 | Mahomet The Imposter |  |
44
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Mahomet's Apartment.MAHOMET
alone.
Ambition knows not Conscience—Well, this Zaphna
Is fix'd at length—I lesson'd him so home,
Dealt to his young enthusiastick Soul
Such Promises and Threats—
Enter MIRVAN.
Mirvan, what News?
Mir.
O, Mahomet, I fear the Nice-wov'n Web
Of our Design's unravell'd. E'er thy Spirit
Had reinflam'd young Zaphna with the Thirst
Of old Alcanor's Blood, he had reveal'd
The dreadful Purpose to Hercides—
Mah.
Hah!
Mir.
Hercides loves the Youth, and Zaphna still
Has held him as a Father.
Mah.
That, I like not.
What does Hercides say? thinks he with us?
Mir.
O no; he trembles at the very Thought
Of this dread Scene, compassionates Alcanor,
And—
Mah.
He's but half a Friend then, and half-Friend
Is not a Span from Traitor. Mirvan, Mirvan,
A dangerous Witness must be someway dealt with;
Am I obey'd?
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'Tis done.
Mah.
Then for the rest—
Or e'er the Harbinger of 'Morrow's Dawn
Gleam in the East, Alcanor thou must set,
Or Mahomet and all his Hopes must perish.
That's the first Step then—Zaphna, next for thee.
Soon as thy Hands have dealt the midnight Mischief,
In thy own Blood the Secret must be drown'd.
Thus quit of Son and Father (those curst Rivals
Who elbow me at once in Love and Grandeur,)
Both Mecca, and Palmira, shall be mine.
O tow'ring Prospect! How it fills the Eye
Of my aspiring, and enamour'd Soul!
Night, put on double Sable, that no Star
May be a Spy on those dark Deeds—Well, Mirvan,
Shall we accomplish this?
Mir.
We shall, my Chief.
Mah.
What tho' I seize his Life from whom she sprung?
He's not her Father as she knows it not.
Trust me, those partial Ties of Blood, and Kindred,
Are but th'illusive Taints of Education:
What we call Nature is mere Habit, Mirvan;
That Habit's on our Side; for the whole Study
Of this young Creature's Life has been Obedience;
To Think, Believe, and Act, as pleasur'd me.
But hold, the Hour, on which our Fortune hangs,
Is now at Hand. While Zaphna seeks the Temple,
Let us look round us, see that not a Wheel
Lag in the vast Machine we have at Work.
It is Success that consecrates our Actions.
The vanquish'd Rebel as a Rebel dies;
The Victor-Rebel plumes him on a Throne.
[Exeunt.
46
Enter ZAPHNA, with a drawn Sword in his Hand.
Zaph.
Well then, it must be so; I must discharge
This cruel Duty—Mahomet enjoins it,
And Heav'n thro' him demands it of my Hands.
Horrid, tho' sacred Act!—My Soul shrinks back,
And won't admit Conviction—Ay, but Heav'n!
Heav'n's Call I must obey—O dire Obedience,
What dost thou cost me? My Humanity!
Why, Duty, art thou thus at War with Nature?
Enter PALMIRA.
Thou here, Palmira! O! what fatal Transport
Leads thee to this sad Place, these darks Abodes,
Sacred to Death? Thou hast no Business here.
Pal.
O Zaphna, Fear, and Love, have been my Guides.
What horrid Sacrifice is this enjoin'd thee?
What Victim does the God of Mahomet
Claim from thy tender Hand?
Zaph.
My Guardian Angel
On whose Determination ever turns
The Hinge of my Elections; speak, resolve me;
How can Assassination be a Virtue?
How can the gracious Parent of Mankind
Delight in Mankind's Suff'rings? May'nt this Prophet,
This great Announcer of his heav'nly Will,
Mistake it once?
Pal.
O tremble to Examine.
He sees our Hearts—To Doubt, is to Blaspheme.
Zaph.
Be steady then my Soul, firm to thy Purpose,
And let Religion steel thee against Pity.
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And meet the Doom thy Rebel Faith deserves;
Come forth, Alcanor.
Pal.
Who? Alcanor!
Zaph.
Yes.
Pal.
The good Alcanor!
Zaph.
Why d'ye call him Good?
Can Impious have fellowship with Good?
Curse on his Pagan Virtues! He must die;
So Mahomet commands. And yet, methinks,
Some other Deity arrests my Arm,
And whispers to my Heart—Zaphna, forbear.
Pal.
Distracting State!
Zaph.
Alas, my dear Palmira,
I'm weak, and shudder at this bloody Bus'ness:
Yet the Behest of Heav'n, howe'er it seem
To cross on Nature, or take captive Reason,
Is sacred to the Will, and claims Obedience.
Help me, O help, Palmira; I am torn,
Distracted with this Conflict in my Breast.
I'd not be barbarous, nor sacrilegious;
I find, I wear not an Assassin's Heart,
Yet Heav'n here bids me wear Assassin's Hands.
Zeal, Horror, Love, and Pity seize my Breast,
And drag it diff'rent ways. Alas, Palmira,
You see me tossing on a Sea of Passions,
An Ebb and Flow of Contrarieties,
Which now seem kindly wafting me to Shore,
And the next Moment plunge me back again
Into the Bosom of th'outragious Deep.
'Tis thine, my Angel, to appease this Tempest,
Fix my distracted Will, and teach me—
Pal.
—What?
What can I teach thee in this Strife of Passions?
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Think all his Laws are register'd in Heav'n,
And every Mandate minted in the Skies;
Zaph.
But then, to break through Hospitality,
And murder him by whom we are protected!
O, it makes Reason stagger, Will rebel,
And the whole Tribe of the exalted Passions
Rise up in Arms, and combat with the Duty.
Pal.
O poor Alcanor! gen'rous, good Alcanor!
My Heart bleeds for thee.
Zaph.
Does it bleed for him?
Were Zaphna's Fate as piteous as his
'Twould bleed for Zaphna too?
Pal.
Canst thou doubt that?
Zaph.
Know then, unless I act this horrid Scene;
Unless I plunge this Dagger in the Breast
Of that old Man, I must be more undone,
A more forlorn, abandon'd, shipwreck'd Wretch,
Than Earth ere bore. I must—
Pal.
What—
Zaph.
Must, Palmira—
(O agonizing Thought!) lose thee for ever.
This Tyrant Prophet (Heav'n forgive my Rashness!)
Our Royal Pontiff makes this Sacrifice
The Price, by which I must obtain Palmira.
Pal.
Am I the Price of good Alcanor's Blood?
Zaph.
So Mahomet ordains.
Pal.
Can Cruelty
And Love join Hands?
Zaph.
Alas, they must, Palmira,
If ours are ever join'd. Heav'n's Substitute
Will give thee only to a Murderer.
Pal.
Horrible Dow'ry!
Zaph.
But if Heav'n enjoins it,
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Love and Religion—
Pal.
Is that possible?
Zaph.
Thou know'st the Curse our Prophet has denounc'd
Of endless Tortures on the Disobedient:
Thou know'st with what an Oath I've bound myself,
To vindicate his Laws, extirpate all
That dare oppose his Progress. Say then, Fair One,
Thou Tutoress divine, instruct me how,
How to obey my Chief, perform my Oath,
Yet list to Mercy's Call.
Pal.
This rends my Heart.
Zaph.
How to avoid being banish'd thee for ever.
Pal.
O save me from that Thought! must that e'er be?
Zaph.
It must not: Thou hast now pronounc'd his Doom.
Pal.
What Doom?—Have I!
Zaph.
Yes, thou hast seal'd his Death.
Pal.
What did I say? I seal his Death! did I?
Zaph.
'Twas Heav'n spoke by thee; thou'rt its Oracle,
And I'll fulfil its Laws. This is the Hour
In which he pays at the adjoining Altar
Black Rites to his imaginary Gods.
Follow me not, Palmira.
Pal.
I must follow,
I will not, dare not leave thee.
Zaph.
Gentle Maid,
I beg thee fly these Walls, thou can'st not bear
This horrid Scene—O these are dreadful Moments!
Be gone—quick—this way—
Pal.
No, I'll follow thee,
Retread thy ev'ry Footstep, though they lead
To the dark Gulph of Death. There is no Horror
50
So bitter to the Soul but I could suffer
With Transport, rather than the single Thought
That Zaphna felt one Pang I did not share.
Zaph.
Thou matchless Maid!—To the dire Trial then.
[Exeunt.
Scene draws and discovers the inner part of the Temple, with a Pagan Altar and Images. Alcanor addressing himself to the Idols.
ALCANOR.
Eternal Powers, that deign to bless these Mansions,
Protectors of the Sons of Ishmael,
Attend the Vows I offer for my Country.
Let Mecca stand secure amongst the Nations,
And stem the Rage of Rapine and Imposture.
Blast, blast this blasphemous Invader's Force,
And turn him back with Shame. If Pow'r be yours,
O Shield your injur'd Votaries, and lay
Oppression bleeding at your Altar's Foot.
Enter ZAPHNA and PALMIRA.
Pal.
[Entring.]
Act not this bloody Deed; O save him, save him.
Zaph.
Save him, and lose both Paradise and Thee!
Pal.
Hah! yon he stands.—O Zaphna, all my Blood
Is frozen at the Sight.
Alc.
'Tis in your own Behalf that I implore
The Terrors of your Might; 'Tis the last Hour
You'll e'er be worshipp'd in this sacred Dome,
This hallow'd Caaba, unless you swift
Pour Vengeance on this vile Apostate's Head,
51
And lodge it with an unknown, fancied God.
Zaph.
Hear how the Wretch blasphemes! So, now—
Pal.
Hold, Zaphna.
Zaph.
Let me go—
Pal.
I cannot—cannot.
Alc.
But if, for Reasons, which dim-sighted Mortals
Can't look into, you'll crown this daring Rebel
With Royalty and Priesthood, take my Life.
And if, ye gracious Pow'rs, you've ought of Bliss
In store for me, at my last Hour permit me
To see my Children, pour my Blessing on them,
Expire in their dear Arms; and let them close
These Eyes, which then would wish no After-Sight.
Pal.
His Children, did he say?
Zaph.
I think he did—
Alc.
For this I'll at your Altar pay my Vows,
And make it smoke with Incense.
[Retires behind the Altar.
Zaph.
Now's the Time.
[drawing his Sword.
Insulting Heav'n, he flies to Stones for Refuge:
Now let me strike.
Pal.
Stay but one moment, Zaphna.
Zaph.
It must not be—unhand me.
Pal.
What to do?
Zaph.
To serve my God and King, and merit thee.
[Breaking from Palmira, and going towards the Altar, he starts, and stops short.
Ha! what are ye, ye terrifying Shades?
What means this Lake of Blood that lies before me?
Pal.
O Zaphna, let us fly these horrid Roofs.
Zaph.
No, no—Go on, ye Ministers of Death;
Lead me the way. I'll follow ye.
Pal.
Stay, Zaphna.
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Beneath the Load.
Zaph.
Be husht—the Altar trembles!
What means that Omen? Does it spur to Murder,
Or would it rein me back? No, 'tis the Voice
Of Heav'n itself, that chides my lingring Hand.
Now send up thither all thy Vows, Palmira,
Whilst I obey its Will, and give the Stroke.
[Goes out behind the Altar after Alcanor.
Pal.
What Vows! will Heav'n receive a Murd'rer's Vows?
For sure I'm such, whilst I prevent not Murder.
Why beats my Heart thus? What soft Voice is this
That's waken'd in my Soul, and preaches Mercy?
If Heav'n demands his Life, dare I oppose?
Is it my place to judge?—Hah! that dire Groan
Proclaims the bloody Bus'ness is about.
Zaphna! O Zaphna!
Re-enter ZAPHNA.
Zaph.
Hah! where am I?
Who calls me? Where's Palmira? She's not here:
What Fiend has snatch'd her from me?
Pal.
Heavens! he raves!
Dost thou not know me, Zaphna? her who lives
For thee alone?—Why dost thou gaze thus on me?
Zaph.
Where are we?
Pal.
Hast thou then discharg'd
The horrid Duty?
Zaph.
What dost say?
Pal.
Alcanor—
Zaph.
Alcanor! what, Alcanor?
Pal.
Gracious Heaven,
Look down upon him!
53
Let's fly this Place.
Zaph.
O whither fly! to whom?
D'ye see these Hands? Who will receive these Hands?
Pal.
O come, and let me wash them with my Tears.
Zaph.
Who art thou? let me lean on thee—I find
My Pow'rs returning. Is it thou, Palmira?
Where have I been? What have I done?
Pal.
I know not.
Think on't no more.
Zaph.
But I must think, and talk on't too, Palmira.
I seiz'd the Victim by his hoary Locks—
(Thou, Heav'n, did'st will it—can'st thou will a Crime!)
Then, shuddering with Horror, buried strait
The Poniard in his Breast. I had redoubled
The bloody Plunge—(what cannot Zeal persuade!)
But that the venerable Sire pour'd forth
So piteous a Groan; look'd so, Palmira,—
And with a feeble Voice cry'd, Is it Zaphna?
I could no more. O had'st thou seen, my Love,
The fell, fell Dagger in his Bosom, view'd
His dying Face, where sat such Dignity,
Cloath'd with Compassion tow'rds his base Assassin;
'Twou'd have converted thee to breathless Marble,
And made thee, to Futurity, at once,
A Monument of Cruelty and Pity.
[Throwing himself on the Ground.
The dire Remembrance weighs me to the Earth—
Here let me die—
Pal.
Rise, my lov'd Zaphna, rise,
And let us fly to Mah'met for Protection.
If we are found in these Abodes of Slaughter,
Tortures and Death attend us; let us fly.
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[Starting up.]
I did fly at that blasting Sight, Palmira.
When, drawing out the fatal Steel, he cast
Such tender Looks! I fled.—The fatal Steel,
The Voice, the tender Looks, the bleeding Victim
Blessing his Murderer, I cou'd not fly:
No, they clung to me, riv'd my throbbing Heart,
And set my Brain on Fire. What have we done?
Pal.
Hark! What's that Noise? I tremble for thy Life.
O, in the Name of Love, by all the Ties,
Those sacred Ties that bind thee mine for ever,
I do conjure thee, follow me.
Zaph.
Be gone—
Leave me. Say, was't not the Destroyer, Love,
That urg'd me on to this detested Deed?
Had it not been for thee, consulting thee,
But for thy irresistible Decision,
I had been deaf to Heav'n, and spurn'd its Order.
Pal.
Why dost thou load me with this dire Reproach?
O Zaphna, this is Cruelty indeed!
Was not my Soul abhorrent of the Action,
As much as thine? did not I call thee back?
Did'st not thou shake me off by Violence
When I hung on thee, would have forc'd thy Stay?
[Alcanor comes from behind the Altar, leaning against it, with the bloody Sword in his Hand.
Zaph.
Hah! look, Palmira, see; what Object's that
Which bears upon my tortur'd Sight? Is't he?
Or is't his bloody Manes come to haunt us?
Pal.
'Tis he himself, poor Wretch! strugling with Death,
And feebly crawling tow'rds us. Let me fly,
And yield what help I can. Let me support thee,
Thou much-lamented, injur'd, good old Man.
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Why don't I move? My Feet are rooted here,
And all my Frame is struck, and wither'd up,
As with the Lightning's Blast.
Alc.
My gentle Maid,
Wilt thou support me?
Weep not, my Palmira.
Pal.
I could weep Tears of Blood, if that would serve thee.
Alc.
[Sitting down.]
Zaphna, come hither; thou hast ta'en my Life;
For what Offence, or what one Thought towards thee
That Anger or Malevolence gave birth,
Heav'n knows I am unconscious. Do not look so;
I see, thou dost relent.
Enter PHARON hastily.
Pha.
[Starting back.]
Hah! 'tis too late then,
Alc.
Would I could see Hercides!—Pharon, lo,
Thy martyr'd Friend, by his distemper'd Hand,
Is now expiring.
Pha.
Dire, unnat'ral Crime!
O wretched Parricide!—behold thy Father.
[Pointing to Alcanor.
Zaph.
My Father!
Pal.
Father! Hah!
Alc.
Mysterious Heav'n!
Pha.
Hercides, dying by the Hand of Mirvan,
Who slew him lest he should betray the Secret,
Saw me approach, and, in the Pangs of Death,
Cry'd, Fly, and save Alcanor; wrest the Sword
From Zaphna's Hands, if 'tis not yet too late,
That destin'd for his Death; then let him know
That Zaphna and Palmira are his Children.
Pal.
That Zaphna and Palmira are his Children!
Dost hear that, Zaphna!
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'Tis enough, my Fate!
Canst thou ought more?
Alc.
O Nature! O my Children!
By what vile Instigations wert thou driven,
Unhappy Zaphna, to this bloody Action?
Zaph.
[Falling at his Father's Feet.]
Love of my Duty, Nation, and Religion,
Inspir'd me with the rash, accursed Zeal,
To perpetrate an Act more black, more horrid,
Than e'er the Sun cast Eye on, than e'er Tears
Can cleanse from its foul Stain, than e'er sweet Mercy
Can intercede for, or than Hell can punish.
Restore me, Sir, restore that damned Weapon,
That I for once may make it, as I ought,
An Instrument of Justice.
Pal.
[Kneeling.]
O, my Father,
Strike here, the Crime was mine; 'twas I alone
That work'd his Will to this unnatural Deed.
Upon these Terms alone he cou'd be mine,
And Incest was the Price of Parracide.
Zaph.
Strike your Assassins—
Alc.
I embrace my Children;
And joy to see them, tho' my Life's the Forfeit.
Kind Heav'n thus mingles in my bitter Cup
So sweet a Consolation, that I bless
My Destiny, and think the Draught divine.
Rise, Children, rise and live; live to revenge
Your Father's Death.—But, in the Name of Nature,
By the Remains of this Paternal Blood
That's oozing from my Wound, raise not your Hands
'Gainst your own Being. Zaphna, wou'dst thou do me
A second deadlier Mischief thro' thy self?
Then thou wou'dst stab me to the Heart indeed:
Self-Slaughter can't atone for Parricide.
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Go on, Sir, pray go on: Then I will live,
Live to some purpose; this is glorious Suffering.
Ten thousand Swords had been a Needle's Point,
To this most exquisitely torturing Goodness:
Blessing, where Cursing's due, is Cruelty.
Alc.
Thy undetermin'd Arm han't quite fulfill'd
It's Bigot-Purpose; Morn's at hand, the Truce
Is broke; I hope to live to animate
Our Friends 'gainst this Impostor; lead 'em, Zaphna,
To root out a rapacious baneful Crew,
Whose Zeal is Phrenzy, whose Religion Murder.
Zaph.
Swift, swift, ye Hours! Celestial Charioteer,
Lash on thy Coursers, light me to Revenge!
Why linger for the Day? Flaming Revenge
Is Torch sufficient. Instantly I'll fly
Through ev'ry Street, rend with my bitter Cries
The Cypress Veil of Sleep; sound such a Trump
As might burst ope Death's Palace, and awake
His breathless Guards. Then, then, infernal Weapon,
[Snatches the bloody Sword.
I'll wash off thy foul Stain with the Heart's Blood
Of that malignant sanctified Assassin.
[As Zaphna is going off, Mirvan and his Followers enter, and stop him.
Mir.
Seize Zaphna,
And load the traiterous Murderer with Chains.
Help you the good Alcanor.—Hapless Man!
Our Prophet, in a Vision, learnt to Night
The mournful Tale of thy untimely End,
And sent me straight to seize the vile Assassin,
That he might wreck severest Justice on him.
Mahomet comes to vindicate the Laws,
Not suffer, with Impunity, their Breach.
Alc.
Heav'ns! what accumulated Crimes are here!
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Where is the Monster? Bear me instant to him,
That I may blast him with my Eye, may curse him
With my last hesitating Voice.
Pal.
Thou Tyrant,
Did not thy own Death-doing Tongue enjoin
This horrid Deed?
Mir.
Not mine, by Heav'n!
Zaph.
Not thine!
Mir.
No, by our Prophet, and his holy Faith,
Of all the Thoughts e'er harbour'd in this Breast,
It ne'er had such a Monster for its Tenant.
Zaph.
Dost hear him, Heav'n? O most accomplish'd Villain!
Mirvan, look at me—darest thou—
Mir.
Off with him,
[To the Soldiers.
And see him well secur'd, 'till Mahomet
Demands him of you.
Pal.
Villain, hold!
[Laying hold of Zaphna.
Mir.
Away.
Zaph.
Just, just Reward of my Credulity!
Pal.
Let me go with him; I will share thy Fate,
Unhappy Zaphna, for I share thy Guilt.
But then—
[Looking back at Alcanor.
Mir.
No more—you must to Mahomet.
Obey without Reluctance; our great Prophet
In pity to your tender Frame and Years,
Will take you under his divine Protection.
Pal.
[Apart.]
O Death, deliver me from such Protection.
Mir.
If you would ought to save the destin'd Zaphna,
Follow me to the Prophet, you may move him
To mitigate his Doom.—Away.
[To the Soldiers who hold Zaphna.
You this way.
[To Palmira.
Zaph.
Pardon!
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O Pardon!
[They are led off by degrees, looking alternatively at their Father and each other.
Alc.
What a Wretch now am I!
Both from me torn, then when I wanted most
Their Consolation.
Pha.
Did you hear that Shout?
The Citizens are rous'd, and all in Arms
Rush on to your Defence.
Alc.
Pharon, support me
Some moments longer.—Help, conduct me tow'rds 'em,
Bare this Wound to 'em; let that speak the Cause,
The treach'rous Cause, for Words begin to fail me:
Then, if in Death I can but serve my Country,
Save my poor Children from this Tyger's Gripe,
And give a second Life to that lov'd Pair,
By whose misguided Zeal I lose my own;
What Patriot, or Parent, but would wish
In so divine a Cause to fall a Martyr!
[Exeunt.
End of the Fourth Act.
| Mahomet The Imposter | |