 | Edward and Eleonora |  |
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,
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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.
| Edward and Eleonora | |