University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Scene, an Apartment in the Temple of Mecca.
Enter ALCANOR and PHARON.
ALCANOR.
— PHARON , no more—Shall I
Fall prostrate to an arrogant Impostor,
Homage in Mecca one I banish'd thence,
And Incense the Delusions of a Rebel!
No—blast Alcanor, righteous Heav'n! if ere
This Hand, yet free and uncontaminate,
Shall league with Fraud, or adulate a Tyrant.

Pha.
August and sacred Chief of Ishmael's Senate,
This Zeal of thine, paternal as it is,
Is fatal now—our impotent Resistance
Controuls not Mahomet's unbounded Progress,
But, without weak'ning, irritates the Tyrant.
When once a Citizen, you well condemn'd him
As an obscure, seditious Innovator:
But now he is a Conqu'ror, Prince, and Pontiff;
Whilst Nations numberless embrace his Laws,
And pay him Adoration—Ev'n in Mecca
He boasts his Proselytes.

Alc.
Such Proselytes
Are worthy of him—low, untutor'd Reptiles,
In whom Sense only lives—most credulous still
Of what is most incredible!

Pha.
Be such
Disdain'd, my Lord; but mayn't the Pest spread upwards,
And seize the Head—Say, is the Senate Sound?
I fear some Members of that rev'rend Class
Are mark'd with the Contagion, who, from Views
Of higher Power and Rank, or canker'd with
The gangrenous Defilement of a Bribe,
Worship this rising Sun, and give a Sanction
To his Invasions.

Alc.
If, ye Powers divine!
Ye mark the Movements of this nether World,
And bring them to account, crush, crush those Vipers,
Who, singled out by a Community
To guard their Rights, shall for a grasp of Oar,
Or paltry Office, sell 'em to the Foe!

Pha.
Each honest Citizen, I grant, is thine,
And, grateful for thy boundless Blessings on them,
Would serve thee with their Lives; but the Approach
Of this Usurper to their very Walls
Strikes 'em with such a Dread, that even these
Implore thee to accept his proffer'd Peace.

Alc.
O People, lost to Wisdom, as to Glory!
Go, bring in Pomp, and serve upon your Knees
This Idol, that will crush you with its Weight.
Mark, I abjure him: By his savage Hand
My Wife and Children perish'd, whilst in Vengeance
I carry'd Carnage to his very Tent,
Transfix'd to Earth his only Son, and wore
His Trappings as a Trophy of my Conquest.
This Torch of Enmity thus lighted 'twixt us,
The Hands of Time itself can ne'er extinguish.

Pha.
Extinguish not, but smother for a while
Its fatal Flame, and greatly sacrifice
Thy private Suff'rings to the publick Welfare.
O say, Alcanor, wert thou to behold
(As soon thou may'st) this fam'd Metropolis
With Foes begirt, behold its pining Tenants
Prey on each other for the Means of Life,
Whilst Lakes of Blood, and Mountains of the Slain,
(As erst in Jury) putrify the Air,
And sweep off thousands with their pois'nous Steams,
Would thy slain Children be aveng'd by this?

Alc.
No, Pharon, no; I live not for myself.
My Wife and Children lost, my Country's now
My Family.

Pha.
Then let not that be lost.

Alc.
'Tis lost by Cowardise.

Pha.
By Rashness, often.

Alc.
Pharon, desist.

Pha.
My noble Lord, I cannot,
Must not desist, will not, since you're possess'd
Of Means to bring this insolent Invader
To any Terms you'll claim.

Alc.
What Means?

Pha.
Palmira.
That blooming Fair, the Flow'r of all his Camp,
By thee born off in our last Skirmish with him,
Seems the divine Ambassadress of Peace,
Sent to procure our Safety. Mahomet
Has, by his Heralds, thrice propos'd her Ransom,
And bad us fix the Price.

Alc.
I know it, Pharon.
And wouldst thou then restore this noble Treasure
To that Barbarian? Would'st thou, for the Frauds,
The Deaths, the Devastations he brings on us,
Enrich his Ruffian Hands with such a Gem,
And render Beauty the Reward of Rapine?—
Smile not, my Friend, nor think that at these Years,
Well travell'd in the Winter of my Days,
I entertain a Thought tow'rds this young Beauty,
But what's as pure as is the Western Gale,
That breathes upon the uncropt Violet—

Pha.
My Lord—

Alc.
—This Heart, by Age and Grief congeal'd,
Is no more sensible to Love's Endearments,
Than are our barren Rocks to Morn's sweet Dew,
That balmy trickles down their rugged Cheeks.

Pha.
My noble Chief, each Master-piece of Nature
Commands involuntary Homage from us.

Alc.
I own a Tenderness, unfelt before,
A sympathetick Grief, with ardent Wishes
To make her happy, fill'd my Widow'd Bosom.
I dread her being in that Monster's Power,
And burn to have her hate him, like myself.
'Twas on this Hour I, at her modest Suit,
Promis'd her Audience in my own Pavilion.
Pharon, go thou mean while, and see the Senate
Assembled strait—I'll sound 'em as I ought.

[Exeunt severally.
SCENE changes to a Room of State.
Enter PALMIRA.
Pal.
What means this boding Terror that usurps,
In spite o'me, Dominion o'er my Heart,
Converting the sweet Flow'r of new-blown Hope
To deadly Night-Shade; pois'ning to my Soul
The Fountain of its Bliss—O holy Prophet!
Shall I ne'er more attend thy sacred Lessons?
O Zaphna! much-lov'd Youth! I feel for thee
As for myself.—But hold, my final Audit
Is now at hand—I tremble for th'Event!
Here comes my Judge—Now Liberty, or Bondage!

Enter ALCANOR.
Alc.
Palmira, whence those Tears? Trust me, Fair Maid,
Thou art not fall'n into Barbarians Hands;
What Mecca can afford of Pomp or Pleasure,
To call Attention from Misfortune's Lap,
Demand and share it.

Pal.
No, my generous Victor,
My Suit's for nothing Mecca can afford;
Pris'ner these two long Months beneath your Roof,
I've tasted such Benignity and Candor,
Whilst your own Hands so labour'd to beguile
The anxious Moments of Captivity,
That oft' I've call'd my Tears Ingratitude.

Alc.
If ought remains, that's in my Pow'r, to smooth
The Rigour of your Fate, to crown your Wishes,
And make you say, I'm happy; why, 'twould fill
The Furrows in my Cheeks, and make old Age
Put on it's Summer's Garb.

Pal.
Thus low I bless thee. [Kneeling.]

It is on you, on you alone, Alcanor,
My Whole of future Happiness depends.
Restore me then, restore me to my Country,
Restore me to my Father, Prince, and Prophet;
Restore me to my—Oh!—

Alc.
To what, Palmira? [Raising her.]

Those meaning Blushes, that articulate Pause,
Render my Question vain. This subtle Robber
Has trespass'd on thy Heart.—Art thou not promis'd
To be enroll'd his Wife, to swell the Number
Of his licentious Haram?

Pal.
No, my Lord.
Train'd up from Infancy at Mah'met's Feet,
Watch'd by his Eye, and by his Precepts form'd,
I rev'rence him; nay, view him as inspir'd
By that tremendous Pow'r whose Sword he bears;
But never did this humble Breast conceive
A Hope so big with Vanity as that.

Alc.
With Vanity! Now by my Sword, Palmira,
'Twere Vanity in him to aim so high.
That gen'rous Soul superior to Misfortune,
That Breast where ev'ry Virtue finds a Mansion,
And that fair Form where Beauty sits enthron'd
Amidst the Smiles and Graces, speak you sprung
From such a Race, as would disdain to match
With this fierce Arab.

Pal.
No, the Pride of Birth
I am a Stranger to; a Captive Infant,
Nurs'd in the Camp, I ne'er cou'd yet discover
Who was my Father. But our holy Prophet
Has well supply'd that Loss. Have pity then:
Pity, Alcanor, One who's torn from all
That's dear or venerable to her Soul;
And O restore her to her Faith and Country.

Alc.
Is Slav'ry dear then, is Fraud venerable?
What Country! a tumultuous wand'ring Camp!

Pal.
My Country, Sir, is not a single Spot
Of such a Mold, or fix'd to such a Clime;
No, 'tis the social Circle of my Friends,
The lov'd Community in which I'm link'd,
And in whose Welfare all my Wishes center.

Alc.
Excellent Maid! Then Mecca be thy Country.
Robb'd of my Children, would Palmira deign
To let me call her Child, the Toil I took
To make her Destiny propitious to her,
Would lighten the rough Burthen of my own.
But no; you scorn my Country and my Laws.

Pal.
Can I be yours when not my own? Your Bounties
Demand and share my Gratitude.—But Mahomet
Claims Right o'er me of Parent, Prince, and Prophet.

Alc.
Of Parent, Prince, and Prophet! Heav'ns! that Robber
Who, a scap'd Felon, emulates a Throne,
And, Scoffer at all Faiths, proclaims a new One!

Pal.
O cease, my Lord; this blasphemous Abuse
On one, whom Millions with myself adore,
Does Violence to my Ear; such black Profaneness
'Gainst Heav'n's Interpreter, blots out Remembrance
Of Favours past, and nought succeeds but Horror.

Alc.
O Superstition! thy pernicious Rigours,
Inflexible to Reason, Truth, and Nature,
Banish Humanity the gentlest Breasts.
Palmira, I lament to see thee plung'd
So deep in Error.—

Pal.
Do you then reject
My just Petition? Can Alcanor's Goodness
Be deaf to suff'ring Virtue? Can his Justice
Be blind to injur'd Right? Name but the Ransom,
And Mahomet will treble what you ask.

Alc.
There is no Ransom Mahomet can offer
Proportion'd to the Prize. Trust me, Palmira,
I cannot yield thee up: What! to a Tyrant,
Who wrongs thy Youth, and mocks thy tender Heart
With vile Illusions, and fanatick Terrors!—
Enter PHARON.
What would'st thou, Pharon?

Pha.
From yon Western Gate,
Which opens on Moradia's fertile Plains,
Mahomet's Gen'ral, Mirvan, hastes to greet thee.

Alc,
Mirvan, that vile Apostate!

Pha.
In one Hand
He holds a Scimitar, the other bears
An Olive-Branch, which to our Chiefs he waves,
An Emblem of his Suit—a Martial Youth,
Zaphna by Name, attends him for our Hostage.

Pal.
[Apart.]
Zaphna! Mysterious Heav'n!

Pha.
Mirvan advances
This way, my Lord, to render you his Charge.

Alc.
Mirvan advance! How dare the Traitor see me?
Palmira, thou retire.—Pharon, be present.
[Exit Palmira.
Enter MIRVAN.
After six Years of infamous Rebellion
Against thy native Country, dost thou, Mirvan,
Again prophane, with thy detested Presence,
These sacred Walls, which once thy Hands defended,
But thy bad Heart has vilely since betray'd?
Thou poor Deserter of thy Country's Gods,
Thou base Invader of thy Country's Rights,
What would'st thou have with me?

Mir.
I'd pardon thee—
Out of Compassion to thy Age and Suff'rings,
And high Regard for thy experienc'd Valour,
Heav'n's great Apostle offers thee in Friendship
A Hand could crush thee; and I come commission'd
To name the Terms of Peace he deigns to tender.

Alc.
He deigns to tender! Insolent Impostor!
Must Mahomet then, ye Pow'rs! give Peace to Mecca,
Or plunder it?—Dost thou not, Mirvan, blush
To serve this Wretch—this base of Soul, as Birth?

Mir.
Mahomet's Grandeur's in himself; he shines not
With borrow'd Lustre, raises not his Stature
By perching on his Father's Monument:
Born of Himself, Himself's the only Fountain
Of all the flowing Honours that adorn him.
Such is the Master I have chosen; such
Is Heav'n's Elect to rule the World in Truth.

Alc.
Mirvan, I know thee; this insiduous Blazon
Dazzles not me. Banish, for once, Imposture,
And view with Reason's Eye this homag'd Prophet,
Then Villain, or Enthusiast, thou must grant him.—
A Pilf'ring Camel-Driver, one so vile
His own vile Crew renounc'd him—Out-cast thus
Of Out-casts, straight, he arrogates the Prophet,
Stiles himself Heav'n's Apostle, and, by means
Of a forg'd Dream, draws o'er to his Imposture
The Refuse of all Nations.—Banish'd Mecca,
From Cave to Cave with Fatima he fled,
Whilst scatter'd, persecuted, and proscribed,
Through Wastes and Desarts his Disciples stray'd.

Pha.
Stray'd, till Medina, poison'd with their Errors,
Gave them a Home, and prop'd the impious Sect.

Alc.
'Twas then that thou, that thou thyself, more brave,
More just and gen'rous, did'st attack this Tyrant,
Whose voluntary Slave thou'rt now become.
If a true Prophet, durst thou wound him Then?
If an Impostor, dar'st thou now obey him?

Mir.
Plung'd in the Night of Prejudice, and bound
In Fetters of Hereditary Faith,
My Judgment slept; but when I found him born
To mold anew the prostrate Universe,
I started from my Dream, join'd his Career,
And shar'd his arduous, and immortal Labours.
Once, I must own, I was as blind as thou;
Then wake to Glory, and be chang'd like me.

Pha.
O what a Fall from Virtue was that Change!

Alc.
What Death to Honour, wak'ning to such Glory!

Mir.
Embrace our Faith then, reign with Mahomet,
And, cloath'd in Terrors, make the Vulgar tremble.

Alc.
'Tis Mahomet, and Tyrants like to Mahomet,
'Tis Mirvan, and Apostates like to Mirvan,
I only would make tremble.—Is it, say'st thou,
Religion that's the Parent of this Rapine,
This Virulence and Rage?—No, true Religion
Is always mild, propitious, and humane;
Plays not the Tyrant, plants no Faith in Blood,
Nor bears Destruction on her Chariot Wheels,
But stoops to polish, succour, and redress,
And builds her Grandeur on the Publick Good.

Mir.
Thou art turn'd Christian, sure! some stragling Monk
Has taught thee these tame Lessons—

Alc.
If the Christians
Hold Principles like these, which Reason dictates,
Which all our Notions of the Pow'rs divine
Declare the social Laws they meant for Man,
And all the Beauties and Delights of Nature
Bear witness to, the Christian's may be right:
Thy Sect cannot, who, nurs'd in Blood and Slaughter,
Worship a cruel and revengeful Being,
And draw him always with his Thunder round him,
As ripe for the Destruction of Mankind.

Mir.
If Clemency delights thee, learn it here.
Though banish'd by thy Voice his native City,
Though by thy Hand robb'd of his only Son,
Mahomet pardons thee; nay farther, begs
The Hatred burning 'twixt you be extinguish'd
With Reconciliation's gen'rous Tear.

Alc.
I know thy Master's Arts; his gen'rous Tears,
Like the refreshing Drops that previous fall
To the wild Outrage of o'erwhelmning Earthquakes,
Only forerun Destruction; his best Friendship
Is but a guileful Clue, whereby to seize
Your Heart's each Fort, and turn its Garrison
Against itself. Courage he has, not Brav'ry,
For Blood and Havock are the sure Attendants
On his victorious Car.

Pha.
Leagues he will make too—

Alc.
Like other grasping Tyrants, till he eyes
A lucky Juncture to enlarge his Bounds;
Then he'll deride 'em, leap o'er ev'ry Tie
Of sacred Guarantee, or sworn Protection,
And, when th'oppress'd Ally implores Assistance,
Beneath that Mask, invade the wish'd-for Realms,
And from pure Friendship take them to himself.

Mir.
Mahomet fights Heav'n's Battles, bends the Bow
To spread Heav'n's Laws, and to subject to Faith
The Iron Neck of Error.

Alc.
Mirvan, Yes,
His new Religion, molded to his Aims,
Holds out a Heav'nly Kingdom to his Followers,
Whilst humble He courts but an Earthly One.
Lust and Ambition, Mirvan, are the Springs
Of all his Actions, whilst, without one Virtue,
Dissimulation, like a flatt'ring Painter,
Bedecks him with the Colouring of them all.
This is thy Master's Portrait—But no more—
My Soul's inexorable, and my Hate
Immortal as the Cause from whence it sprang.

Mir.
What Cause—

Alc.
The diff'rence between Good and Evil.

Mir.
Thou talk'st to me, Alcanor, with an Air
Of a stern Judge, that from his dread Tribunal
Intimidates the Criminal beneath him.
Resume thy Temper, act the Minister,
And treat with me as with th'Ambassador
Of Heaven's Apostle, and Arabia's King.

Alc.
Arabia's King! What King! Who crown'd him?—

Mir.
Conquest.—
Whilst to the Stile of Conqueror, and of Monarch,
Patron of Peace he'd add—Name then the Price
Of Peace and of Palmira—Boundless Treasures,
The Spoils of vanquish'd Monarchs, and the Stores
Of rifl'd Provinces are thrown before thee.
Our Troops, with unwont Ardor, hasten hither
To lay in Ruin this rebellious City;
Stem then the rushing Torrent: Mahomet
In Person comes to claim a Conference with thee
For this good Purpose.

Alc.
Who! Mahomet!

Mir.
Yes, he conjures thou'lt grant it.

Alc.
Traytor, were I sole Ruler here in Mecca,
I'd answer thee with Chastisement—

Mir.
Hot Man!
I pity thy false Virtue—But farewel—
And since the Senate share thy Power in Mecca,
To their serener Wisdoms I'll appeal.

[Exit Mirvan.
Alc.
I'll meet thee there, and see whose Voice is Victor.
Come, Pharon, aid me to repulse this Traitor;
To bear him, with Impunity, amongst us
Is Treason 'gainst our selves—Ye sacred Powers,
My Country's Gods, that for three Thousand Years
Have reign'd Protectors of the Tribe of Ishmael;
And thou, O Sun, resplendent Torch of Day,
The Image of those Gods, who in thy March
Beam'st their Light on us, O support my Spirit
In that firm Purpose it has always held,
To combat Violence, Fraud and Usurpation,
To pluck the Spoil from the Oppressor's Jaws,
And keep my Country, as I found it, Free.

[Exeunt.