University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Rustan, Mufti.
Rustan.
The night looks black and boding. Darkness fell
Precipitate and heavy o'er the world;
At once extinguishing the sun: and lo!
What clouds ascending deepen shade on shade.
Some ruffling storm is nigh. But are we safe?
Are we alone? I would be shrouded close
From mortal eye and ear. List—

Mufti.
All is still.

Rustan.
Then tell me—for my soul impatient longs
To hear the news—What has our dreaded Lord
At last resolv'd?

Mufti.
I follow'd to his tent.
The scene was terrible. His mind appear'd
A mighty ocean stir'd by fighting winds.
His pace uncertain, fury in his aspect,
His bosom heaving with convulsive thoughts,
By turns he cast his eyes severe on heaven;
By turns he bent them gloomy on the ground:
A pause of silence where dumb horror reign'd,
More wild and more expressive to the sight,
Than on the ear the storm of words can pour.

Rustan.
Proceed, my Lord.

Mufti.
At last, in broken sounds
By passion render'd vehement, and low;
“Mufti, he cry'd, how says our sacred law?
“What doom inflicts it on a trusted slave,
“Who plots destruction to his master's house?
“In close conjunction with their foe profest,
“A rancorous heretic—”

Rustan.
He meant the Persian;
Who long has courted Mustapha in private.
Well, you reply'd—

Mufti.
His blood be on my head.
Thus stain'd and black with complicated guilt,
He merits more than death; chief for his league
With heretics, a race on earth abhor'd,
Accurst of heaven.

Rustan.
Ay, that was well, my Lord;
And after Solyman's own heart. I hope
You urg'd it home with weight of argument.

Mufti.
I did: and prov'd all heresy more black,
More pestilent, than even the false belief
Of Christian dogs. He bow'd his head profound,
Invoking heaven, attesting Mahomet:
And cry'd—“This son must perish. Not a world,
“A pleading world should save him from my justice.”
Then order'd his confinement.

Rustan.
Ha! confinement?
By Azrael, the angel that must sever
His soul and mortal part! I was in hopes,
His execution, Mufti, had been order'd.
This tardy vengeance dashes half my joys:
'Tis dangerous, and may be deadly to us.
Would I had ne'er embarqu'd on this wild sea,
Where tempest ever rages!—conscience too
Now sharpens all her stings—

Mufti.
Away, my Lord;
What are you doing but what thousand statesmen,
Who liv'd and died in fame, have done before you?
He shall not scape. I have fresh accusations,
That with the Sultan's piety will weigh
More strong than all his crimes. This Mustapha
Is a rank unbeliever.

Rustan.
How, my Lord?
This news revives my heart.

Mufti.
Inflam'd with zeal,
And holy hatred to the foes of heaven,
Jews, Christians, who pollute our pious land,
I would have wrought that boy to prompt his father
In giving to the sword those infidels.
What was his answer, think you?

Rustan.
I can guess:
Some libertine reply.

Mufti.
'Twas most profane!
He pointed to a plain that lay before us,
Profusely gay with flowers—“Admire, he cry'd,
“Wise nature's various hand: a thousand colors
“A thousand odors, greet the sight and smell.
“Fair suns arise, and genial dews descend
“To foster all alike: and in return,
“They waft their mingled incense to the sky,
“A grateful offering there. Perhaps 'tis so
“With difference in opinions: this at least,
“They have their use; nor shall they want protection,
“While those who hold them live, as subjects should,
“In amity and peace, promoting each
“The general wealth, observant of the laws,
“And to their sovereign true.”—He said: and turn'd
Abruptly from me, frowning scorn and anger.

Rustan.
I thank thee for this news: but go, my Lord,
Watch near the Sultan's door. I will the while
Walk here and meditate.

SCENE II.

Rustan.
Uncertainty!
Fell demon of our fears! the human soul,
That can support despair, supports not thee!
The son yet lives—the father may relent:
What then becomes of Rustan?—By the night!
By this dead darkness that involves the world!
The murderer, in some lonesome dungeon sunk,
Not with more dread, more shaking apprehension,
Awaits the hour, the midnight hour that brings
Back from his tomb, in hideous visitation,
The bleeding Shadow of the slain—than I
The issue of this thing.—Hush—

SCENE III.

Roxolana, Rustan.
Roxolana.
Rustan! speak,
Say, is it done?

Rustan.
O would to heaven it were!
Or ne'er had been attempted!

Roxolana.
Be of courage.
Expect the fatal mandate that at once
Will end all fears.

Rustan.
I wait it with the dread,
The agoniz'd impatience of a man
Who listens for the sentence that must save,
Or end his being—Sure I heard a noise!

Roxolana.
Let not vain terrors of the night destroy
Thy strength of reason. Arm thee for th' event.
Where is Prince Zanger?

Rustan.
Madam, we are observ'd.
'Tis he—

Roxolana.
Leave us.—I see him much disturb'd.

SCENE IV.

Roxolana, Zanger.
Roxolana,
after a pause.
Why art thou silent? What hath mov'd thee thus?

Zanger.
I would have read my sentence in your eyes;
Whether they doom your son to life or death.

Roxolana.
What wouldst thou say?

Zanger.
O hear me; hear and save:
Screen my lov'd brother from the shameful fate
That hovers o'er him. Fly, prevent a father—
You only can—from plunging into blood:
And from the sting of conscience that will goad him
To his last hour.

Roxolana.
Zanger, I know thy follies.
Deaf to ambition's glorious call, and blind
To sovereign power that spreads its dazling charms,
The ruling sceptre, starry diadem,
Before thy sight and now within thy reach;
Unspirited and poor! thou wouldst depend
For food and raiment on another's nod:
Grow basely old, unactive, lost to fame,
Nor know the peasant's privilege, to eat
Thy wretched meal secure: but still unsafe,
And trembling still, each fearful hour expect,
As rage or caprice guides thy tyrant's will,
The bowl or poniard.

Zanger.
Be more just to both.
Nor would I suffer, nor will he impose,
Such brutal treatment. O you know him not:
A soul with every goodness, every worth,
Enrich'd, accomplish'd—

Roxolana.
I will hear no more.
A mother's fondness for thee bids me pity
What else my heart would scorn: and leave thy blindness
To its due portion of contempt and wrongs.
Shake off this dull simplicity of soul,
Unworthy me, defeating all my schemes
For empire and for glory. Every aim,
Th' important travel of my thoughts, is all
For thee alone. Awake, expand thy views
To greatness, and deserve my noble cares.

Zanger.
O sacred honor! does some dire illusion
Dazle my sense?—I view my self with horror!
Heaven! was I born to be the bane of virtue?
To banish from her heart, who gave me life,
All human thoughts? all goodness?

Roxolana.
Thou hast learnt
Of Mustapha! and art, I find, right apt
To profit by such lessons!—yet—be wise:
He who adopts his crimes may share his fate!

Zanger.
What are his crimes?

Roxolana.
His birth-right. He was born
To reign thy master: he might live to see
A slave in Roxolana.

Zanger.
Yet, 'tis heaven,
Not Mustapha, you should accuse.

Roxolana.
Accuse?
No; fruitless, fond complaining suits not me.
I will prevent, and punish.

Zanger.
Then strike here:
I am the criminal.

Roxolana.
Thy folly is;
Thy milky softness uninform'd, unwarm'd
By brave ambition.

Zanger.
Rather say, not sear'd
By hate, not savag'd by remorseless rage.

Roxolana.
How! does thy madness lose all reverent sense
Of love and duty to a parent due?
Unnatural and ingrate!

Zanger.
What is my fault?

Roxolana.
All I am doing for thee.

Zanger.
Have I wish'd?
Have I contriv'd that guilt?

Roxolana.
Yet is it thine.
The guilt is his who profits by it.

Zanger.
No:
Such gains my soul renounces. Can a world
A purchas'd world advantage him, who pays
His virtue for the purchase?—Yet recall,
My mother, O recall your better mind,
[he kneels.
That feeling pity, that soft sense of goodness,
The grace and glory of the gentler sex.
Now, Madam, while the Sultan's awful will
Yet wavers unresolv'd; address his mercy,
His justice, save him from the worst of crimes!
These moments are most precious—

Roxolana.
Zanger, rise,
And heedful mark me—'tis my last advice,
My kindest—Rouse thee from this dreaming fondness,
This soul-debasing narrowness of purpose.
Resolve to second me, to aid my views;
Or share thy brother's fate.

Zanger.
His fate I envy.
He dies with all his virtue, all his fame:
Nor is his parting soul insulted, poison'd,
By such dire offers—Gracious heaven!

Roxolana.
Go on.

Zanger.
I dare not: nature, honor, cheque my tongue.

Roxolana.
'Tis well—thou voluntary wretch! henceforth
I hold thee as an alien to my love.
Tremble. This hand may send thee—

Zanger.
Should it prove
Another murderous present—

Roxolana.
Ha!

Zanger.
'Twould be
More welcome than an empire on such terms.

Roxolana.
Thy choice be thine. I cast thee from my heart;
Renounce thee; know thee for no son of mine.
Thou slave in soul! this moment is thy last:
This moment joins thee to thy brother's doom!
[returning.
Zanger—be warn'd.—I feel I love thee still—
The mother rises o'er the woman's rage,
And bids me spare thee—'Tis thy cause I plead—
Inhuman! why are all my cares, my labors,
If not for thee!—Reply not: but obey—
Thou seest my tears: in them the parent see—
Distract me not: my life is in thy hands,
My fame, my all on earth!—Remember too,
That from this hour my blessing, or my curse,
Is thine for ever!

SCENE V.

Zanger.
O there needs not that:
'Tis curse enough that I was born of thee.
Supreme Disposer of the world!—But no;
I dare not imprecate thy vengeance here!
What can I more? My thoughts are one wild whirl
Of horror and despair—Ah Princess!

SCENE VI.

Emira, Zanger.
Emira.
Brother!
Where is my Lord?—They would have torn me hence;
Have carried me to safe inglorious distance:
Love would not hear of parting!

Zanger.
Heaven and earth
Conspire against us! Whither shall I turn me?
What shall I counsel thee—But see—the Sultan!

Emira.
Ah where?

Zanger.
Emira—on this moment hangs
Our last, our only hope.—Fall at his knees,
Beseech, adjure him. Youth and grace like thine
May reach his soul, and melt him into nature.
Disclose thy story: tell him with thy tears,
With all the moving softness of distress,
The secret of your hearts. Who knows but heaven
May greatly interpose its sovereign aid
For injur'd virtue and imploring love—
But I must hence unseen.

Emira.
Alarming tryal!

SCENE VII.

Solyman, Emira.
Solyman.
In change of place there is no change of pain.
Contending passions urging each its claim,
Tear up my bosom with intestine war.
Shall treason go unpunish'd? Shall I dip
My hands in filial blood? O fatal choice!
O cruel conflict! Have I liv'd till now
A parent—not a murderer? Must I late,
When my white age is bending to the grave,
Pollute me with that stain?—O Mustapha!
Thou hast undone my fame—
What bright unknown
Attracts my eyes, and charms away my rage.
Fancy not fairer paints those heaven-born maids,
Daughters of paradise, for ever young,
For ever blooming; who on beds of flowers,
By streams of living waters, soft repose
To crown th' immortal bliss of happy souls
With raptures unconceiv'd—She kneels! and weeps!

Emira.
O royal Solyman—

Solyman.
Say, beauteous maid,
What may this posture mean?

Emira.
Supreme of monarchs,
Renown'd for virtues, greatly good and just,
Let not a helpless stranger plead in vain!
I beg for mercy.

Solyman.
Mercy? Can thy youth,
Can charms like thine want honor? want protection?
You must not kneel.

Emira.
Unhappy Mustapha—

Solyman.
Ha! what of him?

Emira.
Is innocent, my Lord;
Is clear of every crime against a father,
Whom more than life he loves.

Solyman.
This would be scan'd.
You know him then.

Emira.
Believe these streaming eyes;
Truth is not fairer, nor is faith more loyal.
O by your just renown, by all your hopes
Of peace on earth, of paradise on high,
Be timely warn'd: revoke the dreadful doom,
That, giving him to death, will ruin you!
Will kill your sweet repose of heart for ever!

Solyman.
Amazement all!—Thy words, thy mournful action
Confound my thought. Say, speak, how is the fate
Of Mustapha thy care?

Emira.
O Solyman!
O father of th'unhappy—

Solyman.
O my soul!
What can she mean?—Go on.

Emira.
O pardon him!
Have pity on us both!—I am—his wife—

Solyman.
Confusion!—wife!

Emira.
Arm not your eye with anger.
If 'tis a crime—revenge it all on me:
And in my gushing blood—

Solyman.
Rack me no more.
Resume thy senses: tell me who thou art.

Emira.
Alas, my Lord, you tremble with your passion.
But hear me with indulgence—By the love
I bear your son; th' observant faith we both
Profess for Solyman—all may be well.
I bring the noblest dowry to his arms;
Peace to your realms, a potent monarch's friendship
On happy terms obtain'd.

Solyman.
Am I awake?
Speak, speak, and ease my soul.

Emira.
I am—

Solyman.
Well, say.

Emira.
The Sophy's daughter.

Solyman.
Ha!

Emira.
The eldest born
Of Persia—

Solyman.
Hell and horror! heard I true?
Of Persia? daughter of my mortal foe?—
At length his treasons all are come to light—
Perfidious! lying slave!

Emira.
O no, my Lord:
By him who sees the soul, he is not false.
He never knew a thought—

Solyman.
Away—he dies!
Should I and all my kingdoms perish with him.
What hoa—Conduct her to the womens' tent:
Let Roxolana keep her safe.—'Tis done.
The conflict's ended. Osman—

SCENE VIII.

Solyman, Osman.
Solyman.
Art thou privy
To this conspiracy?

Osman.
My Lord?

Solyman.
I stood
Even on the verge, th' extremest verge of fate:
And one step more—I doubted her I love,
Her who has sav'd me—Osman, he shall die!
Call Rustan; bid the mutes be ready—Stay.
This cool dissembler, this smooth hypocrite,
What can he now alledge?—Bring him before me.

Osman.
Whom, gracious Sir?

Solyman.
Him.—Dost thou linger, slave?
This rage disturbs my reason.—Mustapha.
O wretched Solyman!

SCENE IX.

Solyman, Mustapha.
Mustapha.
You speak not, Sir;
You see me not. If I appear before you,
Tho' guiltless, with confusion; not these bonds,
Nor what more fatal may ensue alarms me:
The man who knows no crime should know no fear:
And yet a father's frown can shake my heart.
Sir, if I may be heard; if innocence
Thus wrong'd and suffering—

Solyman.
I will cheque the storm
That heaves within, and would o'erflow all bounds.
Justice alone shall try him and condemn.
And yet—shall treason thus, detected treason,
Profane the language of fair loyalty?

Mustapha.
Treason! O by my soul's immortal life,
This curst sedition less offended you,
Than it afflicted your unhappy son.

Solyman.
Of that my heart has labour'd to acquit thee.
Turn this way: raise thine eyes aloft to mine,
And fix their beams with steady gaze upon me—
“Who knows no crime, thou sayst, should know no fear.”
Now answer me—Art thou not join'd in league?
In hellish compact with thy father's foes?
Art thou not—married?

Mustapha.
Heaven!

Solyman.
Ha! does this truth
Flash just conviction on thee? strike thee dumb?
Now, whither is thy confidence of tongue,
Thy daring licence fled?

Mustapha.
Then—farewel, Hope!
Yet—let me die the same I still have liv'd,
Above all falsehood, all dissimulation.
I am, my Lord: and but for that mad tumult,
Which broke our evening's talk abruptly off,
(So angry heaven decreed) I had even then,
In all the plainness of discovery, laid
The secret at your feet; from full belief,
My action, try'd by candor as by justice,
Must have procur'd forgiveness to my self;
And to Emira, crown'd with every grace,
With every virtue bright, your tenderest love.
May I proceed!

Solyman.
Proceed? What canst thou add,
What can I hear, but rising proofs on proofs,
That I am miserable, thou most base?

Mustapha.

Solyman.
Well—thou hast said.
Is there aught more?

Mustapha.
My Lord, to life or death
Indifferent, as impatient of dishonor,
Resign'd, unfearing, I expect my fate.
But oh—Emira!—On my knee, for her,
Who but for being mine had been most happy,
I beg a father's dear regard.

Solyman.
Retire.

SCENE X.

Solyman.
[Rustan enters at a distance.

SCENE XI.

Rustan.
That were well.
They shall be ready: Roxolana too
Shall fix the great resolve. Arise, ye powers,
Who aid conspiracy in her sad musings;
Engage his head, his heart, till this be done,
And crown the work of fate your selves begun.