Brothers Fate.

Am.
Then you may judge the future by the past.

Scan.
Tho' Pity be a Stranger to your Breast,
Your present dang'rous State may teach you Fear.

Am.
Danger and I have been acquainted long;
Full oft Pave met her in the bloody Field,
And drove her back with Terror on my Foes:
Your other Phantom, Fear, I know her not;
Or in thy Visage I behold her now.

Scan.
I fear not for myself.

Am.
Yet still thou fear'st.
Confess thyself subdu'd and sue for Favour.

Scan.
When I submit to Guilt,—I'll own your Conquest.

Am.
Think on your Friends.

Scan.
Afflictions are no Crimes.

Am.
You wou'd redeem them!

Scan.
Yes; on any Terms,
That Honour may permit, and Justice warrant.

Am.
Hear the Conditions then.

Scan.
Why sinks my Heart?
Why do I tremble thus? When at the Head
Of almost twice a hundred Thousand Souls
I with a Handful charg'd this fierce old Chief,
Thou art my Witness, Heav'n, I fear'd him not.

(Aside.
Am.
When I look back on what you were before
Your late Revolt, charmed with the pleasing View,
I wish to see those glorious Days restor'd;
When I with Honour may indulge my Bounty,
And make you great and happy as you're brave.

Scan.
Flattery!—Nay, then he's dangerous indeed!

(Aside.
Am.
Renounce the Errors of the Christian Sect,
And be instructed in the Law profest
By Ishmael's Holy Race; that Light divine,
That darts from Mecca's ever sacred Fane,
T'illuminate the darken'd Souls of Men,
And fill 'em with its Brightness.

Scan.
O Althea!

(Aside.
Am.
Break your Alliance with the Christian Princes,
And let my Foes be thine.

Scan.
That follows well;
Th'abandon'd Wretch, that breaks his Faith with Heav'n,
Will hardly stop at any future Crime.

(Aside.
Am.
Forego th' Advantage, that your Arms have won,
Give up this little Part of spacious Greece,
It's Cities and it's People to my Power:
And in Return reign thou my Substitute
O'er all my conquer'd Provinces in Europe,
From Adrianople to the Walls of Buda.

Scan.
Assist me Heav'n! assist me to suppress
The rising Indignation in my Breast,
That struggles, heaves and rages for a Vent—
Aranthes! Althea! How shall I preserve you?

(Aside.
Vis.
He's greatly mov'd, his Visage flames with Wrath.

Ama.
Just so he looks when rushing on the Foe,
The eager Blood starts from his trembling Lips.

Am.
I wait your Resolution.

Scan.
Three Days the Truce concluded is to last;
That Space I ask to answer your Demands.

Am.
'Tis well; enjoy your Wish—but yet remember
Honour and Int'rest, Gratitude and Love
Bleed while you pause, and press you to comply.
Farther, to favour you in all I may,
Aranthes shall attend you to your Camp:
Consult, resolve, your Interests are the same;
Althea justly claims the Care of both.

[Exit Amurath, &c.
Scan.
O thou, who art my Righteousness and Strength,
Distress'd and tempted, still in thee I trust:
The Pilot, when he sees the Tempest rise,
And the proud Waves insult the low'ring Skies,
Fix'd to the Helm, looks to that Power to lay
The raging Storm, whom Winds and Seas obey.

[Exit Scanderbeg, &c.
Amasie
alone.
Shou'd he comply? as sure he's hardly press'd;
Restor'd to Favour, where is my Revenge?
He's but a Man—less tempted I fell worse;
But I'm not Scanderbeg—Say, he refuses;
It follows that the Sultan in his Rage,
Murthers the Captives, tho' we all shou'd perish.
Which Side soe'er I view, I like it not.
There is no Peace for me, while Castriot lives;
Plagued and distress'd, he soars above me still;
Insults my Hate, and awes me with his Virtue.
His Virtue! Ha! How have I dreamt till now,
How 'scap'd the Thought? His Virtue shall betray him.
Hypocrisy, that with an Angel's Likeness
May well deceive the Wisdom of an Angel,
Shall re-instate me in his gen'rous Heart:
Which if I fail to pierce, may all the Ill
I ever wish'd to him fall on myself.—
Th'amorous Prince—I know his haughty Soul
Ill brooks his subtle Father's peaceful Schemes.
He loves Althea, and depeuds on me
T'assist his Flame.

Enter Mahomet.
Ma.
Amasie, what Success?
You saw the Captive Princess—

Ama.
Yes, my Lord.

Ma.
Curse on the jealous Customs of our Court:
Why is that Privilege deny'd to me?

Ama.
You know why I'm indulg'd.

Ma.
'Tis true, but say,
What hast thou done that may advance my Hopes?

Ama.
I've thought, my Lord—

Ma.
What tell'st thou me of thoughts!
Hast thou not spoke?—what says the charming Fair?
—Shall I be blest?

Ama.
Spoke, what? Alas! my Prince!
How little do you know that haughty Christian?
Bred in the rigid Maxims of her Sect,
Chaste as its Precepts, most severely vertuous,
Althea, wou'd treat me with the last Contempt,
Shou'd I but name your gen'rous Passion to her;
And proudly term it shameful and unjust.

Ma.
Now as you wou'd avoid a Prince's Hatred,
That must one Day command you; or expect
E'er to attain my Sister's Love, the Scope
Of your Ambition, aid me with your Counsel.
My Blood's on Fire, and I will quench the Flame,
Tho' universal Ruin shou'd insue.
By Heaven I will; I'll plunge in Seas of Bliss,
And with repeated Draughts of Cordial Love,
Expell the raging Fever from my Veins.

Ama.
Glorious Mischief!— (Aside.)
If I judge right her Will
Is ne'er to be subdu'd, you can't possess
Her Mind, my Lord—and without that you know—

Ma.
Her Mind! a Shadow! Give me solid Joys,
And let her Christian Minion take the Rest.
I love her for myself; my Appetite
Must be appeas'd, or live my constant Plague.
Let me but clasp her in my longing Arms,
Press her soft Bosom to my panting Breast,
And crown my Wishes; tho' attain'd by Force,
Tho' amidst Strugglings, Shrieks and gushing Tears;
Or while she faints beneath my strong Embrace,
And I have all my raging Passions crave.

Am.
Already I've conceiv'd the Means to serve you,
But Time must give th' imperfect Embryo Form,
And hail th' auspicious Birth.

Ma.
She's justly mine,
The Purchase of my Sword. Our Prophet thus,
By manly Force all prior Right destroy'd;
Power was his Claim; he conquer'd and enjoy'd:
Beauty and Fame alike his Ardor mov'd;
Fiercely he fought, and as he fought he lov'd.