University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Gengis, Idamè,
Gengis.
No, I have not enough display'd my rage,
Enough made humble your rash haughtiness,
Enough reproach'd the baseness of that heart,
Which answers mercy with ingratitude.
You do not see the height of your offending,
Nor think on what a dreadful point you stand,
Nor know the horror that inspires my breast:
You, whom I've madly lov'd, but ought to hate;
You, who've betray'd me, and I ought to punish?

Idamè.
Punish me: but, O punish me alone!
The only boon I ask of my destroyer,
Whose flinty heart, nor pray'rs, nor tears can melt.
Ah, quench your rage and fierceness in my blood!
Destroy a woman faithful to her duty;
And let her torments end.

Gengis.
Ah! no, I cannot.
Too cruel Idamè! O could I end
The tortures more severe that rack my soul!
I came to punish; and can pardon all.
Pardon!—I pardon you!—no, fear my vengeance.
Your Monarch's Son, and yours are in my power.
I mention not that abject slave your husband,
Your love is cause enough that he should die.
He has betray'd me, brav'd me, been a rebel,
And merited ten thousand deaths. Your pray'rs
Have stay'd that arm, that should fall heavy on him.
Ev'n to this hour the traitor lives. But now
No more will I implore my slave, my captive.
Forget him, or he dies. Your stubborn heart
Has now no mean pretext to screen its purpose:
He is no more your husband, now condemn'd.
Yes, he shall fall; for ever break the chain
That binds him to you, by a shameful death.
'Tis you constrain it: you, that faithful wife,
With idle scruples seal your husband's death.
I know, I might, all-cover'd with his blood,
Force you submit, and grant my utmost wish.
But know this Savage, Scythian, this Destroyer,
Has sentiments as noble as your own.
Fate, Idamè, designs us for each other,
And my soul longs for gentle sway o'er thine.
Abjure your marriage; and that very hour
Your son shall rank as mine. On your decree
The destiny of more than one depends:
Of your King's Son, now doom'd full soon to die,
And of your husband, whom your voice may save.
His son's fate, your's, nay mine itself, on you
Depends; for Gengis loves you, doats upon you.
And yet beware that you oppose me not,
Insult not the fond weakness of my soul,
For even now rage chides my tenderness,
And threatens danger, while I talk of love.
Tremble at my love, my very kindness fear.
My soul is too familiar with revenge,
And I shall punish you, because I've lov'd.
Forgive me; for I rave, and then, alas!
I threaten most, when most I would implore.
O, soothe to peace this conflict of my soul!
One word from you this Empire's fate decrees,
But this important word you must pronounce.
O, quick pronounce it! and inform my heart,
If it must burn with love, or hatred tow'rds you.

Idamè.
Nor love nor hatred should inflame it now.
Your love's unworthy both of you and me:
You owe me justice: if you are a King,
I will demand it, ev'n against yourself.
I do not mean to brave your sov'reign pow'r,
But rather grace and dignify your greatness,
And you in secret must applaud me for it.

Gengis.
'Tis well: you chuse my hate then: and shall have it.
My bosom pants and already for revenge.
I know you not; and wrathful indignation
Awakes the cruelty that slept within me.
Your prince, your husband, and your infant son,
Shall answer with their blood your rebel scorn.
Gengis condemns, but Idamè is the cause.

Idamè.
Barbarian!

Gengis.
'Tis resolv'd; they are no more.
Your sometime Lover's now an angry Master:
A bloody, merciless, fierce enemy,
Whose hatred rises equal to your scorn.

Idamè.
I fall then at this angry Master's feet,
Whom Heav'n has made my King; and on my knees
Implore him to comply with one request.

Gengis.
Cruel! rise Idamè: I'm all attention.
O! could I tell my soul you would relent!
What would you? speak.

Idamè.
That Gengis would permit
My husband to confer with me in secret.

Gengis.
Your husband to confer—

Idamè.
Deny me not:
This conference shall be our last; that o'er,
You better shall interpret my resistance.

Gengis.
No, 'twere not meet you should consult with him:
Yet I'll permit this interview. Perhaps
His haughty soul hath better learnt its duty,
And taught him to forego the fatal honour
Of rivalling the Conqu'ror of mankind.
He hid his Prince, when I in fury sought him;
He has possess'd my Idamè. What crimes!
And yet he lives, is pardon'd, if you ask it.
You fix his fate; his death, or his divorce.
Yes, he shall see you. Octar, watch this gate.
Alas! what doubts perplex my tortur'd soul!
O! shall I yet be happy in her love?

Idamè
sola.
I feel new spirit glow within my breast,
That constancy I doubted of till now.