University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

Zamti, Etan.
Etan.
Alas! my Lord, your pity can't preserve him.
His death alone can save the state from ruin,
The people's safety ask it.

Zamti.
Yes,—I see
A sacrifice most dreadful must be made.—
Attend me, Etan!—Is your country dear?—
Say, do you own that God of Heav'n and Earth
Worshipp'd by all our fathers, but unknown
To the rude Bonze, and by these Scythians scorn'd?

Etan.
Own him? he is my bosom's sole support:
I mourn my country's woes, nor hope redress
But from his power.

Zamti.
By his sacred name,
By all his power swear, thou'lt ne'er reveal
The secret purpose, which to thy performance
I now commend: swear that thou wilt accomplish
That which the laws, the int'rest of thy country,
My duty and my God by me command thee.

Etan.
I swear it; and may all our common woes
Be heap'd on me alone, if e'er betraying
Your sacred charge, or faultering in my zeal,
My tongue or hand or heart shall prove unfaithful!

Zamti.
I must delay no longer.

Etan.
How! in tears!
Alas! amid so many miseries,
Whence this new cause of grief?

Zamti.
His fate is fix'd.
The cruel order's given.

Etan.
Time grows short;
Yet sure this child, which is to you a stranger—

Zamti.
Stranger! this stranger child! my King a stranger!

Etan.
His father was indeed our King. Alas!
I know it, and I freeze with horror: speak,
What must I do?

Zamti.
My very looks are watch'd,
And all my steps observ'd; but thou'rt unnotic'd.
Thou know'st th'asylum of our sacred charge:
Avail thyself of thine obscurity,
And for a time within the monuments,
Built by our sires, conceal this Royal Infant.
Thence shall be soon conveyed to Corea's chief
This tender shoot of China's Royalty.
Save we at least from these fell murderers
This hapless child, the object of their fears.
Save we Our King, and leave the rest to me.

Etan.
Without this mournful pledge what threatens you?
Say, can you answer all the victor's rage?

Zamti.
Yes, I can satisfy it.

Etan.
You, my Lord!

Zamti.
O nature! O tyrannic duty!

Etan.
How!

Zamti.
Go, from his cradle take my only son.

Etan.
Your son!

Zamti.
Think of the King you ought to save.
Take my son—let his blood—I can no more.

Etan.
Ah! what do you command me?

Zamti.
Spare a father,
His miseries, and most of all his weakness.
Oppose not my design, but quick fulfil
The solemn vow thou'st made.

Etan.
Alas! you wrung
That rash vow from me. To what dreadful duty
Does the performance bind me? your great soul,
And generous purpose I admire with horror.
But if my friendship—

Zamti.
No, it must be so.
I am a father; and a father's grief
Hath told me more, much more than thou canst say.
I've silenc'd blood, do thou bid friendship peace.
Away.

Etan.
I must obey.

Zamti.
For pity leave me.