University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

SCENE, A pleasant Grotto.
Enter Solyman.
Sol.
Whither will Love and furious Jealousie
Hurry my Resolution? Certain Death
I know attends me, should the trembling Leaves,
Or the least murmur of my Breath betray me;
Yet here I'll hide my self, and here unseen
Observe, and listen to the Sultan's Courtship;
And see how he can move that cruel Beauty.
Vain Hopes!—His Pow'r will force what she denies.
And yet, my Friend, the Kisler's Project chears me,
Who promises to bring her to the Sultan
With Six more Virgins, who for Youth and Beauty
May challenge all but her; them he adorns
With all th'Embellishments that Art can give,
That Mahomet by such Variety
Of Objects may be puzzl'd in his Choice;
And all to help my Love—Hark! They approach.

[Retires.
Enter the Kisler Aga with Abra.
Kisl.
Compose your self, dear Madam, dry your Eyes,
And smooth your Looks; your Grief must be conceal'd.
Should you appear in Tears before the Sultan,
You would inspire him with a jealous Rage,
Which may perhaps prove fatal to us all.

Abr.
I'll do my best Endeavour, tho' I fear
My Sorrows are too great to be dissembled.

Enter Eunuchs with Six Women of the Seraglio: The Kisler places them with Abra. Then enter Mahomet, and seats himself.
A Symphony of soft Musick, after which this Song.
Happy Monarch, who with Beauty
Tiresom Cares of State beguiles;
Whose Fair Subjects pay their Duty
In consenting Looks and Smiles.
Who from the noisie Battle comes,
From the shrill Trumpets Clangor, and the thund'ring Drums;
With Loves soft Accents to compose
His Passion, ruffled by his Foes.
And happy she, whose Eyes can dart,
A killing Shaft to reach his Heart:
For sure more Glory can no Female have,
Than she whose Charms this Conqu'ror can enslave;
Who the World's Lord her sighing Captive views,
And in their mighty Monarch all Mankind subdues.

[After the Song, the Sultan rises, and singles out Abra: Eunuchs go off with the rest of the Women: The Kisler retires to a Corner of the Stage.
Mah.
How comes it, Fair One, that your down-cast Looks
Speak you uneasie and dissatisfy'd
With that high Honour, which your Beauty claims,
And which my Love confers? Believe me, Maid,
Not one of those, whom for your sake I slighted,
Would with Indiff'rence have receiv'd my Passion.
Excess of Joy would make their Charms more florid,
And Pride would redden in their flushing Faces,
Glow in their Cheeks, and sparkle in their Eyes.
But Discontent sits low'ring on your Brow,
And by the Coldness of your Air you seem
To disapprove my Choice.

Abr.
Your Pardon, Sir,
If conscious of my own Unworthiness,
And dead to all Ambition, I appear
The less transported with your Royal Favours.
My want of Merit mortifies my Pride;
Nor can I with full Satisfaction wear
Those Honours which I never can deserve.

Mah.
Or rather conscious of your matchless Worth;
You rate your Beauty at so high a Value,
That nothing Human, in your tow'ring Thoughts,
Is worthy to possess it.

Abr.
Sacred Sir—

Mah.
Or else in Pity to your Captive Monarch
You strive to cloud your Brightness, and restrain
The lightning of your Eyes, lest on the spot
Its Force should flash me dead—But 'tis in vain—
You cannot check the killing Darts of Love;
Spight of your self you please, and in one Moment
The Glory of your Conquest is compleated.

Abr.
Confound me not with Shame, nor call up all
The Blood that warms my trembling Heart, to fill
My Cheeks with Blushes.

Mah.
Why it matters not;
Whether you Blush, or Weep, or Smile, or Frown,
You always Charm; nor can you Coin your Face
To an unpleasing Shape—Therefore no more
Of little Doubts and Fears; my Love's impatient,
And cannot brook Delay: This very Hour
You shall be happy in your Sov'raign's Arms.

Abr.
O never, Sir.

Mah.
Ha! never? Who am I?

Abr.
What have I said? Forgive me, Royal Sir;
My Tongue bely'd my Thoughts—But I recall
Those Words; I am your Slave, and must obey.

Mah.
My Slave? and must obey? No, think not, Fair One,
That I resolve to Ravish, like a Tyrant,
What your coy Virgin Modesty denies.
I will forget the Monarch, and lay by
My Royalty; then court you like a Slave;
Sight at your Feet, and woo you to Compliance.

Abr.
Forbid it Fate, that Sov'reign Majesty
Should so far be degraded, as to stoop
Beneath the lowest and most abject Wretch
That ever bore Misfortune.

Mah.
Ha! no more,
No more o'that, my Love; why I am Fortune,
And whosoe'er I smile on must be happy.
Therefore enlarge thy Wishes, and demand
Whatever Happiness thy Thoughts can form;
And by our Prophet's Soul I swear to grant it.

Abr.
Then thus, Sir, prostrate at your Royal Feet
[Kneels.
I humbly crave no other Boon than this;
Restore me to my self, and (so may all
Your Joys be crown'd) dismiss me from your Court.

Mah.
Not for the Empire of Ten Thousand Worlds.—
My Oath, however solemn, binds me not
T'Impossibilities.—What? Live without thee?
As well thou may'st desire me to forego
My Soul, my self, and live without my Life.
But tell me, stubborn Fair, what have you seen
For which you thus decline your Happiness,
And keep me at this Distance? Speak, what is it
That makes you thus averse to Love and Glory?

Abr.
O question me no more—I dare not speak.

Mah.
What do you fear? My Presence cannot awe you;
To you I am no Monarch.

Abr.
I'm a Virgin.

Mah.
Well.

Abr.
And prize my Honour dearer than my Life.

Mah.
Make you no Diff'rence then between the Actions
Of Kings and common Men? By my Embraces
Your Virtue is not sully'd, but ennobled
Above its native Worth; as my Effigies
Stamp'd on my Coin adds Value to the Metal.

Abr.
O do not, Sir, delude me with false arguing;
The greatest Monarch's Actions cannot make
Virtue of Vice; as by your Royal Image
Silver's not chang'd to Gold, nor Brass to Silver.
Therefore I beg you, Sir—

[Kneels.
Mah.
Rise, Empress, rise—
For from this Moment be that Title thine;
Such Beauty join'd with such transcendent Virtue
Deserves no less.—Here, take her to thy Care.
[To the Kisler.
Droop not, fair Excellence; your Chastity
Shall not be violated.—Holy Rites
Shall make us one, and justifie our Pleasures.
Let some of the attending Eunuchs wait
[To the Kisler.
On her to her Apartment, but return
Thy self, and instantly attend me here.
[Exit Kisl. with Abr.
Prodigious Change! That a licentious Monarch
Who many Years with boundless Luxury
Has rioted on Beauty, should at last
Become as very a sighing, whining Lover,
As e'er Romance or Poetry could form!
Re-enter the Kisler-Aga.
Prepare my Royal Presents, and attend
The beauteous Abra with Imperial Robes;
And let her have for her peculiar Residence
One of the Sultaness's rich Apartments.

Kisl.
Your Majesty shall be obey'd.

Mah.
To morrow
I'll visit her, and reinforce my Suit.
'Till now I knew not what it was to love;
My loose Desires deserv'd a fouler Name.
But this fair Charmer has refin'd my Passions,
And with her Virtue taught me to admire
The Beauties of the Mind: Therefore for her
I will endure the tedious Toil of Courtship.
Let me be happy in this am'rous Siege;
And I'll forgive the Fates the Loss of Buda.
And sure I shall succeed: She's more than mortal,
If she resist me; when the Charms of Empire
Shall join their Forces, her great Soul to move,
With all the soft Artillery of Love.

[Exit.
Kisl.
So! now 'tis finish'd—Cruel Destiny,
Thou hast done thy worst, and I defie thee now.

Enter Pyrrhus.
Pyr.
O Friend—

Kisl.
My Lord?

Pyr.
Why dost thou speak so coldly?
Canst thou not call me Friend?

Kisl.
I cannot.

Pyr.
Why?

Kisl.
Because it is not just you should be mine
Unless I could be yours.

Pyr.
Why art thou not?

Kisl.
I would be.

Pyr.
Then thou art.

Kisl.
But cruel Fortune—

Pyr.
Why Friendship is above the reach of Fortune,
Not to be rated from the blind Events
Of giddy Chance.—But thou hast spoken this
Only to wave the Horror of my Fate,
And mollifie my Sentence—But no more;
Pronounce my Doom, for I can bear it now.—
And yet thou needst not; thy despairing Looks
Have told me all the Tragick Tale already.

Kisl.
My Lord, I would advise you to be calm,
Summon the force of Reason to your Aid;
And think no more of this unhappy Beauty.

Pyr.
Alas! Thou know'st not what thou wouldst advise,
My Love is grown essential to my Soul,
And can no more be shaken off than that.
'Tis no wild, sudden Start of youthful Blood;
But utterly disclaims the Name of Passion:
And is the great and regular Desire
Of Happiness implanted in us all;
That Spring which turns the universal Wheel
Of Human Actions—Therefore talk no more
Of that—But, as thou sayst, I will be calm;
And not disparage with undecent Sorrow
My great Misfortunes—But proceed, my Friend,
And tell the Circumstances of my Fate.

Kisl.
I have not leisure now, I must be gone
With speed to execute the Sultan's Orders;
But as we go I will inform you all.

Pyr.
Yet e'er thou stir, I will prevail with thee
To grant me one Request.

Kisl.
What's that, my Lord?

Pyr.
To let me see her, e'er I leave the World.

Kisl.
Ah! Sir, why would you urge your Fate, and mine?

Pyr.
Not for the World, no not for the Enjoyment
Of her I love, would I the least endanger
The Safety of my Friend.—
Of thee I only beg to be directed
To her Apartment; I alone will dare
The Anger of the Sultan.

Kisl.
I have thought on't,
And you shall go.

Pyr.
Now Blessings on thy Head.

Kisl.
But you must condescend to be disguis'd,
Put on a Negro's gloomy Face, and take
An Eunuch's Dress.

Pyr.
O any thing, my Friend—
I've heard the Pow'rs themselves of old for Love
Far less than mine have left their Starry Thrones,
And hid their dazzling Forms in Brutal Shapes;
Less charming were the Beauties which they sought,
And more their Condescension.

Kisl.
Mahomet
Will not renew his Visit 'till to morrow;
Wherefore to Day you may with little Hazard
In that Disguise be brought to her Apartment.

Pyr.
For me there is no Danger of Discov'ry;
Since nought remains but Death and sure Despair.

Kisl.
[Exeunt.
Solyman from his Covert.

Cupr.
What?

Sol.
Curse.

Hal.
Curse whom?

Sol.
The Sultan, Visier, Kisler, all the World.

Cupr.
The Provocation?

Sol.
I want Breath to tell you;
Unless you'll help me to discharge my Fury,
By thund'ring Death and Vengeance on their Heads.

Hal.
Then you have lost your Mistress.

Sol.
Past Recov'ry.

Cupr.
What, is she dead?—

Sol.
She is to me.

Cupr.
The Sultan has enjoy'd her.

Sol.
No; but he is resolv'd.

Cupr.
And you stand here,
And bravely bid us curse him—Is't not so?

Sol.
Ha!

Cupr.
My Lord, I wear a Sword to do you Service;
But for that Womanish piece of Valour, Railing—
Your Pardon, Sir—'Tis not a Soldier's Talent.

Hal.
Is it a Time to curse in this nice Juncture,
When niggard Fate allows you not a Day
To manage an Affair of such Importance?
You must, before to Morrow's Dawn, depose
Your Brother, or for ever lose your Mistress.

Sol.
What I have heard and seen has wrought more with me
Than all that you can urge—Yes, I've resolv'd
T'ascend the Throne; and you can witness for me,
That I've been tender of my Brother's Fate;
And drove it to the last Extremity,
Before I would consent to act this Violence.
But now his Doom is fix'd; propose the Means.

Cupr.
The Visier's Ruin smooths the way to his.
You must begin with him.

Hal.
At your Desire
The threat'ning Army will surround the Palace,
And with one gen'ral Voice demand his Head.

Sol.
No—I've more artfully contriv'd his Death—
He is the Army's Idol; and besides
Such violent Proceedings may be dang'rous;
But I will order Matters with such Conduct,
That Mahomet shall of his own accord
Pronounce his Fav'rites Doom, and by his Ruin
Be instrumental to his own Destruction.

Cupr.
That were indeed a Masterly Contrivance.

Sol.
The Visier, aided by that other Fiend,
The Kisler Aga, has with him agreed
To visit his lov'd Abra in Disguise:
And apprehends no Danger of Discov'ry,
Because the Sultan, 'till to morrow Morning,
Resolves t'absent himself from her Apartment.
Now I will plant my Spies t'observe their Motions,
And give me notice when they are secure:
And then you know there are a thousand ways
To give the Sultan secret Intimation
Of this Design: He, fir'd with jealous Rage,
Will fly to her Apartment, and surprize them
Perhaps in their Embraces—Then what follows
Your selves may guess.

Cupr.
This cannot fail; let's instantly about it.

Sol.
Yes, I'll dispatch—And e'er the Sun has finish'd
One Revolution more, he shall behold
A greater in this Empire—Beauteous Abra!
Sure never were there Charms like thine, on which
The Fate of this great Monarchy depends.
Let dull Astrologers foretel the Doom
Of Kingdoms from the Stars, and with their Schemes
And Calculations cheat the giddy Crowd:
More ruling is the Aspect of thy Beauty,
Than that of those bright Orbs—To States and Empires
More fatal Influence flashes from thy Eyes,
Than all those glitt'ring Balls that light the Skies.

[Exeunt.