 | Mustapha |  |
SCENE VIII.
Emira, Mustapha.Mustapha.
Emira!
Emira.
Prince!—what mean these eager tremblings?
This troubled silence?
Mustapha.
O my soul's best joy!
At sight of thee, I feel—I know not what:
My beating heart is all a soft confusion
Of fears and wishes, tenderness and tears—
Blest heaven!
Emira.
My Lord!—why are you thus alarm'd?
Ah! have you then deceiv'd me? Was the peace,
The reconcilement with your royal father
But feign'd to soothe me with betraying hopes?
Cruel—
Mustapha.
Emira, I am much to blame:
And manhood murmurs at the fond consent
That has expos'd thee, in this doubtful journey,
To danger and alarms. Love made me weak,
138
Emira.
Prince, why am I yours
But to divide your cares? to share your fortunes?
I feel no danger, Mustapha, but thine;
No fears but for thy safety.
Mustapha.
Knowing that,
I know too much, and therefore am most wretched!
Emira.
Ha! thou art pale—why dost thou hide thee from me?
What fatal change has happen'd?
Mustapha.
Dear Emira!
Thou amiable goodness! stop these tears.
There is no present danger; none, my love.
But let me place thee safe beyond the din,
Beyond the rage of war—for war is threaten'd.
Now while the friendly shades of night descend,
Let Achmet guide thee hence.
Emira.
Inhuman! oh—
You hide some horrid secret from mine ear.
What leave thee? fly with Achmet at this hour?
Must then Emira be the last to know,
She is for ever wretched?
Mustapha.
No, my Love:
Our parting shall be short—Nay hang not on me:
Resist not with thy tears. I must a while,
Refusing thee, deny my soul its comfort—
See Achmet comes.—'Tis well. Retire at once.
[Achmet whispers him.
Angels conduct thy steps!
Emira.
O lost Emira!
| Mustapha | |