University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Selim.
O my Daraxa! thou hast charm'd my Soul!
This reconciling Interview has sooth'd
My troubled Bosom into tender Joy:
As when the Spring first, on the soften'd Top
Of Lebanon, unbinds her lovely Tresses,
And shakes her blooming Sweets from Carmel's Brow—
It only now remains to see the Prince.—

SCENE II.

Selim, Theald.
Theald.
I sought thee, worthy Dervise.

Selim.
Reverend Christian,
My toiling Thoughts can find no fix'd Repose,
'Till the wrong'd Sultan's vindicated Honour
Shine out as bright as yon unsully'd Sky.
Conduct me to the Prince—I claim thy Promise.—
It stings my conscious Soul with sick Impatience,
To think what Selim suffers. For a Man,
Who loves the Ways of Truth and open Virtue,
To ly beneath the burning Imputation
Of Baseness and of Crimes—such horrid Crimes!—
O 'tis a keen unsufferable Torment!
Come, let me then discharge this other Part
Of my Commission.

Theald.
That thou soon shalt do.
He strait will come this Way, the King of England,
Such now he is. Mean time, 'tis fit to tell thee,
He must be manag'd softly; for his Passions
Are all abroad, in wild Confusion hurl'd:
The Winds, the Floods, and Lightning mix together.
I need not say how little, in this Uproar,
Avails the broken thwarted Light of Reason.

Selim.
Fear not. Thou knowst, that with with one softning Word,
I can appease his highest Storm of Passion.
But let me take the Method that will gain,
With most convincing Evidence, my Purpose.

Theald.
He cannot long delay, for, as I enter'd,
I saw him parting from the hurried Camp,
That lighten'd wide around him: burnish'd Helms,
And glittering Spears, and ardent thronging Soldiers,
Demanding all the Signal, when to storm
These Walls, devoted to their Vengeance.—

Selim.
Ha!
Then let us quickly find him—But he comes.

SCENE III.

Selim, Theald, Edward, Gloster.
Edward.
Whence is it those Barbarians, here again,
Those base those murdering Cowards, dare be seen?
What new accurs'd Attempt is now on foot?
What new Assassination?—Start not, Dervise,
Tinge not thy caitiff Cheek with red'ning Honour.
What thou!—Dost thou pretend to feel Reproach?
Art thou not of a shameless Race of People,
Harden'd in Arts of Cruelty and Blood,
Perfidious all? Yes, have you not profan'd,
The Faith of Nations? Broke the holy Tie
That binds the Families of Earth together,
That gives even Foes to meet with hostile Joy,
And teaches War Security? Your Prince,
Your Prince has done it! And you should hereafter
Be hunted from your Dens like Savage Beasts,
Be crush'd like Serpents!

Theald.
Sir, this Dervise comes,
To clear the Sultan Selim from that Crime,
Which you, with strong Appearance, charge upon him.

Edward.
Appearance, Theald? with unquestion'd Proof.
Doubtless the Villain would be glad to change
The Course by Nature fix'd, enjoy his Crimes
Without their Evil—But he shall not scape me!

Selim.
If, King of England, in this weighty Matter,
On which depends the Weal and Life of Thousands,
You love and seek the Truth, let Reason judge,
Cool, steady, quiet and dispassion'd Reason.
For never yet, since the proud selfish Race
Of Men began to jar, did Passion give,
Nor ever can it give, a right Decision.

Edward.
Reason has judg'd, and Passion shall chastise,
Shall make you howl, ye Cowards of the East!
What can be clearer? This vile Prince of Jaffa!
This Infamy of Princes! Sends a Ruffian,
By his own Hand and Seal commission'd, sends him,
To treat of Peace: And, as I read his Letters,
The Villain stabs me—This, if This wants Light,
There is no Certainty in human Reason;
If This not shines with all-convincing Truth,
Yon Sun is dark—And yet these Cowards come
With lying Shifts, and low elusive Arts—
O it inflames my Anger into Madness!
This added Insult on our Understanding,
This treacherous Attempt to steal away
The only Joy and Treasure of my Life,
Sweet sacred Vengeance for my murder'd Princess!

Selim.
The cursed Wretch who did assail thy Life,
O King of England, was indeed an Envoy
Sent by the Prince of Jaffa: This we own.
But then he was an execrable Bigot,
Who, for such horrid Purposes, had crept
Into the cheated Sultan's Court and Service;
As by the Traitor's Papers we have learn'd.
For know, there lives, upon the craggy Cliffs
Of wild Phenician Mountains, a dire Race,
A Nation of Assassins. Dreadful Zeal,
Fierce and intollerant of all Religion
That differs from their own, is the black Soul
Of that infernal State. Soon as their Chief,
The Old Man (so they stile him) of the Mountains,
Gives out his baleful Will, however fell,
However wicked and abhorr'd it be,
Tho' cloth'd in Danger the most cruel Death,
They, swift and silent, glide thro' every Land,
As fly the gloomy Ministers of Vengeance,
Famine and Plague; they ly for Years conceal'd,
Make light of Oaths, nay, sometimes change Religion,
And never fail to execute his Orders.
Of these the Villain was, these ruffian Saints,
The Curse of Earth, the Terror of Mankind:
And thy Engagement, Prince, in this Crusado,
That was the Reason whence they sought thy Life

Edward.
False, false as Hell! the Lye of guilty Fear!
You all are Bigots, Robbers, Ruffians all!
It is the very Genius of your Nation.
Vindictive Rage, the Thirst of Blood consumes you:
You live by Rapine, thence your Empire rose;
And your Religion is a meer Pretence
To rob and murder, in the Name of Heaven.

Selim.

Edward.
Away! be gone!
With thee, vile Dervise, what have I to do?
I lose my Hour of Vengeance, I debase me,
To hold this Talk with Thee.

Selim.
While Truth and Reason
Speak from my Tongue, vile Dervise as I am,
Yet am I greater than the highest Monarch,
Who, from blind Fury, grows the Slave of Passion.
Besides, I come to justify a Prince,
Howe'er in other Qualities below thee,
In Love of Goodness, Truth, Humanity,
And Honour, Sir, thy Equal;—Yes, thy Equal!—

Edward.
What? How? compare me with a damn'd Assassin?
A matchless Villain!—Ha! presumptuous Dervise!
Thou gnawst thy quivering Lip—A smother'd Passion
Shakes thro' thy Frame.—What Villainy is That
Thou dar'st not utter?—Wert thou not a Wretch,
Protected by thy Habit, this right Hand
Should crush thee into Atoms—Hence! away!
Go tell thy Master that I hold him base,
Beyond the Power of Words to speak his Baseness!
A Coward! an Assassinating Coward!
And when I once have dragg'd him from his City,
Which I will straitway do—I then will make him,
In all the Gall and Bitterness of Guilt,
Grinding the vengeful Steel betwixt his Teeth,
Will make the Traitor own it.
[Selim, discovering himself.
Never!

Edward.
Ha!

Selim.
Thou canst not, haughty Monarch!—I am He!
I am this Selim! this insulted Selim!
Yet clear as Day, and will confound thy Passion.

Edward.
Thou Selim!

Selim.
I.

Edward.
Was ever Guilt so bold?

Selim.
Did ever Innocence descend to fear?

Edward.
This bears some Shew of Honour. Wilt thou then
Decide it by the Sword?

Selim.
I will do more—

Edward.
How more?

Selim.
Decide it by superior Reason.

Edward.
No weak Evasions!—

Selim.
If I not convince thee,
If by thy self I am not of this Crime
Acquitted, then I grant thee thy Demand.
Nay more, yon yielded City shall be thine:
For know, hot Prince, I should disdain a Throne,
I could not fill with Honour. Were I guilty,
I would not tremble at thy threatning Voice;
No, 'tis my self I fear.

Edward.
What shall I think?

Selim.
Hear but one Witness, and I ask no more,
To clear my Name. The Witness is a Woman.
Her Looks are Truth; fair uncorrupted Faith
Beams from her Eyes. Thou ne'er canst doubt such Beauty;
For 'tis th'Expression of a spotless Soul.

Edward.
Curse on thy mean luxurious Eastern Arts
Of Cowardice! Thou wouldst seduce my Vengeance—
But I detest all Beauty—Barbarous Sultan!
Ah! thou hast murder'd Beauty! thy fell Crime—
Haste, Gloster, haste—In sight of Camp and City,
Prepare the Lists—Now show thy self a Prince,
Or dy in shameful Tortures like a Slave.

Selim.
I came not hither or to dread thy Wrath,
Or court thy Mercy.

Gloster.
Sir, you cannot, justly,
Refuse him his Demand. The fervent Soul
Of undissembled Innocence, methinks,
Is felt in what he says. First hear this Person,
And if she gives not full Conviction, then,
Have then Recourse to what should always be
The last Appeal of reasonable Beings,
Brute Force.

Edward.
Well then, conduct Her hither, Sultan.—
[Selim goes out.
Ah! my disorder'd Mind! from Thought to Thought,
Uncertain, toss'd, the Wreck of stormy Passion!
This Rage awhile supports me; but I feel
It will desert me soon, and I again
Shall soon relapse to Misery and Weakness.
O Eleonora! little didst thou think,
How deeply wretched thy dire Gift of Life
Would make me!

SCENE IV.

Edward, Gloster, Theald; To them Selim conducting Eleonora, Daraxa.
Selim.
Raise thy Eyes, O King of England,
To the bright Witness of my blameless Honour.

Edward.
No; Beauty shall no more engage my Eyes,
It shall no more profane the Shrine devoted
To the sweet Image of my Eleonora!—
Let her declare her Knowledge in this Matter.

Eleonora.
Will not my Edward bless me with a Look?

Edward.
What Angel borrows Eleonora's Voice!—
O thou pale Shade of Her I weep for ever!
Permit me thus to worship thee—Thou art!—
Amazing Heaven!—Thou art my Eleonora!
My Eleonora's Self! my dear, my felt,
My living Eleonora!—What—to whom
Owe I this Miracle? this better Life?—
Oppressive Joy!—owe I my Eleonora?

Eleonora.
To him, that generous Prince, who put his Life
His Honour on the desperate Risque to save me,
When number'd with the Dead; who brought, himself,
A swift and powerful Remedy, by which
I am to Light restor'd—to thee, my Edward!

Edward.
To him! to him!—O monstrous!—whom I, thus,
Have with such Inhumanity insulted!
O blind, O brutish, O injurious Rage!
They they are wise, who, when they feel thy Madness,
Seal up their Lips. And canst thou then forgive me,
Thou who hast o'er me gain'd that noblest Triumph,
The Triumph of Humanity?—Thou canst.
'Tis easier for the Generous to forgive
Than for Offence to ask it.

Selim.
Use not, Prince,
So harsh a Word. More than forgive, I love
Thy noble Heat, thy beautiful Disorder.
O! I am too much Man, I feel, myself,
Too much the charming Force of human Passions,
E'er to pretend, with supercilious Brow,
With proud affected Virtue, to disdain them.

Edward.
How, generous Sultan, how shall I requite Thee?
Here—Take thy lov'd Daraxa, whom I meant
To have restor'd, when this Misfortune happen'd;
But secret-working Heaven ordain'd her Stay,
To save us all.

Selim.
Wert thou the Lord of Earth,
Thou could'st not give me more!—my dear Daraxa!

Edward,
Hence, to the Camp, my Gloster—Bid the Soldiers
Forsake the Trenches—Let unbounded Joy
Reign, fearless, o'er the mingled Camp and City—
Go, tell my faithful Soldiers, that their Queen
My Eleonora lives! A Prize beyond
The Chance of War to give! She lives to soften
My too imperious Temper, and to make them,
To make my People happy!—O my Soul!
What Love e'er equall'd thine? O dearest! best!
Pride of thy Sex! inimitable Goodness!
Whenever Woman henceforth shall be prais'd
For conjugal Affection, Men will say
There shine the Virtues of an Eleonora!
Transporting Bliss!—How bountiful is Heaven!
Depressing often, but to raise us more.
Let never those despair who follow Virtue.
Love—Gratitude—divide me—Once more, Sultan,
Forgive me, pardon my mistaken Zeal,
That left my Country, cross'd the stormy Seas,
To war with thee, brave Prince, to war with Honour.
Now that my Passions give me leave to think:
The Hand of Heaven appears in what I suffer'd,
My erring Zeal has suffer'd by a Bigot.

Selim.
It does, O King. And venerable Christian,
I know thy Moderation will excuse me.
But since by ruling Wisdom (who unweigh'd,
Unmeant, does Nought) Men are so various made,
So various turn'd, that, in Opinions, they
Must blindly think, or take a different Way;
In spite of Force, since Judgment will be free;
Then let us in this righteous Mean agree:
Let holy Rage, let Persecution cease;
Let the Head argue, but the Heart be Peace;
Let all Mankind in Love of what is right,
In Virtue and Humanity unite.